Being the cliches that we are, my friend Kassy and I were discussing men and relationships one evening. We were discussing our egregiously terrible taste in men. At this current juncture we have collectively dated what could be considered the world's worst collection of bachelors. Our new motto is "There's always something"- meaning, that no matter how amazing a guy may seem, there's a catch. He could be cute, smart, funny...but he's unemployed. Or, you meet a tall, charming, motivated young man who sweeps you off your feet only to be thrown back down to earth when you find out about his inability to keeps his eyes and hands on only one girl. Or my favorite, Mr. Total Package- loves commitment, manly, tall, handsome, funny- EVERYthing on the wish list. And then he turns out to be a complete homophobe, or a misogynist, or he drinks too much, or he has anger issues.
It's not like we're LOOKING for these issues- but they just keep popping up. It's to the point where we're tempted to start taking bets when one of us meets someone new as to what the issue will be- mommy issues? Commitment problems? A crazy ex?
Not that we don't come with our own carts of baggage. Anyone that knows me and anything about how I was raised knows I come with my fair share of luggage, and my own exes come with some warning labels. I know that mine are in check and aren't keeping me from healthy relationships at this point. Therefore, I feel as if Kassy and I (and most women, for that matter) are entitled to men that don't come with a truckload of deal breakers.
I developed the concept of dollar store men. As women, let's say we're given a dollar a week with which to purchase a man from the ManStore. Thus far, I've been the type of girl that once my dollar comes in the mail, I run to the ManStore and buy someone on the clearance rack. He's the 'there's always something guy'. I run right past the luxury models with great smiles and a fantastic sense of humor, and the don't even look at the tall ones who love animals and would protect me if need be- no, I run right to the ones with mommy issues, lack motivation, no ability to save money, are too immature, don't believe in monogamy, or any other litany of deal breakers.
While I'm passing my time with these fine examples of the human race, I'm too preoccupied to find, meet, whatever one of those luxury models. I walk right past them because I'm too busy trying to make my clearance rack reject into something half way acceptable- someone I can introduce to my parents and not die of humiliation after ten minutes. Maybe a whole hour would pass....
So what Kassy and I can draw from these musings is that instead of walking right past the new top of the line men, we can learn to identify the clearance rack rejects and learn to leave them where they belong- on that cluttered and dusty rack where they've been put for a reason. Rather, we're going to start banking our dollar allowances and just wait. Someday, that front of the store cutie with the broad shoulders and ambition will walk up to US- we won't even have to shop around for him. It'll happen, I just have to start saving my money....these impulse buys are getting old quickly.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Rum rum rum rum, Trey? I Was Like, 'Yo Trey'....
I really shouldn't let my mind wander. Minds wandering causes dangerous things to happen. I'm pretty certain the French Revolution began because a bunch of men were bored in an inn, letting their minds wander.
Or rampant poverty, starvation and a desperation to blame it on an unprepared monarchy.
Whichevs.
This time next year I will be a college graduate and moving out to the town where whatever law school is dumb enough to accept me is. I still can't believe I'm here. I never thought I'd make it this far. When I was little, I used to tell people I would die young. (Dark, huh?). I have no idea why, I just always felt like I would. And while I realize I'm still young, and those of you that are even darker-minded than I am are saying "There's still time", I still feel like I've gotten farther than I ever expected I would.
My resilience still impresses me to this day. No matter how much I go through and how bad it is, I pick myself up and move on. I spent an entire childhood picking myself up only to be knocked down again, harder than the last time. I look back at that child, the one who had to hide in her room with books to forget the anger and chaos outside her door and my heart breaks. She deserved to have a chance at something normal. But it made her who she is today. So that's one positive out of it.
I'm ready for what's to come. I've close all my doors, and the windows are all open. All of the necessary bridges are burned. I'm excited to see what happens. 2011 will be an amazing year- I'll finally see Spain, I'll get into a law school, and above all- I'll finally GRADUATE!
I'm ready to move to a completely new place and start fresh. I want to write my own story, I'm tired of others writing it for me. When I leave for school, I'll leave my baggage in Missouri ;)
Or rampant poverty, starvation and a desperation to blame it on an unprepared monarchy.
Whichevs.
This time next year I will be a college graduate and moving out to the town where whatever law school is dumb enough to accept me is. I still can't believe I'm here. I never thought I'd make it this far. When I was little, I used to tell people I would die young. (Dark, huh?). I have no idea why, I just always felt like I would. And while I realize I'm still young, and those of you that are even darker-minded than I am are saying "There's still time", I still feel like I've gotten farther than I ever expected I would.
My resilience still impresses me to this day. No matter how much I go through and how bad it is, I pick myself up and move on. I spent an entire childhood picking myself up only to be knocked down again, harder than the last time. I look back at that child, the one who had to hide in her room with books to forget the anger and chaos outside her door and my heart breaks. She deserved to have a chance at something normal. But it made her who she is today. So that's one positive out of it.
I'm ready for what's to come. I've close all my doors, and the windows are all open. All of the necessary bridges are burned. I'm excited to see what happens. 2011 will be an amazing year- I'll finally see Spain, I'll get into a law school, and above all- I'll finally GRADUATE!
I'm ready to move to a completely new place and start fresh. I want to write my own story, I'm tired of others writing it for me. When I leave for school, I'll leave my baggage in Missouri ;)
Monday, November 8, 2010
Goldfinger, Twist, and Split
As directed by my lovely friend Alexa, I am updating this blog in order to allow for easier stalking (as if my Facebook did not inundate the general populace with information of my every move) ;)
So.
This weekend was one of my dearest friend's birthday. (Was that worded correctly? Ah...oh well). Not just any birthday, mind you, no....his twenty-first birthday. Combine that with the fact that he has a twin sister who knows less about makeup than a three year old but more about World of Warcraft than most guys at ComiCon, it made for a really crazy weekend.
It all started Thursday when Sam and I took his sister (Liz) shopping for clothing. I'm of course flattered knowing that my friends hold me in the highest regard in all things fashion, hair, and makeup. (Homegirl may not be the prettiest or the best dressed, but I at least know how to get there). I believe it all stems from years of Disney movies, Barbies, older sisters, and thousands of glossy pages of magazines that I devoured as quickly as I could get my hands on them. I started looking through Seventeen and Vogue when I was about four, and around seven I discovered InStyle magazine along with Cosmo. (I would sneak them out of the trash my sisters tried to have -ME- sneak outside for them- we weren't allowed to read this type of material- the Devil's work and all). I loved opening the magazine and watching all of the subscription cards fall to the ground, the different perfume samples wafting upwards, smelling rich and decadent. The only other thing that gave this a run for its money was opening a library book...
I was bored by any article talking about 'sex' this and 'men' that (I had no idea what either was, really). All I knew was that I wanted a closet full of Chanel, Choo, Blahnik, Valentino, Versace...all of the best. The beautiful models with their long, shiny hair and feminine features taught me everything I needed to know in life. I wasn't exactly the coolest kid, I didn't have that many friends and my siblings didn't really talk to me. Much of the time I was left to my books and my imagination. The magazines took me to a mature and beautiful place; one where I was successful, pretty, and important. My dirty overalls, muddy hands, and scraped knees may have been what was on the outside, but inside I wanted to be a princess. Why couldn't I be both? Why couldn't I make mud pies and jump out of trees and ruin almost every pair of shoes I had ever been given, but have pretty dresses and wear eyeshadow too?? I was determined to play baseball and superheroes by day, and be like the models in those magazines by night.
I'm still trying to find that balance. I digress, I will spare you my rant about how if a woman were to act assertively and act any sort of power-hungry she is demonized and made into some whore or "wicked witch".
Alas, another day, another time.
Moving on, so we went to the mall. Sam's sister Liz has the body of the models in my magazines- she's tall, thin, and toned. She has a beautiful bone structure, perfect smile, and dark, understanding eyes. The only problem is- she doesn't know it. Not only did she already have problems with her appearance, she dated a guy that exacerbated the problem. I just want to shake women like that and be like "REALLY!?!?!?!?!". I'm the only one in my group of friends that has any right to hate their appearance.
Moving on.
So of course, we try a million different item in many different colors/cuts/fabrics/etc and she looks amazing in all of them. Though she was very patient and cooperative, I could tell shopping was NOT her favorite thing. So we quickly narrowed down choices and found two AMAZING dresses that looked FANTASTIC on her- she looked like she stepped forth from the pages of Vogue magazine from a 'winter in New York' type spread.
Shoot me now.
(Don't get me wrong- I love Liz. She's one of the funniest, nicest, and smartest people you will ever meet. But did God REALLY have to combine that with looks??!?? REALLY??? Oh, and that goes for Sam, too. Some people just come into this world in the good gene pools...the rest of us crawl forth from stagnant puddles....)
Anywho.
