I own one tube of waterproof mascara. And use it only for high-crying probability events. Weddings, greeting new babies, graduation, funerals.
This summer, my waterproof mascara has been used far too many times. And not, for the happy crying events- like weddings and babies. Unfortunately, its been for the bad events- the funerals and hospital visits.
As I'm sure most of you know, Boy's older brother died earlier this summer. About a week after that, I found out that my Aunt Kathy's health went severely downhill. She had pretty advanced central nervous system/brain cancer. They started her on chemo, but the chemo caused her brain to swell, which caused her to have seizures. She was put into a coma to control the seizures; that was too weeks ago. She never woke up from the coma, and today, she passed on.
Today, I heard my father cry on the phone. I have never, ever, witnessed him crying. It was painful.
Throughout these past few weeks, I told Boy very little. He'd been through so much, I couldn't burden him with my tears. I am still hesitant to ask him to come to the funeral. I'm strong enough to do this on my own--should I ask him to come along after just loosing his brother. He is one of the strongest people I know, but would this bring up painful memories? I also haven't written about it all on here. I had already asked for so many prayers for Boy and his family, I felt I'd used up my allotment.
So, this has been my summer...Tough and depressing and consisting of loosing two people who were very close to me. I start my last semester of grad school on Wednesday. I imagine it going like this, "Hi, Im littlesack. I'm on the education track in the public policy program. This past summer...I went to two funerals and learned that holding up your boyfriend during his brother's funeral is immensely painful."
I need a Xanex.
Showing posts with label crisis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label crisis. Show all posts
Monday, August 31, 2009
Sunday, July 5, 2009
I feel violated...
Thanks for all your questions, I'm working on the answers now.
But, in the meantime, I need to share this story.
Friday night, Boy and I were at a friend's (Remy) house for a bbq with about 15 people. A place we have been dozens of times, camping, partying, etc. Everyone there was either related to Remy, or Boy's other friend, Nate. Boy and I consider about 95% of the people there to be good friends.
The bbq was also in a section of our state, where people have lots of land and there is no crime. Remy keeps his keys in his unlocked car at night. The nearest neighbor is more than half a mile away.
Midway through the evening, I threw my purse in Boy's car because I didn't want to accidentally forget it and then Boy and I walked back to the bonfire, leaving the car unlocked.**
An hour or so later, Boy and I get up to leave, get in the car, and my purse is gone. Just 100% completely missing. I was not drinking at all this night because I had a 11 mile run planned on Saturday, so it wasn't my foggy brain misplacing my bag. Without a doubt, someone had took it.
As rationally as possible, Boy and I talked to Remy and said, look, someone went into Boy's car and took my bag, and while we aren't accusing anyone of taking it--someone took it. It's that simple.
Yes, there is a 1% chance that a random stranger walked down this random road and walked down Remy's 1/2 mile long driveway and randomly spotted Boy's car, and randomly took my purse. Yes, it's possible, yet highly unlikely.
So---how do I go about processing this information? I am 99% sure that someone at that bbq took my bag. These are all people that we see on a regular basis and, in fact, have plans to go camping with them in two weeks. How am I supposed to get over it...knowing that someone we consider to be a friend, went into Boy's car and purposefully took my bag? Now, there were 3 people there that Brent and I don't consider friends, but they are family of Remy's or family of Nate's. So, even if this person wasn't our friend directly, we've still hung out with them before, and shouldn't they have enough respect for their own family not to put all of us in this situation.
and...it is a situation.. Congratulations-- you got 60 dollars in cash; my birth control packet; all my cards- insurance, library, gym, license, credit (which i cancelled); my 20 dollar sigg water bottle; my overly expensive prescription contact eye drops; my keys; my work keys; my shitty ass 4 year old phone, and a bunch of other random stuff that isn't that important, but that I miss. Oh, and also, you took my sense of security.
But--in taking all those things, you created a horrible situation. Now, Boy and I are super wary of these friends, and who they hang out with. And although we practically know that someone there took it, we had to ask all of our friends if they had "accidentally" picked up my bag. We accused our friends of stealing, because, well- someone did. Nate and Remy are both upset with Boy because we were asking their family members about it. (and I would be pissed too, if we were in there shoes, but I hope they understand how we feel- utterly violated and betrayed). I feel so tormented inside, its unreal. I can't even stop thinking about. It would have been better had it happened at a bar and my a random stranger. But now, we all have to deal with the aftermath of it. That, someone I KNOW STOLE FROM ME. Every spare second, I think about, running it over in my head- how could someone possibly do that?
