Epic amounts of rain today, so I napped for quite a bit. There was only one thing on my mind, and it was more of a person.
And it was because of an ongoing conversation we had. I'm honestly not sure how long it lasted, but it was spread out over the course of about five hours. It just added to the happy feeling I've had since I saw Lauren, Tori, Bill, and Brittany standing in my door. But this conversation has had me thinking all day, and since everything's still really jumbled in my head I'm not going to write about it tonight. And it may be something I decide to keep to myself after all. I'm not too sure yet.
Instead, since yesterday marked being 1/3 of the way done with my 90 posts in 90 days, I thought I'd give you a bit of an update on how I'm doing with it. Of course, yesterday's post was rather shorter than usual, but the surprise of my friends plus the ongoing conversation effectively ruined my brain for any deep thought. For the most part, though, I've found it fairly easy to come up with topics and have enough material to blog about. The Miley Cyrus entry was done on a brain-dead night, and besides for that it's turning out much better than expected.
I even was able to blog through my apathetic phase. I think that one was just a need to reboot and recharge myself, in order to get to the place where I am today. So far it doesn't seem like I'll end up running out of ideas to write about. I've got a few extra phrases saved as drafts if I can't think of anything to write about for a day, from those days that I've had a few ideas bouncing around in my head.
So what else have I been up to, besides for the 90 in 90? I did say this was going to be my summer. "The Summer of Change," I called it. So far I've been eating healthier and sticking to my work out plan fairly well. I'm seeing and feeling results, just not on the scale. But I think I'm fine with that. My very good friend Margaret told me that I'm the same height and weight as Beyonce. And now, I really don't care if I hit my goal weight, so long as I look good and feel good.
I was planning on picking up my saxophone again this summer, at least twice a week. I haven't done that yet. I was planning on making lists of things I liked and didn't like about myself. To improve on my flaws and have encouragement for hard days. That never happened, but I don't think I need to. I think this first month was dedicated to letting go of things that were said or happened in the past. I usually don't hold a grudge, but I have a mind like an elephant's when it comes to times when I was upset by someone more than I let on.
I think for the month of June (my birthday month), I'm going to work on being more honest. I'm a pretty honest person, but I hide when I'm upset with someone, and the complete reason why. I don't want to upset people, so I just tell them a bit of what's bothering me. But I came forward last night about something instead of passively-aggressively ignoring the issue, and got an apology that I wouldn't have if I hadn't said anything.
These are just some of the things I wanted to do this summer. I've got about two more months of being at home before I have to go back to start training for my job during the school year. It feels like it'll be over in a flash, and that the rest of my summer will stretch out. I guess that's what happens when something (or someone) you're anticipating is waiting on the other end of the break. But I've also found that usually, the anticipation is more fun than the actual event.
This time, I hope the event's as much fun as this anticipation we've been having. If not more.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Friends (30/90)
So today I woke up, ready for a day of settling down with my family in front of the TV and meeting a friend for brunch.
At about 4, I hear the doorbell ring. And guess who's there? Lauren, Tori, Bill, and Brittany. They drove all the way here to bring me some fudge and brownies and hang out for awhile. I was completely and utterly surprised. And you know what we did? Sat around and watched Star Wars. I love my friends.
I really don't have anything to blog about. I'm extremely happy right now. I've never had a surprise this big before. They drove at least three hours to come here and see me. I hear they got lost for a bit too. And it was a last minute thing, too. They just left, and have a few more hours of night driving before they can sleep.
The only thing I wish that was different was if I had more for them to do. But they seemed to enjoy themselves, and I know I was happy they stopped by. I'm still pretty amazed at the fact that they were here. No one's ever really sprung a visit on me like that. Honestly, I think I may have started tearing up.
I really do love my friends. They're my family I got to choose.
At about 4, I hear the doorbell ring. And guess who's there? Lauren, Tori, Bill, and Brittany. They drove all the way here to bring me some fudge and brownies and hang out for awhile. I was completely and utterly surprised. And you know what we did? Sat around and watched Star Wars. I love my friends.
I really don't have anything to blog about. I'm extremely happy right now. I've never had a surprise this big before. They drove at least three hours to come here and see me. I hear they got lost for a bit too. And it was a last minute thing, too. They just left, and have a few more hours of night driving before they can sleep.
The only thing I wish that was different was if I had more for them to do. But they seemed to enjoy themselves, and I know I was happy they stopped by. I'm still pretty amazed at the fact that they were here. No one's ever really sprung a visit on me like that. Honestly, I think I may have started tearing up.
I really do love my friends. They're my family I got to choose.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Girls & Boys (29/90)
So today I watched Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. And then hung out with my family watching more TV, ending with Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.
But the thing that got me thinking today came from Power Rangers. Today, Billy (the nerdy Blue Ranger) and Kimberly (the pretty, preppy Pink Ranger) were doing an experiment. Billy wanted to be able to read peoples' minds with his device, and Squatt crossed the wires. The result was that Billy and Kimberly switched brains.
Now, it's rather funny when you're a kid to think about switching brains with someone. It could be amusing, I'd imagine. I mean, switching brains with someone would be an interesting experience. But my first thought was about how long they were going to be in each others' bodies. Because if either had to go to the bathroom, it could prove to be an awkward experience.
But it gets better than that. They were each other for at least a day and a half. So at some point in time they had to encounter seeing the other naked. Of course it was never mentioned, because it's a kid's show, but it got me thinking. Whenever anyone switches minds with the opposite sex, they never really mention anything about how awkward it is to see them naked.
I personally would think that if I had no feelings for this person besides for friendship, or almost like siblings, then being them and seeing them naked would be uncomfortable for me. It could just be because I really don't like seeing naked people/being naked, but maybe not. Think about it. If you had to switch bodies with a friend of the opposite sex, how would you react?
I know that besides for the naked factor, I could have a lot of fun. I could find out exactly what people thought of me and my decisions, instead of hearing the toned down version that they say to my face. If I were a boy, I might actually figure out what goes on in their minds for once. I would sit in on "guy time" and depending on the guys, might give them insight into the female mind.
I know that when I ask my guy friends what they would do if they were a girl, they say they'd squish their boobs together. Somehow I don't think I'd be playing with my penis. I'd actually probably be looking for a solution to get back in my own body. I don't like guys' clothes, for the most part. But it would be a fun experiment.
I wouldn't be able to be a boy for more than a few days. I think I'd go crazy, since I do like being a girl. I like dressing up in heels and dancing. I like spinning and singing and giggling. I like being able to cuddle with my friends, male or female. And I like being able to possibly wander into the guys' section and get a shirt (like my Sonic shirt) and be able to wear it without looking out of place.
I wonder how it'd be to be a boy. But I don't want to find out any time soon.
But the thing that got me thinking today came from Power Rangers. Today, Billy (the nerdy Blue Ranger) and Kimberly (the pretty, preppy Pink Ranger) were doing an experiment. Billy wanted to be able to read peoples' minds with his device, and Squatt crossed the wires. The result was that Billy and Kimberly switched brains.
Now, it's rather funny when you're a kid to think about switching brains with someone. It could be amusing, I'd imagine. I mean, switching brains with someone would be an interesting experience. But my first thought was about how long they were going to be in each others' bodies. Because if either had to go to the bathroom, it could prove to be an awkward experience.
But it gets better than that. They were each other for at least a day and a half. So at some point in time they had to encounter seeing the other naked. Of course it was never mentioned, because it's a kid's show, but it got me thinking. Whenever anyone switches minds with the opposite sex, they never really mention anything about how awkward it is to see them naked.
I personally would think that if I had no feelings for this person besides for friendship, or almost like siblings, then being them and seeing them naked would be uncomfortable for me. It could just be because I really don't like seeing naked people/being naked, but maybe not. Think about it. If you had to switch bodies with a friend of the opposite sex, how would you react?
I know that besides for the naked factor, I could have a lot of fun. I could find out exactly what people thought of me and my decisions, instead of hearing the toned down version that they say to my face. If I were a boy, I might actually figure out what goes on in their minds for once. I would sit in on "guy time" and depending on the guys, might give them insight into the female mind.
I know that when I ask my guy friends what they would do if they were a girl, they say they'd squish their boobs together. Somehow I don't think I'd be playing with my penis. I'd actually probably be looking for a solution to get back in my own body. I don't like guys' clothes, for the most part. But it would be a fun experiment.
I wouldn't be able to be a boy for more than a few days. I think I'd go crazy, since I do like being a girl. I like dressing up in heels and dancing. I like spinning and singing and giggling. I like being able to cuddle with my friends, male or female. And I like being able to possibly wander into the guys' section and get a shirt (like my Sonic shirt) and be able to wear it without looking out of place.
I wonder how it'd be to be a boy. But I don't want to find out any time soon.
Hook Me Up (28/90)
I somehow had a more productive day today than the rest of the summer.
Today, I didn't go anywhere. I didn't spend any money. I didn't get a call from a job, didn't clean, didn't take my dog for a walk. Today, I did a work out and ate well. Today, I read. And today I took time away from everything that could distract me, laid down, and thought about life. Normally I save time to think about life for before I go to bed, or when I'm in the shower and not singing. But I filled out a survey on Facebook today that made me think.
One of the questions was, if your recent ex said they wanted you back, how would you respond? And I honestly don't know. I'm sure I'd just stare at him incredulously if that happened. I mean, I was really bad after he dumped me (as I'm sure you have some idea). And now that I'm finally in a place where we can almost have a normal conversation, it's not something I think about very often. I still don't know how I'd react. But I'm fairly sure that it's not going to happen. I'm still wondering what I would do.
It's hard to tell. I think he'd have to kiss me to see if I could actually be with him again, for one thing. There'd be a lot of other factors in there as well, obviously, but that one's an easy way for me to see if I can still be with someone. Not that I'd encourage him to do it if for some reason he did decide he wanted me back, because if I didn't have feelings for him anymore then I'd be rather angry.
Another question was if the person I like, likes me back. And I'm at this weird point in my life right now where I don't know what I want from the opposite sex. I'm single and I like it, but I do miss kissing and cuddling. I may or may not have feelings for two different people right now, one being Dave. But it could, quite honestly, be the break up making me think this way. That, or hormones. And I'm not sure what to do about it.
This other one, I'm not sure why he's talking to me. I'm very suspicious, because that's the guy I mentioned before when school was still in. I'm about 85% convinced that he's still in it just to get some. But I've got a whole summer ahead of me to see if that number's going to change. I thought Dave was in it just for that. He was saying everything a girl wanted to hear. It seemed too good to be true, like he was a player. Turns out he wasn't, so this other guy has previous experiences for him.
But he's also got previous experiences against him. Some of the other things he says reminds me too much of another ex, who tried to charm me into doing things. And he seems to be more like this guy than Dave, so it sucks for him. Because I don't really want to be a "friend with benefits." But do I want to make out with this guy? Signs are pointing to yes. Do I want a relationship? I'm not sure. Do I just want to forget about this guy? I don't know. I'm in a very confusing place right now.
I think it's much too soon to even be thinking about this stuff, but here I am. It's hard not to think about this when you've talked every day, and there's definitely an attraction there. I know my friends don't like where this seems to be going, and I know they're operating on basically all the information that you are. But the thing is, when someone tells me not to do something, it makes me want to do it. Even if I had no intention of doing it. I'm weird like that. So everyone telling me that it's a bad idea and that I should forget this guy makes me want to flirt with him more. And that's just based on what little information they know.
And all this information has been gathered through IMing on Facebook, or through text messages. And I know it's very easy to lie when you're hiding behind a screen. It's something that I've done, and I know there's a possibility that he's very good at it. It's a useful tool, but doesn't really do much in getting to know someone. You can't see their expressions, hear the tone of voice, and you can stop and think about what you're going to put down. So I'm thinking soon I'll suggest talking on Skype, so I can better gauge where this is going.
But that's not the only thing that's different. This time, mixed in with the flirting, he's going to find out the real me. Those quirks I usually hide until into the relationship. Those quirks that you don't reveal until you've established that he won't leave. Basically, he's going to see that I'm a dork. My love for Harry Potter will come out, my video games skills have already been revealed, my obsession with musicals shall be a talking point. And I'm going to find out more about him. Because if he thinks that I'm just something to play with, I'm going to make him find out what it's like to play me.
I hope that's not the case. But I'm scared that it is.
Today, I didn't go anywhere. I didn't spend any money. I didn't get a call from a job, didn't clean, didn't take my dog for a walk. Today, I did a work out and ate well. Today, I read. And today I took time away from everything that could distract me, laid down, and thought about life. Normally I save time to think about life for before I go to bed, or when I'm in the shower and not singing. But I filled out a survey on Facebook today that made me think.
One of the questions was, if your recent ex said they wanted you back, how would you respond? And I honestly don't know. I'm sure I'd just stare at him incredulously if that happened. I mean, I was really bad after he dumped me (as I'm sure you have some idea). And now that I'm finally in a place where we can almost have a normal conversation, it's not something I think about very often. I still don't know how I'd react. But I'm fairly sure that it's not going to happen. I'm still wondering what I would do.
It's hard to tell. I think he'd have to kiss me to see if I could actually be with him again, for one thing. There'd be a lot of other factors in there as well, obviously, but that one's an easy way for me to see if I can still be with someone. Not that I'd encourage him to do it if for some reason he did decide he wanted me back, because if I didn't have feelings for him anymore then I'd be rather angry.
Another question was if the person I like, likes me back. And I'm at this weird point in my life right now where I don't know what I want from the opposite sex. I'm single and I like it, but I do miss kissing and cuddling. I may or may not have feelings for two different people right now, one being Dave. But it could, quite honestly, be the break up making me think this way. That, or hormones. And I'm not sure what to do about it.
This other one, I'm not sure why he's talking to me. I'm very suspicious, because that's the guy I mentioned before when school was still in. I'm about 85% convinced that he's still in it just to get some. But I've got a whole summer ahead of me to see if that number's going to change. I thought Dave was in it just for that. He was saying everything a girl wanted to hear. It seemed too good to be true, like he was a player. Turns out he wasn't, so this other guy has previous experiences for him.
But he's also got previous experiences against him. Some of the other things he says reminds me too much of another ex, who tried to charm me into doing things. And he seems to be more like this guy than Dave, so it sucks for him. Because I don't really want to be a "friend with benefits." But do I want to make out with this guy? Signs are pointing to yes. Do I want a relationship? I'm not sure. Do I just want to forget about this guy? I don't know. I'm in a very confusing place right now.
I think it's much too soon to even be thinking about this stuff, but here I am. It's hard not to think about this when you've talked every day, and there's definitely an attraction there. I know my friends don't like where this seems to be going, and I know they're operating on basically all the information that you are. But the thing is, when someone tells me not to do something, it makes me want to do it. Even if I had no intention of doing it. I'm weird like that. So everyone telling me that it's a bad idea and that I should forget this guy makes me want to flirt with him more. And that's just based on what little information they know.
And all this information has been gathered through IMing on Facebook, or through text messages. And I know it's very easy to lie when you're hiding behind a screen. It's something that I've done, and I know there's a possibility that he's very good at it. It's a useful tool, but doesn't really do much in getting to know someone. You can't see their expressions, hear the tone of voice, and you can stop and think about what you're going to put down. So I'm thinking soon I'll suggest talking on Skype, so I can better gauge where this is going.
But that's not the only thing that's different. This time, mixed in with the flirting, he's going to find out the real me. Those quirks I usually hide until into the relationship. Those quirks that you don't reveal until you've established that he won't leave. Basically, he's going to see that I'm a dork. My love for Harry Potter will come out, my video games skills have already been revealed, my obsession with musicals shall be a talking point. And I'm going to find out more about him. Because if he thinks that I'm just something to play with, I'm going to make him find out what it's like to play me.
