Tom started a blog. I'm not going to say if I like it or not, just that it now exists and if you feel like reading it, you now know where to find it. He said he will probably write about me, and since I am god dammed hilarious in real life (so much so that I can't properly convey it through English words and such) you may get a look into that from someone who fancies me quite a bit's perspective.
I don't think he is quite used to how clumsy I really am yet. On one of our first few dates I totally ate it and fell on my ass in the parking lot. I laughed, he was embarrassed. Whatever.
Also, he and I are dating. Like, boyfriend and girlfriend, "no you hang up first" stuff. It's gross, and I love it. We watched Marley and Me (I'd never seen it and Tom wanted to see if I actually have a soul) and I cried like a little bitch. God, that movie was so sad. I want a puppy now.
Sorry men, (all one of you that read this vagina centered blog) I'm no longer on the market.
I am, however, in the market for things like people to hang out with, people who enjoy skyping (like Rob_of_the_sky *waves*) because Ellen is still in Geneva and I still miss her. Like so hard.
More plugs!! Merry, my dear friend of the real type (blog friends are real too, but she is really real. I've seen her existing and such) also has a blog that is so powerfully heartfelt and very hilarious at the same time. Also, she talks about poop and we all how important that is to me.
In high school Merry (short for Meredeth if you were confused) and I were in Beauty and the Beast together. Among towns person and other odd "Chorus" parts, I was a pillar. She was a bell. Not "Belle" but a bell; the *ding ding* type. After the transformation I was so effing bored and since I wasn't miked I had a good time with the girl who played Mrs. Potts... and by good time I mean I was really creepy and pissed her off every single time. Go me. Merry was there near me and since we'd all just "transformed" in to real people I thought commenting on people realness would be funny. I was totally right. I did this strange creeper thing with my hand I can't describe and told every one they were so real in this equally creepy voice. She and I still randomly comment on the realness of things with the creepy voice and creepy hand... this (among many many other things) is why I love heck heck out of this girl.
I'm done plugging my friends, I promise.
I want to talk about relationships though... and not just boyfriend slash girlfriend types; all types.
I have a very dear friend, his name is Andy Schueneman (BAM! Every time I spell that properly I want to high five myself, but then people look at me weird for clapping, so I do it on the inside), and aside from being part of the only family I've ever loved as much as my own, (he's Merry's brother, in case you were curious) he's truly an awesome person.
Another side not about the Schueneman's, and why I love them so much: I have a relationship with every member of the family that can coincide with the others, but is also completely unique. merry is like my other half, I love her. Em and I were amazing friends throughout most of high school (she drew quite a few fake tattoo on me during band) since she is in my grade. Andy and I tried dating over the summer, but it just didn't really happen... not a problem though, he's still a great friend. Mr. Schueneman (Max) and I went on an impromptu bike ride once when we both happened to be on the bike trail in Stow at the same time, and he and I always converse about things when I'm over there, and Mrs. Schueneman (Chris) is just an amazing hilarious woman I can't ever get enough of. Love the family, all of them.
I don't really know where I was going to go with this post... I started writing relationship advice (you know, because Tom and I have been dating for a whole three minutes and I know so much about them) but it turned out crap (the advice was good, the writing was crap). Maybe I'll work on that for and just tell you more about random things in my life that don't make sense or go together.
My sister has started reading the hunger games, and she's a whore for it now. She ordered the third book from the internet and because she has the flu she's home from work. But... she needed it today! Because she was done with the second!
So she went to Target and bought it.
She says she'll return the target one once the internet one arrives.
I doubt she won't have it done by the time the other arrives. I've been known to plow through a book when I've got the flu. Good news is that as soon as I am done with the book I picked up from the library over the weekend I'll get to start the series all bought by my sister. I love sharing books.
Teresa was texting me about how she bought the book at Target because she couldn't wait and I told her to "Keep it secret. Keep it safe," because you can't return a book that has been opened.
I love book quotes (and movie quotes) and because she is my sister she understands the crazy love of all things literature going on in my heart. We are really sisters, but if we weren't I'd say we were supposed to be sisters.
Books are cool.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
being a woman makes me crazy
Because I seriously have nothing better to do today than look at baby animals, my ovaries are crying out and have convinced me I need something small to love...
That's enough for now... I hope.
And, because baby humans are a lot more work than fluffy baby animals, my brain made sure my ovaries were aware that they weren't getting a human. Only a kitten.
And by getting, I mean looking at them on the internet... I can't get a baby kitten right now.
My cat might get jealous.
Look at them with me!!
That's enough for now... I hope.
How are your ovaries feeling?
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
ways to improve your writing
Because I've been blogging for what seems like forever, I have picked up a few tricks as far as quality writing goes. Not to sound like a douche, but there are so many great blogs out there I don't read because I can't stand the way the writer tries to get their message across.
I know I sucked at the beginning, seriously, so bad, but once I got the hang of things, and remembered that while a personal blog is not meant to sound like a paper, you should still use certain caution when expressing your style, I found my voice, and my voice became legend.
Kidding... about the legend thing...
Because I've never done a tip-esque post before I want to warn you that I am not pointing at anyone in particular. I used to/ still slip into all of these at one point or another, and that's why I want to help you. You can't fix something you don't realize is wrong.
First things first: content
Your content is what matters. I'm serious when I say potentially great blogs out there are missing only one fundamental thing and it's good writing style. You can tell a blog, or any piece of writing really, is (can be) great from the content. Style comes after. If you don't have anything to write about, don't. I'm not talking about writers block, I'm talking about forced posts that are boring and unoriginal. Posting on a regular basis is wonderful, and a great habit to form; if you don't have anything of quality to publish, don't. I don't enjoy having to sift through fluff posts to find the good ones. True readers enjoy quality over quantity. Trust me.
I love to read.
2. Eliminate excess
words, phrases, redundancies
The word, "that" is my hardest. There are plenty of places that, "that" can fit in that make sense. That is why I have such a hard time with that. That's the main thing with my own writing that I find that I have to cognitively look for and eliminate.
Everyone has something they say in regular speech that doesn't flow so well in writing. If you know your weakness, it'll be easier to recognise and find other ways to get the same point across. "That" is actually a pretty easy one since most of the time you can just take it out without having to reword or rephrase anything. It's just a word I find comes out of my fingers on far too regular of a basis.
Another thing I have trouble with is "not only... but also...". I don't know why this idiom sticks with me, but I have to make sure I don't use it too often or it loses it's juice.
And I'm an ellipse whore, for this I am not apologetic.
I also start too many sentences with "so". Sometimes it works, sometimes it's overkill.
So, what you have to do is read your writing, lot's of your writing, and find the things you use often that may be more of an annoyance than a signature. Everyone's style is different, don't lose what makes your writing unique, just get rid of what makes your writing tedious to read.
3. Know the difference between homonyms. I can't tell you how annoying it is every time I get a text or see a facebook post that reads as so: Your awesome!!
NO!
You're lame.
Or: I can't wait to here from you!!!
Ugh... do not blog like idiots text. And, while we're on the subject, please do not text like idiots text, or facebook, or whatever. Your printed words are there, forever, and if you make those mistakes you just seem ignorant. Please, be the smart person I know you are.
4. Learn the differences between commas, semicolons, and colons.
And use them.
These are important. Your writing will be so much more fluid and speech like if you learn to punctuate your sentences properly. Fluid writing is easy reading, easy reading is fun reading. If you ever have a question as to what punctuation can or should go where, look it up on google. Google is God.
5. Don't use annoying fonts, annoying colors,or a background/foreground disagreement that makes your content hard to read. Books are not published that way, your blog shouldn't be either.
6. Proof read, and then do it once more.
This is coming from the goddess of typos; really, I invented them. Proof reading is hard for me because I seriously think I have a bit o' dyslexia. I can't see the difference between "something" and "somethign" and I make this mistake all the time. Thank Jesu that spell check was invented, but spell check can't check when you write one instead of once, or timed instead of times. You are your own best tool when it comes to this. Re-read your post (letter, email, paper, article...) at least twice. If you can, read it out loud, that'll force you to slow down and really see the words. Plus, you'll hear your writing and be able to spot any redundancies or inconsistencies as well as other style mishaps we've been trying to eliminate.