I hope the shit you got outta my purse was worth it. I really do.
**In hindsight, I know this sounds so awful, but of the many times we have been at Remy's we have never locked our car. It's just not something you worry about there.
But, in the meantime, I need to share this story.
Friday night, Boy and I were at a friend's (Remy) house for a bbq with about 15 people. A place we have been dozens of times, camping, partying, etc. Everyone there was either related to Remy, or Boy's other friend, Nate. Boy and I consider about 95% of the people there to be good friends.
The bbq was also in a section of our state, where people have lots of land and there is no crime. Remy keeps his keys in his unlocked car at night. The nearest neighbor is more than half a mile away.
Midway through the evening, I threw my purse in Boy's car because I didn't want to accidentally forget it and then Boy and I walked back to the bonfire, leaving the car unlocked.**
An hour or so later, Boy and I get up to leave, get in the car, and my purse is gone. Just 100% completely missing. I was not drinking at all this night because I had a 11 mile run planned on Saturday, so it wasn't my foggy brain misplacing my bag. Without a doubt, someone had took it.
As rationally as possible, Boy and I talked to Remy and said, look, someone went into Boy's car and took my bag, and while we aren't accusing anyone of taking it--someone took it. It's that simple.
Yes, there is a 1% chance that a random stranger walked down this random road and walked down Remy's 1/2 mile long driveway and randomly spotted Boy's car, and randomly took my purse. Yes, it's possible, yet highly unlikely.
So---how do I go about processing this information? I am 99% sure that someone at that bbq took my bag. These are all people that we see on a regular basis and, in fact, have plans to go camping with them in two weeks. How am I supposed to get over it...knowing that someone we consider to be a friend, went into Boy's car and purposefully took my bag? Now, there were 3 people there that Brent and I don't consider friends, but they are family of Remy's or family of Nate's. So, even if this person wasn't our friend directly, we've still hung out with them before, and shouldn't they have enough respect for their own family not to put all of us in this situation.
and...it is a situation.. Congratulations-- you got 60 dollars in cash; my birth control packet; all my cards- insurance, library, gym, license, credit (which i cancelled); my 20 dollar sigg water bottle; my overly expensive prescription contact eye drops; my keys; my work keys; my shitty ass 4 year old phone, and a bunch of other random stuff that isn't that important, but that I miss. Oh, and also, you took my sense of security.
But--in taking all those things, you created a horrible situation. Now, Boy and I are super wary of these friends, and who they hang out with. And although we practically know that someone there took it, we had to ask all of our friends if they had "accidentally" picked up my bag. We accused our friends of stealing, because, well- someone did. Nate and Remy are both upset with Boy because we were asking their family members about it. (and I would be pissed too, if we were in there shoes, but I hope they understand how we feel- utterly violated and betrayed). I feel so tormented inside, its unreal. I can't even stop thinking about. It would have been better had it happened at a bar and my a random stranger. But now, we all have to deal with the aftermath of it. That, someone I KNOW STOLE FROM ME. Every spare second, I think about, running it over in my head- how could someone possibly do that?
I hope the shit you got outta my purse was worth it. I really do.
**In hindsight, I know this sounds so awful, but of the many times we have been at Remy's we have never locked our car. It's just not something you worry about there.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Please don't judge me...
I am in the middle of a temper tantrum and am defining the rest of this post as the "judge free zone." (If after reading you want to tell me to read during this time, please don't...I work and am in graduate school- I read enough and for the hour of free time I have each night I like to spend it doing something mind numbing like tv. Don't judge me).
As I've mentioned before, I moved home after graduation to have a free place to stay during grad school. As I've also mentioned before my mother is bat shit crazy and drives me out of my mind. I do not feel like my home is "home" and never feel like I have a place to myself (especially when my mother likes to snoop through my room for things- This is a entirely different story for another day, the fact that my mother feels she has the right to snoop through her adult daughter's room is something I DO NOT understand). Anyways...