I hope that's not the case. But I'm scared that it is.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Do You Remember (27/90)
Helped out a friend with some issues, watched some TV, danced some more. No calls from jobs still.
There really hasn't been much of a theme with my thoughts today, but I've been trying to listen to different songs, mainly ones that have memories attached to them. Lately I've had the radio on when I'm in my room at night, and every time a certain song came on I had to change the station. Because of the memories associated with it.
There's usually a song that defines a relationship. Well, Dave and I had a few. "Fallin' for You" by Colbie Caillat and "Down" by Jay Sean. And every time these songs would come on, I would have to change the station. If I were across the room I would literally run to change the station when I heard the first few notes. There were a lot of memories with these two songs.
On one of the last days of school, I went to waste my meal plan, and "Fallin' for You" came on. I couldn't change the station this time. I had to endure it. And the memories from the beginning came back. Not the ones that I had been dwelling on. They were good memories, of course. But not as strong as the ones I had been going over in my head when something else reminded me of him. And I realized why - that song was for the beginning of our relationship. We already knew we had fallen hard for each other by October even, and things just continued to grow from there.
But "Down" has a completely different significance to me. When I heard it at the end of the summer, I thought it was just another song talking about girls dancing and wanting to have sex with them. But on our first date, he had the song stuck in his head, and was singing it. Somehow it became the defining song of our relationship. I never got sick of hearing it. And then at the Valentine's Dance we went to, they played both of our songs.
We somehow came up with a dance. It wasn't really a ballroom type of dance. It was indescribable. I guess we were so in sync with each other at that point that we choreographed a dance on the spot, and it flowed. We both agree that it was amazing how well it worked and how we thought it would've been fun to watch us perform it. And that's the strongest memory of that song.
The song's still getting airtime on the three radio stations I listen to, and I've always changed the station. But for over a week now, it's just been habit. I don't get a scared, tight feeling in my chest when I hear the first few notes. So today I listened to it. And it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I don't think I actually let myself relive anything of our relationship when I listened to it. I just had brief moments in time, nothing was focused.
Memories are a funny thing. Certain things are easily recalled, and certain others you can't for the life of you remember. It's getting harder to remember certain moments in time of our relationship. I guess that's what happens when you don't desperately try to keep the memories close. And somehow I can still remember how it felt to dance with him, and how he laughed at something he found hilarious. I can't remember, for instance, much about what we did for Valentine's Day. I know we went to see the movie, but that's about it.
And yet I can remember back to when I was three, sitting in a pew at my parents' wedding. I was bored, in a white dress, and rooting around in the pews. I pulled out a piece of Double Bubble gum, still in the wrapper. It obviously amused me, because I decided to chew it. I remember it was really hard. This is the earliest memory I have, and I don't really remember much else from my childhood.
The thing that seems to trigger some memories between then and middle school are songs. Give me a Disney song, and I can remember things my family did while singing them, the first time I saw the movie, and random other things. Give me something from Radio Disney, and I can probably still sing all the lyrics. Give me some jazz pieces, and I'll remember car rides with my dad.
No other medium gives me as strong memories as music does. Certain movies I can remember some things about the settings, but if there's no music that's accompanying my memories, it's a lot harder to remember. Even if I'm talking with the person I was there with. I wonder why music is such an important factor in my memories.
Maybe it's because music's always been a big part of my life? But that's for another time.
There really hasn't been much of a theme with my thoughts today, but I've been trying to listen to different songs, mainly ones that have memories attached to them. Lately I've had the radio on when I'm in my room at night, and every time a certain song came on I had to change the station. Because of the memories associated with it.
There's usually a song that defines a relationship. Well, Dave and I had a few. "Fallin' for You" by Colbie Caillat and "Down" by Jay Sean. And every time these songs would come on, I would have to change the station. If I were across the room I would literally run to change the station when I heard the first few notes. There were a lot of memories with these two songs.
On one of the last days of school, I went to waste my meal plan, and "Fallin' for You" came on. I couldn't change the station this time. I had to endure it. And the memories from the beginning came back. Not the ones that I had been dwelling on. They were good memories, of course. But not as strong as the ones I had been going over in my head when something else reminded me of him. And I realized why - that song was for the beginning of our relationship. We already knew we had fallen hard for each other by October even, and things just continued to grow from there.
But "Down" has a completely different significance to me. When I heard it at the end of the summer, I thought it was just another song talking about girls dancing and wanting to have sex with them. But on our first date, he had the song stuck in his head, and was singing it. Somehow it became the defining song of our relationship. I never got sick of hearing it. And then at the Valentine's Dance we went to, they played both of our songs.
We somehow came up with a dance. It wasn't really a ballroom type of dance. It was indescribable. I guess we were so in sync with each other at that point that we choreographed a dance on the spot, and it flowed. We both agree that it was amazing how well it worked and how we thought it would've been fun to watch us perform it. And that's the strongest memory of that song.
The song's still getting airtime on the three radio stations I listen to, and I've always changed the station. But for over a week now, it's just been habit. I don't get a scared, tight feeling in my chest when I hear the first few notes. So today I listened to it. And it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. I don't think I actually let myself relive anything of our relationship when I listened to it. I just had brief moments in time, nothing was focused.
Memories are a funny thing. Certain things are easily recalled, and certain others you can't for the life of you remember. It's getting harder to remember certain moments in time of our relationship. I guess that's what happens when you don't desperately try to keep the memories close. And somehow I can still remember how it felt to dance with him, and how he laughed at something he found hilarious. I can't remember, for instance, much about what we did for Valentine's Day. I know we went to see the movie, but that's about it.
And yet I can remember back to when I was three, sitting in a pew at my parents' wedding. I was bored, in a white dress, and rooting around in the pews. I pulled out a piece of Double Bubble gum, still in the wrapper. It obviously amused me, because I decided to chew it. I remember it was really hard. This is the earliest memory I have, and I don't really remember much else from my childhood.
The thing that seems to trigger some memories between then and middle school are songs. Give me a Disney song, and I can remember things my family did while singing them, the first time I saw the movie, and random other things. Give me something from Radio Disney, and I can probably still sing all the lyrics. Give me some jazz pieces, and I'll remember car rides with my dad.
No other medium gives me as strong memories as music does. Certain movies I can remember some things about the settings, but if there's no music that's accompanying my memories, it's a lot harder to remember. Even if I'm talking with the person I was there with. I wonder why music is such an important factor in my memories.
Maybe it's because music's always been a big part of my life? But that's for another time.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Bigger Than My Body (26/90)
I'm afraid that my summer is going to be filled with me staring at some screen all day, trying not to go insane. No one's hiring. It's very frustrating.
One of the things I was watching today was Tyra Banks' talk show. The title of this episode intrigued me. It's called "Rock Your Ugly," so of course I had to go see what was going on. The part I started watching displayed three young women who were obsessed with perceived flaws on their faces: one with her hairline, one with scars on her face, and a third for looking too pale. They were placed in a storefront window, and had to stand there without hearing the comments on the other side of the glass. It got to be too much for one of the women, and she left the case.
Now, I think that's a bit extreme. I know I would be uncomfortable standing in a window, not being a model and all, and watch peoples' physical reactions without knowing what they were saying, and I aspire to model eventually. But that's not what I was really annoyed with. Tyra was in awe that these women were so obsessed by this one flaw they thought they had. And I agree, the woman who claimed to have noticeable scars on her face I couldn't see.
But by seeing the way they reacted in the glass case, and hearing them describe what their thoughts are, I started to think that they weren't just obsessing over this. I started to think that maybe they had body dysmorphic disorder. Now, I know I'm not anywhere near a skilled psychologist, but I have been doing my research on body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). I'd only heard about it recently, and Tyra's show originally aired November 25, 2008, according to TV.com.
So I was ready to give her the benefit of the doubt, because I had never heard of this disease until early 2010, if that. But then I decided to do a bit of research on BDD , and found out that it was identified as a psychological condition in 1987, according to Associated Content. So I started thinking about this, and how the producers could have done a bit of research to see if something like this existed.
I mean, it was just a matter of time before the bombardment of the ideal woman would end up leading to more psychological problems than eating disorders. And I feel like just a bit of research would have brought about some articles on the disorder. Then she wouldn't just be sitting on the show, parading these women about, saying that she found it "weird" that they thought this way, and that "she couldn't understand it." And then go to a commercial after her fun little experiment was done.
This isn't the first time I've thought that Tyra doesn't need to have a show. I've watched a few of the other episodes, and it just seems like she goes into it, gets a basic story, and then pushes her opinion on her viewers. I don't think it really has done anything for either the guests or those that watch the show, except give them something to do with their time.
But this isn't the first time I've thought that certain people shouldn't be doing certain things. For example, I should never be a chemist. But I know this, and stay away from it. Tyra shouldn't have a talk show, and it's ending, so it works out. Some people shouldn't be in college. It's just a fact. Some people can't handle it. Some people should not be in bikinis. Some people (Kristen Stewart) can't act.
Hm. I was going to expand on that last idea, but I think it's better suited for another day. So today I was just ranting at the lack of research behind certain talk shows and celebrities.
One of the things I was watching today was Tyra Banks' talk show. The title of this episode intrigued me. It's called "Rock Your Ugly," so of course I had to go see what was going on. The part I started watching displayed three young women who were obsessed with perceived flaws on their faces: one with her hairline, one with scars on her face, and a third for looking too pale. They were placed in a storefront window, and had to stand there without hearing the comments on the other side of the glass. It got to be too much for one of the women, and she left the case.
Now, I think that's a bit extreme. I know I would be uncomfortable standing in a window, not being a model and all, and watch peoples' physical reactions without knowing what they were saying, and I aspire to model eventually. But that's not what I was really annoyed with. Tyra was in awe that these women were so obsessed by this one flaw they thought they had. And I agree, the woman who claimed to have noticeable scars on her face I couldn't see.
But by seeing the way they reacted in the glass case, and hearing them describe what their thoughts are, I started to think that they weren't just obsessing over this. I started to think that maybe they had body dysmorphic disorder. Now, I know I'm not anywhere near a skilled psychologist, but I have been doing my research on body dysmorphic disorder (BDD). I'd only heard about it recently, and Tyra's show originally aired November 25, 2008, according to TV.com.
So I was ready to give her the benefit of the doubt, because I had never heard of this disease until early 2010, if that. But then I decided to do a bit of research on BDD , and found out that it was identified as a psychological condition in 1987, according to Associated Content. So I started thinking about this, and how the producers could have done a bit of research to see if something like this existed.
I mean, it was just a matter of time before the bombardment of the ideal woman would end up leading to more psychological problems than eating disorders. And I feel like just a bit of research would have brought about some articles on the disorder. Then she wouldn't just be sitting on the show, parading these women about, saying that she found it "weird" that they thought this way, and that "she couldn't understand it." And then go to a commercial after her fun little experiment was done.
This isn't the first time I've thought that Tyra doesn't need to have a show. I've watched a few of the other episodes, and it just seems like she goes into it, gets a basic story, and then pushes her opinion on her viewers. I don't think it really has done anything for either the guests or those that watch the show, except give them something to do with their time.
But this isn't the first time I've thought that certain people shouldn't be doing certain things. For example, I should never be a chemist. But I know this, and stay away from it. Tyra shouldn't have a talk show, and it's ending, so it works out. Some people shouldn't be in college. It's just a fact. Some people can't handle it. Some people should not be in bikinis. Some people (Kristen Stewart) can't act.
Hm. I was going to expand on that last idea, but I think it's better suited for another day. So today I was just ranting at the lack of research behind certain talk shows and celebrities.
Love Train (25/90)
Finally finished Sex and the City! Still no call from a job. Still happy.
And while I was watching the last episode of Sex and the City, I got to thinking about Carrie's life. Actually, I got to thinking about all the character's lives, since everyone went through big changes in the end. Charlotte has always been the girl who's after finding Mr. Right, and has always had class. Miranda is a strong woman who won't take crap from any man, and is perfectly fine with being alone. Samantha knows what she wants, how to get it, and doesn't care what others think.
And then there's Carrie. She's the one I most relate to, not just because she's a writer. She's always between guys, and between love. Sometimes she's in a long, committed relationship; sometimes she's just dating someone for a few weeks, maybe months. She's always out there looking for love, and has stumbled on the way. Not only that, but she loves shoes, just like I do.
Today I watched the last few, where she leaves her whole life behind for a guy. Now, I didn't like this guy that she dated. I didn't think he was a good match for her, and she uprooted her life for him in Paris. Sounds like something I'd do, honestly. If I thought there was a chance to be madly in love with someone and decide to follow them for their career gains, and give up my own career, I'd probably do it. Which is a scary thought, honestly. I wonder if anyone would abuse this information I'm typing.
But there was a reason I didn't like this guy. He really didn't care about her being her own person; it was more like how a wife was expected to be in the 50's. And that's not how Carrie (or myself) can live. So she gave it a try for a while, and realized she couldn't do it. And then he just decided not to discuss her feelings that night, and put it off, like it wasn't important. It really sounds like the type of guy I go for.
And then, of course, the love of her life was there, waiting to sweep her off her feet. While I'm not sure who that is yet, I do know that sometimes her dating patterns reflect mine. And I really don't want to have to deal with what she goes through with men. While I must admit that I've had my fair share of boys who could be forerunners to some characters that walked through her life, I'm really hoping I don't run into the problems she does. Mainly a recurring love interest.
But what really got me thinking was about how she seemed to always find her way back to Big, and the different lengths of her relationships. And I started looking back on all of my relationships. I found a pattern. Apparently I'm very prone to falling into patterns, which has gotten me in trouble a few times in my love history.
But this pattern hasn't really burned me too much in the past. I seem to go from having a serious relationship to one that burns out fairly quickly.
PJ: officially 5 months. Don't ask me the rest.
Nick: about 2 months.
Zack: 1 year, 3 months.
Jose: 4 months. However, around month three was when I was trying to figure out a tactful way to get out of it.
Dave: 7 months. (and you know the rest)
So after every serious relationship (so far), I've had a fun one that I knew going into it didn't have much of a chance to last, but I still tried to make it work. I think that probably everyone else has something like this, but I'm really bad with patterns and such, so I'm nervous to see where this will lead me. And you know what? Maybe right now I shouldn't be concerned with finding Mr. Right. Because if I go out and keep looking for him, it may take me forever to find him. Maybe he'll just fall into my lap (like Charlotte and Harry).
But I'm not sure. I'm a girl who really likes physical contact, especially cuddling. I'm a flirt. I didn't go out there looking for either Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now last year, and look where it landed me. Not that I'm really complaining about it. I view everything I go through as a learning experience, and I live with no regrets. So what am I planning on doing with relationships right now?
I think I'll go with the flow. If I find love where I didn't expect it to be, cool. If I don't find love, no stressing. Stick to my old plan of going on dates with people. See where that leads me. Hopefully not back anywhere I've already been. I want to move forward with my life. I don't want any more confusion in my life. I want things to be clear and simple, for once.
I just want to be happy and carefree. Halfway there.
And while I was watching the last episode of Sex and the City, I got to thinking about Carrie's life. Actually, I got to thinking about all the character's lives, since everyone went through big changes in the end. Charlotte has always been the girl who's after finding Mr. Right, and has always had class. Miranda is a strong woman who won't take crap from any man, and is perfectly fine with being alone. Samantha knows what she wants, how to get it, and doesn't care what others think.
And then there's Carrie. She's the one I most relate to, not just because she's a writer. She's always between guys, and between love. Sometimes she's in a long, committed relationship; sometimes she's just dating someone for a few weeks, maybe months. She's always out there looking for love, and has stumbled on the way. Not only that, but she loves shoes, just like I do.