7. Don't write when you're anxious, don't write when you're drunk... okay, write when you're drunk, but don't publish it till you've had a chance to read it sober. I get anxious a lot (like right now, don't be like me...) and when I do my writing suffers. I write a lot of splices and things don't fit together. Writing when you're drunk, you'll forget that you can't type as fast as you think and you'll skip over important things. Right now I'm making millions of typos, this happens when you're not in your normal mind. Coffee does this to me sometimes... relax... relax...
There are millions of tools for becoming a better writer; and if you're curious as to what to read to become better I suggest starting out with The Elements of Style, by Strunk and White. It's what we read in our AP English class and it was my Bible from ninth grade through twelfth. Writing should be an outlet, not a chore. Don't write to write, write to tell a story or get a point across. If you have no reason to write, people won't have a reason to read what you wrote. Write with a purpose and write well, because I surely do love reading your stuff.
I know I sucked at the beginning, seriously, so bad, but once I got the hang of things, and remembered that while a personal blog is not meant to sound like a paper, you should still use certain caution when expressing your style, I found my voice, and my voice became legend.
Kidding... about the legend thing...
Because I've never done a tip-esque post before I want to warn you that I am not pointing at anyone in particular. I used to/ still slip into all of these at one point or another, and that's why I want to help you. You can't fix something you don't realize is wrong.
First things first: content
Your content is what matters. I'm serious when I say potentially great blogs out there are missing only one fundamental thing and it's good writing style. You can tell a blog, or any piece of writing really, is (can be) great from the content. Style comes after. If you don't have anything to write about, don't. I'm not talking about writers block, I'm talking about forced posts that are boring and unoriginal. Posting on a regular basis is wonderful, and a great habit to form; if you don't have anything of quality to publish, don't. I don't enjoy having to sift through fluff posts to find the good ones. True readers enjoy quality over quantity. Trust me.
I love to read.
2. Eliminate excess
words, phrases, redundancies
The word, "that" is my hardest. There are plenty of places that, "that" can fit in that make sense. That is why I have such a hard time with that. That's the main thing with my own writing that I find that I have to cognitively look for and eliminate.
Everyone has something they say in regular speech that doesn't flow so well in writing. If you know your weakness, it'll be easier to recognise and find other ways to get the same point across. "That" is actually a pretty easy one since most of the time you can just take it out without having to reword or rephrase anything. It's just a word I find comes out of my fingers on far too regular of a basis.
Another thing I have trouble with is "not only... but also...". I don't know why this idiom sticks with me, but I have to make sure I don't use it too often or it loses it's juice.
And I'm an ellipse whore, for this I am not apologetic.
I also start too many sentences with "so". Sometimes it works, sometimes it's overkill.
So, what you have to do is read your writing, lot's of your writing, and find the things you use often that may be more of an annoyance than a signature. Everyone's style is different, don't lose what makes your writing unique, just get rid of what makes your writing tedious to read.
3. Know the difference between homonyms. I can't tell you how annoying it is every time I get a text or see a facebook post that reads as so: Your awesome!!
NO!
You're lame.
Or: I can't wait to here from you!!!
Ugh... do not blog like idiots text. And, while we're on the subject, please do not text like idiots text, or facebook, or whatever. Your printed words are there, forever, and if you make those mistakes you just seem ignorant. Please, be the smart person I know you are.
4. Learn the differences between commas, semicolons, and colons.
And use them.
These are important. Your writing will be so much more fluid and speech like if you learn to punctuate your sentences properly. Fluid writing is easy reading, easy reading is fun reading. If you ever have a question as to what punctuation can or should go where, look it up on google. Google is God.
5. Don't use annoying fonts, annoying colors,or a background/foreground disagreement that makes your content hard to read. Books are not published that way, your blog shouldn't be either.
6. Proof read, and then do it once more.
This is coming from the goddess of typos; really, I invented them. Proof reading is hard for me because I seriously think I have a bit o' dyslexia. I can't see the difference between "something" and "somethign" and I make this mistake all the time. Thank Jesu that spell check was invented, but spell check can't check when you write one instead of once, or timed instead of times. You are your own best tool when it comes to this. Re-read your post (letter, email, paper, article...) at least twice. If you can, read it out loud, that'll force you to slow down and really see the words. Plus, you'll hear your writing and be able to spot any redundancies or inconsistencies as well as other style mishaps we've been trying to eliminate.
7. Don't write when you're anxious, don't write when you're drunk... okay, write when you're drunk, but don't publish it till you've had a chance to read it sober. I get anxious a lot (like right now, don't be like me...) and when I do my writing suffers. I write a lot of splices and things don't fit together. Writing when you're drunk, you'll forget that you can't type as fast as you think and you'll skip over important things. Right now I'm making millions of typos, this happens when you're not in your normal mind. Coffee does this to me sometimes... relax... relax...
There are millions of tools for becoming a better writer; and if you're curious as to what to read to become better I suggest starting out with The Elements of Style, by Strunk and White. It's what we read in our AP English class and it was my Bible from ninth grade through twelfth. Writing should be an outlet, not a chore. Don't write to write, write to tell a story or get a point across. If you have no reason to write, people won't have a reason to read what you wrote. Write with a purpose and write well, because I surely do love reading your stuff.
Monday, February 21, 2011
I am a woman, I ought to make sandwiches
Recently I've been complaining a lot about Tom and the fact that he is a 'publican and how it will probably ruin our relationship somewhere down the road... and by relationship I obviously mean "relationship" (please do the finger quoties, it'll make me happy) because we're not together... to my sister because every time I hang out with him (which is really really often) she asks me why I keep doing it.
The answer is simple: I like him.
Really like him.
So, Teresa decided that any time I whine about Thomas and his lack of ability to be whatever it is I want him to be at the moment of my whining, I must surround it with two things I like... a conversational sandwich she calls it.
Positive: Tom cooks well and is not afraid to try new things.
Negative: Tom is a 'publican.
Positive: Tom's muscles are from the Lord and can only be described as Godlike.
See? That wasn't so hard... Let's try another
Positive: Tom's eyes are so blue I have to make sure I don't stare at them for too long lest I get lost.
Negative: Tom doesn't listen so well, and has trouble communicating what he actually means.
He usually needs to talk himself to a conclusion and the likelihood he'll piss me off on the way is pretty high.
Positive: Tom talks, and he wants to be heard.
Opinionated people are great, as long as they can logically back up their opinions. Dating a guy who just doesn't care (Kyle, cough cough) gets boring after a short while. I am interesting, no denying that, but I can't have all the opinions, that's lame. Tom has his own opinions, and as long as I have the time to listen to him talk his way through his reasoning, we can usually come to a place that makes sense. It's far more exciting.
It's not that hard, and since he really does have a lot of good qualities doing this helps me put things in perspective. My sister can give good relationship advice too, just don't tell her I said so.
The answer is simple: I like him.
Really like him.
So, Teresa decided that any time I whine about Thomas and his lack of ability to be whatever it is I want him to be at the moment of my whining, I must surround it with two things I like... a conversational sandwich she calls it.
Positive: Tom cooks well and is not afraid to try new things.
Negative: Tom is a 'publican.
Positive: Tom's muscles are from the Lord and can only be described as Godlike.
See? That wasn't so hard... Let's try another
Positive: Tom's eyes are so blue I have to make sure I don't stare at them for too long lest I get lost.
Negative: Tom doesn't listen so well, and has trouble communicating what he actually means.
He usually needs to talk himself to a conclusion and the likelihood he'll piss me off on the way is pretty high.
Positive: Tom talks, and he wants to be heard.
Opinionated people are great, as long as they can logically back up their opinions. Dating a guy who just doesn't care (Kyle, cough cough) gets boring after a short while. I am interesting, no denying that, but I can't have all the opinions, that's lame. Tom has his own opinions, and as long as I have the time to listen to him talk his way through his reasoning, we can usually come to a place that makes sense. It's far more exciting.
It's not that hard, and since he really does have a lot of good qualities doing this helps me put things in perspective. My sister can give good relationship advice too, just don't tell her I said so.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
I write the best blog posts when I'm not near a computer
Does anyone else have that problem? You can see the photos, the layout, your eloquent words streaming from here to there, filling the world with hope, inspiration, joy... then, I sit down at my computer to "work" and nothing.
Absolutely nothing eloquent.