I don't watch much TV at all, but during college I had a TV in my dorm room and I grew addicted to watching it at certain times. In the morning while getting ready, I need the Today show. At night, I need it on to fall asleep. On the weekends, I like to watch it when I first get up in the morning, while still laying in bed.
Because I don't feel like I have any space of my own, lately I've taken to watching some TV in my room for an hour or so before bedtime. I look forward to that solitude and cherish it.
Today...My parents switched cabele providers and being bat shit crazy as she is, my mom did not order a cable box for my room. As of 9:13 Wednesday evening, I do not have television in my room.
I might cry. I know I sound like a spoiled 12 year old, but this is really bothering me. I can not fall asleep without the TV on, unless I've taken 2 Tylenol pm and a bottle of wine, and that isn't a habit I want to start. I'm just annoyed that my only saving grace- that hour of down/TV time before bed is gone. Like, right now, its 9:20, the perfect time to snuggle up in bed and watch something on the tube and then set my sleep timer to 40 minutes and fall asleep. But, now, I will get in bed and stare at the ceiling in absolute silence until I can't bare it anymore, go downstairs to fall asleep on the couch while watching TV, and then wake up at some obscene hour only to climb back upstairs to go to bed.
UGH!
As I've mentioned before, I moved home after graduation to have a free place to stay during grad school. As I've also mentioned before my mother is bat shit crazy and drives me out of my mind. I do not feel like my home is "home" and never feel like I have a place to myself (especially when my mother likes to snoop through my room for things- This is a entirely different story for another day, the fact that my mother feels she has the right to snoop through her adult daughter's room is something I DO NOT understand). Anyways...
I don't watch much TV at all, but during college I had a TV in my dorm room and I grew addicted to watching it at certain times. In the morning while getting ready, I need the Today show. At night, I need it on to fall asleep. On the weekends, I like to watch it when I first get up in the morning, while still laying in bed.
Because I don't feel like I have any space of my own, lately I've taken to watching some TV in my room for an hour or so before bedtime. I look forward to that solitude and cherish it.
Today...My parents switched cabele providers and being bat shit crazy as she is, my mom did not order a cable box for my room. As of 9:13 Wednesday evening, I do not have television in my room.
I might cry. I know I sound like a spoiled 12 year old, but this is really bothering me. I can not fall asleep without the TV on, unless I've taken 2 Tylenol pm and a bottle of wine, and that isn't a habit I want to start. I'm just annoyed that my only saving grace- that hour of down/TV time before bed is gone. Like, right now, its 9:20, the perfect time to snuggle up in bed and watch something on the tube and then set my sleep timer to 40 minutes and fall asleep. But, now, I will get in bed and stare at the ceiling in absolute silence until I can't bare it anymore, go downstairs to fall asleep on the couch while watching TV, and then wake up at some obscene hour only to climb back upstairs to go to bed.
UGH!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Gluten Free is the Way to Be
Ladies, I've been keeping a secret.
Nothing big really, but it affects my life in a major way and might explain some things I generally mention. As big as this is for me though, I do know that it could be a lot worse and in many respects, I am very lucky.
So...I have Celiac's Disease, which is a genetic auto-immune disorder where my body doesn't process gluten or wheat products. The only cure is to cut all of these foods out of my diet. This means I can't eat all bread, flour, wheat, and gluten products. Yes, you read that right-- I can not have all those good, starchy comfort foods.
Pizza and beer? Nope.
Pretzels, cookies, and crackers? Nope.
Bread, rolls, stuffing? Nope.
My doctors finally figured out what was wrong when I was 17, right before graduating High School and going to college. Which means that for 17 years I was eating foods that were toxic for my body and explains why I was a pretty sick kid growing up.
At first I didn't think about it much. I thought it sucked, but I don't remember dwelling on it- Hell, it could have been a lot worse. I met with a nutritionist and tried a ton of new products-mostly made with rice and potato flour. Some I fell in love with and are close to the real deal, some were so gross and gritty and grainy I wanted to be sick. I have one specific memory of tasting a new pancake mix and it was so gritty and so far from the real deal, that I literally broke down crying into the mix. It was pretty miserable.
All in all, I've got things figured out. I have a staple of my favorite gluten-free products that I keep on hand and even found a gluten free chocolate cookie dough ice cream!!! However, despite all this...I have a few lingering issues.