So the first night we go to one of the more stereotypical 'college bars' in this town. Think lots of Greek letters and peroxide blonde hair. However, a good time was had by most (save for some minor, drunken, belligerent drama amongst friends- but is that EVER avoidable???). I will give this bar this, no cover for girls (heck yes) and good drink specials (HECK YES). Though, I saw enough girls with blatant daddy issues (and working them out right there in the club for all to see)to last me a lifetime; and I'm still unsure as to whether the smell of hairspray and cheap cologne will ever leave my nose. Well, our own Ms. Liz get a PHONE NUMBER!!!! This guy was floored by her. Sam got very, very hammered (his birthday wasn't technically until midnight, but they gave him the 21+ band anyway). His heavily-lidded eyes and lopsided smile were endearing to say the least. So, we all had fun, went home, and recovered for the next days' activities.
So.
On Saturday I had to get Liz, our friend Katie, and myself ready this time. After making sure the other two were taken care of I started on myself (not before we had a hair train of me doing Liz's hair and someone blow drying mine). It ended up to where I was smoking a cigarette and straightening my hair at the same time in order to reduce stress. Go me. Someone poured me three shots in the kitchen to take on our way out the door (they were more like triple shots but yours truly tanked them regardless).
All was going smoothly!!
We start the night at a new club here called The Library. It was decorated with sumptuous leather couches and hundreds of books lining the wall- I finally felt at home. It reminded me of places in Chicago (a place I hope to make my hometown some day). We of course see Sam's ex's new boyfriend (the one he waited about a minute after he and Sam broke up to date) who proceeded to give Sam the Stinkeye (yes, it's capitalized) ALL NIGHT, and he was accompanied by none other than the most ridiculous girl I've ever met, whom I have the misfortune of having to work with. OF COURSE.
Go us.
All in all, the night ended on a normal note for most. Another day, another time for why my night went into the trash can before it even started. Regardless, I had a lot of fun. We are making winery plans for Christmas break, ooh and the Symphony.
Stay tuned for more mundane commentary from this girl :)
So.
This weekend was one of my dearest friend's birthday. (Was that worded correctly? Ah...oh well). Not just any birthday, mind you, no....his twenty-first birthday. Combine that with the fact that he has a twin sister who knows less about makeup than a three year old but more about World of Warcraft than most guys at ComiCon, it made for a really crazy weekend.
It all started Thursday when Sam and I took his sister (Liz) shopping for clothing. I'm of course flattered knowing that my friends hold me in the highest regard in all things fashion, hair, and makeup. (Homegirl may not be the prettiest or the best dressed, but I at least know how to get there). I believe it all stems from years of Disney movies, Barbies, older sisters, and thousands of glossy pages of magazines that I devoured as quickly as I could get my hands on them. I started looking through Seventeen and Vogue when I was about four, and around seven I discovered InStyle magazine along with Cosmo. (I would sneak them out of the trash my sisters tried to have -ME- sneak outside for them- we weren't allowed to read this type of material- the Devil's work and all). I loved opening the magazine and watching all of the subscription cards fall to the ground, the different perfume samples wafting upwards, smelling rich and decadent. The only other thing that gave this a run for its money was opening a library book...
I was bored by any article talking about 'sex' this and 'men' that (I had no idea what either was, really). All I knew was that I wanted a closet full of Chanel, Choo, Blahnik, Valentino, Versace...all of the best. The beautiful models with their long, shiny hair and feminine features taught me everything I needed to know in life. I wasn't exactly the coolest kid, I didn't have that many friends and my siblings didn't really talk to me. Much of the time I was left to my books and my imagination. The magazines took me to a mature and beautiful place; one where I was successful, pretty, and important. My dirty overalls, muddy hands, and scraped knees may have been what was on the outside, but inside I wanted to be a princess. Why couldn't I be both? Why couldn't I make mud pies and jump out of trees and ruin almost every pair of shoes I had ever been given, but have pretty dresses and wear eyeshadow too?? I was determined to play baseball and superheroes by day, and be like the models in those magazines by night.
I'm still trying to find that balance. I digress, I will spare you my rant about how if a woman were to act assertively and act any sort of power-hungry she is demonized and made into some whore or "wicked witch".
Alas, another day, another time.
Moving on, so we went to the mall. Sam's sister Liz has the body of the models in my magazines- she's tall, thin, and toned. She has a beautiful bone structure, perfect smile, and dark, understanding eyes. The only problem is- she doesn't know it. Not only did she already have problems with her appearance, she dated a guy that exacerbated the problem. I just want to shake women like that and be like "REALLY!?!?!?!?!". I'm the only one in my group of friends that has any right to hate their appearance.
Moving on.
So of course, we try a million different item in many different colors/cuts/fabrics/etc and she looks amazing in all of them. Though she was very patient and cooperative, I could tell shopping was NOT her favorite thing. So we quickly narrowed down choices and found two AMAZING dresses that looked FANTASTIC on her- she looked like she stepped forth from the pages of Vogue magazine from a 'winter in New York' type spread.
Shoot me now.
(Don't get me wrong- I love Liz. She's one of the funniest, nicest, and smartest people you will ever meet. But did God REALLY have to combine that with looks??!?? REALLY??? Oh, and that goes for Sam, too. Some people just come into this world in the good gene pools...the rest of us crawl forth from stagnant puddles....)
Anywho.
So the first night we go to one of the more stereotypical 'college bars' in this town. Think lots of Greek letters and peroxide blonde hair. However, a good time was had by most (save for some minor, drunken, belligerent drama amongst friends- but is that EVER avoidable???). I will give this bar this, no cover for girls (heck yes) and good drink specials (HECK YES). Though, I saw enough girls with blatant daddy issues (and working them out right there in the club for all to see)to last me a lifetime; and I'm still unsure as to whether the smell of hairspray and cheap cologne will ever leave my nose. Well, our own Ms. Liz get a PHONE NUMBER!!!! This guy was floored by her. Sam got very, very hammered (his birthday wasn't technically until midnight, but they gave him the 21+ band anyway). His heavily-lidded eyes and lopsided smile were endearing to say the least. So, we all had fun, went home, and recovered for the next days' activities.
So.
On Saturday I had to get Liz, our friend Katie, and myself ready this time. After making sure the other two were taken care of I started on myself (not before we had a hair train of me doing Liz's hair and someone blow drying mine). It ended up to where I was smoking a cigarette and straightening my hair at the same time in order to reduce stress. Go me. Someone poured me three shots in the kitchen to take on our way out the door (they were more like triple shots but yours truly tanked them regardless).
All was going smoothly!!
We start the night at a new club here called The Library. It was decorated with sumptuous leather couches and hundreds of books lining the wall- I finally felt at home. It reminded me of places in Chicago (a place I hope to make my hometown some day). We of course see Sam's ex's new boyfriend (the one he waited about a minute after he and Sam broke up to date) who proceeded to give Sam the Stinkeye (yes, it's capitalized) ALL NIGHT, and he was accompanied by none other than the most ridiculous girl I've ever met, whom I have the misfortune of having to work with. OF COURSE.
Go us.
All in all, the night ended on a normal note for most. Another day, another time for why my night went into the trash can before it even started. Regardless, I had a lot of fun. We are making winery plans for Christmas break, ooh and the Symphony.
Stay tuned for more mundane commentary from this girl :)
Monday, October 11, 2010
Angst...can I feel it when I'm not a teen?
Another oldie from the Myspace blog...
Angsty, huh. Yeah I put that. Not like...teen angst. I'm not over dosing on Xanex because mom won't let me go to the big game tonight. (but I HAVE to see CJ there.....he has his PERMIT mom, he's a dream!)
Anywho
No, angsty just sounded like what I'm feeling. I'd pick a fight with this keyboard if I could. But then, I'm so tired I wouldn't have my usual arsenal of witty reparte. So screw it.
I almost put blustery, but that just made me think of some big, fat drooly guy with swish pants and a cough.
No, no...I'll go with angsty.
And I'm on a mac in the library and it doesn't support the funky fresh color editor doo hickey so that stinks. Although, I'm running out of new color combos that I actually like so maybe I shouldn't have said anything and called this my new avante gard approach.
Dammit.
I always do this. Although, I could go back and delete, but then you all wouldn't understand just how neurotic I really am, and that yes, I CAN hold a conversation with myself....
You know what I was wondering? You know how in Microsoft Word they have a little genie who goes behind you and capitalizes 'I' and such while you type? (Yes...a genie. I know this...because I know this). I want her to do that everywhere I type. Facebook, Myspace, wherever. I want her there. But not the little demon with the red squiggly line fetish. I hate him. Yes, I KNOW Pletka isn't in your dictionary but why must you leave your graffiti all over my paper?????
Hate him.
One day he and the Capitilazation (sp?) Genie are gonna get into it and then he'll get it. She's just biding her time until one day she's gonna go all Vista on his ass.
Idk what that means, but I said it.
I can't tell if lack of sleep in conjunction with ADD is good for the creative psyche or bad for society. Maybe both.
You know what else irks me?? You old women who wear too much perfume to the theater. What's your issue, buddy? You know you're going to be crammed next to someone, so why would you bathe in your Chantilly Lace circa 1912 before? Because you're evil. You all are. When I come out of the theater smelling like YOUR perfume...we've got issues. It's cute when your shirt smells like your boyfriend after you spent all day together...it's NOT CUTE to smell like little Edna after seeing a play next to her. UGH.