Today I watched the last few, where she leaves her whole life behind for a guy. Now, I didn't like this guy that she dated. I didn't think he was a good match for her, and she uprooted her life for him in Paris. Sounds like something I'd do, honestly. If I thought there was a chance to be madly in love with someone and decide to follow them for their career gains, and give up my own career, I'd probably do it. Which is a scary thought, honestly. I wonder if anyone would abuse this information I'm typing.
But there was a reason I didn't like this guy. He really didn't care about her being her own person; it was more like how a wife was expected to be in the 50's. And that's not how Carrie (or myself) can live. So she gave it a try for a while, and realized she couldn't do it. And then he just decided not to discuss her feelings that night, and put it off, like it wasn't important. It really sounds like the type of guy I go for.
And then, of course, the love of her life was there, waiting to sweep her off her feet. While I'm not sure who that is yet, I do know that sometimes her dating patterns reflect mine. And I really don't want to have to deal with what she goes through with men. While I must admit that I've had my fair share of boys who could be forerunners to some characters that walked through her life, I'm really hoping I don't run into the problems she does. Mainly a recurring love interest.
But what really got me thinking was about how she seemed to always find her way back to Big, and the different lengths of her relationships. And I started looking back on all of my relationships. I found a pattern. Apparently I'm very prone to falling into patterns, which has gotten me in trouble a few times in my love history.
But this pattern hasn't really burned me too much in the past. I seem to go from having a serious relationship to one that burns out fairly quickly.
PJ: officially 5 months. Don't ask me the rest.
Nick: about 2 months.
Zack: 1 year, 3 months.
Jose: 4 months. However, around month three was when I was trying to figure out a tactful way to get out of it.
Dave: 7 months. (and you know the rest)
So after every serious relationship (so far), I've had a fun one that I knew going into it didn't have much of a chance to last, but I still tried to make it work. I think that probably everyone else has something like this, but I'm really bad with patterns and such, so I'm nervous to see where this will lead me. And you know what? Maybe right now I shouldn't be concerned with finding Mr. Right. Because if I go out and keep looking for him, it may take me forever to find him. Maybe he'll just fall into my lap (like Charlotte and Harry).
But I'm not sure. I'm a girl who really likes physical contact, especially cuddling. I'm a flirt. I didn't go out there looking for either Mr. Right or Mr. Right Now last year, and look where it landed me. Not that I'm really complaining about it. I view everything I go through as a learning experience, and I live with no regrets. So what am I planning on doing with relationships right now?
I think I'll go with the flow. If I find love where I didn't expect it to be, cool. If I don't find love, no stressing. Stick to my old plan of going on dates with people. See where that leads me. Hopefully not back anywhere I've already been. I want to move forward with my life. I don't want any more confusion in my life. I want things to be clear and simple, for once.
I just want to be happy and carefree. Halfway there.
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sing for the Moment (24/90)
No phone call from Red Robin today. More TV, more exercise.
But today, I'm alright with it. I woke up at seven this morning, and it was a beautiful sight in my room. The clear sunlight streaming in through my window, my room a bright, clean white color, me, warm under the covers. It was a brief appreciation of that moment in time, that I almost forgot about until now. I fell back asleep for a few more hours, and got out of bed at around ten.
And although all day I was waiting for a phone call from a potential employer, I didn't really care all too much that I had to be available for the phone call. I think somehow today I appreciated life far more than I have in a few months, and it wasn't something I had been planning on doing. I appreciated the fact that while doing my daily work out, I didn't tire as easily, and hardly had to rest. It's something I've been working on (as you, dear reader, probably already know), and while the scale told me something different, I didn't care this morning.
I appreciated my friends today. I decided to go through old Facebook messages, and remember why they were sent in the first place. I marveled at how young we all seemed, and it was hardly two years ago for the oldest messages. The drama of high school and how I haven't really found it when I hit college. The knowledge that if there is potential drama in my life, I have both sets of friends to go to. The knowledge that sometimes my friends need me for advice, or just someone to talk to, and truly care about what I have to say.
I appreciated my dog today. She was curled up on the couch in the front room, something we all know (her included) that she's not supposed to do. But she was absolutely adorable curled up in a ball there, so I just reminded her she's not supposed to be on the couch. I love that I can talk to her and she pretends to listen and understand what I'm saying. It always brings a smile to my face. Possibly because I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I know that other pet owners feel the same way.
And I appreciated music today. So much. I've been toying with the idea of choreographing a flash mob, and started working on the ideas I've had for it. It's working. I'm so excited! Not only that, but I listened to the Glee soundtrack today. I wish I had tickets to either of the shows, since they're in Chicago tomorrow and Wednesday. But it wasn't meant to be, so I settled with the soundtrack. And the beauty of an empty house is that I can belt out the lyrics and sing so horribly, with so much abandon and joy. And I did. I just stood there and sang. In the shower, in my room, in clothes, out of clothes.
And then I had to make breakfast, and I sang some more. And danced. All day I've had this energy in me to just dance. But by the time my food was ready, it was one and I had turned on Sex and the City (sorry Tif, I had to watch the last few episodes!) And that's when I started appreciating my friends. By the time I was done with the episodes, my brother had come home and I couldn't dance.
But he had an appointment to get to, so I had the house to myself. And this time, I just wanted to sing some more. So I did. I think I sang for about two hours today. And all day I've had this feeling of being at peace, and trying to enjoy life. Now, this isn't something that comes easily to me. Usually I have something that I'm always worrying about. But today was different.
Maybe it was that brief moment when I woke up, of seeing my room bathed in the beautiful sunlight. Maybe it was from a conversation last night of interesting proportions. Maybe it was the amount of movement I did today. Maybe it was being able to let loose and be me, and thinking that those who are worth my time should be able to embrace it. Or maybe because it was the first day of fully embracing the idea of being single.
Today, I was single and loving it. And right now I still want to sing and dance.
But today, I'm alright with it. I woke up at seven this morning, and it was a beautiful sight in my room. The clear sunlight streaming in through my window, my room a bright, clean white color, me, warm under the covers. It was a brief appreciation of that moment in time, that I almost forgot about until now. I fell back asleep for a few more hours, and got out of bed at around ten.
And although all day I was waiting for a phone call from a potential employer, I didn't really care all too much that I had to be available for the phone call. I think somehow today I appreciated life far more than I have in a few months, and it wasn't something I had been planning on doing. I appreciated the fact that while doing my daily work out, I didn't tire as easily, and hardly had to rest. It's something I've been working on (as you, dear reader, probably already know), and while the scale told me something different, I didn't care this morning.
I appreciated my friends today. I decided to go through old Facebook messages, and remember why they were sent in the first place. I marveled at how young we all seemed, and it was hardly two years ago for the oldest messages. The drama of high school and how I haven't really found it when I hit college. The knowledge that if there is potential drama in my life, I have both sets of friends to go to. The knowledge that sometimes my friends need me for advice, or just someone to talk to, and truly care about what I have to say.
I appreciated my dog today. She was curled up on the couch in the front room, something we all know (her included) that she's not supposed to do. But she was absolutely adorable curled up in a ball there, so I just reminded her she's not supposed to be on the couch. I love that I can talk to her and she pretends to listen and understand what I'm saying. It always brings a smile to my face. Possibly because I know how ridiculous it sounds, but I know that other pet owners feel the same way.
And I appreciated music today. So much. I've been toying with the idea of choreographing a flash mob, and started working on the ideas I've had for it. It's working. I'm so excited! Not only that, but I listened to the Glee soundtrack today. I wish I had tickets to either of the shows, since they're in Chicago tomorrow and Wednesday. But it wasn't meant to be, so I settled with the soundtrack. And the beauty of an empty house is that I can belt out the lyrics and sing so horribly, with so much abandon and joy. And I did. I just stood there and sang. In the shower, in my room, in clothes, out of clothes.
And then I had to make breakfast, and I sang some more. And danced. All day I've had this energy in me to just dance. But by the time my food was ready, it was one and I had turned on Sex and the City (sorry Tif, I had to watch the last few episodes!) And that's when I started appreciating my friends. By the time I was done with the episodes, my brother had come home and I couldn't dance.
But he had an appointment to get to, so I had the house to myself. And this time, I just wanted to sing some more. So I did. I think I sang for about two hours today. And all day I've had this feeling of being at peace, and trying to enjoy life. Now, this isn't something that comes easily to me. Usually I have something that I'm always worrying about. But today was different.
Maybe it was that brief moment when I woke up, of seeing my room bathed in the beautiful sunlight. Maybe it was from a conversation last night of interesting proportions. Maybe it was the amount of movement I did today. Maybe it was being able to let loose and be me, and thinking that those who are worth my time should be able to embrace it. Or maybe because it was the first day of fully embracing the idea of being single.
Today, I was single and loving it. And right now I still want to sing and dance.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Overboard (23/90)
Today we watched TV as a family. Pretty much all day. It's been giving me a headache.
Normally, watching HGTV with my family means I'm constantly trying to do something either online to occupy myself, or I'm never fully interested. When I got back for the summer and my parents were watching HGTV I would think back on Dave, and everything that we had gone through, how he left me, all that jazz. But today there wasn't any of that. And it was weird, once I realized it.
After I admitted that none of my usual techniques were working to get over him faster, he decided to text me. And we had an interesting conversation, mainly about him. A lot was about his character flaws, but some of it was about what we had been. And funnily enough, I was more bothered and intrigued by the latest excuses I was expecting than the overwhelming sadness I had been feeling for the five days prior.
Maybe because I was doing something active with my life on the day we started texting (Wednesday). Maybe because I got the idea to go shopping to make me feel better about myself after he left me, and thinking of everyone's reactions when I emerged with an amazing dress in my hands. Or maybe because after that long a period in my life of having no joy, my mind decided to re-charge itself. It could be all of them. I'm not sure.
I do know that during the conversation I had intense emotions. For example, when he told me he could actually imagine me as a sexy Hooters Girl (which is my last-ditch effort to find a job). That was more annoyance than anything, though. The major thing that set me off was about how we could've lasted as a couple for much longer than we did. It angered me. Here I was, moping over this boy when I knew we could've worked it out, and he had the gall to tell me that yes, I was right, and he was too scared or feeling undeserving of something good to try and work it out.
I think that was part one that sparked this change in me. Part two was shopping with Anna. She has a different take on life than anyone else back home, and from most of my friends in general. I think being able to rant about it in person to her helped immensely. When I talk to my friends online, it's a watered down version of my emotions. I don't get to talk to people in person half as much as I probably need to, and that could be a reason why it helped.
Since then it's been awhile since I cried over him, or thought about him for more than a fleeting moment, unless a song came on that reminded me of him. So I think I'm healing now, finally. Honestly. It took anger to get me past the initial pain and shock. It took me a month and a half to get to this point. Usually it doesn't take me that long. Usually I can snap myself out of it, or my friends can do that for me. But this time it took him telling me, yet again, that I was right, and somehow it helped.
I guess telling someone that you could've seen them as your wife, but not really, can do wonders to snap them out of the ideal version they've been seeing for a few weeks. Or seeing that you really didn't care about what you were losing. Or maybe hearing contradictions between your statements, or hearing excuses to try and save face. I don't know what did it. I'm sure it was a combination of all of that.
But now that I'm actually starting to miss him less and less, I'm seeing how much of my heart did belong to him. And, unfortunately, there will always be a part of my heart that does belong to him, the biggest piece to date. It's constantly shrinking, though. I wonder if he takes a good look into his heart, and gets over the fear he has there, if he'll realize what he's done. I wonder how big that piece of my heart will be if that happens. Because once I completely get over someone, I don't turn back.
But until then, I'll be looking over my shoulder for him.
Normally, watching HGTV with my family means I'm constantly trying to do something either online to occupy myself, or I'm never fully interested. When I got back for the summer and my parents were watching HGTV I would think back on Dave, and everything that we had gone through, how he left me, all that jazz. But today there wasn't any of that. And it was weird, once I realized it.
After I admitted that none of my usual techniques were working to get over him faster, he decided to text me. And we had an interesting conversation, mainly about him. A lot was about his character flaws, but some of it was about what we had been. And funnily enough, I was more bothered and intrigued by the latest excuses I was expecting than the overwhelming sadness I had been feeling for the five days prior.
Maybe because I was doing something active with my life on the day we started texting (Wednesday). Maybe because I got the idea to go shopping to make me feel better about myself after he left me, and thinking of everyone's reactions when I emerged with an amazing dress in my hands. Or maybe because after that long a period in my life of having no joy, my mind decided to re-charge itself. It could be all of them. I'm not sure.
I do know that during the conversation I had intense emotions. For example, when he told me he could actually imagine me as a sexy Hooters Girl (which is my last-ditch effort to find a job). That was more annoyance than anything, though. The major thing that set me off was about how we could've lasted as a couple for much longer than we did. It angered me. Here I was, moping over this boy when I knew we could've worked it out, and he had the gall to tell me that yes, I was right, and he was too scared or feeling undeserving of something good to try and work it out.
I think that was part one that sparked this change in me. Part two was shopping with Anna. She has a different take on life than anyone else back home, and from most of my friends in general. I think being able to rant about it in person to her helped immensely. When I talk to my friends online, it's a watered down version of my emotions. I don't get to talk to people in person half as much as I probably need to, and that could be a reason why it helped.
Since then it's been awhile since I cried over him, or thought about him for more than a fleeting moment, unless a song came on that reminded me of him. So I think I'm healing now, finally. Honestly. It took anger to get me past the initial pain and shock. It took me a month and a half to get to this point. Usually it doesn't take me that long. Usually I can snap myself out of it, or my friends can do that for me. But this time it took him telling me, yet again, that I was right, and somehow it helped.
I guess telling someone that you could've seen them as your wife, but not really, can do wonders to snap them out of the ideal version they've been seeing for a few weeks. Or seeing that you really didn't care about what you were losing. Or maybe hearing contradictions between your statements, or hearing excuses to try and save face. I don't know what did it. I'm sure it was a combination of all of that.
But now that I'm actually starting to miss him less and less, I'm seeing how much of my heart did belong to him. And, unfortunately, there will always be a part of my heart that does belong to him, the biggest piece to date. It's constantly shrinking, though. I wonder if he takes a good look into his heart, and gets over the fear he has there, if he'll realize what he's done. I wonder how big that piece of my heart will be if that happens. Because once I completely get over someone, I don't turn back.
But until then, I'll be looking over my shoulder for him.
Play the Game (22/90)
Shopping was on the agenda today, and a lot of texting my friends. Sometimes I feel like my blogs are eerily like Carrie Bradshaw's columns, but that might just be me being conceited and wishful.
It's funny how money and competition drive us as people. Another guilty pleasure of my reality TV repertoire is The Real World/Road Rules Challenge. The one that's on now is Fresh Meat 2, and this one is so that the 30-somethings can slowly cycle out of competition, basically. There's a lot of drama, booze, and sex on the show, which is probably what makes it entertaining.
I like the challenges sometimes. They sound interesting and watching the attempts are amusing, since usually people don't always finish the challenges or figure out what they need to do in order to win. There's generally about a 15% success rate, I'd say. And then the underdog usually pulls it out.
Lately it's been getting rather redundant with the people who have been winning. I haven't seen this week's episode yet, though, and I think that something changed with it. But the competition isn't the reason why I watch it when I find out that there's a new season of the challenge. I've watched sporadically, so I know the personalities of a lot of the returning challenge members. And there's always someone who drinks too much and gets in trouble with their mouth.
There's always people who are attracted to each other, and get in a "relationship" that later makes them choose between their lover and their drive to win the prize money in the end. It makes for good TV, and good drama to watch. Not only that, but there's usually alliances formed very early in the game, and watching them grow and betray each other progresses the show.