So I do that thing writers do where they just write to get their creative juices flowing (welcome to what you're reading now) and listen to NPR and drink my coffee all while playing on 20sb because once again, "working" leaves lots of room to do things like that.
side note of gloriousness: I opened the door right in front of my desk this morning for 15 minutes to let the fresh warm(ish) air in and I heard real birds really chirping and felt wind on my face and I remembered why I am alive. I know spring is a tease and she won't actually put out till sometime in July or August, but it's nice to remember what it's like to not feel like I'm going to freeze to the core of my being every time I have to venture outside.
I woke up late this morning. And by I woke up I mean my sister walked into my room, asked me if I knew what time it was and told me it was 8:20. I jumped out of bed, thanked her a million times, didn't put pants on, kissed my nephew fifteen times, and then threw some clothes on that slightly resembled something other people might find acceptable "business casual" (a term that is very loose in my office seeing as I wore jeans yesterday, a pink summer camp t-shirt from when I was 14 and a sweater to dress things up a bit... This morning it's a bright green tank top with a black one under it, leggings, boots, and another sweater because I think cardigans can dress up any outfit. Can someone submit me to What Not to Wear please? I love Stacy and Clinton.
I'm pretty sure that you're all dying to know what I've decided about Sir Thomas... because, well, I'm interesting (so says my therapist yesterday when I once again talked about my blog... how pathetic is that? Not only do I talk about my blog on far too regular of a basis with people in my life, see a therapist on a quasi-regular schedule (now only every other week instead of every week, and only the talky and medicine type, the just talky type and I have hit a plateau and I don't feel like she is as good at therapying me) but I talk to my therapist about my blog). Sentences should probably have more out of parenthesise words than in parenthesise ones, but I try to keep things fresh for you people, keep you on your avocado.
When you read avocado did it surprise you? Did you expect toes? I was really keeping you on your toes by saying avocado. You're welcome.
God I can write about nothing like it's my job. And, since I am technically getting paid to blog right now I will say that it is my job. Until the phone rings. Or I decide to do the work sitting on my printer waiting to be done.
Back to me and the Republican. There are so many positive things about him; physically he is really great. Tall, blue eyes, reddish hair, glasses, freckles, lovely man arms that make the cave woman in me go bonkers... As far as life plans he basically has the right idea that's almost exactly in sync with mine. He has a great work ethic, he doesn't like lazy people (my blogging at work doesn't count as lazy, I'm being productive, remember that), he knows how to cook, his cuddling skills are unparalleled, I'm comfortable with him, he makes me laugh, he thinks I'm funny, I feel safe around him, appreciated, secure. All things that are super important to me in a relationship. I need to know that I'm special enough to not only warrant your time, but that you value me, as an equal opposite member of the relationship, but also as a human being. I don't need you to validate my place or my existence, but if I am going to be willing to commit to you, I need to know that you want and cherish my efforts in doing so. I love to make people happy, it's a huge weakness of mine because people have taken advantage of it my whole life; when I'm in a relationship if I don't feel valued and appreciated and noticed, I don't feel secure. I need that feeling. I hate the vulnerability that comes from giving your heart away; I'm not willing to let anyone walk all over it again. Healing from that was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Depression makes you make stupid decisions, including letting the man you love treat you like crap because you're too afraid to face the world... and even more afraid to face the world alone.
As far as the place I would hold in Tom's and my relationship if I decided to let it become something officially official, need I say facebook official, I know I would be exactly where I should be. Who ever you're dating doesn't need the same opinions on everything in your life (that is where David and I spoiled each other, we never fought because we always agreed, on like everything. It was almost weird knowing that I would never face judgement (will never, sorry, he and I are still friends) because he just gets where I am coming from, my ideas and morals all make sense to him), but you do have to have general agreements on really important issues. I can deal with him being a republican, I just personally know I will be able to cancel out his vote every single election for the rest of my life and that sort of power makes me happy. I can deal with him thinking the system surrounding the practice of medicine is imperfect (duh, are't all systems like that imperfect? Human nature my friend, read 1984) which is I guess what he meant when we talked about anti-anxiety medicines being prescribed to a lot of people who don't need them.
Although, what a terrible way to say something that sounds nothing like what you supposedly mean...
But, I don't exactly appreciate the way he approached this argument. You see, I'm not the type of person who is proud of the way I acted those few years as depression and anxiety were slowly but surely pulling me into the darkest point in my life. I'm not proud of how i saw the world, and how I saw the people in it. I'm not proud of the days I spent being angry for no apparent reason. Or the times I fought with people just because I could... I wish I could go back and take those moments of lashing out irrationally before I had time to truly think about something and properly analyze the event in my mind logically and hit myself for being that way. But, I am glad it happened. I'm glad I got to see how horrible I was and how different I was. And I am even more glad that's it's all (hopefully) hindsight.
I can't just fight with someone in the moment anymore because I refuse to basically. I refuse to talk about things that upset me here and now because there is a huge potential I will say something I don't mean. I do not ever want that to happen again. And Tom doesn't understand this tactic of mine. What if, after thinking about something for a day or two I decided it really didn't matter and it was totally a situational annoyance? What if what I was originally upset about turns out to just be a surface symptom of an underlying issue? Why not give myself the time to come to those conclusions before I make someone upset by telling them they've pissed me off but refusing to talk about it right then. I know that's annoying, David told me every time I did it.
I hate crying.
And I hate acting on irrational thoughts.
Thus I refuse to talk about things without giving myself that time, and if Tom can't accept that, and respect me for it, then that will be the deciding factor.
I'm not ashamed of this way of thinking, I've always done it (sans the depression stages of my life) and I personally think it's ten times more effective than yelling and screaming and calling names. It works because you come to the disagreement when raw emotions can't get in the way since you've given yourself that time to figure things out. You don't have stupid fights because you are fully aware of the real problem at hand, no outside little qualms get in the way, and instead of an argument you have a productive adult discussion. I see the other way immature and time waisting. Therefor, I refuse to take part in it.
Aren't you so proud of me for being such a grown up?
Absolutely nothing eloquent.
So I do that thing writers do where they just write to get their creative juices flowing (welcome to what you're reading now) and listen to NPR and drink my coffee all while playing on 20sb because once again, "working" leaves lots of room to do things like that.
I woke up late this morning. And by I woke up I mean my sister walked into my room, asked me if I knew what time it was and told me it was 8:20. I jumped out of bed, thanked her a million times, didn't put pants on, kissed my nephew fifteen times, and then threw some clothes on that slightly resembled something other people might find acceptable "business casual" (a term that is very loose in my office seeing as I wore jeans yesterday, a pink summer camp t-shirt from when I was 14 and a sweater to dress things up a bit... This morning it's a bright green tank top with a black one under it, leggings, boots, and another sweater because I think cardigans can dress up any outfit. Can someone submit me to What Not to Wear please? I love Stacy and Clinton.
I'm pretty sure that you're all dying to know what I've decided about Sir Thomas... because, well, I'm interesting (so says my therapist yesterday when I once again talked about my blog... how pathetic is that? Not only do I talk about my blog on far too regular of a basis with people in my life, see a therapist on a quasi-regular schedule (now only every other week instead of every week, and only the talky and medicine type, the just talky type and I have hit a plateau and I don't feel like she is as good at therapying me) but I talk to my therapist about my blog). Sentences should probably have more out of parenthesise words than in parenthesise ones, but I try to keep things fresh for you people, keep you on your avocado.
When you read avocado did it surprise you? Did you expect toes? I was really keeping you on your toes by saying avocado. You're welcome.
God I can write about nothing like it's my job. And, since I am technically getting paid to blog right now I will say that it is my job. Until the phone rings. Or I decide to do the work sitting on my printer waiting to be done.
Back to me and the Republican. There are so many positive things about him; physically he is really great. Tall, blue eyes, reddish hair, glasses, freckles, lovely man arms that make the cave woman in me go bonkers... As far as life plans he basically has the right idea that's almost exactly in sync with mine. He has a great work ethic, he doesn't like lazy people (my blogging at work doesn't count as lazy, I'm being productive, remember that), he knows how to cook, his cuddling skills are unparalleled, I'm comfortable with him, he makes me laugh, he thinks I'm funny, I feel safe around him, appreciated, secure. All things that are super important to me in a relationship. I need to know that I'm special enough to not only warrant your time, but that you value me, as an equal opposite member of the relationship, but also as a human being. I don't need you to validate my place or my existence, but if I am going to be willing to commit to you, I need to know that you want and cherish my efforts in doing so. I love to make people happy, it's a huge weakness of mine because people have taken advantage of it my whole life; when I'm in a relationship if I don't feel valued and appreciated and noticed, I don't feel secure. I need that feeling. I hate the vulnerability that comes from giving your heart away; I'm not willing to let anyone walk all over it again. Healing from that was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Depression makes you make stupid decisions, including letting the man you love treat you like crap because you're too afraid to face the world... and even more afraid to face the world alone.