Ok, ok I'll stop.
On a lighter note...SATC party soon?
You know you <3 me
Angsty, huh. Yeah I put that. Not like...teen angst. I'm not over dosing on Xanex because mom won't let me go to the big game tonight. (but I HAVE to see CJ there.....he has his PERMIT mom, he's a dream!)
Anywho
No, angsty just sounded like what I'm feeling. I'd pick a fight with this keyboard if I could. But then, I'm so tired I wouldn't have my usual arsenal of witty reparte. So screw it.
I almost put blustery, but that just made me think of some big, fat drooly guy with swish pants and a cough.
No, no...I'll go with angsty.
And I'm on a mac in the library and it doesn't support the funky fresh color editor doo hickey so that stinks. Although, I'm running out of new color combos that I actually like so maybe I shouldn't have said anything and called this my new avante gard approach.
Dammit.
I always do this. Although, I could go back and delete, but then you all wouldn't understand just how neurotic I really am, and that yes, I CAN hold a conversation with myself....
You know what I was wondering? You know how in Microsoft Word they have a little genie who goes behind you and capitalizes 'I' and such while you type? (Yes...a genie. I know this...because I know this). I want her to do that everywhere I type. Facebook, Myspace, wherever. I want her there. But not the little demon with the red squiggly line fetish. I hate him. Yes, I KNOW Pletka isn't in your dictionary but why must you leave your graffiti all over my paper?????
Hate him.
One day he and the Capitilazation (sp?) Genie are gonna get into it and then he'll get it. She's just biding her time until one day she's gonna go all Vista on his ass.
Idk what that means, but I said it.
I can't tell if lack of sleep in conjunction with ADD is good for the creative psyche or bad for society. Maybe both.
You know what else irks me?? You old women who wear too much perfume to the theater. What's your issue, buddy? You know you're going to be crammed next to someone, so why would you bathe in your Chantilly Lace circa 1912 before? Because you're evil. You all are. When I come out of the theater smelling like YOUR perfume...we've got issues. It's cute when your shirt smells like your boyfriend after you spent all day together...it's NOT CUTE to smell like little Edna after seeing a play next to her. UGH.
Ok, ok I'll stop.
On a lighter note...SATC party soon?
You know you <3 me
What's the Story, Wishbone?- Another Vintage Post
This is another oldie from about two years ago...
I don't know why the gods above frown on me, but it's as if they REALLY really RRRRRRRREAAALLY get a kick out of my pain. For example...I'm in the library. A quiet haven, right? WRONG. There is a delightfully loud young lady sitting at the computer adjacent to mine talking wildly into her cell phone.
At least speak clearly so I can EAVES drop you bitch.
But really.
So I'm doing online math....which I find a complete and utter waste of my time. First of all, we have no paper work in my class, so if you don't understand something, you're kind of SOL. Then, the computer basically walks you through the online homework. Come test day, there's no funky fresh guide on a computer screen telling me how to graph a piece-wise function.
WTF.
It's as if they WANT you to fail here in college. Which is entirely possible. Why else would each teacher treat their class as if it were your only class? What? A twelve-page paper a week, PLUS analyze the synaptic tendencies of the Madagascar cockroach? Why not, I say. I mean, I only have three other papers, ten books (aside from my textbook) to read, and sixteen journal entries, and my left ovary all due next Tuesday.
And they charge you a fresh $16,000 a year to do this. Loooove it. But hey, we're getting off cheap, here.
I digress. College is quite an experience. It's the only place where a walk of shame is something to be proud of, where you can write that weird thing you did last night with your roommate off as 'normal college-life experimentation' , and where it's perfectly acceptable, if not preferable to drink beer for breakfast.
**side note** I do NOT have beer for breakfast, lunch, OR dinner. Nor will I ever condone such an action. However...mimosas are ok ;-)
Did I tell anyone about my recent relationship fiasco? No? Well here it is:
So I was dating this guy, Brandon. We had known each other a couple days before he asked me to be his girlfriend. I really needed a rebound, so I thought 'Why not?' BAAAAAAAAAD idea on my part. He was a total skeeze always needed a ride somewhere or something blah blah blah. After two weeks of dating, he said 'I love you'.
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
So I broke up with him. I didn't, nor would I ever love this kid. (I say kid, but he was 27). But we kept talking and hanging out because...well...I had nothing better to do.
So he has this best friend, Becky. She's really nice. She's staying with him while her and her boyfriend fight apparently. Well, ok whatever. So we all three hang out, we all hang out in a big group blah blah blah. (Keep in mind I don't do public displays of affection).
So I get bored and stop talking to him. He calls me up out of NOwhere crying so I go over there. There's a bunch of people I don't know milling around, and he won't tell me what's wrong.
So I go up to Becky and ask her.
Oh dear me.
She says: "I don't know what Brandon't told you, but he and I are together and have been for six years. I have no idea what your relationship is to him, but he told me you all were friends."
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Jigga what??!?
Ha. Oh dear me.
Well, apparently she was pregnant with someone else's kid, hence his crying. Well, -I- start crying because I think 'OMG I just helped some jerk face cheat on his girlfriend'. Not to mention, she is so nice and cute I felt awful.
Well she was all like, 'It's not your fault don't feel bad, it's been going on for years etc etc.'
So I haul it out of there because
a) that's just a trashy situation that I really don't want any part of (b) had I stayed much longer I probably would have killed someone and (c) I had a party to get ready for :-P
So yeah. What irks me is that I'm not mad at him because I'm HURT (I had no feelings at this point) It's more because I was lied to and fell for it AGAIN.
I mean REALLY??!?! Shouldn't there be a quota to how many times a girl can be LIED TO?!?!?!
Ha. But really.
So that's my funny omg story of the month. Tune in next time where Lori may or may not die by killer mustache.
XOXO
You know you love me ;-)
I don't know why the gods above frown on me, but it's as if they REALLY really RRRRRRRREAAALLY get a kick out of my pain. For example...I'm in the library. A quiet haven, right? WRONG. There is a delightfully loud young lady sitting at the computer adjacent to mine talking wildly into her cell phone.
At least speak clearly so I can EAVES drop you bitch.
But really.
So I'm doing online math....which I find a complete and utter waste of my time. First of all, we have no paper work in my class, so if you don't understand something, you're kind of SOL. Then, the computer basically walks you through the online homework. Come test day, there's no funky fresh guide on a computer screen telling me how to graph a piece-wise function.
WTF.
It's as if they WANT you to fail here in college. Which is entirely possible. Why else would each teacher treat their class as if it were your only class? What? A twelve-page paper a week, PLUS analyze the synaptic tendencies of the Madagascar cockroach? Why not, I say. I mean, I only have three other papers, ten books (aside from my textbook) to read, and sixteen journal entries, and my left ovary all due next Tuesday.
And they charge you a fresh $16,000 a year to do this. Loooove it. But hey, we're getting off cheap, here.
I digress. College is quite an experience. It's the only place where a walk of shame is something to be proud of, where you can write that weird thing you did last night with your roommate off as 'normal college-life experimentation' , and where it's perfectly acceptable, if not preferable to drink beer for breakfast.
**side note** I do NOT have beer for breakfast, lunch, OR dinner. Nor will I ever condone such an action. However...mimosas are ok ;-)
Did I tell anyone about my recent relationship fiasco? No? Well here it is:
So I was dating this guy, Brandon. We had known each other a couple days before he asked me to be his girlfriend. I really needed a rebound, so I thought 'Why not?' BAAAAAAAAAD idea on my part. He was a total skeeze always needed a ride somewhere or something blah blah blah. After two weeks of dating, he said 'I love you'.
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
So I broke up with him. I didn't, nor would I ever love this kid. (I say kid, but he was 27). But we kept talking and hanging out because...well...I had nothing better to do.
So he has this best friend, Becky. She's really nice. She's staying with him while her and her boyfriend fight apparently. Well, ok whatever. So we all three hang out, we all hang out in a big group blah blah blah. (Keep in mind I don't do public displays of affection).
So I get bored and stop talking to him. He calls me up out of NOwhere crying so I go over there. There's a bunch of people I don't know milling around, and he won't tell me what's wrong.
So I go up to Becky and ask her.
Oh dear me.
She says: "I don't know what Brandon't told you, but he and I are together and have been for six years. I have no idea what your relationship is to him, but he told me you all were friends."
UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Jigga what??!?
Ha. Oh dear me.
Well, apparently she was pregnant with someone else's kid, hence his crying. Well, -I- start crying because I think 'OMG I just helped some jerk face cheat on his girlfriend'. Not to mention, she is so nice and cute I felt awful.
Well she was all like, 'It's not your fault don't feel bad, it's been going on for years etc etc.'
So I haul it out of there because
a) that's just a trashy situation that I really don't want any part of (b) had I stayed much longer I probably would have killed someone and (c) I had a party to get ready for :-P
So yeah. What irks me is that I'm not mad at him because I'm HURT (I had no feelings at this point) It's more because I was lied to and fell for it AGAIN.
I mean REALLY??!?! Shouldn't there be a quota to how many times a girl can be LIED TO?!?!?!
