It's funny how life is just so damn good on the chill weekends. Worked in the morning on Saturday and then hung all day with my bestie and her 8 month old. Today L and I went to IHOP in the morning and then went to see Captain America (my first time, his second on opening weekend!). For the record, I loved it. I totally get why he's all about the legacy. I agree with him and his friends when they said this should be the kind of movie where you feel propelled to stand up and salute the screen at the end. Chris Evans was seriously excellent as Steve Rogers. We did some shopping (new hot dresses, wooo!), came home, and played a new video game. Well, he played while I messed around on the laptop.
Now it's time for bed and yet another weekend has flown by. Yet, despite all the action going on, it was surprisingly chill. I love that, and I hate how it's yet another week beginning tomorrow. However, I only have a 3 day week because I'm taking a mini-vaca. Wooooohoo!
I intend to write more in this blog. And yes, it will be more light-hearted than the last two posts (my friend said I should have a waaaaaaa-waaaaaahhh sound wav when you enter the site), but sometimes I need to get emotions like that out. It's healthy and necessary. And some days I just want to chat about my day or pick apart a good book or movie.
Right now, music is on my mind. I'm so sad about Amy Winehouse's death, but I don't feel a need to write about it. I just want to go immerse myself in her Back to Black album like I used to do years ago. She was truly amazing, and the current music industry is poorer for not having her talent.
However, I will have a need to write about Lady Gaga's absolutely perfect new album. I am officially a little monster. Stay tuned!
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
"Father of mine, tell me what do you see, when you look back at your wasted life and you don't see me."
Note...this couldn't be more different than the last letter entry. This is me in the middle of working out a lot of issues. Writing in my blog is therapeutic, and I have no shame in anyone reading this. I do not expect comments. I just want people to know the truth.
Dear Dad,
That seems way too cozy. Too personal. After all, it's been 20 years since you died, and I only really ever called you Daddy. That was too good for you as well. When did you ever truly act like a daddy? Up till I was 5? Gee, thanks. Way to shape those formative years of my life.
Maybe I should just refer to you as Al. But Al was a so-called "man" who tortured the women in his immediate life. As Mom said, "Oh you're such a big man, Al. Beating up on your disabled wife and little girl...such a man."
When people ask about my biological father, I can casually say "Oh he died of a heart attack at 38. Oh, don't be sorry! It was a blessing in disguise." How can someone just cavalierly talk about their father being a piece of shit? Well it's easy when that father was you.
I had barely thought about you on your birthday until this year. June 23. I'm November 23. Easy to remember. You would have been 59 this year. When you died, you looked like you were that age. The Philly morgue freezer being broken didn't help matters much. Closed casket. Cremation. Barely any attendance. People really only showed up for me or to make sure you were actually dead. Then your "friends" and family completely ditched me. I've met that side twice, and I can barely remember them. I barely know my family history. Your parents were dead by the 70s and your sister never called until you died. I have an aunt who I wouldn't know if I fell over. We got a sympathy card from your aunt, titled "Dear M and 'daughter.'" Isn't it great to feel wanted? I have been shunned all because you were/are a piece of shit.
So naturally I mourned. I was 10 years old! What the hell do you expect. I knew that it was better that Daddy couldn't terrorize us anymore, but it was still my daddy. I would get beaten for wanting to play Nintendo, watch a movie, go to the circus...I can't even remember it all anymore. I just have a few distinct memories of you going into a rage because I did something totally innocent that you didn't like. I WAS A KID. A CHILD. YOUR LITTLE GIRL. Mom had to keep me so quiet when I was a baby because god forbid I wake you. I walked on eggshells before I could even walk.
We were barely allowed to see anyone. We were practically impoverished. Mom had to sleep on the couch for years while you got the room and bed all to yourself, even if you were working a night shift. You yelled at and beat on her more than anything. I saw you try to choke her. You took me to see your girlfriend and told me to lie to my own mother at freakin' 7. SHE WAS YOUR WIFE. DISABLED. THE MOTHER OF YOUR CHILD. You told her, "I hate you, but you're a great mother." So then when you guys were finally separated, you told the green lawyer to draw up papers to steal me from her and declare her incompetent. Even though she found the papers after you were dead, she still underwent a massive exacerbation with the MS at the sheer thought of that. Thanks a heap for the parting gift!
And people wonder why I was scared of men for so many years and so shy and uptight. Surprise! I ended up making so many bad decisions with men and allowed one person in years ago who was essentially me working out my father issues. It makes me want to vomit when I think of that. It took me till I was 27 to find a good man, but guess what buddy, I did it. And he couldn't be less like you if he tried. He's everything perfect to me. He is so disgusted by you that he can't even pass by your picture in an album without wanting to destroy the hell out of it.