As far as the place I would hold in Tom's and my relationship if I decided to let it become something officially official, need I say facebook official, I know I would be exactly where I should be. Who ever you're dating doesn't need the same opinions on everything in your life (that is where David and I spoiled each other, we never fought because we always agreed, on like everything. It was almost weird knowing that I would never face judgement (will never, sorry, he and I are still friends) because he just gets where I am coming from, my ideas and morals all make sense to him), but you do have to have general agreements on really important issues. I can deal with him being a republican, I just personally know I will be able to cancel out his vote every single election for the rest of my life and that sort of power makes me happy. I can deal with him thinking the system surrounding the practice of medicine is imperfect (duh, are't all systems like that imperfect? Human nature my friend, read 1984) which is I guess what he meant when we talked about anti-anxiety medicines being prescribed to a lot of people who don't need them.
Although, what a terrible way to say something that sounds nothing like what you supposedly mean...
But, I don't exactly appreciate the way he approached this argument. You see, I'm not the type of person who is proud of the way I acted those few years as depression and anxiety were slowly but surely pulling me into the darkest point in my life. I'm not proud of how i saw the world, and how I saw the people in it. I'm not proud of the days I spent being angry for no apparent reason. Or the times I fought with people just because I could... I wish I could go back and take those moments of lashing out irrationally before I had time to truly think about something and properly analyze the event in my mind logically and hit myself for being that way. But, I am glad it happened. I'm glad I got to see how horrible I was and how different I was. And I am even more glad that's it's all (hopefully) hindsight.
I can't just fight with someone in the moment anymore because I refuse to basically. I refuse to talk about things that upset me here and now because there is a huge potential I will say something I don't mean. I do not ever want that to happen again. And Tom doesn't understand this tactic of mine. What if, after thinking about something for a day or two I decided it really didn't matter and it was totally a situational annoyance? What if what I was originally upset about turns out to just be a surface symptom of an underlying issue? Why not give myself the time to come to those conclusions before I make someone upset by telling them they've pissed me off but refusing to talk about it right then. I know that's annoying, David told me every time I did it.
I hate crying.
And I hate acting on irrational thoughts.
Thus I refuse to talk about things without giving myself that time, and if Tom can't accept that, and respect me for it, then that will be the deciding factor.
I'm not ashamed of this way of thinking, I've always done it (sans the depression stages of my life) and I personally think it's ten times more effective than yelling and screaming and calling names. It works because you come to the disagreement when raw emotions can't get in the way since you've given yourself that time to figure things out. You don't have stupid fights because you are fully aware of the real problem at hand, no outside little qualms get in the way, and instead of an argument you have a productive adult discussion. I see the other way immature and time waisting. Therefor, I refuse to take part in it.
Aren't you so proud of me for being such a grown up?
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
wait
Sometimes I wish I didn't like sex so much. It would be nice to be able to use my head instead of my penis when it came to major decisions... like who I let in between my legs, and how long I wait after meeting slash dating them to do this.
If I didn't care about getting laid, dating would be a lot easier because I would remember to ask the important questions before I spend a significant amount of time on my back (or knees) with someone.
I wish I didn't swoon over big muscles or a nice musky scent as he walks by. I wish the entirely feral ideas of what I really want to do to him (and him to me) weren't streaming through my mind like the real subtitles to the movie that is my life. I wish I could go 15 minutes (okay, more like 5) without thinking of how lovely a guy looks under me... or on top of me, or with his face in between my legs. I want to not get the cosmic horn any time I drink making me willing to fool around with people I probably shouldn't be fooling around with just because I can't properly use my lady toys when I'm stumbling drunk or remember how to reload the batteries.
But alas, that is my fate. Since the ripe old age of almost seventeen I have know how amazing it feels to do the between the sheets dance with someone.
And, by almost seventeen I mean I thought it felt amazing. Teens just don't know good sex, which is fine with me. It takes practice; you might as well have bad sex with someone else who is bad at sex so you can both learn without wasting anyone’s time.
I now long for it. I crave it. I want to feel the warmth of another body with me as I hit the highest notes in my range. I want to feel incubused by someone as they put it inside me. I want to hear as they breathe in and out, working to get us to a place that makes no sense at all while still being absolutely the best thing that could ever happen...
I love sex.
Too much.
It makes my brain shut off and I do stupid things.
Like sleep with someone I barely know.
This gives lots of room for awkward moments like, "You're a republican?!??"
"Yea, aren't you?"
"NO! Are you crazy? Why would I be?"
Now, this was totally my bad. It didn't occur to me that by taking me to a gun show he was waving his republican flag high. I forget it's mostly those types that like to play with guns. They do give gun enthusiasts a bad name... that's for sure. Oh, and they aren't funny; their jokes seriously suck.
Another lovely thing to come out of his mouth, "I don't think anxiety is a real thing you should get medicine for. I mean, it can be treated other ways and most people who take anti-anxiety meds misuse them anyways. It just leads to a bunch of pill poppers."
Side note about me: I've been seeing a therapist weekly since August for depression and anxiety. I didn't sleep proprtly for over a year because of it. After four months of this weekly therapy I still wasn't sleeping. I got a prescription for anti-anxiety medicine and one for insomnia. That night was the first night I had slept in what felt like forever.
He knows this.
So, basically in his mind I'm a druggie who will eventually turn into one of those stepford-esque women who are mentally unstable and eventually kill themselves while no one noticed anything was wrong since she was just so medicated all the time. Because I need medicine to help with my anxiety I can't possibly have valid opinions or other things like that.
Maybe that's not what he said per se, but that's how I feel about what he said. I can't get over how he could think that anxiety isn't something that may be so intense it'll require medication.
Do you know how many anti-anxiety medications are out there?
Me either, but I'm sure there are lots.
Mine happen to be on the four dollar list at Giant Eagle, which means it's commonly enough prescribed that they don't charge you out the ass for them. I am sure that no matter how many people Tom knows that abuse their medication, there are a hundred more out there who thrive on it. And, people abuse anything they can get their hands on.
People are idiots.
The habits of those few people who abuse anti-anxiety medication are not the majority. Those things are monitored by a medical doctor, you can't get a new prescription without talking to one unless you have one of the crack pot ass hole of a doctor types that just collect your payment, write you a prescription and show you the door... which I am aware that they exist, but again, not the majority. His prejudice against us pill poppers comes from his republican views of the world. No faith in people, no reason to help fellow man.
I'm a firm believer in the fact that most people will not work if you don't make them. I know that people are idiots, and lazy, and predominantly useless when it comes to anything useful. However, I don't think that everyone is an idiot. And I don't think you can ever say the majority of anything is anything without any facts to back it up.
I'm a statistics gal. Talk numbers to me and not only will I get on my knees to thank you but you'll make sense to me every single time. I'll agree with you because you're right, with proof, and facts can't be argued. But, walk up to me with a brash idea/opinion with no proof whatsoever and I won't listen to you. I'll think you're an idiot. I'll probably tell you're an idiot too. I think if you feel something strongly enough and are willing to say it and call it your opinion, I at least deserve to know your reasoning behind why you feel so. And, I pray that as an intelligent person you have facts. Don't tell me what your father thinks, or you mother. I don't care what your pastor told you or a friend at work... I want to know how you came to the conclusion and I want you to try to persuade me to feel the same.
Off subject, so sorry.
Sex distracts me from getting to know someone and their views on matters that are really close to my heart (homosexuality, suicide, mental illness...). I give advice all the time I don't follow. I know; yes, I'm that girl, but seriously, my advice is good.
I once gave the best relationship advice ever: wait.
Now, if only I could freaking listen to myself...
Wait till you're sure. Wait till you know if they like strawberry or grape. Wait so you won't be an idiot for talking about how wonderful they are on your blog until you know they are wonderful enough to grace it (this, of course, doesn't count if they provide you with a moment of hilarity that just must be shared). Wait so that your most fond memories aren't of what his ceiling looks like. Wait. Because if you don't, you'll be a stupid whore.