But this past season Real World best friends ended up betraying each other. They have known each other for a few years, and one of the alliance leaders decided that for the good of the alliance he should throw his friend under the bus. It's amazing to me how quickly relationships can break down when there's a potential threat of not having an easy shot at winning $100,000.
We are amazingly greedy people, and this show exploits it. It shows us that we'll do almost anything for money. Hold our breaths in freezing cold water, betray friends, pretend to be interested in someone to further your chances. Basically we're willing to use people and exploit any means necessary to win $100,000 without doing much of anything.
And in the end, when the friend was sent home, he wasn't angry about his betrayal. He decided that it was just a game, and apparently at that time the game was more important than his friendship. Now, I'm pretty sure if that happened to me, best friend or just good friend, that I'd be pretty angry, especially if I went home.
Maybe the other people in this alliance will see that they're not safe either, and that the alliance will throw anyone in to save their own asses. Just like how everyone is willing to pin the blame on someone else if something starts going horribly wrong. And the game is going strong. These people still go back on the show, knowing that there's a good chance they'll get stabbed in the back and won't win this money. There's a good chance they'll expend all this energy and end up not winning anything.
But I guess the idea of winning $100,000 is more important for a few weeks than maintaining friendships. I hope I never get that way.
It's funny how money and competition drive us as people. Another guilty pleasure of my reality TV repertoire is The Real World/Road Rules Challenge. The one that's on now is Fresh Meat 2, and this one is so that the 30-somethings can slowly cycle out of competition, basically. There's a lot of drama, booze, and sex on the show, which is probably what makes it entertaining.
I like the challenges sometimes. They sound interesting and watching the attempts are amusing, since usually people don't always finish the challenges or figure out what they need to do in order to win. There's generally about a 15% success rate, I'd say. And then the underdog usually pulls it out.
Lately it's been getting rather redundant with the people who have been winning. I haven't seen this week's episode yet, though, and I think that something changed with it. But the competition isn't the reason why I watch it when I find out that there's a new season of the challenge. I've watched sporadically, so I know the personalities of a lot of the returning challenge members. And there's always someone who drinks too much and gets in trouble with their mouth.
There's always people who are attracted to each other, and get in a "relationship" that later makes them choose between their lover and their drive to win the prize money in the end. It makes for good TV, and good drama to watch. Not only that, but there's usually alliances formed very early in the game, and watching them grow and betray each other progresses the show.
But this past season Real World best friends ended up betraying each other. They have known each other for a few years, and one of the alliance leaders decided that for the good of the alliance he should throw his friend under the bus. It's amazing to me how quickly relationships can break down when there's a potential threat of not having an easy shot at winning $100,000.
We are amazingly greedy people, and this show exploits it. It shows us that we'll do almost anything for money. Hold our breaths in freezing cold water, betray friends, pretend to be interested in someone to further your chances. Basically we're willing to use people and exploit any means necessary to win $100,000 without doing much of anything.
And in the end, when the friend was sent home, he wasn't angry about his betrayal. He decided that it was just a game, and apparently at that time the game was more important than his friendship. Now, I'm pretty sure if that happened to me, best friend or just good friend, that I'd be pretty angry, especially if I went home.
Maybe the other people in this alliance will see that they're not safe either, and that the alliance will throw anyone in to save their own asses. Just like how everyone is willing to pin the blame on someone else if something starts going horribly wrong. And the game is going strong. These people still go back on the show, knowing that there's a good chance they'll get stabbed in the back and won't win this money. There's a good chance they'll expend all this energy and end up not winning anything.
But I guess the idea of winning $100,000 is more important for a few weeks than maintaining friendships. I hope I never get that way.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Pictures at an Exhibition: Promenade (21/90)
I went job searching today, and may have a job at Red Robin! And then, you guessed it, watched more TV.
All day I've had this urge to take pictures. I've always had an interest in photography, I've just never had a chance to fully explore it. I've had point and shoot cameras, and those were good enough for the purposes I used the camera for, and for my age. But now I want something nicer to fool around with when I'm bored, and I'm an adult. I've outgrown the point and shoots.
The only art classes I've taken in quite some time are the performing arts, namely music. I've never taken a photography class or had any direction from actual photographers. But I have to take a photojournalism class this semester, and I'm so excited for it. I have no clue how to properly use a film camera, and I'm hoping that since it's a five week class, they could provide us with cameras for use. Even so, I'm thinking of asking for a nicer camera again for my birthday.
At this point in time I'd rather make art than listen to it. I should ask for a new iPod, since mine needs to be reset at an annoying rate. But I want to explore this interest I've had for a few years now. I was supposed to get a new camera for Christmas, and I did. The thing was, it was basically the camera I have now but a different brand. So hopefully I can explore cameras and pick one that would be good for what I want to do.
I want to have a reason to own a camera, besides for the occasional memories I bring it along for. I want to be able to get the pictures I can see myself taking outside, of my family, of nature, of my friends, and of me. Sure, I have ways to edit the pictures I take now to approach the ideas I have, but I don't have all the tools.
Not only have I been thinking about being behind the camera, I've also had this urge all day to be in front of it. I've wanted to put on all the really cute clothes that usually don't make it out of my closet and get pictures of me in all of them. I've just felt really flirty and playful today, and since I'm single and healing, what better way to get that out then by modeling? I like to think I have a pretty decent sense of style, and I like to think I'm good at being flirty, so it seemed like a good idea.
The only thing is, there's no longer ideal space for me to take these pictures of myself. My room is missing the only white wall I have, thanks to the TV and dresser that are just taking up space in my already crowded room. And the living room finally has furniture in it, so there's only a small place that gives me a white wall. Not only that, but my tripod is such a small thing that it doesn't really do much. So my ambitions of the day couldn't get realized.
I think later this summer I'll ask some friends to help me with a photo shoot, if and when I get my better camera. It would be a lot of fun being the focus of the pictures, and just taking pictures with my friends. I have a lot of plans for this camera I'm hoping to get, and with the new additions I'm making to my wardrobe. I'm excited about the potential I could unlock within me.
If it works out, maybe I can cross modeling off my bucket list? Lofty dreams.
All day I've had this urge to take pictures. I've always had an interest in photography, I've just never had a chance to fully explore it. I've had point and shoot cameras, and those were good enough for the purposes I used the camera for, and for my age. But now I want something nicer to fool around with when I'm bored, and I'm an adult. I've outgrown the point and shoots.
The only art classes I've taken in quite some time are the performing arts, namely music. I've never taken a photography class or had any direction from actual photographers. But I have to take a photojournalism class this semester, and I'm so excited for it. I have no clue how to properly use a film camera, and I'm hoping that since it's a five week class, they could provide us with cameras for use. Even so, I'm thinking of asking for a nicer camera again for my birthday.
At this point in time I'd rather make art than listen to it. I should ask for a new iPod, since mine needs to be reset at an annoying rate. But I want to explore this interest I've had for a few years now. I was supposed to get a new camera for Christmas, and I did. The thing was, it was basically the camera I have now but a different brand. So hopefully I can explore cameras and pick one that would be good for what I want to do.
I want to have a reason to own a camera, besides for the occasional memories I bring it along for. I want to be able to get the pictures I can see myself taking outside, of my family, of nature, of my friends, and of me. Sure, I have ways to edit the pictures I take now to approach the ideas I have, but I don't have all the tools.
Not only have I been thinking about being behind the camera, I've also had this urge all day to be in front of it. I've wanted to put on all the really cute clothes that usually don't make it out of my closet and get pictures of me in all of them. I've just felt really flirty and playful today, and since I'm single and healing, what better way to get that out then by modeling? I like to think I have a pretty decent sense of style, and I like to think I'm good at being flirty, so it seemed like a good idea.
The only thing is, there's no longer ideal space for me to take these pictures of myself. My room is missing the only white wall I have, thanks to the TV and dresser that are just taking up space in my already crowded room. And the living room finally has furniture in it, so there's only a small place that gives me a white wall. Not only that, but my tripod is such a small thing that it doesn't really do much. So my ambitions of the day couldn't get realized.
I think later this summer I'll ask some friends to help me with a photo shoot, if and when I get my better camera. It would be a lot of fun being the focus of the pictures, and just taking pictures with my friends. I have a lot of plans for this camera I'm hoping to get, and with the new additions I'm making to my wardrobe. I'm excited about the potential I could unlock within me.
If it works out, maybe I can cross modeling off my bucket list? Lofty dreams.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Light my Candle (20/90)
Today I did an intense work out to counter the crap I ate yesterday, and (you guessed it) watched more TV.
Tonight's post isn't necessarily something that came about from anything I saw today. It's from a while back, when I was watching Sex and the City, the edited version. It was a question that I've never actually thought about, and I don't remember what the episode was about, so I'm (hopefully) not ripping off any ideas from the actual writers. But Carrie posed the question: if we love someone and then we break up, where does the love go?
As a recently single girl, it's something that's been on my mind almost daily. Generally speaking, it seems that for at least one party, the love stays. At least for awhile. It may take quite some time, but eventually the love goes. But if you're so in love with someone and then you do break up, what caused your feelings to change?
I know that sometimes it's a really big event, like someone cheated or you just aren't compatible. But when the love is slowly dying or disappears altogether, it seems to me that there had to be something else that triggered the change in how you love the person/if you still love them. I know I've had an experience where I just didn't love the person anymore in a romantic way, but I know where that came from. He cheated and lied, and was in love with someone else as well.
But for those of us who haven't done anything like that, and were just being ourselves, the same person that was the object of affection a few weeks prior, the fact that love just suddenly disappears isn't a good enough reason. I've been trying to figure it out for a few weeks now, and I still haven't quite gotten an answer that seems logical.
So the love was dying with him, he says. But does it really ever go away? Can you really only be friends with someone who you were in love with, who you could have actually seen marrying down the line? Or does the love in you just change? Do you confuse it for something else? Are you scared of it? I'm not sure, but it really doesn't seem like something that just happens.
Not only that, but then telling them that the love died but you really did think you had a chance of not only being together for longer, but having a chance to get married seems like there may still be that same love that was dying. Maybe it's like a candle, one of those trick ones. You blow and think that maybe you got the flame to go out, only to have it sprout back again. Maybe that's what happens to the love after you break up. There's only a definite way to put the candle out: water. You have to douse it in something.
Maybe love's like that. You douse it in a poison, like an affair, constant lies, or mistreating them. And a little won't do the trick. You can't sprinkle it on there and expect it to die. If you do it enough, then it will eventually go out. Or if you let it burn long enough. But I've never seen trick candles burn out. It's something to be celebrated, and you can try to blow it out, but the flame will always be there.
I wonder if I've doused his candle or not. Somehow, I'm not convinced I have.
Tonight's post isn't necessarily something that came about from anything I saw today. It's from a while back, when I was watching Sex and the City, the edited version. It was a question that I've never actually thought about, and I don't remember what the episode was about, so I'm (hopefully) not ripping off any ideas from the actual writers. But Carrie posed the question: if we love someone and then we break up, where does the love go?
As a recently single girl, it's something that's been on my mind almost daily. Generally speaking, it seems that for at least one party, the love stays. At least for awhile. It may take quite some time, but eventually the love goes. But if you're so in love with someone and then you do break up, what caused your feelings to change?
I know that sometimes it's a really big event, like someone cheated or you just aren't compatible. But when the love is slowly dying or disappears altogether, it seems to me that there had to be something else that triggered the change in how you love the person/if you still love them. I know I've had an experience where I just didn't love the person anymore in a romantic way, but I know where that came from. He cheated and lied, and was in love with someone else as well.
But for those of us who haven't done anything like that, and were just being ourselves, the same person that was the object of affection a few weeks prior, the fact that love just suddenly disappears isn't a good enough reason. I've been trying to figure it out for a few weeks now, and I still haven't quite gotten an answer that seems logical.
So the love was dying with him, he says. But does it really ever go away? Can you really only be friends with someone who you were in love with, who you could have actually seen marrying down the line? Or does the love in you just change? Do you confuse it for something else? Are you scared of it? I'm not sure, but it really doesn't seem like something that just happens.
Not only that, but then telling them that the love died but you really did think you had a chance of not only being together for longer, but having a chance to get married seems like there may still be that same love that was dying. Maybe it's like a candle, one of those trick ones. You blow and think that maybe you got the flame to go out, only to have it sprout back again. Maybe that's what happens to the love after you break up. There's only a definite way to put the candle out: water. You have to douse it in something.
Maybe love's like that. You douse it in a poison, like an affair, constant lies, or mistreating them. And a little won't do the trick. You can't sprinkle it on there and expect it to die. If you do it enough, then it will eventually go out. Or if you let it burn long enough. But I've never seen trick candles burn out. It's something to be celebrated, and you can try to blow it out, but the flame will always be there.
I wonder if I've doused his candle or not. Somehow, I'm not convinced I have.
Dressed to Kill (19/90)
Today I went dress shopping, and got an adorable black dress. And I took my friend out for her first legal drink, which is why this post is later than usual.
It's strange how clothes can make you feel and change your body image. There are few stores that I can actually go into and successfully find a complete outfit. An outfit, to me, is a top, bottom, and shoes. Mainly I have issues with the bottoms. I am what everyone says is the "ideal" body type: hourglass. And there's no pants out there that fit me. I have a rather prominent butt, and a small waist. But the pants that they make that will fit over my butt are huge in the waist, so I always have to wear a belt.
My parents have decided I should grow up and look into the women's department, as opposed to the junior's. According to them, more women are shaped my way. Didn't work. Apparently my body type is a very rare one that doesn't get to be dressed. And it's not only with pants, but with dresses too.
Dresses usually fit me well in one area, never all over. And since I try to walk in them, I opt for the bottom to fit better. This becomes an issue when the top has a certain design that's supposed to lay on a certain body part. Usually this doesn't happen, so things look different on top. I'll probably take a picture tomorrow to further illustrate my point, but I'm in my pajamas right now and don't feel like changing.
I always have fun shopping for tops, though. That's one area where, if I avoid the shirts I know won't fit right, I can always find something to wear that looks decent if not good on me. I have never gone shirt shopping and come out of it frustrated, unless I was looking for a specific shirt in a specific color.
And unfortunately, I have an issue with shoes. I wear an in-between size on the higher end of the sizes, so it's hardly ever made or sold. 10.5. I blame my mom for my big feet, and I usually end up going a size higher than what I normally wear. So all the shoes that are in my room right now (and trust me, there's at least 10 pairs) look almost like clown shoes. They don't look big on me, but just laying around they look huge. And while shoe shopping is nowhere near as frustrating as pants shopping, it does get annoying when I see cute shoes that are a half a size too small, and can't order them in my size.
But today I'm not bitter about any of that. Probably because I went dress shopping, and the dresses I picked looked fairly decent on me. I didn't even think of trying on bottoms, and tried to find new shoes. I found my size, but they didn't go with my dress. And it was a new experience. Usually I shop with someone who's about the same size as me, and today I went with Anna. She's half my size (literally, her dress size is half of what mine is). So trying on the same dresses was fun.
And today was the first time in a few days when I actually wanted to talk to someone. She's the only friend I have who isn't a few months younger than me; she's actually older than me. I don't know if that makes a difference, besides for my birthday in about two weeks, but maybe it does. We've always been able to talk about things that I haven't really talked about with other friends, so it was nice to be able to talk to her so openly about what was really going on in my life.
And shopping always perks me up. It's a guilty pleasure of mine. I like shopping even if I don't have any money with me, or do it online. It's something to do with my time, and makes me feel good about myself when I look good in something I've tried on, even if I have no intention of buying it.
It's funny how shopping can turn a mood around so quickly. I guess we all just want to look good.