Ha. But really.
So that's my funny omg story of the month. Tune in next time where Lori may or may not die by killer mustache.
XOXO
You know you love me ;-)
Don't Demagnitize Me
This is one from a private blog of mine from about two years ago...
Buy now pay later….are people starting to operate under this mantra in more than just shopping for cars? With everyone around me having children at 18 and getting married after six months, are people rushing into relationships thinking they can always just pay for the possible repercussions later? Is it fear of winding up alone? Or is everyone just living for the now?
.. ..
Are we so wrapped in what we’re feeling NOW and what’s happening NOW that we refuse or can’t look into the future at what could possibly happen? It seems as if the couples around me are settling. Just recently I was talking to one of my single mother friends and she said she wishes she would have thought twice about trying to have a baby with her ex-boyfriend, but she was so in love she didn’t forsee them falling out of love, or ending the relationship. Now she has the responsibility of a child and no one to help her. This is a girl who once dreamed of becoming a teacher at a university, or a writer. And now she aspires to become manager of the grocery store she works for. Not that being a manager of a place is bad, it just seems as if she’s paying for her decisions. But had she ‘thought twice’ like she said, she may not be going through this.
.. ..
I’m not saying that young mothers are idiots and are going to pay. Some really enjoy being mothers and are really good at it. Some feel as if that’s what they were supposed to do all along. But it’s those that don’t feel that way that I’m talking about.
.. ..
The number of divorces is higher than ever, and climbing. It’s as if people really are ‘buying now, paying later’. I’m not saying I’m above reproach. I myself almost got married on a line of credit. Had we gone through with it, I would have been repaying, with extremely high interest within a year. Why? Because I was afraid of being alone. I mistook young love for undying love. And I was willing to overlook certain things so that I could get married and live my dream. Those things I was willing to overlook would have caused disaster. It’s the same with many other people. We’re all willing to make allowances in order to get someone. Which is fine, if you’re overlooking that he always leaves the toilet seat up or that his best friend is kind of an idiot. It’s not fine if you’re overlooking infidelity, or a complete disregard for your feelings.
.. ..
I’m learning not to settle. Women (and men) need to really think about what they want in a relationship. Is it fidelity? Financial security? Flexibility? Adventure? Whatever it is you need to figure out what you’re looking for, and look for it. I’m not saying we should go on a marriage hunt, God no. But what is it you want right now? Or if you’re looking for the future, what about then? It’s your choice. But once you figure it out, you shouldn’t settle for anything less. If someone can’t give you what you’re looking for, or won’t, it’s time to move one and find someone who can.
.. ..
.. ..
It sounds cutthroat and possibly evil, but then again aren’t breakups in general? And if you settle it’s either going to end in your breaking up or you hating each other. Either way, everyone loses.
.. ..
To quote the great and eloquent Jackson 5, it’s easy as ABC. Just know that if you don’t want to end up alone, you won’t. Simple as that. There are almost 7 billion people on this earth. And if as many of them are looking for someone as I suspect, there’s someone there for you. So never think ‘oh I shouldn’t break up with him, I’ll never find someone’. Don’t let your own fears and insecurities force you into eternal unhappiness.
.. ..
Also, think of it this way. You settle, marry this person, you start to hate each other, divorce, and now you’re 45 years old, droopy, wrinkly, and divorced. Truly undesirable. Whereas you COULD just not settle, find someone a little later, like when you’re 28 and stay with them forever. Your choice. I’d rather go with the one where I’m NOT wrinkly, droopy, alone.
.. ..
It’s taken me a while to figure out what I want. I want someone who’s honest, and isn’t going to cheat on me. I want someone I can laugh with, and who won’t take everything too seriously. I want someone who’s fairly polite and won’t make me want to die when he meets my parents. I want someone who’s easy to talk to. Who can stay in and watch movies with me, but can also surprise me and take me out every now and then. I want someone who gets my friends, and gets along with them. I want someone who’s manly and strong, and will stand up for me when I need it.
.. ..
Idk call me an optimist. Or an idiot, whichever you prefer. I just would like to think that I can live my life without regrets, exactly as I’d like to live it. Yeah, it can’t be perfect, and yes you’re going to date idiots and jerks, but you don’t have to STAY with them. It took me forever to figure that out, but thank God I did.
Buy now pay later….are people starting to operate under this mantra in more than just shopping for cars? With everyone around me having children at 18 and getting married after six months, are people rushing into relationships thinking they can always just pay for the possible repercussions later? Is it fear of winding up alone? Or is everyone just living for the now?
.. ..
Are we so wrapped in what we’re feeling NOW and what’s happening NOW that we refuse or can’t look into the future at what could possibly happen? It seems as if the couples around me are settling. Just recently I was talking to one of my single mother friends and she said she wishes she would have thought twice about trying to have a baby with her ex-boyfriend, but she was so in love she didn’t forsee them falling out of love, or ending the relationship. Now she has the responsibility of a child and no one to help her. This is a girl who once dreamed of becoming a teacher at a university, or a writer. And now she aspires to become manager of the grocery store she works for. Not that being a manager of a place is bad, it just seems as if she’s paying for her decisions. But had she ‘thought twice’ like she said, she may not be going through this.
.. ..
I’m not saying that young mothers are idiots and are going to pay. Some really enjoy being mothers and are really good at it. Some feel as if that’s what they were supposed to do all along. But it’s those that don’t feel that way that I’m talking about.
.. ..
The number of divorces is higher than ever, and climbing. It’s as if people really are ‘buying now, paying later’. I’m not saying I’m above reproach. I myself almost got married on a line of credit. Had we gone through with it, I would have been repaying, with extremely high interest within a year. Why? Because I was afraid of being alone. I mistook young love for undying love. And I was willing to overlook certain things so that I could get married and live my dream. Those things I was willing to overlook would have caused disaster. It’s the same with many other people. We’re all willing to make allowances in order to get someone. Which is fine, if you’re overlooking that he always leaves the toilet seat up or that his best friend is kind of an idiot. It’s not fine if you’re overlooking infidelity, or a complete disregard for your feelings.
.. ..
I’m learning not to settle. Women (and men) need to really think about what they want in a relationship. Is it fidelity? Financial security? Flexibility? Adventure? Whatever it is you need to figure out what you’re looking for, and look for it. I’m not saying we should go on a marriage hunt, God no. But what is it you want right now? Or if you’re looking for the future, what about then? It’s your choice. But once you figure it out, you shouldn’t settle for anything less. If someone can’t give you what you’re looking for, or won’t, it’s time to move one and find someone who can.
.. ..
.. ..
It sounds cutthroat and possibly evil, but then again aren’t breakups in general? And if you settle it’s either going to end in your breaking up or you hating each other. Either way, everyone loses.
.. ..
To quote the great and eloquent Jackson 5, it’s easy as ABC. Just know that if you don’t want to end up alone, you won’t. Simple as that. There are almost 7 billion people on this earth. And if as many of them are looking for someone as I suspect, there’s someone there for you. So never think ‘oh I shouldn’t break up with him, I’ll never find someone’. Don’t let your own fears and insecurities force you into eternal unhappiness.
.. ..
Also, think of it this way. You settle, marry this person, you start to hate each other, divorce, and now you’re 45 years old, droopy, wrinkly, and divorced. Truly undesirable. Whereas you COULD just not settle, find someone a little later, like when you’re 28 and stay with them forever. Your choice. I’d rather go with the one where I’m NOT wrinkly, droopy, alone.
.. ..
It’s taken me a while to figure out what I want. I want someone who’s honest, and isn’t going to cheat on me. I want someone I can laugh with, and who won’t take everything too seriously. I want someone who’s fairly polite and won’t make me want to die when he meets my parents. I want someone who’s easy to talk to. Who can stay in and watch movies with me, but can also surprise me and take me out every now and then. I want someone who gets my friends, and gets along with them. I want someone who’s manly and strong, and will stand up for me when I need it.
.. ..
Idk call me an optimist. Or an idiot, whichever you prefer. I just would like to think that I can live my life without regrets, exactly as I’d like to live it. Yeah, it can’t be perfect, and yes you’re going to date idiots and jerks, but you don’t have to STAY with them. It took me forever to figure that out, but thank God I did.
You Think You're a Man, But You're Only a Boy, You Think You're a Man, But You're Only a Toy
Ah, you GOTTA love nuveau-homocentric techno music. Don't you agree? There's nothing better than heavy synthesizers and an all to prevalent driving beat. Lovely.
Moving on. *changes to Across the Universe album*
There we go. Writing music. Nay...too.....I don't know. Now where do I keep that shuffle button....
Anywho...I'm beginning to think I'm over-susceptible to advertising. While watching the Cottonelle commercial, I was fully convinced it was the only toilet paper for me. Why? Not because of it's promised strength or guaranteed comfort, or even attractive packaging. No, no...nothing that sensible. It was, in fact, the extremely endearing golden lab puppy getting spa treatments and telling me to 'be kind to my behind'.