Or, you'll just find yourself emotionally invested because it's hard to not. It's hard to love someone physically over and over on a regular basis and not begin to love them emotionally.
That is another thing I hate about myself; why do I have to have emotions when I just want to use my head? Why do sex and feelings always prevent me from doing the logical thing?
On the other side of that, why am I obsessed with doing the logical thing? Isn't love supposed to be something you fall into? Isn't that implying you're not really looking for a foothold or place to land, you're just doing it, because it feels right, right?
Because looking into the eyes of someone you love and never needing logic is why love makes sense at all. It makes sense by not needing to make sense.
I don’t know if that makes sense…
All I know is that I’m sitting here, mulling over the past few days in my mind and so many things are pointing to this not working, to this never working.
But, here I still sit. I am torn because of all the good, all the potential if things just play out how I know they can, and all the great no sense making stuff that I really do want, despite what I say about wishing my feelings didn’t get in the way.
I wish sex didn’t clog my mind, but feelings… I guess I can deal with those. Feelings are why I’m here, right? The whole David fiasco, internet dating, and now dating a real person who I didn’t meet online; I did it all for the feeling of love. For the feeling of being safe and wanted. For how it feels to be in someone’s arms as you fall asleep. For hearing someone pull in the drive way and your stomach gets butterflies while your heart swells with joy. I miss those things, I want those things…
If only my carnal need for sex didn’t get in the way. If I could let my feelings to all the talking we’d be golden. Stupid vagina…
If I didn't care about getting laid, dating would be a lot easier because I would remember to ask the important questions before I spend a significant amount of time on my back (or knees) with someone.
I wish I didn't swoon over big muscles or a nice musky scent as he walks by. I wish the entirely feral ideas of what I really want to do to him (and him to me) weren't streaming through my mind like the real subtitles to the movie that is my life. I wish I could go 15 minutes (okay, more like 5) without thinking of how lovely a guy looks under me... or on top of me, or with his face in between my legs. I want to not get the cosmic horn any time I drink making me willing to fool around with people I probably shouldn't be fooling around with just because I can't properly use my lady toys when I'm stumbling drunk or remember how to reload the batteries.
But alas, that is my fate. Since the ripe old age of almost seventeen I have know how amazing it feels to do the between the sheets dance with someone.
And, by almost seventeen I mean I thought it felt amazing. Teens just don't know good sex, which is fine with me. It takes practice; you might as well have bad sex with someone else who is bad at sex so you can both learn without wasting anyone’s time.
I now long for it. I crave it. I want to feel the warmth of another body with me as I hit the highest notes in my range. I want to feel incubused by someone as they put it inside me. I want to hear as they breathe in and out, working to get us to a place that makes no sense at all while still being absolutely the best thing that could ever happen...
I love sex.
Too much.
It makes my brain shut off and I do stupid things.
Like sleep with someone I barely know.
This gives lots of room for awkward moments like, "You're a republican?!??"
"Yea, aren't you?"
"NO! Are you crazy? Why would I be?"
Now, this was totally my bad. It didn't occur to me that by taking me to a gun show he was waving his republican flag high. I forget it's mostly those types that like to play with guns. They do give gun enthusiasts a bad name... that's for sure. Oh, and they aren't funny; their jokes seriously suck.
Another lovely thing to come out of his mouth, "I don't think anxiety is a real thing you should get medicine for. I mean, it can be treated other ways and most people who take anti-anxiety meds misuse them anyways. It just leads to a bunch of pill poppers."
Side note about me: I've been seeing a therapist weekly since August for depression and anxiety. I didn't sleep proprtly for over a year because of it. After four months of this weekly therapy I still wasn't sleeping. I got a prescription for anti-anxiety medicine and one for insomnia. That night was the first night I had slept in what felt like forever.
He knows this.
So, basically in his mind I'm a druggie who will eventually turn into one of those stepford-esque women who are mentally unstable and eventually kill themselves while no one noticed anything was wrong since she was just so medicated all the time. Because I need medicine to help with my anxiety I can't possibly have valid opinions or other things like that.
Maybe that's not what he said per se, but that's how I feel about what he said. I can't get over how he could think that anxiety isn't something that may be so intense it'll require medication.
Do you know how many anti-anxiety medications are out there?
Me either, but I'm sure there are lots.
Mine happen to be on the four dollar list at Giant Eagle, which means it's commonly enough prescribed that they don't charge you out the ass for them. I am sure that no matter how many people Tom knows that abuse their medication, there are a hundred more out there who thrive on it. And, people abuse anything they can get their hands on.
People are idiots.
The habits of those few people who abuse anti-anxiety medication are not the majority. Those things are monitored by a medical doctor, you can't get a new prescription without talking to one unless you have one of the crack pot ass hole of a doctor types that just collect your payment, write you a prescription and show you the door... which I am aware that they exist, but again, not the majority. His prejudice against us pill poppers comes from his republican views of the world. No faith in people, no reason to help fellow man.
I'm a firm believer in the fact that most people will not work if you don't make them. I know that people are idiots, and lazy, and predominantly useless when it comes to anything useful. However, I don't think that everyone is an idiot. And I don't think you can ever say the majority of anything is anything without any facts to back it up.
I'm a statistics gal. Talk numbers to me and not only will I get on my knees to thank you but you'll make sense to me every single time. I'll agree with you because you're right, with proof, and facts can't be argued. But, walk up to me with a brash idea/opinion with no proof whatsoever and I won't listen to you. I'll think you're an idiot. I'll probably tell you're an idiot too. I think if you feel something strongly enough and are willing to say it and call it your opinion, I at least deserve to know your reasoning behind why you feel so. And, I pray that as an intelligent person you have facts. Don't tell me what your father thinks, or you mother. I don't care what your pastor told you or a friend at work... I want to know how you came to the conclusion and I want you to try to persuade me to feel the same.
Off subject, so sorry.
Sex distracts me from getting to know someone and their views on matters that are really close to my heart (homosexuality, suicide, mental illness...). I give advice all the time I don't follow. I know; yes, I'm that girl, but seriously, my advice is good.
I once gave the best relationship advice ever: wait.
Now, if only I could freaking listen to myself...
Wait till you're sure. Wait till you know if they like strawberry or grape. Wait so you won't be an idiot for talking about how wonderful they are on your blog until you know they are wonderful enough to grace it (this, of course, doesn't count if they provide you with a moment of hilarity that just must be shared). Wait so that your most fond memories aren't of what his ceiling looks like. Wait. Because if you don't, you'll be a stupid whore.
Or, you'll just find yourself emotionally invested because it's hard to not. It's hard to love someone physically over and over on a regular basis and not begin to love them emotionally.
That is another thing I hate about myself; why do I have to have emotions when I just want to use my head? Why do sex and feelings always prevent me from doing the logical thing?
On the other side of that, why am I obsessed with doing the logical thing? Isn't love supposed to be something you fall into? Isn't that implying you're not really looking for a foothold or place to land, you're just doing it, because it feels right, right?
Because looking into the eyes of someone you love and never needing logic is why love makes sense at all. It makes sense by not needing to make sense.
I don’t know if that makes sense…
All I know is that I’m sitting here, mulling over the past few days in my mind and so many things are pointing to this not working, to this never working.
But, here I still sit. I am torn because of all the good, all the potential if things just play out how I know they can, and all the great no sense making stuff that I really do want, despite what I say about wishing my feelings didn’t get in the way.
I wish sex didn’t clog my mind, but feelings… I guess I can deal with those. Feelings are why I’m here, right? The whole David fiasco, internet dating, and now dating a real person who I didn’t meet online; I did it all for the feeling of love. For the feeling of being safe and wanted. For how it feels to be in someone’s arms as you fall asleep. For hearing someone pull in the drive way and your stomach gets butterflies while your heart swells with joy. I miss those things, I want those things…
If only my carnal need for sex didn’t get in the way. If I could let my feelings to all the talking we’d be golden. Stupid vagina…
Monday, February 14, 2011
Happy Vagina Day
February 14th, V-day, vagina day.
Embrace your vaginas ladies, you're freaking lucky to have them and live somewhere where it is safe to celebrate them.
Embrace your vaginas ladies, you're freaking lucky to have them and live somewhere where it is safe to celebrate them.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
seriously, stop crying
What the heck was with Tina???
Last night I caught up on my glee, and Tina was just... weirder than normal I guess.