1. I was raised Catholic and therefore participated in communion every Sunday. The bread served at communion, however, is just that...bread. So, I can't take communion. I have struggled with this for a long time and quite honestly, its one of the major reasons I don't go to mass. At first I thought, well God wants me to take communion and therefore he won't let this particular bit make me sick. This turned out not to be true. So, I started faking taking communion and giving the bread to my father back at the pew (If you are Christian and appalled by this, please don't tell me, I already know and it bothers me deeply...but I'm being honest here and honestly have very few other solutions). I refuse to not participate because sitting in the pew not getting communion makes me feel less like a Catholic. On the research I've done, the Catholic church's policy is that the communion bread has to have gluten in it (it has to be bread) because it was actual bread in the Bible. So...what's a girl to do? Fake it or sit out? I'm still not sure. But, I've already decided that for Lent I will figure out a solution to this (I'll keep you posted).
2. The other issue that gives me considerable trouble is weight loss! My diet is already so restricted that I have a hard time giving up other good foods. A year or so ago, I did WW and did really well for the first 8 weeks or so. Then, I hit a wall and just couldn't handle it anymore. Basically it goes like this-- gluten free foods are pretty gross in general and so to make them better manufacturers add more fat or use non-whole grain products (white rice flour instead of brown rice flour) which decreases the fiber content. So although moderate in calories, lots of foods are low in fiber and high in fat, which sky rockets items on the points scale. It is simply too restrictive. There are no low carb breads in my life or light crackers or 100 calories oreo snack packs. There is barely bread, crackers and cookies. This is my struggle. I have already given up so much, I hate to give up the bagels I found that actually taste like bagels even if they are 400 calories a serving. So, again, whats a girl to do? Well, I've decided to count actual calories instead of points. So far, the results aren't very encouraging, but I'm willing to hang in there.
3. This is my final point. I never realized how much I would miss food until the last few months. Lately, I see someone eating a piece of pizza and I have to physically restrain myself from taking it from them and throwing it in my mouth. I MISS THESE FOODS. This past week my mom brought home cinnamon buns and I almost cried. honestly. I haven't had a cinnamon bun in over 5 years and I'm not really sure I will ever have something that gooey and good again. It is seriously weird to say that I miss a food, it makes me feel very odd and disgusting. But the hardest part of it--is the finality of it. It's not like I'm on a diet and am just cutting bread out but can indulge every once in a while. It is, no more bread, ever. There isn't much a girl can do about this point, but it has just been frustrating these past few months like nothing I have ever experienced and I just wanted to vent it out.
WHEW! I am not going to lie, all of that felt really good to get out. If you hung in there through all that reading, thank you. I know it was a long and pretty heady reading. I promise that my next post will be more light hearted and considerably shorter.
Nothing big really, but it affects my life in a major way and might explain some things I generally mention. As big as this is for me though, I do know that it could be a lot worse and in many respects, I am very lucky.
So...I have Celiac's Disease, which is a genetic auto-immune disorder where my body doesn't process gluten or wheat products. The only cure is to cut all of these foods out of my diet. This means I can't eat all bread, flour, wheat, and gluten products. Yes, you read that right-- I can not have all those good, starchy comfort foods.Pizza and beer? Nope.
Pretzels, cookies, and crackers? Nope.
Bread, rolls, stuffing? Nope.
My doctors finally figured out what was wrong when I was 17, right before graduating High School and going to college. Which means that for 17 years I was eating foods that were toxic for my body and explains why I was a pretty sick kid growing up.
At first I didn't think about it much. I thought it sucked, but I don't remember dwelling on it- Hell, it could have been a lot worse. I met with a nutritionist and tried a ton of new products-mostly made with rice and potato flour. Some I fell in love with and are close to the real deal, some were so gross and gritty and grainy I wanted to be sick. I have one specific memory of tasting a new pancake mix and it was so gritty and so far from the real deal, that I literally broke down crying into the mix. It was pretty miserable.
All in all, I've got things figured out. I have a staple of my favorite gluten-free products that I keep on hand and even found a gluten free chocolate cookie dough ice cream!!! However, despite all this...I have a few lingering issues.