*Happy 21st birthday, Anna!*
It's strange how clothes can make you feel and change your body image. There are few stores that I can actually go into and successfully find a complete outfit. An outfit, to me, is a top, bottom, and shoes. Mainly I have issues with the bottoms. I am what everyone says is the "ideal" body type: hourglass. And there's no pants out there that fit me. I have a rather prominent butt, and a small waist. But the pants that they make that will fit over my butt are huge in the waist, so I always have to wear a belt.
My parents have decided I should grow up and look into the women's department, as opposed to the junior's. According to them, more women are shaped my way. Didn't work. Apparently my body type is a very rare one that doesn't get to be dressed. And it's not only with pants, but with dresses too.
Dresses usually fit me well in one area, never all over. And since I try to walk in them, I opt for the bottom to fit better. This becomes an issue when the top has a certain design that's supposed to lay on a certain body part. Usually this doesn't happen, so things look different on top. I'll probably take a picture tomorrow to further illustrate my point, but I'm in my pajamas right now and don't feel like changing.
I always have fun shopping for tops, though. That's one area where, if I avoid the shirts I know won't fit right, I can always find something to wear that looks decent if not good on me. I have never gone shirt shopping and come out of it frustrated, unless I was looking for a specific shirt in a specific color.
And unfortunately, I have an issue with shoes. I wear an in-between size on the higher end of the sizes, so it's hardly ever made or sold. 10.5. I blame my mom for my big feet, and I usually end up going a size higher than what I normally wear. So all the shoes that are in my room right now (and trust me, there's at least 10 pairs) look almost like clown shoes. They don't look big on me, but just laying around they look huge. And while shoe shopping is nowhere near as frustrating as pants shopping, it does get annoying when I see cute shoes that are a half a size too small, and can't order them in my size.
But today I'm not bitter about any of that. Probably because I went dress shopping, and the dresses I picked looked fairly decent on me. I didn't even think of trying on bottoms, and tried to find new shoes. I found my size, but they didn't go with my dress. And it was a new experience. Usually I shop with someone who's about the same size as me, and today I went with Anna. She's half my size (literally, her dress size is half of what mine is). So trying on the same dresses was fun.
And today was the first time in a few days when I actually wanted to talk to someone. She's the only friend I have who isn't a few months younger than me; she's actually older than me. I don't know if that makes a difference, besides for my birthday in about two weeks, but maybe it does. We've always been able to talk about things that I haven't really talked about with other friends, so it was nice to be able to talk to her so openly about what was really going on in my life.
And shopping always perks me up. It's a guilty pleasure of mine. I like shopping even if I don't have any money with me, or do it online. It's something to do with my time, and makes me feel good about myself when I look good in something I've tried on, even if I have no intention of buying it.
It's funny how shopping can turn a mood around so quickly. I guess we all just want to look good.
*Happy 21st birthday, Anna!*
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Dreams for Plans (18/90)
This routine is getting slightly old very quickly. BUT today was the new episode of Glee!
Tonight's episode of Glee was about dreams. It was realistic with the whole follow your dreams schpeel, but also had the message that dreams may not pan out the way you want them to. And trust me, I've had lots of experience with failed dreams. That's kind of the message behind my penname, alter ego, what have you.
I like to dream a lot. I daydream whenever I have the chance. I daydream in class, in my room, before I sleep, anywhere. And I love dreaming, because I have crazy weird dreams instead of nightmares. I can't remember the last time I had a disturbing dream. I even have deja vu in my dreams, so I like to pretend that I can see into the future because of this. I place a lot of stock in dreams.
But I also have dreams of things I want to achieve in my lifetime. A bucket list, shall we say. But I haven't ever gotten around to writing it down. It's on my to do list for my summer. I know I'll probably come up with 50 plus things to do when I actually sit down and think about what I want to do with my life. But I'll write down a few of the things I want to do that I've always wanted to do, and expand a little bit on them.
1. Go to England.
I had the chance to go on a Shakespeare trip this summer, and jumped at it in the beginning. I was so excited to go, since this is something I've always wanted to do. I've loved England since I first learned about it in first grade, even before I had heard of a boy called Harry Potter. But it just wasn't in the cards for me. The people who were setting the trip up kept running into problems and it got so disorganized I bailed. And the money that was going to the trip ended up going to hospital bills, so there was no way I'd be able to pay for it on my own.
2. Write for Newsweek or Time.
Now, usually this has been limited to just Newsweek. But lately I've been thinking about both of them. I read Newsweek much more frequently than I do Time, but I think being at either of them would be an amazing experience.
2.5 Write for Cosmo.
It's one of my guilty pleasures. The articles are interesting and amusing, and when I have the chance I'll pick up a copy of the latest issue.
3. Model.
America's Next Top Model is also a guilty pleasure of mine. I love dressing up, when everyone else is. I like posing and having my picture taken. I'm a very emotional person, so I think it'd be something I could do. I love fashion, and being able to try and express a designer's vision would be fun. And my mom did small-scale modeling when she was younger, so I think I could do something like that.
4. See something I've choreographed performed/perform my own choreography.
As written about before, I love dancing. So being able to see these silly thoughts that flit through my mind come to life by a professional would be awesome. So would performing it, once I got the green light that it was something good and interesting. Sure, I'd be nervous as hell up on stage, but I think the feedback would be something I'd love.
5. Have a random hook-up.
Yeah, I know. Something a lot of people either don't care about, or have already done. But I haven't. I've always gone the safe, relationship route. I just want to meet a cute guy, have a good connection, and make out with him, no strings attached. Now, I wouldn't be staying the night at this guy's house/room/apartment, of course.
So somehow those became my top 5. They all came instantly, so I guess they're things I really want to do. Besides for the last one. I had to think a bit for it. And it's probably a short-term goal. If I don't accomplish it I don't think I'll be too crushed. It's a bit of a fantasy that sounds good at this point in time in my life, because it's something I've never considered doing.
Maybe when I finish my bucket list I'll put it up here. Be on the look out for it!
Tonight's episode of Glee was about dreams. It was realistic with the whole follow your dreams schpeel, but also had the message that dreams may not pan out the way you want them to. And trust me, I've had lots of experience with failed dreams. That's kind of the message behind my penname, alter ego, what have you.
I like to dream a lot. I daydream whenever I have the chance. I daydream in class, in my room, before I sleep, anywhere. And I love dreaming, because I have crazy weird dreams instead of nightmares. I can't remember the last time I had a disturbing dream. I even have deja vu in my dreams, so I like to pretend that I can see into the future because of this. I place a lot of stock in dreams.
But I also have dreams of things I want to achieve in my lifetime. A bucket list, shall we say. But I haven't ever gotten around to writing it down. It's on my to do list for my summer. I know I'll probably come up with 50 plus things to do when I actually sit down and think about what I want to do with my life. But I'll write down a few of the things I want to do that I've always wanted to do, and expand a little bit on them.
1. Go to England.
I had the chance to go on a Shakespeare trip this summer, and jumped at it in the beginning. I was so excited to go, since this is something I've always wanted to do. I've loved England since I first learned about it in first grade, even before I had heard of a boy called Harry Potter. But it just wasn't in the cards for me. The people who were setting the trip up kept running into problems and it got so disorganized I bailed. And the money that was going to the trip ended up going to hospital bills, so there was no way I'd be able to pay for it on my own.
2. Write for Newsweek or Time.
Now, usually this has been limited to just Newsweek. But lately I've been thinking about both of them. I read Newsweek much more frequently than I do Time, but I think being at either of them would be an amazing experience.
2.5 Write for Cosmo.
It's one of my guilty pleasures. The articles are interesting and amusing, and when I have the chance I'll pick up a copy of the latest issue.
3. Model.
America's Next Top Model is also a guilty pleasure of mine. I love dressing up, when everyone else is. I like posing and having my picture taken. I'm a very emotional person, so I think it'd be something I could do. I love fashion, and being able to try and express a designer's vision would be fun. And my mom did small-scale modeling when she was younger, so I think I could do something like that.
4. See something I've choreographed performed/perform my own choreography.
As written about before, I love dancing. So being able to see these silly thoughts that flit through my mind come to life by a professional would be awesome. So would performing it, once I got the green light that it was something good and interesting. Sure, I'd be nervous as hell up on stage, but I think the feedback would be something I'd love.
5. Have a random hook-up.
Yeah, I know. Something a lot of people either don't care about, or have already done. But I haven't. I've always gone the safe, relationship route. I just want to meet a cute guy, have a good connection, and make out with him, no strings attached. Now, I wouldn't be staying the night at this guy's house/room/apartment, of course.
So somehow those became my top 5. They all came instantly, so I guess they're things I really want to do. Besides for the last one. I had to think a bit for it. And it's probably a short-term goal. If I don't accomplish it I don't think I'll be too crushed. It's a bit of a fantasy that sounds good at this point in time in my life, because it's something I've never considered doing.
Maybe when I finish my bucket list I'll put it up here. Be on the look out for it!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Sexy Can I? (17/90)
Had a job interview today. We'll see how well that goes, or if I'll be relying on my Hooters application.
Lately I've been hearing rumors about Miley Cyrus's lap dance, so I watched the video. It's as bad as they say it was. It was disgusting to watch, knowing that she was 16 at the time dancing with a 44-year-old. And her parents made excuses for her, just like when she danced on the stripper pole with stripper-like clothing.
And little girls are looking up to her. It's like a replay of Britney and Christina, except in one tiny little girl who's reached their peak of sexing it up at age 17. Sometimes I wonder how people can allow their children to go do it, especially ones in the public eye. A lot of adults are outraged at her sexual dance moves and parent's disregard for the path she's traveling. I'm disgusted, and I'm a few years older than her. I see this in people my own age, though, and am disgusted as well.
I don't dance like that in public. I hardly dance like that in private, unless I'm trying a new dancing work out. It's basically sex standing up with clothes on. At my high school, people did have sex standing up at the dances. And we let our children watch this, and emulate it. It's ridiculous.
Parents have gotten to the point where they don't discipline their children, like the Cyrus'. I was spanked if I so much as got caught in a lie, and taught to listen to my parents. Kids today run around rampant while their parents watch, because they don't want to look like "the bad guy". Now spanking is considered child abuse. Honestly, my kids are getting spanked. It's a way to discipline that, until we decided it wasn't politically correct to do so, worked wonders.
So maybe if Miley had been spanked, or if Billy Ray wasn't afraid of not being the "cool" dad, then we wouldn't have seen her grinding on a man old enough to be her father. But then again, she may be dancing with guys that looked like her father if she had been spanked. Part of her dancing like that may have been because she wanted to escape the Disney image that brought her to fame. Lots of Disney stars have felt that pressure, and Miley isn't the first one to go that route.
Maybe if we weren't so eager to grow up so fast, we wouldn't have to deal with the Hannah Ho-tannas of the world (credit to Lauren for that nickname).
[I'll probably be re-visiting this post, since it's kind of horrible and I really can't focus on the topic right now. I've got a lot of other things on my mind.]
Lately I've been hearing rumors about Miley Cyrus's lap dance, so I watched the video. It's as bad as they say it was. It was disgusting to watch, knowing that she was 16 at the time dancing with a 44-year-old. And her parents made excuses for her, just like when she danced on the stripper pole with stripper-like clothing.
And little girls are looking up to her. It's like a replay of Britney and Christina, except in one tiny little girl who's reached their peak of sexing it up at age 17. Sometimes I wonder how people can allow their children to go do it, especially ones in the public eye. A lot of adults are outraged at her sexual dance moves and parent's disregard for the path she's traveling. I'm disgusted, and I'm a few years older than her. I see this in people my own age, though, and am disgusted as well.
I don't dance like that in public. I hardly dance like that in private, unless I'm trying a new dancing work out. It's basically sex standing up with clothes on. At my high school, people did have sex standing up at the dances. And we let our children watch this, and emulate it. It's ridiculous.
Parents have gotten to the point where they don't discipline their children, like the Cyrus'. I was spanked if I so much as got caught in a lie, and taught to listen to my parents. Kids today run around rampant while their parents watch, because they don't want to look like "the bad guy". Now spanking is considered child abuse. Honestly, my kids are getting spanked. It's a way to discipline that, until we decided it wasn't politically correct to do so, worked wonders.
So maybe if Miley had been spanked, or if Billy Ray wasn't afraid of not being the "cool" dad, then we wouldn't have seen her grinding on a man old enough to be her father. But then again, she may be dancing with guys that looked like her father if she had been spanked. Part of her dancing like that may have been because she wanted to escape the Disney image that brought her to fame. Lots of Disney stars have felt that pressure, and Miley isn't the first one to go that route.
Maybe if we weren't so eager to grow up so fast, we wouldn't have to deal with the Hannah Ho-tannas of the world (credit to Lauren for that nickname).
[I'll probably be re-visiting this post, since it's kind of horrible and I really can't focus on the topic right now. I've got a lot of other things on my mind.]
Monday, May 17, 2010
Why Don't You Get A Job? (16/90)
There seems to be a theme for my summer: watch wedding shows and other TV shows all day.
Maybe deciding to blog over the summer wasn't the best idea. Sure, I have tons of free time to do so, but I don't ever really have anything stimulating to write about, or think about. I mean, how many times can I go on about weddings before it gets boring? And the same with Dave. Put me in front of wedding shows, and of course I miss him. I see something I want in my wedding, and I think about how awesome it could've been. But I don't want to blog about him, because quite honestly I'm sick of thinking about him, and I'm sick of crying over him.
Part of it is, I'm sure, because I'm hardly an adult. I'm halfway through college, and will have to face the real world soon enough. What am I going to do? I could stay in school another three years, and go to grad school. My dad wants me to do that. Sometimes I think I want to do that. But here's the thing: I'm sick of learning. I'm sick of hearing facts and spewing them back at you. I'm sick of researching, going through books line by line to possibly find one aspect of research that may work. So I'm thinking of taking a year off.
But I'm already a year older than my class. If I went straight from my undergrad to grad school, it'd be a whole lot easier. But that's about the time I want to get engaged and/or get married. I'm pretty confident that I could get a scholarship to grad school straight out of Ball State. But, as an indecisive individual, I don't know if I want to.
Because I watch all these TV shows, and they introduce me to a wider range of interests than I already have. Now, for some reason, I want to be a wedding planner. I think it'd be fun to make sure that someone's day went perfectly and was incredibly special. I'm not a person special things happen to, and I don't make special things happen to anyone. I think it would definitely be a worthwhile career option.
And then there's being a designer. I can't even sew. But watching Project Runway alights the fashion flame in me, and I see the designs and want to do that. I can't draw clothes. I tried once, when I was younger. I was inspired by Barbie, since she has amazing clothes that aren't produced for normal-sized people. So there are days when I want to change my major to fashion design.
I can't forget food and culinary school. I've gotten to the point where I recognize people from Food Network on other channels. I love watching the sugar work, and the pastry decorating, and the cooking in general. But, again, I have no talent. I can cook scrambled eggs and follow a recipe pretty decently, but I've never tried anything on my own or making up new things. I can't really bake either and make it pretty. It's tasty, yes, but I suck at presentation.
I guess I'm just at a point in my life where I want to know my choice is the right one, but want the option to try all these things I have an interest in. I love writing, even when it fights me tooth and nail and I want to tear my hair out. It's a part of me that I don't want to leave behind. But I've never had the chance to explore what else is inside me that could be as good as writing, and I want that chance.
I don't want to have to choose my career for the rest of my life at age 20. I just want to know that I'll be successful in my career. I'm nowhere near experienced enough to be thrust into the world in two years without anyone by my side. Maybe all my new career interests are because of my own failures. I failed when I thought I found "the one," so what if I'm failing at what I think is the right career? Especially when I've had even less experience with careers than with males.
Or maybe I just want to go do something with my life right now, like get married or go plan weddings. Because the apathy and the loneliness is killing me.