Brittany looked hot, per usual. I was so in love with the Thriller dance I couldn't even blink. Ama-za-zing. Seriously. Artie actually creeped me out. Someone had fun with that make up.
Quinn is making me mad, so is Santana. I know that high school is full of idiots and drama and this is Glee Club; the kids are bound to be overly dramatic often, but why such shady behavior? Why is Quinn not the shining beacon of morality her character could be? She's so pretty, I don't want to be mad at her. And Santana is just a bitch. There really isn't any getting around it.
Brittany is so hilarious! There were two pieces of gold from her:
Rachel, Mercedes, and Kurts sleep over made me happy. I remember sleep overs with my gay bff Albert. Way too much fun. That is all.
Oh, David, the homo/homophobe... still pissing me off. I get the point of his character. I understand what he is doing for the plot. But, I still can't stand that type of person.
Bieste is officially in my bang book. My God, that woman is such a great person. I can't imagine the show being half as amazing if it weren't for her character. I love her! No really, so much. She's got so much inner strength, and her head and heart are exactly where they should be. Mr. Schu won my heart when he smooched her.
Last night I caught up on my glee, and Tina was just... weirder than normal I guess. Why was she crying like some spastic whore? And why are the glee kids throwing "love" around like it's... something you throw around a lot... I promise to work on my metaphors. Her song just caught me off guard. I understand it was supposed to be funny, but it was just so awkward... so. awkward.
Quinn is making me mad, so is Santana. I know that high school is full of idiots and drama and this is Glee Club; the kids are bound to be overly dramatic often, but why such shady behavior? Why is Quinn not the shining beacon of morality her character could be? She's so pretty, I don't want to be mad at her. And Santana is just a bitch. There really isn't any getting around it.
Brittany is so hilarious! There were two pieces of gold from her:
- as Santana is crying, "Maybe you should rock back and fourth, that's what they do on TV."
- sitting on Artie's lap, "This is my boyfriend, his legs don't work." (or something like that)
Rachel, Mercedes, and Kurts sleep over made me happy. I remember sleep overs with my gay bff Albert. Way too much fun. That is all.
Oh, David, the homo/homophobe... still pissing me off. I get the point of his character. I understand what he is doing for the plot. But, I still can't stand that type of person.
Bieste is officially in my bang book. My God, that woman is such a great person. I can't imagine the show being half as amazing if it weren't for her character. I love her! No really, so much. She's got so much inner strength, and her head and heart are exactly where they should be. Mr. Schu won my heart when he smooched her.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
haaave you met Ted? I mean Tom. *please tell me you watch how I met your mother*
So, I legit have Valentines plans this year... It's sort of strange. David was the first boyfriend I was able to not get sick of long enough to have a Valentines with. Every year since the beginning of time my mother has been my valentine... well, because she knows I'm her only daughter who won't have one.
Whatever.
A free dinner is a free dinner.
Who cares if it comes from your mother or not.
side note about my mother: I am so mad at her right now. The other day we were talking about something (probably how Tom is a republican and I am just not sure yet to do with that information) and by we I mean my mother, Merry, and I, and she started talking about gay people. Except, she called one of them a "fag" and I nearly (note: totally) flipped my shit. I stood up, yelled at her to never use that word ever again, and how disgusted I was that she thought it was an acceptable term to use for anyone ever and then, get this, she laughed it off and kept talking. Fuck her.
But this year, I have plans. Pre-planned (because I am a whore for things like lists and plans and other obsessive compulsions) and pre-ordered and pre-paid for plans.
Tom and I will be going to a bed and breakfast like old people, sexing each other up, and then eating waffles in the morning. I'm thinking it will be hilarious when we get drunk and go swimming with the people who are all over 50 then have loud obnoxious kissing in the early parts of the morning since I don't have to work the next day and I tend to kiss loudly. Especially when drunk.
Last year on Valentines Day I actually wanted to do anything but be with David. That was nearing the point in our relationship where we began to hate each other and he didn't ever want to plan anything ever. He's so anti plans I have no idea how he ever gets anything done. Tom is lovely for not only liking my plans and wanting to participate in them, but also for making plans of his own for us.
Is it so wrong to be smitten with someone because of their ability to schedule things...?
No?
Thank God.
Oh em gee! I just realized this is the first time I am giving you any sort of description of Tom whatsoever! Look at me go. I'm such a rebel. And really, I don't even have a cause.
I guess this is where I should tell you what I like about him. I will try to keep it PG.
He is Irish, and has the most insanely beautiful blue eyes. I realized it the other night when I was gazing into them in a moment of passion. They are so blue... It's intoxicating.
He's funny. Not only his stories but just the things he does.
He doesn't put on music when we're in the car... he likes to talk. A lot. Tom talks a lot. And it's sometimes just to make noise. I find this so hilarious. Maybe in a while I'll find this annoying... but right now he is still shiny to me so we'll stick with hilarious.
He's a little bit geeky and he appreciates my quick wit. Any guy who will want to watch The Dark Knight and Iron Man 2 on your first and second (3d? 4th?) movie dates (they've all blended together in my mind, sorry, time lines aren't really my thing) is awesome in my book. Who knows, maybe next he'll watch blue planet with me? I hope so.
He cuddles. Like for realz. Not crappy cuddles guys do to make you happy, real "get your ass over here" cuddles that really do make me happy. And he is so warm. I need that because I get too cold in these freaking frigid temperatures.
In case anyone from Florida is reading this and wants to bitch, it was 5 whole degrees out this morning. Fahrenheit. 5. Degrees. Suck it people who have nice weather (that goes for you too Ellen).
He cooks, well, and doesn't get pissed when I drop things (note: an egg... that little guy was slippery). He likes what I cook. He eats sweet things. I can't tell you how annoying it is when you want to bake but have no one to share it with. It really discourages you from making a chocolate cake when you know you'll be eating the whole thing.
His arms are so big! Muscles galore with this one. And he wants to get bigger... yum yum yum. Ugh... I love big arms on men, they are mysecond favorite part.
About my first favorite part: Huge. We'll leave it at that.
Really though... Ha-uge.
Whatever.
A free dinner is a free dinner.
Who cares if it comes from your mother or not.
side note about my mother: I am so mad at her right now. The other day we were talking about something (probably how Tom is a republican and I am just not sure yet to do with that information) and by we I mean my mother, Merry, and I, and she started talking about gay people. Except, she called one of them a "fag" and I nearly (note: totally) flipped my shit. I stood up, yelled at her to never use that word ever again, and how disgusted I was that she thought it was an acceptable term to use for anyone ever and then, get this, she laughed it off and kept talking. Fuck her.
But this year, I have plans. Pre-planned (because I am a whore for things like lists and plans and other obsessive compulsions) and pre-ordered and pre-paid for plans.
Tom and I will be going to a bed and breakfast like old people, sexing each other up, and then eating waffles in the morning. I'm thinking it will be hilarious when we get drunk and go swimming with the people who are all over 50 then have loud obnoxious kissing in the early parts of the morning since I don't have to work the next day and I tend to kiss loudly. Especially when drunk.
Last year on Valentines Day I actually wanted to do anything but be with David. That was nearing the point in our relationship where we began to hate each other and he didn't ever want to plan anything ever. He's so anti plans I have no idea how he ever gets anything done. Tom is lovely for not only liking my plans and wanting to participate in them, but also for making plans of his own for us.
Is it so wrong to be smitten with someone because of their ability to schedule things...?
No?
Thank God.
Oh em gee! I just realized this is the first time I am giving you any sort of description of Tom whatsoever! Look at me go. I'm such a rebel. And really, I don't even have a cause.
I guess this is where I should tell you what I like about him. I will try to keep it PG.
He is Irish, and has the most insanely beautiful blue eyes. I realized it the other night when I was gazing into them in a moment of passion. They are so blue... It's intoxicating.
He's funny. Not only his stories but just the things he does.
He doesn't put on music when we're in the car... he likes to talk. A lot. Tom talks a lot. And it's sometimes just to make noise. I find this so hilarious. Maybe in a while I'll find this annoying... but right now he is still shiny to me so we'll stick with hilarious.
He's a little bit geeky and he appreciates my quick wit. Any guy who will want to watch The Dark Knight and Iron Man 2 on your first and second (3d? 4th?) movie dates (they've all blended together in my mind, sorry, time lines aren't really my thing) is awesome in my book. Who knows, maybe next he'll watch blue planet with me? I hope so.