So now it was your birthday, and I thought I was over all this. Well, I'm not. 20 years later and I'm still crying like a traumatized girl on Thursday nights on a sofa. Yup, traumatized. I had my mother and my new life to help me transition into the next phase of growing up, but I still never dealt with these feelings. And you're lucky I'm not putting your full name and picture out in public. Maybe then someone from your family would randomly google you and finally give me the answers I've been longing for. But quite frankly, I'd rather put those pieces of my life together myself.
But maybe I'm also upset because I never got to have a childhood with my daddy. I have a few nice memories, but that's it. You were a handsome man and you could be funny when you wanted to be. You were into movies, music, and writing, which are all good qualities I got from you. Yes, I can actually find a couple! But I was forced to grow up so fast and be so timid. Everyone says I was the only person you ever actually loved. Ok. I can sorta believe that as I do believe part of this was mental illness and drugs. But why the hell would you abuse someone you supposedly loved?? I will never understand that.
I can "forgive" what you did to me, but I will never forgive what you did to my mommy. Never. You had amazing women willing to love you, and you completely threw it out the window and practically killed yourself while traumatizing and hurting them in the process. I can thank you for contributing to my conception, but that's about it.
Hope karma's kicking you in the ass.
Your only child,
Chrissi
Dear Dad,
That seems way too cozy. Too personal. After all, it's been 20 years since you died, and I only really ever called you Daddy. That was too good for you as well. When did you ever truly act like a daddy? Up till I was 5? Gee, thanks. Way to shape those formative years of my life.
Maybe I should just refer to you as Al. But Al was a so-called "man" who tortured the women in his immediate life. As Mom said, "Oh you're such a big man, Al. Beating up on your disabled wife and little girl...such a man."
When people ask about my biological father, I can casually say "Oh he died of a heart attack at 38. Oh, don't be sorry! It was a blessing in disguise." How can someone just cavalierly talk about their father being a piece of shit? Well it's easy when that father was you.
I had barely thought about you on your birthday until this year. June 23. I'm November 23. Easy to remember. You would have been 59 this year. When you died, you looked like you were that age. The Philly morgue freezer being broken didn't help matters much. Closed casket. Cremation. Barely any attendance. People really only showed up for me or to make sure you were actually dead. Then your "friends" and family completely ditched me. I've met that side twice, and I can barely remember them. I barely know my family history. Your parents were dead by the 70s and your sister never called until you died. I have an aunt who I wouldn't know if I fell over. We got a sympathy card from your aunt, titled "Dear M and 'daughter.'" Isn't it great to feel wanted? I have been shunned all because you were/are a piece of shit.
So naturally I mourned. I was 10 years old! What the hell do you expect. I knew that it was better that Daddy couldn't terrorize us anymore, but it was still my daddy. I would get beaten for wanting to play Nintendo, watch a movie, go to the circus...I can't even remember it all anymore. I just have a few distinct memories of you going into a rage because I did something totally innocent that you didn't like. I WAS A KID. A CHILD. YOUR LITTLE GIRL. Mom had to keep me so quiet when I was a baby because god forbid I wake you. I walked on eggshells before I could even walk.
We were barely allowed to see anyone. We were practically impoverished. Mom had to sleep on the couch for years while you got the room and bed all to yourself, even if you were working a night shift. You yelled at and beat on her more than anything. I saw you try to choke her. You took me to see your girlfriend and told me to lie to my own mother at freakin' 7. SHE WAS YOUR WIFE. DISABLED. THE MOTHER OF YOUR CHILD. You told her, "I hate you, but you're a great mother." So then when you guys were finally separated, you told the green lawyer to draw up papers to steal me from her and declare her incompetent. Even though she found the papers after you were dead, she still underwent a massive exacerbation with the MS at the sheer thought of that. Thanks a heap for the parting gift!
And people wonder why I was scared of men for so many years and so shy and uptight. Surprise! I ended up making so many bad decisions with men and allowed one person in years ago who was essentially me working out my father issues. It makes me want to vomit when I think of that. It took me till I was 27 to find a good man, but guess what buddy, I did it. And he couldn't be less like you if he tried. He's everything perfect to me. He is so disgusted by you that he can't even pass by your picture in an album without wanting to destroy the hell out of it.
So now it was your birthday, and I thought I was over all this. Well, I'm not. 20 years later and I'm still crying like a traumatized girl on Thursday nights on a sofa. Yup, traumatized. I had my mother and my new life to help me transition into the next phase of growing up, but I still never dealt with these feelings. And you're lucky I'm not putting your full name and picture out in public. Maybe then someone from your family would randomly google you and finally give me the answers I've been longing for. But quite frankly, I'd rather put those pieces of my life together myself.