Maybe deciding to blog over the summer wasn't the best idea. Sure, I have tons of free time to do so, but I don't ever really have anything stimulating to write about, or think about. I mean, how many times can I go on about weddings before it gets boring? And the same with Dave. Put me in front of wedding shows, and of course I miss him. I see something I want in my wedding, and I think about how awesome it could've been. But I don't want to blog about him, because quite honestly I'm sick of thinking about him, and I'm sick of crying over him.
Part of it is, I'm sure, because I'm hardly an adult. I'm halfway through college, and will have to face the real world soon enough. What am I going to do? I could stay in school another three years, and go to grad school. My dad wants me to do that. Sometimes I think I want to do that. But here's the thing: I'm sick of learning. I'm sick of hearing facts and spewing them back at you. I'm sick of researching, going through books line by line to possibly find one aspect of research that may work. So I'm thinking of taking a year off.
But I'm already a year older than my class. If I went straight from my undergrad to grad school, it'd be a whole lot easier. But that's about the time I want to get engaged and/or get married. I'm pretty confident that I could get a scholarship to grad school straight out of Ball State. But, as an indecisive individual, I don't know if I want to.
Because I watch all these TV shows, and they introduce me to a wider range of interests than I already have. Now, for some reason, I want to be a wedding planner. I think it'd be fun to make sure that someone's day went perfectly and was incredibly special. I'm not a person special things happen to, and I don't make special things happen to anyone. I think it would definitely be a worthwhile career option.
And then there's being a designer. I can't even sew. But watching Project Runway alights the fashion flame in me, and I see the designs and want to do that. I can't draw clothes. I tried once, when I was younger. I was inspired by Barbie, since she has amazing clothes that aren't produced for normal-sized people. So there are days when I want to change my major to fashion design.
I can't forget food and culinary school. I've gotten to the point where I recognize people from Food Network on other channels. I love watching the sugar work, and the pastry decorating, and the cooking in general. But, again, I have no talent. I can cook scrambled eggs and follow a recipe pretty decently, but I've never tried anything on my own or making up new things. I can't really bake either and make it pretty. It's tasty, yes, but I suck at presentation.
I guess I'm just at a point in my life where I want to know my choice is the right one, but want the option to try all these things I have an interest in. I love writing, even when it fights me tooth and nail and I want to tear my hair out. It's a part of me that I don't want to leave behind. But I've never had the chance to explore what else is inside me that could be as good as writing, and I want that chance.
I don't want to have to choose my career for the rest of my life at age 20. I just want to know that I'll be successful in my career. I'm nowhere near experienced enough to be thrust into the world in two years without anyone by my side. Maybe all my new career interests are because of my own failures. I failed when I thought I found "the one," so what if I'm failing at what I think is the right career? Especially when I've had even less experience with careers than with males.
Or maybe I just want to go do something with my life right now, like get married or go plan weddings. Because the apathy and the loneliness is killing me.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Carry That Weight (15/90)
My day: I watched things. TV, movies, and my brother test for his brown belt in Hapkido. Buh.
Today I didn't work out. I just didn't want to. I mean, I want to lose weight. Definitely. I'm about 12 pounds shy of my ideal weight. The weight that's been ideal for about three years now. The weight I was at sophomore year of high school. The weight I was at before I had to go to a size 13 in junior's pants. And the weight I was at that was the easiest to find pants.
But this summer is the summer that I actually am actively trying to lose it all, and keep it off. Last summer I kind of tried, but it ended up that I worked out about three times a week, if that. So I kept weight off. And then I went to school again. I taught fencing instead of free fencing with people, so I stood around a lot. I didn't have to walk as far as quickly, unless I had to get to Dave's dorm. And my appetite stayed the same, so I gained another 5 pounds. I was roughly 20 pounds lighter than my mother, who is about 4 inches taller than me.
I didn't like it, but I still didn't do anything about it. I ate salads for lunch, yes, but that was it. And I complained about the weight. But last semester I took my gym core class, and had to intensely work out twice a week. I liked it. I started to eat better. In the end I lost 6 pounds, and an inch off of each my waist and my hips. But it wasn't enough.
I knew I was stronger. I could (and still can) see the muscles I re-developed. And this past month I lost another 4 pounds, mainly because my appetite shrank drastically and I had more free time. So now, as part of becoming the woman I want to be, I'm losing those last 12 pounds. But today I didn't want to.
It's not like I was sore or anything. I didn't work out Wednesday because of that. But I did two work-outs Thursday because of it. Today I just wasn't motivated. I looked at the clock, and it was 1:30. I was still in my pajamas, and had just eaten breakfast about an hour before. 'I should work out,' I thought to myself. And I just continued to stare at the TV. I don't know what it was about today, but I just couldn't motivate myself to get up and work out.
I guess a part of it could be because the scale said I basically got back to the weight I was at when the semester started. I know I didn't gain 9 pounds back in 5 days. But I guess the number played a trick on me. And it all comes down to that number.
The reason I didn't do much first semester is probably because I didn't have a scale. When there was no number, I felt good about myself. I thought I looked good. I could still fit into my clothes, and I still got checked out. Dave told me my body was amazing, and when I started talking about my thighs everyone would stop me. But when I knew I was going to be taking a gym class, I started working out over break so I wouldn't look like a fool. And that's when I saw my number again.
It's funny how much weight (no pun intended) is attached to a silly three digit number. I felt good before I found out; what changed? Nothing about me had changed from before I knew the number to after. I still had the same sized everything. I still didn't work out on my own. I still ate the same. But the knowledge of the number kicked me in the butt to do something about it.
I wonder if I reach the golden number, if I'll be happy with it. I mean, I've seen a lot of things get smaller. Most noticeably was my chest. That was the first thing that tipped me off to the fact that I was losing weight. I don't have to press down on my hip bones to feel them anymore, something I've always been proud of, until fall semester when I couldn't do that. My butt doesn't sag as much. Certain clothes fit better now. So if my thighs don't get smaller when I reach my number, will I be happier?
I hope so. Because I really don't think I'll look better if I go below my number; I think I'll lose my favorite attributes if I do. Really, the only thing I don't like about my body right now is my thighs. And it's not even the whole thigh; it's the inside and back. They just need to be a bit firmer. Not jiggle when I wear shorts. But everything else I'm happier with. I'm just getting sick of tight pants around my thighs.
If I reach my ideal weight, then I guess I'll just deal with my thighs. Even if they do jiggle when I walk.
Today I didn't work out. I just didn't want to. I mean, I want to lose weight. Definitely. I'm about 12 pounds shy of my ideal weight. The weight that's been ideal for about three years now. The weight I was at sophomore year of high school. The weight I was at before I had to go to a size 13 in junior's pants. And the weight I was at that was the easiest to find pants.
But this summer is the summer that I actually am actively trying to lose it all, and keep it off. Last summer I kind of tried, but it ended up that I worked out about three times a week, if that. So I kept weight off. And then I went to school again. I taught fencing instead of free fencing with people, so I stood around a lot. I didn't have to walk as far as quickly, unless I had to get to Dave's dorm. And my appetite stayed the same, so I gained another 5 pounds. I was roughly 20 pounds lighter than my mother, who is about 4 inches taller than me.
I didn't like it, but I still didn't do anything about it. I ate salads for lunch, yes, but that was it. And I complained about the weight. But last semester I took my gym core class, and had to intensely work out twice a week. I liked it. I started to eat better. In the end I lost 6 pounds, and an inch off of each my waist and my hips. But it wasn't enough.
I knew I was stronger. I could (and still can) see the muscles I re-developed. And this past month I lost another 4 pounds, mainly because my appetite shrank drastically and I had more free time. So now, as part of becoming the woman I want to be, I'm losing those last 12 pounds. But today I didn't want to.
It's not like I was sore or anything. I didn't work out Wednesday because of that. But I did two work-outs Thursday because of it. Today I just wasn't motivated. I looked at the clock, and it was 1:30. I was still in my pajamas, and had just eaten breakfast about an hour before. 'I should work out,' I thought to myself. And I just continued to stare at the TV. I don't know what it was about today, but I just couldn't motivate myself to get up and work out.
I guess a part of it could be because the scale said I basically got back to the weight I was at when the semester started. I know I didn't gain 9 pounds back in 5 days. But I guess the number played a trick on me. And it all comes down to that number.
The reason I didn't do much first semester is probably because I didn't have a scale. When there was no number, I felt good about myself. I thought I looked good. I could still fit into my clothes, and I still got checked out. Dave told me my body was amazing, and when I started talking about my thighs everyone would stop me. But when I knew I was going to be taking a gym class, I started working out over break so I wouldn't look like a fool. And that's when I saw my number again.
It's funny how much weight (no pun intended) is attached to a silly three digit number. I felt good before I found out; what changed? Nothing about me had changed from before I knew the number to after. I still had the same sized everything. I still didn't work out on my own. I still ate the same. But the knowledge of the number kicked me in the butt to do something about it.
I wonder if I reach the golden number, if I'll be happy with it. I mean, I've seen a lot of things get smaller. Most noticeably was my chest. That was the first thing that tipped me off to the fact that I was losing weight. I don't have to press down on my hip bones to feel them anymore, something I've always been proud of, until fall semester when I couldn't do that. My butt doesn't sag as much. Certain clothes fit better now. So if my thighs don't get smaller when I reach my number, will I be happier?
I hope so. Because I really don't think I'll look better if I go below my number; I think I'll lose my favorite attributes if I do. Really, the only thing I don't like about my body right now is my thighs. And it's not even the whole thigh; it's the inside and back. They just need to be a bit firmer. Not jiggle when I wear shorts. But everything else I'm happier with. I'm just getting sick of tight pants around my thighs.
If I reach my ideal weight, then I guess I'll just deal with my thighs. Even if they do jiggle when I walk.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Endless Love (14/90)
Laid around again today. And then went to see Date Movie, so I don't know how interesting this post is going to be.
Ally, my friend who I went to see the movie with, and I were talking about marriage again today. She's got a timeline of when she wants to get married and start having kids, and knows when she has to meet her future husband in order to achieve that timeline. And it sounds like a pretty good timeline. I don't want to be single in my 30's, especially if I decide I want to have kids instead of adopt. My mom started having kids in her late 30's, so becoming an adult with an older mom was something most of my friends haven't experienced.
She had already established a career when she had kids, and stuck to it. I don't fault her for being good at what she does, it just affected how my brother and I were raised. And she didn't marry my dad until in her 40's, so they're coming up on their 18th anniversary in a few days. And they definitely didn't have time to appreciate being married for a few years before having kids, since I was already in the picture when they got married.
I think I want to be able to just come home to a husband for a few years, and maybe a pet. I definitely want to be married by the time I'm 30. Which means that in nine years or less I want to be married. And I want to date this person for at minimum two years, and be engaged for at least a year. So that pushes back the latest time I can meet this person is when I'm 27. In six years or less I'll hopefully find the man I want to marry. I'd prefer it to be earlier than that though.
If I'm going to give birth to kids, I'd like to have them by 40 at the very latest. I'd much rather adopt, but still adopt my first by age 40. But here's the thing: I'm not sure if I want kids. I'm really bad with kids. I babysat last summer, and did a horrible job with those kids. They didn't really like me, and to be honest, I didn't really like them. But those were boys. When I met Dave's nieces this semester, I got along fine with them. One of them got really attached to me even, for the two or so hours we knew each other. So maybe I'm just better with girls.
But I don't want to fail at being a mother. I hate failing. Which is why I'm thinking I don't really want kids. They still annoy me when I go into restaurants. I don't want to pretend to be interested in the fact that recess was cancelled because of the rain. Maybe when I get older I'll care. People say when you have your own kids it changes everything. But if I'm going to have kids, then I want to be married, and I'm not even sure if I want to get married.
I don't want to end up in divorce. I hate being a statistic. And divorce, to me, is failure. You failed to make your relationship work, you failed at working on your relationship, or you failed at choosing the "right" person for you. Not to say that everyone who's divorced is a failure. Just if I get divorced, that's what'll be going through my mind. I don't have the best judgment with the opposite sex. Ask any of my close friends. So I really don't want to fail.
Or fall into the rut that the couple in Date Movie fell into. I hate routines with the people I love. Don't get me wrong, with school routines are fine. But doing the same thing every day bores me. I dont' want to end up in a boring relationship for the rest of my life either. And I'm not really the spontaneous type, so I'm scared.
I guess that's just it. I'm scared to fail. I'm scared to decide to commit to one person for the rest of my life, and fail at it. I'm scared of raising horrible children. I'm scared of being a horrible parent and wife. Hell, I'm scared of being a horrible bride. I can see my wedding being like my graduation party: a flop. I can see no one having fun, not many people RSVPing, and not having entertaining music for my guests. I can see myself falling while walking down the aisle. And I'm scared of getting hurt by the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But I have to get over that fear.
Otherwise I'll end up where I am right now: alone.
Ally, my friend who I went to see the movie with, and I were talking about marriage again today. She's got a timeline of when she wants to get married and start having kids, and knows when she has to meet her future husband in order to achieve that timeline. And it sounds like a pretty good timeline. I don't want to be single in my 30's, especially if I decide I want to have kids instead of adopt. My mom started having kids in her late 30's, so becoming an adult with an older mom was something most of my friends haven't experienced.
She had already established a career when she had kids, and stuck to it. I don't fault her for being good at what she does, it just affected how my brother and I were raised. And she didn't marry my dad until in her 40's, so they're coming up on their 18th anniversary in a few days. And they definitely didn't have time to appreciate being married for a few years before having kids, since I was already in the picture when they got married.
I think I want to be able to just come home to a husband for a few years, and maybe a pet. I definitely want to be married by the time I'm 30. Which means that in nine years or less I want to be married. And I want to date this person for at minimum two years, and be engaged for at least a year. So that pushes back the latest time I can meet this person is when I'm 27. In six years or less I'll hopefully find the man I want to marry. I'd prefer it to be earlier than that though.
If I'm going to give birth to kids, I'd like to have them by 40 at the very latest. I'd much rather adopt, but still adopt my first by age 40. But here's the thing: I'm not sure if I want kids. I'm really bad with kids. I babysat last summer, and did a horrible job with those kids. They didn't really like me, and to be honest, I didn't really like them. But those were boys. When I met Dave's nieces this semester, I got along fine with them. One of them got really attached to me even, for the two or so hours we knew each other. So maybe I'm just better with girls.
But I don't want to fail at being a mother. I hate failing. Which is why I'm thinking I don't really want kids. They still annoy me when I go into restaurants. I don't want to pretend to be interested in the fact that recess was cancelled because of the rain. Maybe when I get older I'll care. People say when you have your own kids it changes everything. But if I'm going to have kids, then I want to be married, and I'm not even sure if I want to get married.
I don't want to end up in divorce. I hate being a statistic. And divorce, to me, is failure. You failed to make your relationship work, you failed at working on your relationship, or you failed at choosing the "right" person for you. Not to say that everyone who's divorced is a failure. Just if I get divorced, that's what'll be going through my mind. I don't have the best judgment with the opposite sex. Ask any of my close friends. So I really don't want to fail.
Or fall into the rut that the couple in Date Movie fell into. I hate routines with the people I love. Don't get me wrong, with school routines are fine. But doing the same thing every day bores me. I dont' want to end up in a boring relationship for the rest of my life either. And I'm not really the spontaneous type, so I'm scared.
I guess that's just it. I'm scared to fail. I'm scared to decide to commit to one person for the rest of my life, and fail at it. I'm scared of raising horrible children. I'm scared of being a horrible parent and wife. Hell, I'm scared of being a horrible bride. I can see my wedding being like my graduation party: a flop. I can see no one having fun, not many people RSVPing, and not having entertaining music for my guests. I can see myself falling while walking down the aisle. And I'm scared of getting hurt by the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. But I have to get over that fear.