He cuddles. Like for realz. Not crappy cuddles guys do to make you happy, real "get your ass over here" cuddles that really do make me happy. And he is so warm. I need that because I get too cold in these freaking frigid temperatures.
In case anyone from Florida is reading this and wants to bitch, it was 5 whole degrees out this morning. Fahrenheit. 5. Degrees. Suck it people who have nice weather (that goes for you too Ellen).
He cooks, well, and doesn't get pissed when I drop things (note: an egg... that little guy was slippery). He likes what I cook. He eats sweet things. I can't tell you how annoying it is when you want to bake but have no one to share it with. It really discourages you from making a chocolate cake when you know you'll be eating the whole thing.
His arms are so big! Muscles galore with this one. And he wants to get bigger... yum yum yum. Ugh... I love big arms on men, they are my
About my first favorite part: Huge. We'll leave it at that.
Really though... Ha-uge.
Monday, February 7, 2011
you betta' recognize!
I don't even know how to start this...
I got recognized. In a bar. In the bathroom. For this blog.
I met a blogger in the bathroom Saturday night. God, how awesome is that?!?!!??
Besides the fact that I was so drunk I couldn't really have good judgement about anything, the night was a blast.
I kissed a girl.
I clogged the toilet (not what you're thinking, I dumped my drink down it, straw, lemon, and all because after two sips I realized my stomach wasn't having any of it and so it became clogged).
I made this girl show me her tattoos in the bathroom.
I made friends with all the smokers outside, this one is made better because I don't even smoke. I don't know why I was outside so much. I'm so weird.
I carded people at the door because I thought it was funny.
I wooed the bouncer with my feminine wiles and I got a guys number who I'm not sure if he was Black or some Indian or Arab nationality because it was dark, he was cute, and I was drunk. And, in reality he could have been either. Or both. And by boy I mean man because he is more than 10 years older than me. I do remember that much.
I fell on the dance floor, but not like trip and fall, like slow motion slip because the floor was wet from melted snow and I didn't have anything to grab onto to stop me from falling. Some nice girl I'd been grinding with helped me up. I think I told her I love her. And her boyfriend. Who also helped me up.
I met Hey Suburban in the Bathroom!!!
Talk about awesome. She asked me if I was Denise. I am Denise so I said yes. She asked me the title of my blog which I responded, "Somewhat of a Spectacle" and she said she was Hey Suburban!
I fa-reaked out.
No one in the bathroom cared. I told them all at least 6 times. They sucked.
She shared with me the fact that some 21 year old kept buying her drinks... turns out that 21 year old is one of the guys I came with and I was actually the one buying her drinks because we shared a tab. She took our picture and as soon as she posts it I'll copy it and post it at the bottom of this post. She is beautiful. I probably have my bra showing or something in the picture... I'm pretty sure I did a thumbs up.
I can't be composed and drunk at the same time.
And holy poo was I drunk.
I had seven shots before I left the house. I had two more (plus two sips of a long island before I tried to flush it) at the bar. I want to go back next week. So much lovely dancing.
Oh, and there was a girl fight as we were leaving! I've never seen one. Those poor girls. One got really messed up. The girl was holding her by the collar and got at least 4 good hits to the mouth in before anyone could separate them. I don't think they actually knew what they were fight about. All I have to say about that is I am glad I'm so non-confrontational. And that I came with two boys. Boys protect you from crazy girls.
I got recognized. In a bar. In the bathroom. For this blog.
I met a blogger in the bathroom Saturday night. God, how awesome is that?!?!!??
Besides the fact that I was so drunk I couldn't really have good judgement about anything, the night was a blast.
I kissed a girl.
I clogged the toilet (not what you're thinking, I dumped my drink down it, straw, lemon, and all because after two sips I realized my stomach wasn't having any of it and so it became clogged).
I made this girl show me her tattoos in the bathroom.
I made friends with all the smokers outside, this one is made better because I don't even smoke. I don't know why I was outside so much. I'm so weird.
I carded people at the door because I thought it was funny.
I wooed the bouncer with my feminine wiles and I got a guys number who I'm not sure if he was Black or some Indian or Arab nationality because it was dark, he was cute, and I was drunk. And, in reality he could have been either. Or both. And by boy I mean man because he is more than 10 years older than me. I do remember that much.
I fell on the dance floor, but not like trip and fall, like slow motion slip because the floor was wet from melted snow and I didn't have anything to grab onto to stop me from falling. Some nice girl I'd been grinding with helped me up. I think I told her I love her. And her boyfriend. Who also helped me up.
I met Hey Suburban in the Bathroom!!!
Talk about awesome. She asked me if I was Denise. I am Denise so I said yes. She asked me the title of my blog which I responded, "Somewhat of a Spectacle" and she said she was Hey Suburban!
I fa-reaked out.
No one in the bathroom cared. I told them all at least 6 times. They sucked.
She shared with me the fact that some 21 year old kept buying her drinks... turns out that 21 year old is one of the guys I came with and I was actually the one buying her drinks because we shared a tab. She took our picture and as soon as she posts it I'll copy it and post it at the bottom of this post. She is beautiful. I probably have my bra showing or something in the picture... I'm pretty sure I did a thumbs up.
I can't be composed and drunk at the same time.
And holy poo was I drunk.
I had seven shots before I left the house. I had two more (plus two sips of a long island before I tried to flush it) at the bar. I want to go back next week. So much lovely dancing.
Oh, and there was a girl fight as we were leaving! I've never seen one. Those poor girls. One got really messed up. The girl was holding her by the collar and got at least 4 good hits to the mouth in before anyone could separate them. I don't think they actually knew what they were fight about. All I have to say about that is I am glad I'm so non-confrontational. And that I came with two boys. Boys protect you from crazy girls.
Friday, February 4, 2011
My Views on Gay Marriage
I am normally a pretty easy going person; I like to say that the only thing I'm intolerant of is intolerance. I think that no matter who you are or where you're from a little sympathy for man and the common goal we all share (happiness) will go a lot farther than any hateful action ever could.
My Views on Gay Marriage
My views on this subject stem from a few places.
Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in an ideal world where people saw marriage for what it was intended?
Divorce, infidelity, loveless marriages... it's all so main stream I doubt anyone actually considers that the final most permanent step you can make with someone anymore. If you ask me a kid is way more permanent than marriage. You can't sign a paper saying you have irreconcilable differences with a kid ans walk out of the courtroom with more money in your pocket than when you walked in (or less, depending...)
Why should only straight people be allowed to get married? I think that the percentage of how many marriages end in divorce would decrease significantly if we'd just let the gays get married too. Prove to me that straight people know how to do marriage right and gays obviously couldn't do it better and maybe I'll believe you. But you can't. So I stand by this:
I support gay marriage.
Homosexuality stems from the same part of your physical make us as being straight. You can't be straight and say you don't understand how someone can be homo... They know just like you know. You're attracted to members of the opposite sex in the exact same way they are attracted to members of the same.
Humans don't develop their sexual orientation till somewhere between the ages of four and six. It has about as much to do with DNA as it does with outside forces (nature and nurture) and there is not only no cure (you can't fix something that isn't broken) but no reason that this should be looked at as a sin. The places in the bible that talk about homosexuality as an "abomination" also refer to things like prohibitions against round haircuts, tattoos, working on the Sabbath, wearing garments of mixed fabrics, eating pork or shellfish, getting your fortune told, having women as teachers, and even playing with the skin of a pig. (There goes football!)
If you're going to stand there in your cotton shirt with a silk tie, please refrain from telling me God hates gays because I will call you out on it.
Sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, and when you condemn people for practises different from your own remember all the times you were mocked for being different. When your mom got your hair cut funny, or you failed a math test. When you accidentally misspoke or messed up a performance. When you didn't get onto a team or elected for something in which you were running. Any time your parents fought when you had a friend over or your older sibling made fun of you in public.
Remember all those times you were different too; then apologise to who ever you just hurt with the same behavior.
I grew up Lutheran. I went to Lutheran school for 9 years. I believe in God... and I believe in his message: love.
Simply put there is no God in your heart if there is no love. Show love and you are showing God. God doesn't hate gays, he loves them just like he loves you. God made them just like he made you. God wants them to be happy just like he wants you to be happy.
God doesn't make mistakes.
Loving is showing God.