But maybe I'm also upset because I never got to have a childhood with my daddy. I have a few nice memories, but that's it. You were a handsome man and you could be funny when you wanted to be. You were into movies, music, and writing, which are all good qualities I got from you. Yes, I can actually find a couple! But I was forced to grow up so fast and be so timid. Everyone says I was the only person you ever actually loved. Ok. I can sorta believe that as I do believe part of this was mental illness and drugs. But why the hell would you abuse someone you supposedly loved?? I will never understand that.
I can "forgive" what you did to me, but I will never forgive what you did to my mommy. Never. You had amazing women willing to love you, and you completely threw it out the window and practically killed yourself while traumatizing and hurting them in the process. I can thank you for contributing to my conception, but that's about it.
Hope karma's kicking you in the ass.
Your only child,
Chrissi
Friday, July 8, 2011
"With only so much time to spend, don't wanna waste the time I'm given..."
Dear Mom,
Well, another birthday. At this time last year, you had just gotten home from the hospital. It was an infection. Nothing major, just hit you a little harder than normal. We got takeout and watched Funny Girl, your favorite...ok, you watched it and I fell asleep. I'm sorry! I got tired! Actually, I was always tired. Now I'm on a more normal schedule. Today I was just restless and empty. I had sushi for dinner, something you absolutely hated. I watched Cupcake Wars on the DVR. Just a normal Friday night. It's so silent downstairs. We should be having ribs and I should be falling asleep during a Cary Grant movie. Instead I'm just having a typically indulgent "alone" night, and rather than enjoying the quiet, I'm hating it.
I miss your laugh. I miss your humor and your retorts. I miss you yelling at us to be quiet during the lottery numbers and where the Jeopardy contestants are from. I miss turning the channel to Entertainment Tonight to see the birthdays in between the final Jeopardy commercial, and I miss seeing what my tv bff Lara Spencer was wearing on The Insider. I miss you calling Niecy Nash and Elizabeth Hasselbeck bitches and telling jerky celebrities to go blow it out their ass. I miss you drooling over your favorite celebs and making sure you had certain programs on: Dancing With the Stars, House, The Mentalist, CSI NY, Ghost Whisperer, Medium (well, those two are no longer), and anything on TCM. We haven't turned on TCM in forever. I kinda miss Robert Osbourne. I was so sad when Meredith Viera left Today and Millionaire to take care of her MS afflicted husband, as I know it would have broken your heart for so many reasons. I miss showing you new Raul Esparza pix and clips of him speaking or singing. I miss making fun of some of your likes (Leno? Really?) and your weird crushes (Snoop Dogg? WTF??) and how you would bitch about some of my likes (I get Desperate Housewives, but How I Met Your Mother rules, shush!!!).
I don't miss seeing your hands shake. I don't miss having to wipe your eyes down after laughing too hard and then us bickering about how hard I'm doing it. I don't miss you slumping in the bed "to the other side of town" as Nanny described it. I don't miss having to tell you to keep drinking when you were dehydrated and then finding the bottle shoved under your bent arm because you couldn't get it back on the table. I don't miss having to feed you only because you took forever to chew, but I still feel the pangs of guilt because those remaining teeth had to be pulled. I don't miss wondering if you were going to remember to eat your dinner if I was actually going to be away during that time. I don't miss trying to find new ways to make opening containers and bags easier for you. I don't miss wondering if I was going to have to quit my job and stay home with you to avoid even more aides or have to work extra jobs just to afford more aides. I don't miss when your mind started getting a bit shaky and touchy. It wasn't too bad, but I could see it beginning. I don't miss having to tell you that no you can't get out of bed in the chair or hop in the shower. I don't miss your laundry having to be done every single day and the washer/dryer often crapping out because of this. I don't miss waking up to give you your pills because I didn't want you to be up at 3 or 4 in the morning. I don't miss not being able to stay away for 1+ days without having Nanny come to stay with you and then worrying about the two of you.
I don't miss any of this because it was inconvenient, no. I was watching you fade away, and it began a year ago. I tried so hard to deny it and to just find new ways of adjusting to your needs, but I'm not dumb. It was just too sad to even think of. And you were never in pain...it was so shocking when you died, but only because there was barely a complaint leading up to the event. I had more warnings than I realized, but I just didn't think it was going to be so damn fast.
But it's a blessing that it happened so damn fast. You got to be at home right until the night before, your mind was pretty solid for a severely chronically ill woman, and you got to know L. Oh thank god you got to know him. I know he misses you every day too. It's hard for him now...he may have been companionship for your last 6 months, but you were a companion for him too. You two bonded, and I am thankful for that. You approved and knew I'd be ok, that I was with one of the most compassionate and caring men ever and that I was finally happy and ready to start my life.