Otherwise I'll end up where I am right now: alone.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Thank You for the Music (13.90)
Summer blogging is hard, because I hardly do anything. Like today, I watched TV again. All day. And wrote a letter. But the letter was a stupid thing to write, and even stupider to send. So we're not going to discuss that.
But what I did watch today was, you guessed it, more concerts. I love Palladia. So many concerts of people I actually like and would want to go see, all in HD. But today's musical interest was on Fuse, and it was an interview with Lady Gaga. I like Lady Gaga. She's fun to listen to, and her music makes me want to dance. I love her music videos. They're always so intricate and always tell a story. And her fashion sense is amazing. Not something I could pull off, but I admire her.
No, this isn't another role model post (though she may be #2). This is about her interview. The interviewer was asking her questions that I could tell she didn't want to be asked, or answer. But she's a polite young woman, and answered them. And I found out some more interesting things about her that either I never took the time to wonder about, or just never noticed.
Like how much thought she puts into her lyrics. "The Fame Monster," the re-release of "The Fame" plus eight new songs, is all about her overcoming individual monsters she's had to face. "The Fame" was her actual fame monster, and "Bad Romance" is exactly the monster it sounds like it would be. She also faces the addiction monster in "So Happy I Could Die," and now I'm planning on dedicating a good hour to looking up her lyrics, listening to the songs more intently, and finally watching all her music videos.
From her responses to the interviewer and her dedication to her fans, I have seen that she is a force to be reckoned with. She's an intelligent young woman who I can't see stopping any time soon. And I'm glad. We need someone new and quirky to break up the monotony of the radio. There's too much hip-hop and bubble gum pop that sounds the same. Since I've been home I've already heard all the new songs that have been on rotation at least 5 times a day. And I'm pretty sure I've heard all the new releases since December in less than a week.
The music's getting to sound too much the same. People like Lady Gaga and Pink are getting their names out there, and getting radio time. I think Lady Gaga has seven singles out that are still being constantly played on the radio, after releasing her first on April 8, 2008. She's been around for two years and has two albums out. She's finishing up her tour right now, and I'm sure she's already got songs written for her third.
I can't wait for that third album. Mainly because I'm sick of hearing the same songs on the radio.
But what I did watch today was, you guessed it, more concerts. I love Palladia. So many concerts of people I actually like and would want to go see, all in HD. But today's musical interest was on Fuse, and it was an interview with Lady Gaga. I like Lady Gaga. She's fun to listen to, and her music makes me want to dance. I love her music videos. They're always so intricate and always tell a story. And her fashion sense is amazing. Not something I could pull off, but I admire her.
No, this isn't another role model post (though she may be #2). This is about her interview. The interviewer was asking her questions that I could tell she didn't want to be asked, or answer. But she's a polite young woman, and answered them. And I found out some more interesting things about her that either I never took the time to wonder about, or just never noticed.
Like how much thought she puts into her lyrics. "The Fame Monster," the re-release of "The Fame" plus eight new songs, is all about her overcoming individual monsters she's had to face. "The Fame" was her actual fame monster, and "Bad Romance" is exactly the monster it sounds like it would be. She also faces the addiction monster in "So Happy I Could Die," and now I'm planning on dedicating a good hour to looking up her lyrics, listening to the songs more intently, and finally watching all her music videos.
From her responses to the interviewer and her dedication to her fans, I have seen that she is a force to be reckoned with. She's an intelligent young woman who I can't see stopping any time soon. And I'm glad. We need someone new and quirky to break up the monotony of the radio. There's too much hip-hop and bubble gum pop that sounds the same. Since I've been home I've already heard all the new songs that have been on rotation at least 5 times a day. And I'm pretty sure I've heard all the new releases since December in less than a week.
The music's getting to sound too much the same. People like Lady Gaga and Pink are getting their names out there, and getting radio time. I think Lady Gaga has seven singles out that are still being constantly played on the radio, after releasing her first on April 8, 2008. She's been around for two years and has two albums out. She's finishing up her tour right now, and I'm sure she's already got songs written for her third.
I can't wait for that third album. Mainly because I'm sick of hearing the same songs on the radio.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Dirty Little Secret (12/90)
Today I did absolutely nothing but move things for about 15 minutes, eat, and watch TV. I'm now caught up on Tough Love Couples. I went browsing through song titles to come up with a topic for tonight's blog.
Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone. Or it's cousin: secrets, secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone. At a young age we're told to not keep secrets. To own up to our mistakes, even if they'll get us in trouble. But we quickly learn that keeping secrets will get us out of certain situations we'd like to avoid. Secrets are, basically, lies.
Withholding the truth, or not admitting the truth to keep a secret, is a lie. So in some way, we're all liars. I know everyone has at least one secret. We all have secrets. Some of us are better at hiding them than others. Some people don't care if their secrets are found out. Some people are so guarded that even small things will be kept hidden. So what's the point of keeping a secret from someone if it hurts them either way?
I know I've had a few secrets kept from me. Not only from people I've dated, but with friends and family. Everyone's kept something from me, and probably have lied to my face when faced with telling a certain secret. Thing is, I know when something's going on that I haven't been told. Depending on what the topic is, I'll let you come to me. Or just drop it, because there are some things I just don't want to know.
But there are certain things I don't want to be kept from me. And on the episode of Tough Love Couples I watched today, it dealt with secrets. A couple broke up because of the secrets. I can't help but wonder what was kept from me, in all my relationships but especially with Dave. Mainly because he's the most recent one and for the life of me I can't stop myself from thinking about him a few times a day.
I know there were things that I kept to myself, things that I've told myself won't be told until after I'm well into my engagement. There are things that had never come up, but were still enough of a part of me that I should've discussed with him. Those smaller things wouldn't do anything to the relationship, but the bigger things may have. Probably would have, until the ring was on my finger.
But I don't think that was the case with him. And he was keeping things from any girl he dates until he gets engaged. I do think maybe I got him to let me closer to him than he's let any girl, or at least any girl for a long time. But I know there were things that affected our relationship at the time, but I wouldn't be privy to until engagement, if ever. And things like that bug me. With Zack, it was him hanging out with our good friends who also happened to be exes. And in the end, the secret he kept from me was the earthquake that led to our break-up.
I can almost understand why it seems that keeping certain things from someone would be a good thing. It means they won't get hurt by whatever information you're withholding. But I can handle the truth. I'm a strong girl. I've been through a lot, and been close to people who have gone through a lot. Trust me. I can take it. And certain secrets are not yours to tell. That's completely understandable as well. But if you're involved in it somehow, then please tell me your side.
And I had deja vu while I was writing this. Random fact. Sometimes I think I'm psychic because of it.
Secrets, secrets are no fun. Secrets, secrets hurt someone. Or it's cousin: secrets, secrets are no fun unless you share with everyone. At a young age we're told to not keep secrets. To own up to our mistakes, even if they'll get us in trouble. But we quickly learn that keeping secrets will get us out of certain situations we'd like to avoid. Secrets are, basically, lies.
Withholding the truth, or not admitting the truth to keep a secret, is a lie. So in some way, we're all liars. I know everyone has at least one secret. We all have secrets. Some of us are better at hiding them than others. Some people don't care if their secrets are found out. Some people are so guarded that even small things will be kept hidden. So what's the point of keeping a secret from someone if it hurts them either way?
I know I've had a few secrets kept from me. Not only from people I've dated, but with friends and family. Everyone's kept something from me, and probably have lied to my face when faced with telling a certain secret. Thing is, I know when something's going on that I haven't been told. Depending on what the topic is, I'll let you come to me. Or just drop it, because there are some things I just don't want to know.
But there are certain things I don't want to be kept from me. And on the episode of Tough Love Couples I watched today, it dealt with secrets. A couple broke up because of the secrets. I can't help but wonder what was kept from me, in all my relationships but especially with Dave. Mainly because he's the most recent one and for the life of me I can't stop myself from thinking about him a few times a day.
I know there were things that I kept to myself, things that I've told myself won't be told until after I'm well into my engagement. There are things that had never come up, but were still enough of a part of me that I should've discussed with him. Those smaller things wouldn't do anything to the relationship, but the bigger things may have. Probably would have, until the ring was on my finger.
But I don't think that was the case with him. And he was keeping things from any girl he dates until he gets engaged. I do think maybe I got him to let me closer to him than he's let any girl, or at least any girl for a long time. But I know there were things that affected our relationship at the time, but I wouldn't be privy to until engagement, if ever. And things like that bug me. With Zack, it was him hanging out with our good friends who also happened to be exes. And in the end, the secret he kept from me was the earthquake that led to our break-up.
I can almost understand why it seems that keeping certain things from someone would be a good thing. It means they won't get hurt by whatever information you're withholding. But I can handle the truth. I'm a strong girl. I've been through a lot, and been close to people who have gone through a lot. Trust me. I can take it. And certain secrets are not yours to tell. That's completely understandable as well. But if you're involved in it somehow, then please tell me your side.
And I had deja vu while I was writing this. Random fact. Sometimes I think I'm psychic because of it.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Role Model (11/90)
I've unpacked and watched a lot of concerts today. And a few more episodes of Tough Love Couples. I'm almost caught up.
But while I was watching the concerts, I got to looking. I watched Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga, and Pink. What I was looking for was how in shape they are. I'm trying to lose about 12 pounds and keep it off, so I'm on this whole health kick and trying to look skinnier. And Fergie-let's face it. She's hot. I don't think she could ever not be in shape. The Lady Gaga concert I was watching was right after her first album, The Fame, came out. And I'll have to admit, I saw a bit of a pooch on her. But she had beastly obliques, so it balanced. And I just watched the Pink concert. That girl is ripped. I would be scared to piss her off.
And Lady Gaga made me feel better about the pooch I'm sporting myself. While mine is a bit bigger than hers and not framed by obliques, it still made me feel better to see someone who was constantly in the spotlight not be perfect and airbrushed. Then I heard that she's super skinny in her new video, "Telephone." And guess what? She is. So that doesn't really do much for me and my self-confidence, does it? But that's alright, because there was a point in time when she wasn't perfect.
And neither was Pink. She has so many songs about being different than what was expected, like "Don't Let Me Get Me" and "Stupid Girls." While I was watching the concert, I saw how much thought was put into it. The concert was for the release of "Funhouse," and the concert was like you were at a circus. I heard songs I've never heard from her before, and heard her sing. Guess what? That's her singing on the radio. There's no autotuning for her. She's one of the few who actually sing on their albums.
She's genuine, and she thinks about her concerts, her videos, her lyrics, and her message. And I don't know why I never took notice before now. Because I've been about the music videos and the lyrics for as long as I can remember. I've listened to all her radio hits, and own them all. I own Missundaztood. I have the Cosmopolitan that has her on the cover (yet to read it). And I've never actually given her my attention. As I was amazed by this concert, her lyrics, and my lack of care for her, I thought that maybe she could become one of my role models.
And then it hit me: I have no role models.
I've never had any role models. My mom's never been a role model to me. Sure, I appreciate her, and respect her. But I've never looked up to her as someone I aspire to be. The only thing I've wanted that she's attained is to model. I've seen how our family has struggled. I've seen her go through things that I've promised myself I won't. Maybe I just never got to know her.
I've had a few people I aspired to be, though. I don't consider those to be role models, mainly because there was only one aspect of the person I wanted. In elementary school, it was Samantha Pielet. She was pretty and popular, and in band. I wanted that. I wanted lots of friends, and a nice house, and cool parents. In middle school, it was Elif Karatas. All the boys that I liked ended up having a crush on her. I wanted the boys. And in high school, it was J.K. Rowling. I wanted the Potterverse. I wanted the gift. Basically, I wanted to be her because of her writing.
And guess what? I didn't get the popularity. I didn't get the boys. I haven't been blessed with this amazing writing idea that could be the next Harry Potter. But right now I'm glad I never achieved any of that. If I had the writing idea, then I probably wouldn't have the friends I do today. If I had been popular, I probably would've been one of the people at my high school I avoided. If I got the boys, I'd be the same, or a slut.
And if I had gotten any of it, I probably wouldn't be here right now, thinking of for once having a role model. I need someone who I can aspire to be for more than one reason. She got it right. She didn't compromise when the record labels wanted her to be a pop princess, and she's still going strong. She stayed true to herself. She sees how stupid the dating game has become, and how shallow we all truly are, and calls society out on it. She sings about real issues, and makes you think. She designs amazing shows, and truly enjoys what she does.
I want that. I want to be able to love what I do, and rise to and above the challenge. She's not afraid to say what she thinks, even if it'll piss someone off. I want to be able to let loose and tell it like it is. And I'm starting to, a month away from 21. I think she's a good choice for someone to look up to.
Maybe I should find someone who's not as ripped. But I think I'll stick with her for now.
But while I was watching the concerts, I got to looking. I watched Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga, and Pink. What I was looking for was how in shape they are. I'm trying to lose about 12 pounds and keep it off, so I'm on this whole health kick and trying to look skinnier. And Fergie-let's face it. She's hot. I don't think she could ever not be in shape. The Lady Gaga concert I was watching was right after her first album, The Fame, came out. And I'll have to admit, I saw a bit of a pooch on her. But she had beastly obliques, so it balanced. And I just watched the Pink concert. That girl is ripped. I would be scared to piss her off.
And Lady Gaga made me feel better about the pooch I'm sporting myself. While mine is a bit bigger than hers and not framed by obliques, it still made me feel better to see someone who was constantly in the spotlight not be perfect and airbrushed. Then I heard that she's super skinny in her new video, "Telephone." And guess what? She is. So that doesn't really do much for me and my self-confidence, does it? But that's alright, because there was a point in time when she wasn't perfect.
And neither was Pink. She has so many songs about being different than what was expected, like "Don't Let Me Get Me" and "Stupid Girls." While I was watching the concert, I saw how much thought was put into it. The concert was for the release of "Funhouse," and the concert was like you were at a circus. I heard songs I've never heard from her before, and heard her sing. Guess what? That's her singing on the radio. There's no autotuning for her. She's one of the few who actually sing on their albums.
She's genuine, and she thinks about her concerts, her videos, her lyrics, and her message. And I don't know why I never took notice before now. Because I've been about the music videos and the lyrics for as long as I can remember. I've listened to all her radio hits, and own them all. I own Missundaztood. I have the Cosmopolitan that has her on the cover (yet to read it). And I've never actually given her my attention. As I was amazed by this concert, her lyrics, and my lack of care for her, I thought that maybe she could become one of my role models.
And then it hit me: I have no role models.
I've never had any role models. My mom's never been a role model to me. Sure, I appreciate her, and respect her. But I've never looked up to her as someone I aspire to be. The only thing I've wanted that she's attained is to model. I've seen how our family has struggled. I've seen her go through things that I've promised myself I won't. Maybe I just never got to know her.
I've had a few people I aspired to be, though. I don't consider those to be role models, mainly because there was only one aspect of the person I wanted. In elementary school, it was Samantha Pielet. She was pretty and popular, and in band. I wanted that. I wanted lots of friends, and a nice house, and cool parents. In middle school, it was Elif Karatas. All the boys that I liked ended up having a crush on her. I wanted the boys. And in high school, it was J.K. Rowling. I wanted the Potterverse. I wanted the gift. Basically, I wanted to be her because of her writing.
And guess what? I didn't get the popularity. I didn't get the boys. I haven't been blessed with this amazing writing idea that could be the next Harry Potter. But right now I'm glad I never achieved any of that. If I had the writing idea, then I probably wouldn't have the friends I do today. If I had been popular, I probably would've been one of the people at my high school I avoided. If I got the boys, I'd be the same, or a slut.