Being twenty-two I thought I had escaped the naivete of my youth. The child-like fascination with bright colors and talking animals. Nope. I'm just as roped in by these as ever. If a puppy can convince me to buy enough Cottonelle to practice mummification, what other things in life have I fallen for too easily just because of the attractive sheen given to the pitch? I can think of a few toxic friends and exes that presented an all too superficially attractive 'product' only to be left disappointed, hurt, and wishing I had gotten the extended warranty. Or at least wishing I had found out before the thirty-day return policy had expired.
Which brought me to another thought...people, are products. When we meet a new person, even if we just want to be friends, there's almost a 'trial period' where we're getting to know each other. During this period the other person can decide whether or not they want to continue being your friend. A lot of people change their tune during this time. All of the sudden they become more agreeable, laugh more, and interested in what the other person has to say. It's like a live commercial.
This trial period in the mating game is called the first three dates. The first date being the most critical. All of the sudden the girly girl LOVES football, and the nerdy boy 'isn't much into online gaming'. We say what we think the other wants to hear- especially if we're deeply attracted to them. We make it seem as if stress, anger, and any negative emotion never even crossed But later, after the 90 day return policy has expired, the claws come out. All of the sudden, she feels as if he alienates her for video games, and he feels as if she spends more time on her appearance than with him. The fighting, arguing, and stress begins.
We're all guilty of it. I doubt anyone can say they successfully put it ALL out on the table on the first date and lived to see a second. I wish there were a CarFax for people.
"Well, hello. Can I take you to dinner sometime?"
*hmm, he's cute. Well dressed. Great smile. No ring."
"Sure, just show me the BaggageFax"
"Uhhhh...I'll take you some place REALLY nice."
"Great, just, show me the BaggageFax."
"I'm worth over a million dollars."
"Uhhh, k, but I just want to see the BaggageFax."
If only I could market a service such as that. Don't just go on dates willy-nilly (YES, willy-nillly, I went there), get the BaggageFax! Guaranteed to help you avoid the Douchebags!
So basically people who can actually rope someone into actually marrying them are masters in marketing...
I wish it weren't like that. I wish we could lay it out on the table and not run the risk of watching the other person haul ass...away from you. But maybe you're not meant to word vomit your past onto their lap on your first outing... I guess all I can ask is that people, whether on a first date, or meeting new friends, just try to be more honest, without being TOO intimate too soon. Maybe instead of admitting you've spent the past week playing Sims 3 during every waking hour you were not at work and saying 'I'm pretty into the Sims....' or instead of saying you take two and a half hours getting ready you could say 'I spend a considerable amount of time preparing to go out, but the end result sure is worth it'.
I don't know. I just operate under an honesty is the best policy. Don't say you like something you don't, don't say something doesn't bother you when it does, and DON'T pretend to know about or like something you don't. It will come back to bite you in the ass. I can almost guarantee it.
So next time you're on your next Marketing Outing just remember....not too much...not too little.
You know you <3 me
Read more: http://www.myspace.com/lorelai507/blog#ixzz124t1Z5H4
Moving on. *changes to Across the Universe album*
There we go. Writing music. Nay...too.....I don't know. Now where do I keep that shuffle button....
Anywho...I'm beginning to think I'm over-susceptible to advertising. While watching the Cottonelle commercial, I was fully convinced it was the only toilet paper for me. Why? Not because of it's promised strength or guaranteed comfort, or even attractive packaging. No, no...nothing that sensible. It was, in fact, the extremely endearing golden lab puppy getting spa treatments and telling me to 'be kind to my behind'.
Being twenty-two I thought I had escaped the naivete of my youth. The child-like fascination with bright colors and talking animals. Nope. I'm just as roped in by these as ever. If a puppy can convince me to buy enough Cottonelle to practice mummification, what other things in life have I fallen for too easily just because of the attractive sheen given to the pitch? I can think of a few toxic friends and exes that presented an all too superficially attractive 'product' only to be left disappointed, hurt, and wishing I had gotten the extended warranty. Or at least wishing I had found out before the thirty-day return policy had expired.
Which brought me to another thought...people, are products. When we meet a new person, even if we just want to be friends, there's almost a 'trial period' where we're getting to know each other. During this period the other person can decide whether or not they want to continue being your friend. A lot of people change their tune during this time. All of the sudden they become more agreeable, laugh more, and interested in what the other person has to say. It's like a live commercial.
This trial period in the mating game is called the first three dates. The first date being the most critical. All of the sudden the girly girl LOVES football, and the nerdy boy 'isn't much into online gaming'. We say what we think the other wants to hear- especially if we're deeply attracted to them. We make it seem as if stress, anger, and any negative emotion never even crossed But later, after the 90 day return policy has expired, the claws come out. All of the sudden, she feels as if he alienates her for video games, and he feels as if she spends more time on her appearance than with him. The fighting, arguing, and stress begins.
We're all guilty of it. I doubt anyone can say they successfully put it ALL out on the table on the first date and lived to see a second. I wish there were a CarFax for people.
"Well, hello. Can I take you to dinner sometime?"
*hmm, he's cute. Well dressed. Great smile. No ring."
"Sure, just show me the BaggageFax"
"Uhhhh...I'll take you some place REALLY nice."
"Great, just, show me the BaggageFax."
"I'm worth over a million dollars."
"Uhhh, k, but I just want to see the BaggageFax."
If only I could market a service such as that. Don't just go on dates willy-nilly (YES, willy-nillly, I went there), get the BaggageFax! Guaranteed to help you avoid the Douchebags!
So basically people who can actually rope someone into actually marrying them are masters in marketing...
I wish it weren't like that. I wish we could lay it out on the table and not run the risk of watching the other person haul ass...away from you. But maybe you're not meant to word vomit your past onto their lap on your first outing... I guess all I can ask is that people, whether on a first date, or meeting new friends, just try to be more honest, without being TOO intimate too soon. Maybe instead of admitting you've spent the past week playing Sims 3 during every waking hour you were not at work and saying 'I'm pretty into the Sims....' or instead of saying you take two and a half hours getting ready you could say 'I spend a considerable amount of time preparing to go out, but the end result sure is worth it'.
I don't know. I just operate under an honesty is the best policy. Don't say you like something you don't, don't say something doesn't bother you when it does, and DON'T pretend to know about or like something you don't. It will come back to bite you in the ass. I can almost guarantee it.
So next time you're on your next Marketing Outing just remember....not too much...not too little.
You know you <3 me
Read more: http://www.myspace.com/lorelai507/blog#ixzz124t1Z5H4
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Segway Into Irony
I believe many of you are aware of the two-wheeled stand-up scooter trend that has swept the nation, making way for Segway tours of every major city, Scooter races, and a litany of regular Joes wanting to look 'hip', 'green', and draw attention to themselves. I personally feel that one looks ridiculous riding on a Segway, and I really don't understand the difference between riding a Segway and simply walking (especially since walking would a far 'greener' option). However, that's for another day, another time.
Though it hit international news, many people have not heard about the most ironic thing to hit the newswire in a very long time: the owner of Segway recently died on one.
.......
Okay, don't get me wrong. The last thing I'm trying to do is poke fun at someone's death; however, this story really lends itself to some analyzation. His name was Jimi Heselden and he was a 62 year old millionaire (the article made sure to point out his recent charitable contributions, as well as the fact that he was rated 395th on the Sunday Times Rich List).
(I hope that when I die in a tragic accident the most important information that the paper wants to make sure everyone knows about me is NOT the fact that I had a lot of money).
He bought the Segway company less than a year ago; he was apparently off-roading in a new "rugged, country version" of the Segway, when he rode off a cliff into a river and died.
I want to start with this, how great was the demand for a "rugged, country version" of the Segway? It just seems like the last thing one would use in outdoorsy situations. Not once on any of my perpetually unsuccessful camping trips have I said, you know what would make this easier?? A segway. I'm hard-pressed to understand the reasoning behind such a product.
Though I always say, there must be a demand for it to be in development, right?
Secondly, why would this seemingly intelligent man (it takes a certain amount of smarts to be able to take yourself from a dirt-poor working class guy to a multi-millionaire) be riding so close to a cliff on such a machine? Was he attempting to cheat death on a Segway? Was he not paying attention? An even more intriguing concept would be- what if he were pushed?? Though the police ruled his death an accident, part of me was thirsty for the intrigue of a scandal. Maybe a spurned lover or ungrateful daughter- or even the butler (gasp!)took him on a little outdoor excursion with intent for revenge...
(These are the types of thoughts that keep me awake at night).
While it's terrible this man died, I commend him for going out not only with a bang, but an ironic one at that.
Though it hit international news, many people have not heard about the most ironic thing to hit the newswire in a very long time: the owner of Segway recently died on one.
.......
Okay, don't get me wrong. The last thing I'm trying to do is poke fun at someone's death; however, this story really lends itself to some analyzation. His name was Jimi Heselden and he was a 62 year old millionaire (the article made sure to point out his recent charitable contributions, as well as the fact that he was rated 395th on the Sunday Times Rich List).
(I hope that when I die in a tragic accident the most important information that the paper wants to make sure everyone knows about me is NOT the fact that I had a lot of money).
He bought the Segway company less than a year ago; he was apparently off-roading in a new "rugged, country version" of the Segway, when he rode off a cliff into a river and died.