I should have started therapy 10 years ago...but she's been amazing, and I've really started coming to terms with so much in my past up through now. She thought it would help me to write a letter to you. I know she didn't intend for me to put it out in cyberspace, but I don't care. I have nothing to hide. You were my mother for 30 years, you were the most amazing woman I will ever know, and you are beloved now and forever. I refuse to let your memory fade and I have no shame in putting these feelings out there to the world. Now just don't smack me from beyond when I get my next tattoo in honor of you. :-p
I love you Mommy.
xoxoxo
Chrissi
Well, another birthday. At this time last year, you had just gotten home from the hospital. It was an infection. Nothing major, just hit you a little harder than normal. We got takeout and watched Funny Girl, your favorite...ok, you watched it and I fell asleep. I'm sorry! I got tired! Actually, I was always tired. Now I'm on a more normal schedule. Today I was just restless and empty. I had sushi for dinner, something you absolutely hated. I watched Cupcake Wars on the DVR. Just a normal Friday night. It's so silent downstairs. We should be having ribs and I should be falling asleep during a Cary Grant movie. Instead I'm just having a typically indulgent "alone" night, and rather than enjoying the quiet, I'm hating it.
I miss your laugh. I miss your humor and your retorts. I miss you yelling at us to be quiet during the lottery numbers and where the Jeopardy contestants are from. I miss turning the channel to Entertainment Tonight to see the birthdays in between the final Jeopardy commercial, and I miss seeing what my tv bff Lara Spencer was wearing on The Insider. I miss you calling Niecy Nash and Elizabeth Hasselbeck bitches and telling jerky celebrities to go blow it out their ass. I miss you drooling over your favorite celebs and making sure you had certain programs on: Dancing With the Stars, House, The Mentalist, CSI NY, Ghost Whisperer, Medium (well, those two are no longer), and anything on TCM. We haven't turned on TCM in forever. I kinda miss Robert Osbourne. I was so sad when Meredith Viera left Today and Millionaire to take care of her MS afflicted husband, as I know it would have broken your heart for so many reasons. I miss showing you new Raul Esparza pix and clips of him speaking or singing. I miss making fun of some of your likes (Leno? Really?) and your weird crushes (Snoop Dogg? WTF??) and how you would bitch about some of my likes (I get Desperate Housewives, but How I Met Your Mother rules, shush!!!).
I don't miss seeing your hands shake. I don't miss having to wipe your eyes down after laughing too hard and then us bickering about how hard I'm doing it. I don't miss you slumping in the bed "to the other side of town" as Nanny described it. I don't miss having to tell you to keep drinking when you were dehydrated and then finding the bottle shoved under your bent arm because you couldn't get it back on the table. I don't miss having to feed you only because you took forever to chew, but I still feel the pangs of guilt because those remaining teeth had to be pulled. I don't miss wondering if you were going to remember to eat your dinner if I was actually going to be away during that time. I don't miss trying to find new ways to make opening containers and bags easier for you. I don't miss wondering if I was going to have to quit my job and stay home with you to avoid even more aides or have to work extra jobs just to afford more aides. I don't miss when your mind started getting a bit shaky and touchy. It wasn't too bad, but I could see it beginning. I don't miss having to tell you that no you can't get out of bed in the chair or hop in the shower. I don't miss your laundry having to be done every single day and the washer/dryer often crapping out because of this. I don't miss waking up to give you your pills because I didn't want you to be up at 3 or 4 in the morning. I don't miss not being able to stay away for 1+ days without having Nanny come to stay with you and then worrying about the two of you.
I don't miss any of this because it was inconvenient, no. I was watching you fade away, and it began a year ago. I tried so hard to deny it and to just find new ways of adjusting to your needs, but I'm not dumb. It was just too sad to even think of. And you were never in pain...it was so shocking when you died, but only because there was barely a complaint leading up to the event. I had more warnings than I realized, but I just didn't think it was going to be so damn fast.
But it's a blessing that it happened so damn fast. You got to be at home right until the night before, your mind was pretty solid for a severely chronically ill woman, and you got to know L. Oh thank god you got to know him. I know he misses you every day too. It's hard for him now...he may have been companionship for your last 6 months, but you were a companion for him too. You two bonded, and I am thankful for that. You approved and knew I'd be ok, that I was with one of the most compassionate and caring men ever and that I was finally happy and ready to start my life.