Hating/condemning anyone for anything isn't showing love. You are not God, it is not your place to judge. Live a life of love and you will be living as God intended.
Have a good weekend.
Want an in depth look at why I feel this way? Click here.
My Views on Gay Marriage
My views on this subject stem from a few places.
- my views on marriage
- my views on homosexuality
- my religion
Wouldn't it be nice if we lived in an ideal world where people saw marriage for what it was intended?
Divorce, infidelity, loveless marriages... it's all so main stream I doubt anyone actually considers that the final most permanent step you can make with someone anymore. If you ask me a kid is way more permanent than marriage. You can't sign a paper saying you have irreconcilable differences with a kid ans walk out of the courtroom with more money in your pocket than when you walked in (or less, depending...)
Why should only straight people be allowed to get married? I think that the percentage of how many marriages end in divorce would decrease significantly if we'd just let the gays get married too. Prove to me that straight people know how to do marriage right and gays obviously couldn't do it better and maybe I'll believe you. But you can't. So I stand by this:
I support gay marriage.
Homosexuality stems from the same part of your physical make us as being straight. You can't be straight and say you don't understand how someone can be homo... They know just like you know. You're attracted to members of the opposite sex in the exact same way they are attracted to members of the same.
Humans don't develop their sexual orientation till somewhere between the ages of four and six. It has about as much to do with DNA as it does with outside forces (nature and nurture) and there is not only no cure (you can't fix something that isn't broken) but no reason that this should be looked at as a sin. The places in the bible that talk about homosexuality as an "abomination" also refer to things like prohibitions against round haircuts, tattoos, working on the Sabbath, wearing garments of mixed fabrics, eating pork or shellfish, getting your fortune told, having women as teachers, and even playing with the skin of a pig. (There goes football!)
If you're going to stand there in your cotton shirt with a silk tie, please refrain from telling me God hates gays because I will call you out on it.
Sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, and when you condemn people for practises different from your own remember all the times you were mocked for being different. When your mom got your hair cut funny, or you failed a math test. When you accidentally misspoke or messed up a performance. When you didn't get onto a team or elected for something in which you were running. Any time your parents fought when you had a friend over or your older sibling made fun of you in public.
Remember all those times you were different too; then apologise to who ever you just hurt with the same behavior.
I grew up Lutheran. I went to Lutheran school for 9 years. I believe in God... and I believe in his message: love.
Simply put there is no God in your heart if there is no love. Show love and you are showing God. God doesn't hate gays, he loves them just like he loves you. God made them just like he made you. God wants them to be happy just like he wants you to be happy.
God doesn't make mistakes.
Loving is showing God.
Hating/condemning anyone for anything isn't showing love. You are not God, it is not your place to judge. Live a life of love and you will be living as God intended.
Have a good weekend.
Want an in depth look at why I feel this way? Click here.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
there is nothing like the warm caress of a new bra
I don't think I've ever done a list of things I just love and will forever, but I feel as a blogger it's something I should do seeing as you love me and want to know me better/ be a part of my life.
I should say thank you for that.
Thank you. You're awesome. For realz.
Things I love, and will forever, for no real reason other than I do:
Falling snow or the way it looks on trees once it's fallen.
As long as I'm not driving in it, walking through it, standing outside in it... I love snow and how beautiful it looks.
A Capella music and instrumental music.
Sometimes one without the other tells a much more powerful story then when you put them together.
Bras. Seriously.
I'd wear mine in the shower if I could. So comfortable. The things they do for my boobs are amazing. Underwire is from the Lord which is why I have no shame in professing my undying love for it. I ordered some from Amazon last week and two of them came in the mail yesterday and my life was completed when I put one of them on.
Milk.
I may be slightly lactose intolerant (good bye Alfredo... good bye ice cream...) but I can still drink milk, and I do. Because I love it and have forever. 2% please.
Summer.
As long as it's not so humid you can't breathe I love summer. And fall and spring. Summer is when I have the potential to not be luminescent white, it's when I can wear dresses and tuck them into my underwear (yes I really do this) so that they are super comfortable. A whole season where pants don't matter. It's love I tell ya. Oh, and swimming. And reading by the pool. And the smell of fresh cut grass. I love that smell.
The smell of fresh cut grass.
The smell of browning butter. Or mushrooms and garlic and green onions in butter.
Good God that smell is where it's at.
Flannel.
I have never slept as well as when I had flannel sheets with little white and black sheep on them. I wore a spot in the fitted one though because I rubbed my butt in the same spot for too long so I had to get grown up sheets because that's what happens when you grow up... no more flannel sheets with sheep on them. I do still have a flannel comforter though. And a pillow case left from that set. A man in a flannel shirt is a man I would like to see out of that flannel shirt. IfyaknowwhatImean
Regina Spektor.
She is my love. I have referred to her as my girl friend for the last three years since my older sister so lovingly gave me one of her cd's for my birthday. When she sang the opening song for the one Weeds episode I about pissed my pants. Love her. SO HARD! I have to try really hard to not sing Fidelity every time I go to karaoke. That and show tunes. Show tunes make up about 80% of my repertoire.
Musicals.
I don't really feel like this needs any explanation. Musicals are where it's at. Theater itself is amazing, but throw a few campy catchy songs in between dialogue I'll fall head over heels in love each and every time.
The sound of rain.
I can sleep so well in a thunderstorm it's almost unreal. I love the sound of water falling against my window (or sitting outside and watching it, amazing).
Reading
Books, blogs, foreign films, my kindle, recipes, road signs... okay, maybe not road signs, those tend to be boring. But I do love reading so so much.
Cooking.
and of course with it goes eating. I can't help it if I'm all sorts of amazing in the kitchen.
I feel like we're closer as humans already.
I should say thank you for that.
Thank you. You're awesome. For realz.
Things I love, and will forever, for no real reason other than I do:
Falling snow or the way it looks on trees once it's fallen.
As long as I'm not driving in it, walking through it, standing outside in it... I love snow and how beautiful it looks.
A Capella music and instrumental music.
Sometimes one without the other tells a much more powerful story then when you put them together.
Bras. Seriously.
I'd wear mine in the shower if I could. So comfortable. The things they do for my boobs are amazing. Underwire is from the Lord which is why I have no shame in professing my undying love for it. I ordered some from Amazon last week and two of them came in the mail yesterday and my life was completed when I put one of them on.
Milk.
I may be slightly lactose intolerant (good bye Alfredo... good bye ice cream...) but I can still drink milk, and I do. Because I love it and have forever. 2% please.
Summer.
As long as it's not so humid you can't breathe I love summer. And fall and spring. Summer is when I have the potential to not be luminescent white, it's when I can wear dresses and tuck them into my underwear (yes I really do this) so that they are super comfortable. A whole season where pants don't matter. It's love I tell ya. Oh, and swimming. And reading by the pool. And the smell of fresh cut grass. I love that smell.
The smell of fresh cut grass.
The smell of browning butter. Or mushrooms and garlic and green onions in butter.
Good God that smell is where it's at.
Flannel.
I have never slept as well as when I had flannel sheets with little white and black sheep on them. I wore a spot in the fitted one though because I rubbed my butt in the same spot for too long so I had to get grown up sheets because that's what happens when you grow up... no more flannel sheets with sheep on them. I do still have a flannel comforter though. And a pillow case left from that set. A man in a flannel shirt is a man I would like to see out of that flannel shirt. IfyaknowwhatImean
Regina Spektor.
She is my love. I have referred to her as my girl friend for the last three years since my older sister so lovingly gave me one of her cd's for my birthday. When she sang the opening song for the one Weeds episode I about pissed my pants. Love her. SO HARD! I have to try really hard to not sing Fidelity every time I go to karaoke. That and show tunes. Show tunes make up about 80% of my repertoire.
Musicals.
I don't really feel like this needs any explanation. Musicals are where it's at. Theater itself is amazing, but throw a few campy catchy songs in between dialogue I'll fall head over heels in love each and every time.
The sound of rain.
I can sleep so well in a thunderstorm it's almost unreal. I love the sound of water falling against my window (or sitting outside and watching it, amazing).
Reading
Books, blogs, foreign films, my kindle, recipes, road signs... okay, maybe not road signs, those tend to be boring. But I do love reading so so much.
Cooking.
and of course with it goes eating. I can't help it if I'm all sorts of amazing in the kitchen.
I feel like we're closer as humans already.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)