I want to start with this, how great was the demand for a "rugged, country version" of the Segway? It just seems like the last thing one would use in outdoorsy situations. Not once on any of my perpetually unsuccessful camping trips have I said, you know what would make this easier?? A segway. I'm hard-pressed to understand the reasoning behind such a product.
Though I always say, there must be a demand for it to be in development, right?
Secondly, why would this seemingly intelligent man (it takes a certain amount of smarts to be able to take yourself from a dirt-poor working class guy to a multi-millionaire) be riding so close to a cliff on such a machine? Was he attempting to cheat death on a Segway? Was he not paying attention? An even more intriguing concept would be- what if he were pushed?? Though the police ruled his death an accident, part of me was thirsty for the intrigue of a scandal. Maybe a spurned lover or ungrateful daughter- or even the butler (gasp!)took him on a little outdoor excursion with intent for revenge...
(These are the types of thoughts that keep me awake at night).
While it's terrible this man died, I commend him for going out not only with a bang, but an ironic one at that.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
That Felix guy....the LUCKY one!
I was Facebook stalking one of my best friends, and his status was "really needs to stop being idealistic and needs to start being realistic". This saddened me.
This friend was one of the most optimistic people I knew. He was who I went to when I wanted unconditional love and to just be happy and have fun. Don't get me wrong, he was great at serious and in-depth conversations, as well. I just knew I could count on him for the brighter outlook on life.
What happens to us? One moment, we're looking around and everything has this Wonderland-sheen to it. Flowers are bright, honeysuckle is strong in the air, and the sun feels nice on our skin. The next minute, everything appears grungy and broken, flowers go unnoticed and untamed, all we smell is car fumes, and the sun gives us a first degree burn.
When does this happen? When does the world go from being this place with flaws we could not see? When did we wake up and become unblinded, disenchanted, and jaded? I used to believe in true love, that everyone had someone. The idea is a laughable concept at this point. I used to believe that all humans were good on the inside, and when given a choice, would always do the right thing. That, I know, is not fact.
I don't want this friend to become a realist. I admire his bright outlook and ability to see the best in others. Those are both qualities I will never possess, but I want him to. I want there to be at least someone on this earth that has a smile on their face instead of a taught, lifeless look. I guess this makes me the world's biggest hypocrite, but I guess that young, naive child that live so happily in Wonderland is still inside me, and maybe that's why I'm so drawn to this friend.
I don't know.
This friend was one of the most optimistic people I knew. He was who I went to when I wanted unconditional love and to just be happy and have fun. Don't get me wrong, he was great at serious and in-depth conversations, as well. I just knew I could count on him for the brighter outlook on life.
What happens to us? One moment, we're looking around and everything has this Wonderland-sheen to it. Flowers are bright, honeysuckle is strong in the air, and the sun feels nice on our skin. The next minute, everything appears grungy and broken, flowers go unnoticed and untamed, all we smell is car fumes, and the sun gives us a first degree burn.
When does this happen? When does the world go from being this place with flaws we could not see? When did we wake up and become unblinded, disenchanted, and jaded? I used to believe in true love, that everyone had someone. The idea is a laughable concept at this point. I used to believe that all humans were good on the inside, and when given a choice, would always do the right thing. That, I know, is not fact.
I don't want this friend to become a realist. I admire his bright outlook and ability to see the best in others. Those are both qualities I will never possess, but I want him to. I want there to be at least someone on this earth that has a smile on their face instead of a taught, lifeless look. I guess this makes me the world's biggest hypocrite, but I guess that young, naive child that live so happily in Wonderland is still inside me, and maybe that's why I'm so drawn to this friend.
I don't know.
Saturday, July 3, 2010
This Time, Baby, I'll Be Bulletproof
Do you ever get so carried away by music it feels like it's washing over you and you're in this crazy vortex of emotion? No? I'm the only crazy person out there?
Well, then. Fine. I like being a little crazy- makes every day an adventure.
That blinking cursor is so rude. It's reminding me that I don't have a lot to say anymore. It's so demanding, not only does it follow along while you write, but it sits there and dares to BLINK, just to show you how impatient it is. Rude.
It must be related to my mother. It feels the need to constantly remind you what time you were supposed to arrive at the wedding, and to further worsen the problem of your lateness, it's going to sit there and tap its foot, nagging about how your lateness is why you're single.
Don't get me wrong, I know I complain about her a lot, but I love my mom. In fact, as much as a I hate to admit it, but I'm a carbon copy of her. In the midst of a nag-fest at Randall for not lining his shoes up, I'll be thinking "Geez, Lor, shut UP"- but I can't stop my mouth! It's like nagging is a knee-jerk reaction- I can't stop! I'm a nag junkie! Oh, Lord. Watch me pop out of my casket at my funeral and start bitching at the funeral director because the flowers were not arranged according to color and height. You watch. It's going to happen.
.....................
Does anyone else ever make up music videos to the songs they're currently listening to? I used to want to be a music video producer. I can't dance to save my life, but I would come up with this complex dance numbers that would be absolutely insane, I would have to end up writing the description. I would come up with color themes and symbolism I could insert into the context. I loved it. I actually miss working on video making. TV productions was the only class I actually liked in high school, and certainly the only reason I showed up the few times I did senior year.....
I'm weird.
So...I've started a post about frats and sororities. Who wants to see it?
Well, then. Fine. I like being a little crazy- makes every day an adventure.
That blinking cursor is so rude. It's reminding me that I don't have a lot to say anymore. It's so demanding, not only does it follow along while you write, but it sits there and dares to BLINK, just to show you how impatient it is. Rude.
It must be related to my mother. It feels the need to constantly remind you what time you were supposed to arrive at the wedding, and to further worsen the problem of your lateness, it's going to sit there and tap its foot, nagging about how your lateness is why you're single.
Don't get me wrong, I know I complain about her a lot, but I love my mom. In fact, as much as a I hate to admit it, but I'm a carbon copy of her. In the midst of a nag-fest at Randall for not lining his shoes up, I'll be thinking "Geez, Lor, shut UP"- but I can't stop my mouth! It's like nagging is a knee-jerk reaction- I can't stop! I'm a nag junkie! Oh, Lord. Watch me pop out of my casket at my funeral and start bitching at the funeral director because the flowers were not arranged according to color and height. You watch. It's going to happen.
.....................
Does anyone else ever make up music videos to the songs they're currently listening to? I used to want to be a music video producer. I can't dance to save my life, but I would come up with this complex dance numbers that would be absolutely insane, I would have to end up writing the description. I would come up with color themes and symbolism I could insert into the context. I loved it. I actually miss working on video making. TV productions was the only class I actually liked in high school, and certainly the only reason I showed up the few times I did senior year.....
I'm weird.
So...I've started a post about frats and sororities. Who wants to see it?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
How Does Gaga Like Her Steak? Raw, raw, raw, raw, raw....
There are things on this earth that I feel truly blessed by their presence: Pandora, the Home Shopping Network, Lady Gaga...I could go on. I can't help but consider this: what if I had been born in a different time period, like the Industrial Revolution? All I can say is homegirl would not be applying at the Triangle Shirt Factory- that's for sure. Better yet, what if Lady Gaga had been born in the early 1900s? Would her fashion sense manifest itself in different ways- wearing men's bowler hats (gasp!) covered in rotten fruit found outside some rich banker's house? Wearing those bathing suits to work??? Or worse...showing ANKLE on a daily basis? Would she still have those cigarette glasses? All questions to ponder when going to sleep at night....
I read an article about Lady Gaga's new video today. It said that there are all of these groups protesting its very existence, saying that it will taint America's youth, it's vile, and a whole litany of other complaints. Curious, I watched the full 'explicit' version. Overall, it was no more sexual than a typical pop song video, and no more violent than a common rap video. There was one part where she had x's over her nipples and a vag shot, but it was all blurred out. We saw more at a particular Super Bowl....
I feel like people make her a target because of her being such an enigma. People relentlessly make fun of her choice in clothes, hair, makeup, music- everything. And yet, she continues to do what she wants, wear what she wants, sing what she wants- whatever. She's completely unphased by what they say. People hate that- especially tabloids. They feel as if people should bend to peer pressure and either be visibly bothered by what they say and/or do what they say they should. The fact that she doesn't is a bee under their bonnet.
I say, you go, Lady Gaga! True, half of the stuff you wear is outlandish- but it's fun and it's you. I wish I could channel a little Gaga everyday- to be able to go about my day not caring what other people thought and doing what made me happy no matter what....
I'll try- when things get bad I'm going to take a breath and channel the powers that be- Lady Gaga, of course. Oh...and God. Lady Gaga and God....yeah.....
I read an article about Lady Gaga's new video today. It said that there are all of these groups protesting its very existence, saying that it will taint America's youth, it's vile, and a whole litany of other complaints. Curious, I watched the full 'explicit' version. Overall, it was no more sexual than a typical pop song video, and no more violent than a common rap video. There was one part where she had x's over her nipples and a vag shot, but it was all blurred out. We saw more at a particular Super Bowl....