1. I was raised Catholic and therefore participated in communion every Sunday. The bread served at communion, however, is just that...bread. So, I can't take communion. I have struggled with this for a long time and quite honestly, its one of the major reasons I don't go to mass. At first I thought, well God wants me to take communion and therefore he won't let this particular bit make me sick. This turned out not to be true. So, I started faking taking communion and giving the bread to my father back at the pew (If you are Christian and appalled by this, please don't tell me, I already know and it bothers me deeply...but I'm being honest here and honestly have very few other solutions). I refuse to not participate because sitting in the pew not getting communion makes me feel less like a Catholic. On the research I've done, the Catholic church's policy is that the communion bread has to have gluten in it (it has to be bread) because it was actual bread in the Bible. So...what's a girl to do? Fake it or sit out? I'm still not sure. But, I've already decided that for Lent I will figure out a solution to this (I'll keep you posted).
2. The other issue that gives me considerable trouble is weight loss! My diet is already so restricted that I have a hard time giving up other good foods. A year or so ago, I did WW and did really well for the first 8 weeks or so. Then, I hit a wall and just couldn't handle it anymore. Basically it goes like this-- gluten free foods are pretty gross in general and so to make them better manufacturers add more fat or use non-whole grain products (white rice flour instead of brown rice flour) which decreases the fiber content. So although moderate in calories, lots of foods are low in fiber and high in fat, which sky rockets items on the points scale. It is simply too restrictive. There are no low carb breads in my life or light crackers or 100 calories oreo snack packs. There is barely bread, crackers and cookies. This is my struggle. I have already given up so much, I hate to give up the bagels I found that actually taste like bagels even if they are 400 calories a serving. So, again, whats a girl to do? Well, I've decided to count actual calories instead of points. So far, the results aren't very encouraging, but I'm willing to hang in there.
3. This is my final point. I never realized how much I would miss food until the last few months. Lately, I see someone eating a piece of pizza and I have to physically restrain myself from taking it from them and throwing it in my mouth. I MISS THESE FOODS. This past week my mom brought home cinnamon buns and I almost cried. honestly. I haven't had a cinnamon bun in over 5 years and I'm not really sure I will ever have something that gooey and good again. It is seriously weird to say that I miss a food, it makes me feel very odd and disgusting. But the hardest part of it--is the finality of it. It's not like I'm on a diet and am just cutting bread out but can indulge every once in a while. It is, no more bread, ever. There isn't much a girl can do about this point, but it has just been frustrating these past few months like nothing I have ever experienced and I just wanted to vent it out.
WHEW! I am not going to lie, all of that felt really good to get out. If you hung in there through all that reading, thank you. I know it was a long and pretty heady reading. I promise that my next post will be more light hearted and considerably shorter.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Seriously?
You have GOT to be kidding me!?! This note is what I woke up to this morning- a lovely little note from Boys' roommate- taped to the front door handle along with the "dish" that I did not wash. The dish was a 2x2 Tupperware dish that I was eating m&ms out of. (If it can be held up by tape----it's not a dish).
(If you can't read it- it says, "Little sack, Why do none of your dishes make it into the dishwasher? If you want to be up at this house you need to clean up after yourself!")
Boy's roommate is without a doubt the BIGGEST passive aggressive A**HOLE I have ever encountered. This note, was the straw that broke the camel's back. Because I am so ragingly pissed right now, I will tell you the series of bullsh*t things that Boy's roommate (we will call him Jerk) has put me through.
Background facts:
Jerk had his girlfriend living at the house for over a year before she paid for a single bill, utility, or otherwise and was there every day when Jerk wasn't (after a year of living there for free, she now pays bills)
My college roommate's boyfriend basically lived at my house and was very messy. and I HATED it. He was there more than i was there- slept every night there, etc. So, when I moved home, I vowed that I would not be "that girlfriend" and I would not be at Boy's house too much. I have kept that promise to myself very well, and am rarely there more than two nights a week.
I also make sure that all of my things are only ever in Boy's room and not in common areas, and that shared dishes (pot's, plates, etc) are washed immediately after use.
Instances of Jerk throwing straws at camels back:
1. Instance 1- Boy and I had been dating for about 2 years when I graduated, moved out of my college townhouse and moved back home. Up until that point Boy and I split time between hanging out at each other's places, but were never together for more than 2-3 nights per week. When I moved home, I would often go over Boy's after work on Friday and because of differing schedules, I would be at Boy's house before Boy got home. Instead of relying on Boy's roommates to be home- Boy made me a key. Fine.