I should have started therapy 10 years ago...but she's been amazing, and I've really started coming to terms with so much in my past up through now. She thought it would help me to write a letter to you. I know she didn't intend for me to put it out in cyberspace, but I don't care. I have nothing to hide. You were my mother for 30 years, you were the most amazing woman I will ever know, and you are beloved now and forever. I refuse to let your memory fade and I have no shame in putting these feelings out there to the world. Now just don't smack me from beyond when I get my next tattoo in honor of you. :-p
I love you Mommy.
xoxoxo
Chrissi
Monday, May 23, 2011
"tomorrow's just your future's yesterday"
I used to love staying up to watch Craig Ferguson. What a cheeky sexy devil. Mind you, I didn't quite stay up. I would fall asleep around 10 and wake up by 12:30 to give my mother her pills and watch the beginning of his show. When L moved in, we always tried to at least catch the theme before bed. (Puppets! "Hey! Hey hey!")
Mom loved Craiggers (yes, that's what I call him), and she completely gave up watching Conan for Craig. Then again, she only watched the beginning of Conan to see Max Weinberg's drum solo. When Conan got shuffled off NBC, I didn't feel quite so guilty for "cheating" on him with Craig. Craig just absolutely kills me. His interviews are just so relaxed and conversational while often being naughty. He really brings out the best in celebrities.
On the Friday night I took Mom to the hospital for a supposed non-emergency, she was a little upset because she barely got to watch TV in the ER. It really was a boring and frustrating night, but we did talk a lot. I stayed to make sure she was checked in her room properly. It's weird because I never really did that before. I just had an urge to stay. She was happy because Letterman had just ended and Craig's theme filled the sterile room. We both perked up because Neil Patrick Harris was the guest. I was discussing all her medical history and restrictions while she watched that TV with the biggest smile. By the time I got home, I was ready to pass out and in no mood to watch NPH, but I was glad she got to see something fun before bed.
The next day, she went into cardiac arrest and died.
I don't think I quite have a negative association with the show. Me and L had happened to see part one of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows that afternoon, and we were watching part of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade before being called back to the hospital. Mind you, that's one of my favorite movies in the history of the world, and it was hers as well. It was almost crazy that it was on right before she passed. Still, I don't have anything against watching these two movies. She was watching Along Came Polly Saturday afternoon because she noticed Hank Azaria was in it. Before we left, L made a joke about how great it would be if "Dr" Jimmy Smits walked in. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Later that evening, while I was leaning over her dying body and saying my final words to her, I ended up making a joke about how I was sorry the doctors weren't hot like House. And then I was like, jesus christ, I'm making jokes up to the tragic end!
But that was just what she would want...Mom was always laughing and always fangirling. Nothing made her happier in those final years than a good movie or TV show with one of her favorite actors. I'll never forget when Gilles was on Dancing With the Stars because Mom was acting like a horny teenager whenever he came on (her words!). Or when we'd drool over Bo Bice together and growl for Hugh Jackman. TCM was her goldmine for Cary Grant marathons. She would gasp loudly if I found a new Raul Esparza video or mp3 and order me to put it on. It's how we were able to have quality time together.
Craig was our nighttime routine during the last year. I can watch him without getting upset, but I just DVR good guests now that I've finally gotten on a normal sleep schedule. It's just a reminder that my life is completely different now. I don't have to take care of a bedridden mother and can come and go as I please. Yet, it's still hard for me to adjust to that, and I sometimes slip into old habits.
We had girl talk in the quiet ER while I gushed about Law and Order and Kyle MacLachlan. She just smiled and truly listened like she did when I would turn into a motor mouth. But then she gave me amazing advice I'll never forget in regards to my career. She was still being a mother despite everything. Her body was wearing down even more rapidly over the year, but she still just wanted to have fun with her only daughter in the only way we could. So while I may not watch much Craiggers anymore, I feel good knowing that she was able to have laughter and big smiles during her last 24 hours on earth.
Mom loved Craiggers (yes, that's what I call him), and she completely gave up watching Conan for Craig. Then again, she only watched the beginning of Conan to see Max Weinberg's drum solo. When Conan got shuffled off NBC, I didn't feel quite so guilty for "cheating" on him with Craig. Craig just absolutely kills me. His interviews are just so relaxed and conversational while often being naughty. He really brings out the best in celebrities.
On the Friday night I took Mom to the hospital for a supposed non-emergency, she was a little upset because she barely got to watch TV in the ER. It really was a boring and frustrating night, but we did talk a lot. I stayed to make sure she was checked in her room properly. It's weird because I never really did that before. I just had an urge to stay. She was happy because Letterman had just ended and Craig's theme filled the sterile room. We both perked up because Neil Patrick Harris was the guest. I was discussing all her medical history and restrictions while she watched that TV with the biggest smile. By the time I got home, I was ready to pass out and in no mood to watch NPH, but I was glad she got to see something fun before bed.