I feel like people make her a target because of her being such an enigma. People relentlessly make fun of her choice in clothes, hair, makeup, music- everything. And yet, she continues to do what she wants, wear what she wants, sing what she wants- whatever. She's completely unphased by what they say. People hate that- especially tabloids. They feel as if people should bend to peer pressure and either be visibly bothered by what they say and/or do what they say they should. The fact that she doesn't is a bee under their bonnet.
I say, you go, Lady Gaga! True, half of the stuff you wear is outlandish- but it's fun and it's you. I wish I could channel a little Gaga everyday- to be able to go about my day not caring what other people thought and doing what made me happy no matter what....
I'll try- when things get bad I'm going to take a breath and channel the powers that be- Lady Gaga, of course. Oh...and God. Lady Gaga and God....yeah.....
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Thoreau, Shakespear, Plath, Dickens, DUFF?!
So Hilary Duff is supposed to write a young adults book series. Yes, the girl who brought you songs such as 'Boom Boom Bang Bang' and 'I Want to Blow You Up'- songs which I just realized, together, make her sound like a terrorist threat- is going to be writing novels for our enjoyment.
I don't know about you, but I'm personally thrilled. I can't wait to see what her bubblegum-pop persona and perfectly manicured hands 'write' for us. (As if she's fooling anyone- shadow writers are becoming more and more popular, Hilary! We know there's one in your pink, bejeweled Blackberry right now! I mean...did you really think those songs were written by her?)
I can see it now, the main protagonist- a blond, waif- like teenage girl, desperate to find the perfect pedicure. But alas, all of the good places are swarmed with the smelly paparazzi- what will she do??? Then, a magical assistant pulls up a Bing listing of local in-home spa specialists and orders one straight to our heroine's door- the day is saved!! Her tootsies never felt or looked better. In the end,she learned the value of having people wait on you hand...and foot! (Oh yes, see how I went there??)
I digress. I actually kind of like Hilary Duff in a weird 'You're not Miley Cyrus' kind of way- you know? I feel like I'm not alone in this. I mean, Hilary tries to exert her individuality by painting her once petal-pink nails matte black, starving herself, and extricating herself from the tabloid scene (SO passe!). I can respect this; I was once a teenage girl, and the normal thing to do is paint your nails, dye your hair, eat only celery while hating your thighs, and carry a copy of The Feminine Mystique with you everywhere.
Little Miss 'Sweet Niblets' herself (Miley), chooses to express HER individuality by pole-dancing, dressing thirty years beyond herself, and randomly making out with everyone and everything with a 'chastity ring'. It has to be exhausting.
As a person who wants to one day become a parent, I don't see how someone like good ol' Billy Ray can let his daughter tumble down this rabbit hole. They should know better. Let us refer to the Gospel of Child Stars, book Lindsay: Chapter Two; book Britney Chapter 4; Book Haley Joel; book Macaulay; etc etc etc. I would be terrified to let my child join the top ranks of black tar heroine consumers, sex fiends, and attention whores. Call me crazy.
All I can hope for is that my children will one day look at these people with as much disdain as I do. By then, these peoples' children will be the new crop of spoiled, mindless, shells of people....with driver's licenses....and the ability to vote....I'm getting more and more terrified by the minute.
I don't know about you, but I'm personally thrilled. I can't wait to see what her bubblegum-pop persona and perfectly manicured hands 'write' for us. (As if she's fooling anyone- shadow writers are becoming more and more popular, Hilary! We know there's one in your pink, bejeweled Blackberry right now! I mean...did you really think those songs were written by her?)
I can see it now, the main protagonist- a blond, waif- like teenage girl, desperate to find the perfect pedicure. But alas, all of the good places are swarmed with the smelly paparazzi- what will she do??? Then, a magical assistant pulls up a Bing listing of local in-home spa specialists and orders one straight to our heroine's door- the day is saved!! Her tootsies never felt or looked better. In the end,she learned the value of having people wait on you hand...and foot! (Oh yes, see how I went there??)
I digress. I actually kind of like Hilary Duff in a weird 'You're not Miley Cyrus' kind of way- you know? I feel like I'm not alone in this. I mean, Hilary tries to exert her individuality by painting her once petal-pink nails matte black, starving herself, and extricating herself from the tabloid scene (SO passe!). I can respect this; I was once a teenage girl, and the normal thing to do is paint your nails, dye your hair, eat only celery while hating your thighs, and carry a copy of The Feminine Mystique with you everywhere.
Little Miss 'Sweet Niblets' herself (Miley), chooses to express HER individuality by pole-dancing, dressing thirty years beyond herself, and randomly making out with everyone and everything with a 'chastity ring'. It has to be exhausting.
As a person who wants to one day become a parent, I don't see how someone like good ol' Billy Ray can let his daughter tumble down this rabbit hole. They should know better. Let us refer to the Gospel of Child Stars, book Lindsay: Chapter Two; book Britney Chapter 4; Book Haley Joel; book Macaulay; etc etc etc. I would be terrified to let my child join the top ranks of black tar heroine consumers, sex fiends, and attention whores. Call me crazy.
All I can hope for is that my children will one day look at these people with as much disdain as I do. By then, these peoples' children will be the new crop of spoiled, mindless, shells of people....with driver's licenses....and the ability to vote....I'm getting more and more terrified by the minute.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Building Myself Anew- A Vintage Post
I feel as if I've lost all inspiration. I used to attack writing with a certain ferocity that could not be matched. I write to entertain myself (narcissistic, I'm aware), and I feel as if I've lost the ability to give biting commentary and overly descriptive, dramatic interpretations of commonplace occurences- things that used to make me laugh and reassured me that, even though I've chosen this highly-structured lifestyle, I haven't completely lost a part of me.
I used to love spontaneity and freedom. I'm scared of that now, I guess. After looking back and realizing that I wasted a semester of college for being 'too free'- I'm scared if I go back I'll ruin everything again. There's so much I want in life- kids, a husband, success, my mom and dad to finally look at me with something other than disappointment in their eyes. He says I care too much what people think...and that's true. But isn't it important, what others think? Especially in the career I want to go into?
I grew up, desperate for attention and approval from anyone who would give it (we weren't the most affectionate family...). I let myself into toxic friendships and relationships, and I've been hurt and abondoned accordingly. Now, I've started trying to control everything around me, pushing people away before they have a chance to abandon me.Except, I've found the one person who tried the hardest to stay by me and I'm pushing them harder than most before them.
I used to lock the door to my room and sit and listen to music and let myself get carried away by the harmonies and melodies. I used to let the notes surround me, taking me to another place. I would get to a certain level of clarity and inspiration I would write for hours. Feelings, thoughts, observations poured from my hand to the paper below. I wrote poems, stories, quips, songs, everything. And it was fantastic. When I finally let someone read them, they were moved to tears, laughed, and kept looking at me, incredulous. "I had no idea you could write like this. It would be a shame for you not to share this." It was the best validation I could have ever received.
Shortly after, I moved from my parent's house. My mom found my box of journals, dating back to when I was five years old (yeah, seriously). She went through and read them, cut the pages out that I wrote on and burned them. All of them. I was devastated. She said I was a horrible, evil person because of what I wrote. I wrote my feelings. Some was very angry, some was very sad, and some was down right tawdry (I went to a highschool with an obnoxious pregnancy rate. Of course I was going to give blazing commentary as to the idiocracy I was surrounded with). I used curse words, talked about how I considered hurting myself, and talked about my drinking. But that was only parts of it, and she burned it all. All of my memories and my writing went up in ash because of her. I have always had serious privacy issues because of her, but they became much worse after that day.
That was the only other time I felt as uninspired as I do, now. I'm in a rut. Classworkhomeworksleepclassworkhomeworksleepclassworkhomeworksleep. I know it will pay off, but it's also costing a lot.
I have to figure out how to get back to where I'm inspired. Where maybe I'm not completely disillusioned. Listening to the Owl City station on Pandora is helping. The songs are usually cheerful, and make the simplest things so fantastic. I want to get to that point. I want to appreciate the little things. I've taken for granted how supportive my parents really are (NOW) and that they really do mean well; that I have really great friends that worry about me, and love me, and want me happy; and finally, that I have a really great thing going and he loves me completely.
I'm coming to realize that nothing is certain. Someone could be taken from you at any moment- be it death, change of job, breaking up, whatever. I need to show them (especially him) how I feel, while they're still around. I don't know what I would do without Justin, Kassy, and Hutchy (among others, but these are the main ones). I would have no one to talk to, no one to really have fun with. I don't let myself become friends with just anyone, and my circle is usually pretty small. I don't trust anyone (I was raised by a man who taught me my first full sentence, his official motto- 'Trust no one'- not kidding). And without him? It feels like my torso is empty. It hurts physically almost everywhere just knowing I've hurt him. I don't want to be the reason he's hurt, I want to protect him from it. I have to show him this.