One week day I had to stopped by Boy's house to pick up something I left there. Not expecting anyone to be home, I was frightened when Jerk was home and asked me what I was doing there.
LS: Uh, picking something up
Jerk: How'd you get in?
LS: I have a key
Jerk: How'd you get a key?
LS: Boy made me one.
Jerk: OH?! (Turn on heel and walk away)
So, being pretty intuitive I realized Jerk was not happy, quickly left the house, told Boy about it and began to walk to walk on egg shells, feeling very unwelcome.
2. Instance Two: Jerk is VERY particular about a clean house, which is fine. I like things tidy too. I can appreciate that. Over the 2 years Boy and I have been dating, he has yelled (yes, yelled and scolded) at Boy to clean up his dishes. Knowing how particular Jerk is about this--I always make sure that immediately after we finish eating dinner--the dishes are washed.
3. Instance three: Boy generally works on Saturday morning, so he leaves his house before I get up. Last weekend I got up to leave and a cup and a "dish" (again a small Tupperware I was eating baked cheetos out of) were sitting on the stairway, as a clear sign to me to put them the hell away. Because Jerk was in the kitchen and I wanted to avoid him, I stepped over the dishes and left the house. I wasn't giving into his passive aggressive bull shit.
4. Instance four: This morning I am leaving the house (again after Boy has gone to work) and find this LOVELY little note taped to the door knob. Just last night Boy told me I was "reading too much into Jerk's action." I was Freikin livid when I saw this note! Like, beyond a normal level of anger and pissed off-ness. First, I always ensure that out dinner dishes are done and I'm sorry that I left a cup out on the coffee table, because I forgot to put it away before bed. But I really don't understand why this is such a big deal. And, if it is such a big deal---all Jerk has to say is, "Hey, Littlesack, i'd appreciate it if youd put your cups in the dishwasher before going to bed." LIKE A GROWN UP!
So, I call Boy to tell him that I am certainly not overreacting, because well, Jerk left me this lovely little letter. (My favorite part of the letter is the "if you want to be here" like he is threatening from barring me from Boy's home like I'm a five year old child).
So, Boy promises me he will talk to Jerk about it.
And this is also the last straw for Boy too (who has way more patience than I have ever possessed). Apparently, Boy told me this this morning, but a few months ago, Jerk told Boy that since I was there more, I should have to pay utilities. Boy didn't feel like arguing, so he agreed. (don't get me started on why he agreed.) So, for the past few months the utilities have been split five ways (Jerk, jerk's GF, other roommate, Boy, and me) and Boy has been paying 2 shares. HONESTLY---WTF?!?!!?! I have, over the entire course of our more than 2 year relationship taken less than 10 showers there. I am also only there when Boy isn't for less than an hour most Friday nights. There is no way I am using enough utilities to warrant Boy paying two shares. And, I'm upset that Boy was paying that money and didn't tell me.
I have lost it! I am a 22 year old woman! I, nor my 24 year old boyfriend, do not deserve to be treated like we are children. I am at my wit's end and honestly have no idea what to do about it. Boy is going to talk to Jerk, but, I certainly don't want to go there anymore. But--where am I going to go? Living at home isn't awful, but I'm only doing it to save money while going to grad school. I have no place of my own, and If I can't go to Boy's, where will I go when I need downtime?
UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I have no more to say, I am sorry that this is long and ugly, but I needed to get it off my chest because crying about it wasn't helping.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Hair-apy*
Ok, ladies...I got someone besides myself to take a picture of me (and my hair). Here is the before and after. (Before on the left, obvi). I still can't tell if it makes me look like Harry Potter or like a more mature me. I'm not that big of a fan of the new bangs---I like them to be a lot heavier and swoopier (is that a word?) Regardless, here they are.
Thanks for all the book suggestions, I can't wait to get to the library. I'm still taking book suggestions for January if you didn't leave any.
Ps- I totally borrowed this post name from Psycho Hairpy, and if you haven't check them out, do so, they are fab!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Hair Trauma
So, I just cut a considerable amount of my hair. And by considerable I mean- I used to be able to put my hair in a considerable pony-tail and now I have no hair to put into a pony-o. EEEKKKKK.
I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I like it...I think.