The next day, she went into cardiac arrest and died.
I don't think I quite have a negative association with the show. Me and L had happened to see part one of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows that afternoon, and we were watching part of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade before being called back to the hospital. Mind you, that's one of my favorite movies in the history of the world, and it was hers as well. It was almost crazy that it was on right before she passed. Still, I don't have anything against watching these two movies. She was watching Along Came Polly Saturday afternoon because she noticed Hank Azaria was in it. Before we left, L made a joke about how great it would be if "Dr" Jimmy Smits walked in. Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. Later that evening, while I was leaning over her dying body and saying my final words to her, I ended up making a joke about how I was sorry the doctors weren't hot like House. And then I was like, jesus christ, I'm making jokes up to the tragic end!
But that was just what she would want...Mom was always laughing and always fangirling. Nothing made her happier in those final years than a good movie or TV show with one of her favorite actors. I'll never forget when Gilles was on Dancing With the Stars because Mom was acting like a horny teenager whenever he came on (her words!). Or when we'd drool over Bo Bice together and growl for Hugh Jackman. TCM was her goldmine for Cary Grant marathons. She would gasp loudly if I found a new Raul Esparza video or mp3 and order me to put it on. It's how we were able to have quality time together.
Craig was our nighttime routine during the last year. I can watch him without getting upset, but I just DVR good guests now that I've finally gotten on a normal sleep schedule. It's just a reminder that my life is completely different now. I don't have to take care of a bedridden mother and can come and go as I please. Yet, it's still hard for me to adjust to that, and I sometimes slip into old habits.
We had girl talk in the quiet ER while I gushed about Law and Order and Kyle MacLachlan. She just smiled and truly listened like she did when I would turn into a motor mouth. But then she gave me amazing advice I'll never forget in regards to my career. She was still being a mother despite everything. Her body was wearing down even more rapidly over the year, but she still just wanted to have fun with her only daughter in the only way we could. So while I may not watch much Craiggers anymore, I feel good knowing that she was able to have laughter and big smiles during her last 24 hours on earth.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
"Some people choose the city, some others choose the good old family home"
This week of training has sucked so much because of the commute time. I wouldn't mind being in the car for an hour, but being on the train for 45 minutes in the morning and afternoon after waiting in the smelly bowels of the SEPTA line is just evil. I truly admire those who constantly commute in this fashion. Maybe if I was doing my regular job for 8 hrs, it wouldn't be so bad. Sitting in one classroom for 8 hrs is awful. God, I don't think I've done that since elementary school! (or since my first round of training with this company) That's probably why I'm so damn drained at night. I know it's only been 5 days, but I cannot WAIT for these next 3 days to fly by.
I think it's funny how I'm such a city girl with New York but how I don't care much for Philly. It's my native city and I don't have trouble driving through the majority of it, but it's not my first choice by any stretch. Philly smells like piss and gas with an extra dose of sweat. New York smells too, but it smells like vanilla, steam, hot dogs, and trash. It's a smell that I happily breathe in. Their subways don't phase me, except during the summer heat. SEPTA makes me want to pass out just standing around. And the train itself! Bleh. I'll take NJ Transit any day of the week.
Does this make me a traitor? Not really, I don't mind hanging out on South St, Penns Landing, Sports Complex, Art museum, Chinatown, Washington Square, the Northeast...you will always see me rooting for the Phillies and hometown heroes along with possessing a super thick Philly accent. I know where to get the best cheesesteaks (hint: surrounding suburbs), live for Wawa, used to have soft pretzels for breakfast, and feel sorry for anyone who doesn't know what a Tastykake is. I just don't really feel comfortable. I don't often know where I'm going and would much prefer going with a friend. I barely know anywhere fun to go. If I'm in Philly, there's a purpose behind it. Meanwhile, I have wandered around NYC by myself for 12 hours at a time while taking the last train out of Penn Station.
No matter what, commuting by SEPTA to a dull ass classroom sucks. And I suppose it still would if I took NJ Transit to a Midtown classroom. While my heart is with Philly, my passion is with New York. I will have to save that love story for another day since I need to relax before waking up at 5:45 am.
I think it's funny how I'm such a city girl with New York but how I don't care much for Philly. It's my native city and I don't have trouble driving through the majority of it, but it's not my first choice by any stretch. Philly smells like piss and gas with an extra dose of sweat. New York smells too, but it smells like vanilla, steam, hot dogs, and trash. It's a smell that I happily breathe in. Their subways don't phase me, except during the summer heat. SEPTA makes me want to pass out just standing around. And the train itself! Bleh. I'll take NJ Transit any day of the week.