***Soul Meets Body by Death Cab For Cutie***
He might be moving quite a ways away, and it's killing me. But I think he really wants to do it. I want to cry out and say 'NO! You're leaving me, your girls, and going FOUR HOURS AWAY! You're leaving a great job you've laid roots at!' It's like being abandoned all over again. But I can't say anything. It's like duct tape over my mouth. It's eating me away inside, but I put a smile on and say 'I want what makes you happy, and I think this will.' Because I think it will. If I say I don't want him to go, he'll get mad, but when I go with it I feel like a liar. I think if he moves we won't be together. I've done long distance. It doesn't work. And I get jealous easily. We'll never see each other, he'll get used to living the bachelor lifestyle- not having to clean up, the freedom to go out whenever, and getting to go out with whoever. I guess it just boils down to the fact that he'll do what he wants, and I just have to sit back and watch as it all goes down.
***Hey, Soul Sister by Train***- officially cheered me up.
Belated New Year's Resolution: become a better version of the old me. Become inspired. Appreciate what I have, and show them that I do.
Now...I believe I have a date with a terribly uncomfortable, prison-issue dorm bed.
I used to love spontaneity and freedom. I'm scared of that now, I guess. After looking back and realizing that I wasted a semester of college for being 'too free'- I'm scared if I go back I'll ruin everything again. There's so much I want in life- kids, a husband, success, my mom and dad to finally look at me with something other than disappointment in their eyes. He says I care too much what people think...and that's true. But isn't it important, what others think? Especially in the career I want to go into?
I grew up, desperate for attention and approval from anyone who would give it (we weren't the most affectionate family...). I let myself into toxic friendships and relationships, and I've been hurt and abondoned accordingly. Now, I've started trying to control everything around me, pushing people away before they have a chance to abandon me.Except, I've found the one person who tried the hardest to stay by me and I'm pushing them harder than most before them.
I used to lock the door to my room and sit and listen to music and let myself get carried away by the harmonies and melodies. I used to let the notes surround me, taking me to another place. I would get to a certain level of clarity and inspiration I would write for hours. Feelings, thoughts, observations poured from my hand to the paper below. I wrote poems, stories, quips, songs, everything. And it was fantastic. When I finally let someone read them, they were moved to tears, laughed, and kept looking at me, incredulous. "I had no idea you could write like this. It would be a shame for you not to share this." It was the best validation I could have ever received.
Shortly after, I moved from my parent's house. My mom found my box of journals, dating back to when I was five years old (yeah, seriously). She went through and read them, cut the pages out that I wrote on and burned them. All of them. I was devastated. She said I was a horrible, evil person because of what I wrote. I wrote my feelings. Some was very angry, some was very sad, and some was down right tawdry (I went to a highschool with an obnoxious pregnancy rate. Of course I was going to give blazing commentary as to the idiocracy I was surrounded with). I used curse words, talked about how I considered hurting myself, and talked about my drinking. But that was only parts of it, and she burned it all. All of my memories and my writing went up in ash because of her. I have always had serious privacy issues because of her, but they became much worse after that day.
That was the only other time I felt as uninspired as I do, now. I'm in a rut. Classworkhomeworksleepclassworkhomeworksleepclassworkhomeworksleep. I know it will pay off, but it's also costing a lot.
I have to figure out how to get back to where I'm inspired. Where maybe I'm not completely disillusioned. Listening to the Owl City station on Pandora is helping. The songs are usually cheerful, and make the simplest things so fantastic. I want to get to that point. I want to appreciate the little things. I've taken for granted how supportive my parents really are (NOW) and that they really do mean well; that I have really great friends that worry about me, and love me, and want me happy; and finally, that I have a really great thing going and he loves me completely.
I'm coming to realize that nothing is certain. Someone could be taken from you at any moment- be it death, change of job, breaking up, whatever. I need to show them (especially him) how I feel, while they're still around. I don't know what I would do without Justin, Kassy, and Hutchy (among others, but these are the main ones). I would have no one to talk to, no one to really have fun with. I don't let myself become friends with just anyone, and my circle is usually pretty small. I don't trust anyone (I was raised by a man who taught me my first full sentence, his official motto- 'Trust no one'- not kidding). And without him? It feels like my torso is empty. It hurts physically almost everywhere just knowing I've hurt him. I don't want to be the reason he's hurt, I want to protect him from it. I have to show him this.
***Soul Meets Body by Death Cab For Cutie***
He might be moving quite a ways away, and it's killing me. But I think he really wants to do it. I want to cry out and say 'NO! You're leaving me, your girls, and going FOUR HOURS AWAY! You're leaving a great job you've laid roots at!' It's like being abandoned all over again. But I can't say anything. It's like duct tape over my mouth. It's eating me away inside, but I put a smile on and say 'I want what makes you happy, and I think this will.' Because I think it will. If I say I don't want him to go, he'll get mad, but when I go with it I feel like a liar. I think if he moves we won't be together. I've done long distance. It doesn't work. And I get jealous easily. We'll never see each other, he'll get used to living the bachelor lifestyle- not having to clean up, the freedom to go out whenever, and getting to go out with whoever. I guess it just boils down to the fact that he'll do what he wants, and I just have to sit back and watch as it all goes down.
***Hey, Soul Sister by Train***- officially cheered me up.
Belated New Year's Resolution: become a better version of the old me. Become inspired. Appreciate what I have, and show them that I do.
Now...I believe I have a date with a terribly uncomfortable, prison-issue dorm bed.
Gratuitous Ranting
Exhaustion. You never realize how far you’ve fallen into a rut until you’re at the bottom. Your body feels like you’ve carried an 80 pound backpack up Kilimanjaro. And back down. It’s really made me stop and look back and ask, ‘Is this all really worth it?’.
I’m in a clichéd situation. I’m a poor college kid, attending class full time and working a part time job. I have to have the job to pay my car insurance, phone bill, money to go out, etc. I have to go to school because for some reason law firms look kindly on someone with a degree. I think they’re just being picky.
I realize I’m being whiny. I have student loans to help. And my parents did pay for my beautiful Cutlass Ciera (all jokes aside, while looking like it could be driving Ms. Daisy, Chico is a great car).
But when I look over to Greek Hill and see the glittery Miatas and shimmering Navigators I think, ‘Why not me?’. My parents probably make twice as much as most of their parents. Why is it my parents are so stingy with this money??? They always give me some bull answer about wanting to retire early and experience life or something but this is ME we’re talking about, isn’t MY happiness more important??
I hope to God you were able to translate my irony from there. I do think it’s superfluous to give your kid everything on a silver platter, send them to college without making them get a job, let them join a Greek organization where they’ll probably contract more STDs than Courtney Love, and never ask for anything in return. What does that even teach them?
These kids, in turn, become narcissistic, co-dependent douche bags that can’t see past their noses. Then, because of their ‘fraternal upbringing’ (one of my favorite phrases coined by the Greek organizations to put a pseudo-positive spin on things-I translate it to mean ‘we spank each other and then have orgies but we swear we’re not gay’) they somehow get a job in the ‘real’ world. This blatant act of nepotism was only acceptable in Medieval England or in areas of home repair (and even then Ms. Manners would probably suggest you not hire cousin Vinny to work on your sink).
I had a Greek guy once tell me that his organization teaches him to be a gentleman and respect women. I laughed. He glared. I'm sorry, but when the basis of your social gatherings revolves around a keg with an wet t-shirt contest to follow I hardly find that to be a very respectful activity. If anything, the objectification of women is (or should be) written into their charter. That, and homophobia. More on this subject later....
I’m in a clichéd situation. I’m a poor college kid, attending class full time and working a part time job. I have to have the job to pay my car insurance, phone bill, money to go out, etc. I have to go to school because for some reason law firms look kindly on someone with a degree. I think they’re just being picky.
I realize I’m being whiny. I have student loans to help. And my parents did pay for my beautiful Cutlass Ciera (all jokes aside, while looking like it could be driving Ms. Daisy, Chico is a great car).
But when I look over to Greek Hill and see the glittery Miatas and shimmering Navigators I think, ‘Why not me?’. My parents probably make twice as much as most of their parents. Why is it my parents are so stingy with this money??? They always give me some bull answer about wanting to retire early and experience life or something but this is ME we’re talking about, isn’t MY happiness more important??
I hope to God you were able to translate my irony from there. I do think it’s superfluous to give your kid everything on a silver platter, send them to college without making them get a job, let them join a Greek organization where they’ll probably contract more STDs than Courtney Love, and never ask for anything in return. What does that even teach them?
These kids, in turn, become narcissistic, co-dependent douche bags that can’t see past their noses. Then, because of their ‘fraternal upbringing’ (one of my favorite phrases coined by the Greek organizations to put a pseudo-positive spin on things-I translate it to mean ‘we spank each other and then have orgies but we swear we’re not gay’) they somehow get a job in the ‘real’ world. This blatant act of nepotism was only acceptable in Medieval England or in areas of home repair (and even then Ms. Manners would probably suggest you not hire cousin Vinny to work on your sink).
I had a Greek guy once tell me that his organization teaches him to be a gentleman and respect women. I laughed. He glared. I'm sorry, but when the basis of your social gatherings revolves around a keg with an wet t-shirt contest to follow I hardly find that to be a very respectful activity. If anything, the objectification of women is (or should be) written into their charter. That, and homophobia. More on this subject later....
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