I do this all the time...Grow my hair out, get sick of it, cut it short, hate it and grow it long. It's probably something I've been doing since early high school. I can never figure out how I like it. And i liked my hair 5 hours ago, I just felt like...what the hell---I'll change it. And so, I changed it. A LOT.
(confessional moment: Part of the reason I always want my hair long is because if/when I get married, I want to have long hair at my wedding. But...that if/when doesn't even exist at this moment, so I cut it. And it can always be grown out, right?...?)
It's a good cut and it frames my face better than my last cut. It also makes me look older (in the good way) and like I can legally drive a car and buy a drink. I often get mistaken for a 16 year old, so this is probably a good development.
it's just a wee shorter than I was expecting.
It's just going to take some getting used to. But hell---it's hair and if I don't like it in a few days, it'll grow. Right?
If I could figure out how to take a picture of myself without looking like a 16 year old emo punk--I would post a before and after...but any "self portrait" looks ridiculously childish.
So, just send some positive reinforcement my way and pretend I post before and afters and after looks better?
(On another and less selfish note- Isn't it odd how much we define ourselves by our hair?)
I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I like it...I think.
I do this all the time...Grow my hair out, get sick of it, cut it short, hate it and grow it long. It's probably something I've been doing since early high school. I can never figure out how I like it. And i liked my hair 5 hours ago, I just felt like...what the hell---I'll change it. And so, I changed it. A LOT.
(confessional moment: Part of the reason I always want my hair long is because if/when I get married, I want to have long hair at my wedding. But...that if/when doesn't even exist at this moment, so I cut it. And it can always be grown out, right?...?)
It's a good cut and it frames my face better than my last cut. It also makes me look older (in the good way) and like I can legally drive a car and buy a drink. I often get mistaken for a 16 year old, so this is probably a good development.
it's just a wee shorter than I was expecting.
It's just going to take some getting used to. But hell---it's hair and if I don't like it in a few days, it'll grow. Right?
If I could figure out how to take a picture of myself without looking like a 16 year old emo punk--I would post a before and after...but any "self portrait" looks ridiculously childish.
So, just send some positive reinforcement my way and pretend I post before and afters and after looks better?
(On another and less selfish note- Isn't it odd how much we define ourselves by our hair?)
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
The itch
No, not the seven year itch, or even the chicken pox itch. This itch is hard to describe, difficult to define, and yet most women know what it is.
It is the feeling you get when you are settled in the current stage of your life and yearn for the next thing. It occurs out of nowhere when you are shopping in the mall and see a beautiful young mother with her adorably dressed and pigtailed daughter and all you want to do is scoop that little girl up and carry her home with you. For the next few hours, days, or even weeks, all you can think about is baby; wanting a baby, preparing for a baby; decorating the baby's room. You get the idea.
For me, the itch is the wedding itch, (and although I am dating someone I love dearly, we are certainly not engaged or close to being married). It ebbs and flows (probably in a cycle very similar to the one brought on by mother nature- but that is neither here nor there). Sometimes the itch overtakes my brain and I can't focus on anything else. The moment my best gal pal's wedding pictures went up online, I spent the next two hours hungrily looking through all 1,987 of them. I was unstoppable. I often get so itchy that I spend hours searching for my perfect wedding dress, the perfect location, the perfect season, and the perfect bridesmaids dresses. This isn't like a casual search online, this is an incessant desire to find the PERFECT things.
I haven't had the itch in a while. I've been making every effort to push all things wedding out of my brain for fear of seeming like a lunatic. It tends to be odd when you are looking at engagement rings on line and a coworker asks if you are getting married soon, and you have to say, "uh, no." Rumors spread about your sanity. So for the past few months, I've kept my itch contained.
So ladies, have you ever had the itch like this? Or done something slightly crazy when it struck you?
It is the feeling you get when you are settled in the current stage of your life and yearn for the next thing. It occurs out of nowhere when you are shopping in the mall and see a beautiful young mother with her adorably dressed and pigtailed daughter and all you want to do is scoop that little girl up and carry her home with you. For the next few hours, days, or even weeks, all you can think about is baby; wanting a baby, preparing for a baby; decorating the baby's room. You get the idea.