Does this make me a traitor? Not really, I don't mind hanging out on South St, Penns Landing, Sports Complex, Art museum, Chinatown, Washington Square, the Northeast...you will always see me rooting for the Phillies and hometown heroes along with possessing a super thick Philly accent. I know where to get the best cheesesteaks (hint: surrounding suburbs), live for Wawa, used to have soft pretzels for breakfast, and feel sorry for anyone who doesn't know what a Tastykake is. I just don't really feel comfortable. I don't often know where I'm going and would much prefer going with a friend. I barely know anywhere fun to go. If I'm in Philly, there's a purpose behind it. Meanwhile, I have wandered around NYC by myself for 12 hours at a time while taking the last train out of Penn Station.
No matter what, commuting by SEPTA to a dull ass classroom sucks. And I suppose it still would if I took NJ Transit to a Midtown classroom. While my heart is with Philly, my passion is with New York. I will have to save that love story for another day since I need to relax before waking up at 5:45 am.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
"Some girls, they have natural ease, they wear it any way they please"
Sometimes I wonder if this grownup look is a facade or a shell. Am I really? Do I want to just assimilate into the professional woman's uniform of heels, skirt, jacket, and layered hair? After all these years of trying to make myself look different and unique, do I really want to just blend in?
I don't think it's much of a shell. I'm still retaining pieces of my past (tattoos, daith ear piercing) while adding fun touches like shimmery silver nails, chunky unique jewelry, limbo bimbo hot pink toes, retro flair to my pencil skirts, dresses, tights, and flowy black clothes. Why does this mean so much to me? Well, I love color and fun. I may not be able to wear purple tights to work anymore, but I can still wear my red mary jane kitten heels. It's all about compromise. If I'm not choosing to live an alternative lifestyle, then I have to follow dress code. It doesn't mean I can't have fun with it.
However, my weight is preventing me from having a lot of fun with casual clothes these days. I really wish Torrid was in more nearby locations rather than being forced into Lane Bryant prices or the emerging Kohls glitter muumuus (though their dress pants are still great). And Old Navy, do me a favor and just increase the quality of fabric a scoch for the prices you're charging. Please and thank you.
I want to be flattering but fun, professional but not stuffy, unique but not reverting back to baggy and pierced. I want to look my age while still having people think I'm no older than 28. It's a hell of a fine tightrope to walk at this stage of life.
It's like my favorite How I Met Your Mother ep, "Arrivederci, Fiero" when Marshall loses the last bit of his youth in his beat up junk car and they examine how every young up-and-comer has a secret piece of their youth that they desperately cling onto. Since my tattoos aren't going anywhere and are only going to develop, I think my "cling" is that daith ear piercing I previously mentioned. It's in a very hard part of the cartilage to pierce, is a simple lovely black captive hoop, and is the one thing I got done because a crush thought it would look cool. L says it was my Daria and Trent moment. So even though I've had a customer ask me if it was a hearing aid, it's not going anywhere. I removed my brow, tongue, industrial, and gages...this is my little memory that I can have neatly tucked towards my ear canal.
I look back on where I'm from
Look at the woman I've become
And the strangest things seem
suddenly routine.
-Hedwig and the Angry Inch
I don't think it's much of a shell. I'm still retaining pieces of my past (tattoos, daith ear piercing) while adding fun touches like shimmery silver nails, chunky unique jewelry, limbo bimbo hot pink toes, retro flair to my pencil skirts, dresses, tights, and flowy black clothes. Why does this mean so much to me? Well, I love color and fun. I may not be able to wear purple tights to work anymore, but I can still wear my red mary jane kitten heels. It's all about compromise. If I'm not choosing to live an alternative lifestyle, then I have to follow dress code. It doesn't mean I can't have fun with it.
However, my weight is preventing me from having a lot of fun with casual clothes these days. I really wish Torrid was in more nearby locations rather than being forced into Lane Bryant prices or the emerging Kohls glitter muumuus (though their dress pants are still great). And Old Navy, do me a favor and just increase the quality of fabric a scoch for the prices you're charging. Please and thank you.
I want to be flattering but fun, professional but not stuffy, unique but not reverting back to baggy and pierced. I want to look my age while still having people think I'm no older than 28. It's a hell of a fine tightrope to walk at this stage of life.
It's like my favorite How I Met Your Mother ep, "Arrivederci, Fiero" when Marshall loses the last bit of his youth in his beat up junk car and they examine how every young up-and-comer has a secret piece of their youth that they desperately cling onto. Since my tattoos aren't going anywhere and are only going to develop, I think my "cling" is that daith ear piercing I previously mentioned. It's in a very hard part of the cartilage to pierce, is a simple lovely black captive hoop, and is the one thing I got done because a crush thought it would look cool. L says it was my Daria and Trent moment. So even though I've had a customer ask me if it was a hearing aid, it's not going anywhere. I removed my brow, tongue, industrial, and gages...this is my little memory that I can have neatly tucked towards my ear canal.
I look back on where I'm from
Look at the woman I've become
And the strangest things seem
suddenly routine.
-Hedwig and the Angry Inch
Monday, May 16, 2011
"God gave me this Dundie, and I feel God in this Chilis tonight"
It's really weird...a few months ago, I was comparing myself to The Office character Dwight Schrute and now I have a position that makes me more like Pam Beesly. I'll essentially be the go-to girl for everything, and I like that. I don't care for managing or supervising at this point in my life and work much better as a "right hand" in a company. Now if only they would pay more! Oh, believe me, I'm not putting down my raise and benefits, but it just really would be nice to hit a certain figure!!
I bought a color Nook to celebrate. Some new clothes that are professional with a retro flair. Am continuing to get my nails and hair done. Got a Kate Spade purse (my first "big girl" bag). Ditched a lot of my shoes yesterday and bought 3 new pairs. I still have nice shoes in the closet, but I bought 2 pairs of super cute yet durable flats (black and red) and a pair of taupe shiny pointy heels. Yeah. You could say those are truly my first "big girl" heels.
I think I'm finally embracing my adulthood. Only took how many years? I still have my dorky and bumming and casual clothes and lots of hot pink....but now it's time to create a polished look for the workplace. I've never wanted to succeed so badly in my life! It's the strangest feeling.
I'm also being insanely serious about weight loss now, and that Nook is a godsend for the gym. I don't let myself read certain things unless I'm at the gym, therefore I will want to go. It's only been 2 weeks, but it already feels better. And as much as I adore sniffing paper, feeling the sharp edges, texture, and creases while holding it up to the light (yeah, I know...insane book nerd), it is amazing to have books at my fingertips that are cheaper and easier to catalogue. Don't think I didn't buy Tina Fey and Steven Tyler's hardbacks on their opening days though!
Getting back on track, I really do want to be a better person. Therapy is helping greatly, and while I wish I could talk about this with my mom, I know she's proud from up above. I know she's always watching me. I'm just trying to finally grow up. Doesn't mean I'm not a total kid at heart, but I need to be able to manage my life better. And now that L and I have made even more steps in solidifying our relationship, it's exciting to think of the possibilities the future will hold for us. We always talk about it, and it'll be so amazing to actually go through with these dreams. Nothing hasty though. That's just not us.
Of course, being a grownup in a mature relationship doesn't mean I'm not desperately trying to put off doing my share of the chores right now. One day this lazy ass side of me will start fading!
I bought a color Nook to celebrate. Some new clothes that are professional with a retro flair. Am continuing to get my nails and hair done. Got a Kate Spade purse (my first "big girl" bag). Ditched a lot of my shoes yesterday and bought 3 new pairs. I still have nice shoes in the closet, but I bought 2 pairs of super cute yet durable flats (black and red) and a pair of taupe shiny pointy heels. Yeah. You could say those are truly my first "big girl" heels.
I think I'm finally embracing my adulthood. Only took how many years? I still have my dorky and bumming and casual clothes and lots of hot pink....but now it's time to create a polished look for the workplace. I've never wanted to succeed so badly in my life! It's the strangest feeling.
I'm also being insanely serious about weight loss now, and that Nook is a godsend for the gym. I don't let myself read certain things unless I'm at the gym, therefore I will want to go. It's only been 2 weeks, but it already feels better. And as much as I adore sniffing paper, feeling the sharp edges, texture, and creases while holding it up to the light (yeah, I know...insane book nerd), it is amazing to have books at my fingertips that are cheaper and easier to catalogue. Don't think I didn't buy Tina Fey and Steven Tyler's hardbacks on their opening days though!
Getting back on track, I really do want to be a better person. Therapy is helping greatly, and while I wish I could talk about this with my mom, I know she's proud from up above. I know she's always watching me. I'm just trying to finally grow up. Doesn't mean I'm not a total kid at heart, but I need to be able to manage my life better. And now that L and I have made even more steps in solidifying our relationship, it's exciting to think of the possibilities the future will hold for us. We always talk about it, and it'll be so amazing to actually go through with these dreams. Nothing hasty though. That's just not us.
Of course, being a grownup in a mature relationship doesn't mean I'm not desperately trying to put off doing my share of the chores right now. One day this lazy ass side of me will start fading!
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