For me, the itch is the wedding itch, (and although I am dating someone I love dearly, we are certainly not engaged or close to being married). It ebbs and flows (probably in a cycle very similar to the one brought on by mother nature- but that is neither here nor there). Sometimes the itch overtakes my brain and I can't focus on anything else. The moment my best gal pal's wedding pictures went up online, I spent the next two hours hungrily looking through all 1,987 of them. I was unstoppable. I often get so itchy that I spend hours searching for my perfect wedding dress, the perfect location, the perfect season, and the perfect bridesmaids dresses. This isn't like a casual search online, this is an incessant desire to find the PERFECT things.
I haven't had the itch in a while. I've been making every effort to push all things wedding out of my brain for fear of seeming like a lunatic. It tends to be odd when you are looking at engagement rings on line and a coworker asks if you are getting married soon, and you have to say, "uh, no." Rumors spread about your sanity. So for the past few months, I've kept my itch contained.
So ladies, have you ever had the itch like this? Or done something slightly crazy when it struck you?
Monday, December 1, 2008
The look
***The following is something that I wrote a long time ago, about a boy that very few people know about. But, it was one of the roller coaster things where the highs were unbelievable and the aftermath made your stomach turn.
Sometimes when I think hard about it, I can't remember what he looks like. I know the thin hair and his baby blue eyes (but only because he talked about the the connection we had with our "baby blues"). When I think hard about it, his face is like the sun- when you look right at it, you can't see it at all.
We had a serious past. One that started early on in college and continued secretly throughout the years. I was his "partner in crime" and we often got into mischief together. He brought out both the best and the worst in me. One night I would be dancing in circles around his living room while his roommates played the guitar, the rest of us singing familiar tunes, the air thick with smoke and the smell of cheap liquor. The next I would be huddled under my blankets, alone.
I have one defining memory of what his face looks like-I saw it in one split moment after he kissed me. Like it was a look I wasn't supposed to see but I opened my eyes too soon. His eyes told stories and this story contained all the passion, desire, and chemistry we ever had. The only word that adequately describes the look is hunger.
That was one of the last nights I ever saw him. After months of being on that roller coaster, my heart couldn't take it anymore.
I guess, I just wonder if in ten years when I think about him and the impact he had on my life, will I be able to remember his face? Or will it always be a blur- a mix of baby blues and hunger.
Sometimes when I think hard about it, I can't remember what he looks like. I know the thin hair and his baby blue eyes (but only because he talked about the the connection we had with our "baby blues"). When I think hard about it, his face is like the sun- when you look right at it, you can't see it at all.
We had a serious past. One that started early on in college and continued secretly throughout the years. I was his "partner in crime" and we often got into mischief together. He brought out both the best and the worst in me. One night I would be dancing in circles around his living room while his roommates played the guitar, the rest of us singing familiar tunes, the air thick with smoke and the smell of cheap liquor. The next I would be huddled under my blankets, alone.
I have one defining memory of what his face looks like-I saw it in one split moment after he kissed me. Like it was a look I wasn't supposed to see but I opened my eyes too soon. His eyes told stories and this story contained all the passion, desire, and chemistry we ever had. The only word that adequately describes the look is hunger.
That was one of the last nights I ever saw him. After months of being on that roller coaster, my heart couldn't take it anymore.
I guess, I just wonder if in ten years when I think about him and the impact he had on my life, will I be able to remember his face? Or will it always be a blur- a mix of baby blues and hunger.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
showering thoughts
While conditioning my hair this morning, I had a thought. Time really does just fly by and if you don’t stop to savor it, it truly will pass you by. And in order to savor it- you have to plan it. Recently I was in a bar and was surprised by the appearance of my best friend, a girl I hadn’t seen in over two months! My shock at seeing her, combined with my beer tears, led to an emotional hug (at least on my end).
But how does that happen? How did my life go from spending hours with this gal pal everyday to not seeing her for over two months!? I was upset with myself for letting that time slip away- for not planning to see her.
That whole experience is just the first step of me realizing what thousands have before me: that post-graduation life is starkly different from the college days. Living next door and down the street from your best friends is incomparable in experience. You just knew that Friday nights would be spent together making debauchery at the bar, and that Wednesday nights were for wine and “Lost”. Nothing was planned, it just was the way it was.
It’s this doing, yet not planning, that i truly miss.
As I navigate this new lifestyle, I’m sure I’ll come across some other revelations as well. I just hope that I plan them into my work week, or I might pass them by.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