And if I had gotten any of it, I probably wouldn't be here right now, thinking of for once having a role model. I need someone who I can aspire to be for more than one reason. She got it right. She didn't compromise when the record labels wanted her to be a pop princess, and she's still going strong. She stayed true to herself. She sees how stupid the dating game has become, and how shallow we all truly are, and calls society out on it. She sings about real issues, and makes you think. She designs amazing shows, and truly enjoys what she does.
I want that. I want to be able to love what I do, and rise to and above the challenge. She's not afraid to say what she thinks, even if it'll piss someone off. I want to be able to let loose and tell it like it is. And I'm starting to, a month away from 21. I think she's a good choice for someone to look up to.
Maybe I should find someone who's not as ripped. But I think I'll stick with her for now.
Another One Bites the Dust (10/90)
Today I went job hunting, watched Tough Love Couples, and went out to dinner with a friend. All of these made me think.
Tough Love Couples is a reality TV show. I understand that some, if not most, of it is an act. But it does raise some valid and interesting points. Mainly, though, it lets me feel better about myself. Because I would have the sense to get out before I had to go on TV to fix my relationship. Even if I loved him dearly. Some of these girls seem to have some sort of class, so I don't understand A) why they're on the show and B) why they're with some of these guys.
There's the stereotypical guido, Mario. He's also a musclehead who thinks with his muscles or his penis, not his brain. None of the guys are attractive. One of them spends more time on his hair then himself. One couple was engaged, but the guy called it off because he wasn't ready. And it seems like a big chunk of the problems these couples face are caused by the guys. The girls are the ones who brought them on the show.
This isn't a new trend, though. On all the guilty pleasure shows I watch where the couples are struggling, it seems like the women are the ones trying to work through it, and the guys either have no desire to change or don't realize that they're tools. And I'm seeing it reflected in all of my relationships as well.
I know I'm not perfect. I know I have things to work on. But even when the relationships were ended by the guy, we still had issues that were caused by him. This isn't me being bitter or anything. I can't get any of their opinions on things right now, so this is just my side of the story. PJ: dumped me because we were moving too fast. But he was the one who was making it that way. Among other problems that will stay in my brain for the night.
Nick: didn't really try to stay together. Pretty sure he was only in it for the physical.
Zack: was still in love with Kimmie. He didn't mature at the same rate as I did, and that caused communication problems. We're both stubborn.
Jose: was too immature. And we just weren't compatible (so this isn't really his fault)
Dave: wants a relationship from two, almost three years ago. Doesn't think that you have to work at love. Got to know me too well in seven months. And attributes a lot more to his depression than is warranted, and does nothing to help his depression.
And for me, in all these relationships: I've had jealousy issues, as I've mentioned before in other posts. I do get clingy if I think something's wrong and I can't fix it immediately. I have a temper. And I've lowered my expectations for all of them, so I get angry when they can't even fulfill the lowered expectations.
But I am the common factor in all these relationships. So am I just bad at relationships? Have I lowered my expectations too much? Or do I go for the wrong guy? I've been told I deserve better than all of these ex-boyfriends, so it could be that I, like the women on Tough Love Couples, go for the wrong guys. So why are we settling?
We love them. As stupid as they can be, as frustrating as our situations are, we still love them. And at least they have a chance to work through their problems, if their partners are willing. Mine just gave up once the love seemed less. I don't even know if we tried to work on anything. It doesn't seem that way from my end, but I may have forgotten. Unless we're talking about his depression. And his trust issues. So it really does go back to him.
It seems like I'm really not that different than these women on Tough Love Couples. Why did I settle? And why haven't I realized that I need to stop?
Tough Love Couples is a reality TV show. I understand that some, if not most, of it is an act. But it does raise some valid and interesting points. Mainly, though, it lets me feel better about myself. Because I would have the sense to get out before I had to go on TV to fix my relationship. Even if I loved him dearly. Some of these girls seem to have some sort of class, so I don't understand A) why they're on the show and B) why they're with some of these guys.
There's the stereotypical guido, Mario. He's also a musclehead who thinks with his muscles or his penis, not his brain. None of the guys are attractive. One of them spends more time on his hair then himself. One couple was engaged, but the guy called it off because he wasn't ready. And it seems like a big chunk of the problems these couples face are caused by the guys. The girls are the ones who brought them on the show.
This isn't a new trend, though. On all the guilty pleasure shows I watch where the couples are struggling, it seems like the women are the ones trying to work through it, and the guys either have no desire to change or don't realize that they're tools. And I'm seeing it reflected in all of my relationships as well.
I know I'm not perfect. I know I have things to work on. But even when the relationships were ended by the guy, we still had issues that were caused by him. This isn't me being bitter or anything. I can't get any of their opinions on things right now, so this is just my side of the story. PJ: dumped me because we were moving too fast. But he was the one who was making it that way. Among other problems that will stay in my brain for the night.
Nick: didn't really try to stay together. Pretty sure he was only in it for the physical.
Zack: was still in love with Kimmie. He didn't mature at the same rate as I did, and that caused communication problems. We're both stubborn.
Jose: was too immature. And we just weren't compatible (so this isn't really his fault)
Dave: wants a relationship from two, almost three years ago. Doesn't think that you have to work at love. Got to know me too well in seven months. And attributes a lot more to his depression than is warranted, and does nothing to help his depression.
And for me, in all these relationships: I've had jealousy issues, as I've mentioned before in other posts. I do get clingy if I think something's wrong and I can't fix it immediately. I have a temper. And I've lowered my expectations for all of them, so I get angry when they can't even fulfill the lowered expectations.
But I am the common factor in all these relationships. So am I just bad at relationships? Have I lowered my expectations too much? Or do I go for the wrong guy? I've been told I deserve better than all of these ex-boyfriends, so it could be that I, like the women on Tough Love Couples, go for the wrong guys. So why are we settling?
We love them. As stupid as they can be, as frustrating as our situations are, we still love them. And at least they have a chance to work through their problems, if their partners are willing. Mine just gave up once the love seemed less. I don't even know if we tried to work on anything. It doesn't seem that way from my end, but I may have forgotten. Unless we're talking about his depression. And his trust issues. So it really does go back to him.
It seems like I'm really not that different than these women on Tough Love Couples. Why did I settle? And why haven't I realized that I need to stop?
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mama Who Bore Me (9/90)
Not feeling too philosophical or deep-thinking today.
Today was Mother's Day. We've been hearing about it for about two weeks now, and every store that sells something a mother may possibly want has jumped on the bandwagon. Lots of sales were announced, special commercials were made, and I noticed a lot more jewelry commercials. It's a day that we're supposed to celebrate our moms and everything they've done for us.
Today was another ordinary day in the Colbert household. Since I didn't go to bed until around 2:30, I woke up at 10:30. I got downstairs to see the rest of my family around the TV, watching Jordan playing Uncharted: Drake's Fortune. My mom was doing what she normally does on a Sunday morning: going through the ads. My dad was reading the newspaper, which is slightly out of the ordinary. So me, being the social butterfly that I am, got on Facebook. Of course no one was online. Most of the people I talk to are an hour ahead, and already started celebrating their mothers. No one at home would be awake just yet.
While I was the last one to wake up, there was no talk about possibly getting breakfast for the family. Or doing something that we all could enjoy together. Or even doing something my mom wanted to do. We watched Jordan run through the forest and have horrible aim trying to make it through the levels. At about 12:30 my mom had enough of it, and went for her shower. Then she had to go buy clothes for her business casual meeting she's going to for the week. I went with her, since it had to do with shopping. And I had to get Margaret's birthday present on the off chance that she was available to hang out tomorrow before I had time to get it.
Then we got back home. Instead of Jordan playing video games, my dad was watching TV. So what did I do? Got back online. Still no one. Eventually we went to dinner. It was a quiet affair at one of my favorite restaurants. Also my only employer. But my mom said she wanted sushi. I think it may be because I've been bugging them to get sushi since I got back. I haven't had any since January, and I used to get it at least once a month when I worked there (yay employee discount).
No one really made an effort to talk besides for my mom and I. We got back and gave her our cards and presents. I think she really appreciated the cards. I know I got the right one. I don't even remember what it said. I know it was something she needed to hear. It took me almost 21 years to realize how amazing my mom is, and how hard her life has been. I know I haven't made it easier on her. I went through a bit of a rebellion in high school. I've been spoiled by them, and as such demand things or whine until I get them.
But this past semester I saw my family receive a shock, and I saw how she dealt with it. I wasn't there to help them. I couldn't really be there to help them directly, otherwise college wouldn't have happened. But I went to find out ways to help them from Muncie. And I know my mom appreciated the thought, even if the results didn't do anything. I hope she knows how much I appreciate what she's done for me.
That's the gist of the card I got for her. I don't know what Jordan's card said, but it looked like one of those corny ones. I'm not sure how much of it he actually feels, or if it was just one of the few "from your son" cards. But I do appreciate her. I know I've given her a hard time. I know we've gone through rough times. And I know she'll be there for me when I need her.
I'm just sorry it took me this long to realize it. And that her special day wasn't anything different than the other days in the Colbert house.
Today was Mother's Day. We've been hearing about it for about two weeks now, and every store that sells something a mother may possibly want has jumped on the bandwagon. Lots of sales were announced, special commercials were made, and I noticed a lot more jewelry commercials. It's a day that we're supposed to celebrate our moms and everything they've done for us.
Today was another ordinary day in the Colbert household. Since I didn't go to bed until around 2:30, I woke up at 10:30. I got downstairs to see the rest of my family around the TV, watching Jordan playing Uncharted: Drake's Fortune. My mom was doing what she normally does on a Sunday morning: going through the ads. My dad was reading the newspaper, which is slightly out of the ordinary. So me, being the social butterfly that I am, got on Facebook. Of course no one was online. Most of the people I talk to are an hour ahead, and already started celebrating their mothers. No one at home would be awake just yet.
While I was the last one to wake up, there was no talk about possibly getting breakfast for the family. Or doing something that we all could enjoy together. Or even doing something my mom wanted to do. We watched Jordan run through the forest and have horrible aim trying to make it through the levels. At about 12:30 my mom had enough of it, and went for her shower. Then she had to go buy clothes for her business casual meeting she's going to for the week. I went with her, since it had to do with shopping. And I had to get Margaret's birthday present on the off chance that she was available to hang out tomorrow before I had time to get it.
Then we got back home. Instead of Jordan playing video games, my dad was watching TV. So what did I do? Got back online. Still no one. Eventually we went to dinner. It was a quiet affair at one of my favorite restaurants. Also my only employer. But my mom said she wanted sushi. I think it may be because I've been bugging them to get sushi since I got back. I haven't had any since January, and I used to get it at least once a month when I worked there (yay employee discount).
No one really made an effort to talk besides for my mom and I. We got back and gave her our cards and presents. I think she really appreciated the cards. I know I got the right one. I don't even remember what it said. I know it was something she needed to hear. It took me almost 21 years to realize how amazing my mom is, and how hard her life has been. I know I haven't made it easier on her. I went through a bit of a rebellion in high school. I've been spoiled by them, and as such demand things or whine until I get them.
But this past semester I saw my family receive a shock, and I saw how she dealt with it. I wasn't there to help them. I couldn't really be there to help them directly, otherwise college wouldn't have happened. But I went to find out ways to help them from Muncie. And I know my mom appreciated the thought, even if the results didn't do anything. I hope she knows how much I appreciate what she's done for me.
That's the gist of the card I got for her. I don't know what Jordan's card said, but it looked like one of those corny ones. I'm not sure how much of it he actually feels, or if it was just one of the few "from your son" cards. But I do appreciate her. I know I've given her a hard time. I know we've gone through rough times. And I know she'll be there for me when I need her.
I'm just sorry it took me this long to realize it. And that her special day wasn't anything different than the other days in the Colbert house.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
I Drive Myself Crazy (8/90)
Saturday nights are now mandatory family nights, so Saturday night posts may be a bit later than usual. I watched a lot of crime shows today, and they got me thinking.
My final article was about depression, mainly the rising cost of antidepressants and therapy. It dealt with the hard choice some have to make because treatment can easily reach over $300. The drug market is an extremely lucrative one, I realized. Especially ones dealing with mental illness. There can't be that many people out there with some sort of mental disorder. Can there?
There's a history of mental illness in my family. There's a history of mental illness in Dave's family. I know a lot of other people who struggle with or have struggled with some sort of mental illness in the past. Depression's the most prominent one, but there are a multitude of other illnesses out there. Sometimes it's overwhelming to think of how many there actually are. As of 2004, there's over 300, according to medical news today.
I understand that we understand a lot more about mental illness today than we did even 30 years ago, and that we're making huge advancements to help those who have them. But I can't help but think, with over 300 illnesses, are we just making things up so people can feel better about themselves?
Don't get me wrong, things like depression and schizophrenia are things I believe are actual disorders. But some others sound like an excuse for people who just cannot deal with life. Take for example premature ejaculation. That's listed as a disorder. And if there's some other underlying cause for it, then it's a symptom of another disorder, not a disorder in itself. It's more of a physical issue, or being extremely excited, in my opinion. A lack of control, if you will. And mathematics disorder. From here, it sounds like something that's said so the parent and student don't have to accept that math just isn't there thing.
It seems to me that we've come up with disorders to excuse what shortcomings or character flaws we have. Not only that, but when we research these disorders on our own, we can see parts of them that fit our personality. The reason silly personality tests we find on the internet to amuse ourselves work is because for the most part we're quite similar. And as humans, we don't want to admit we're less than perfect.
So if something sounds somewhat true to us, we'll latch onto it instead of admitting we have to work on ourselves. There's over 300 disorders that we could have, so there's got to be one that's bound to fit. And if nothing does, we'll badger people until something can be done. And when something's done, we can finally have an answer and try to do something about it.
Or not. Some people are perfectly content with knowing, and not trying to better themselves. That is, until the problem becomes so severe it can no longer be ignored. As I said before, we don't want to admit we're less than perfect. Because of this, we don't want to try and better ourselves if we see nothing wrong. We blame all our shortcomings on our illness, instead of trying to separate the two.
Nothing's wrong with having a mental disorder. But there is something wrong with attributing all your shortcomings to it. There's something wrong with using it as an excuse for the reason you do things, when it really isn't the reason. You are not your mental illness. You were someone before you were diagnosed, so the illness isn't your personality. Find yourself. I know it's hard.
I know it's hard. I probably struggle with a bit of body dysmorphic disorder. I could probably be diagnosed with depression, especially at this moment. Looking through the list and doing some very brief research, I could also have dependent personality disorder, and dysthymia for the rest of my life outside this past month. Not that I've talked to anyone about this, or read up on them for more than 2 minutes, but the initial research suggests I could. And I'm not planning on going and getting diagnosed, unless I let them affect my daily life.
And I won't let that happen.
My final article was about depression, mainly the rising cost of antidepressants and therapy. It dealt with the hard choice some have to make because treatment can easily reach over $300. The drug market is an extremely lucrative one, I realized. Especially ones dealing with mental illness. There can't be that many people out there with some sort of mental disorder. Can there?
There's a history of mental illness in my family. There's a history of mental illness in Dave's family. I know a lot of other people who struggle with or have struggled with some sort of mental illness in the past. Depression's the most prominent one, but there are a multitude of other illnesses out there. Sometimes it's overwhelming to think of how many there actually are. As of 2004, there's over 300, according to medical news today.
I understand that we understand a lot more about mental illness today than we did even 30 years ago, and that we're making huge advancements to help those who have them. But I can't help but think, with over 300 illnesses, are we just making things up so people can feel better about themselves?
Don't get me wrong, things like depression and schizophrenia are things I believe are actual disorders. But some others sound like an excuse for people who just cannot deal with life. Take for example premature ejaculation. That's listed as a disorder. And if there's some other underlying cause for it, then it's a symptom of another disorder, not a disorder in itself. It's more of a physical issue, or being extremely excited, in my opinion. A lack of control, if you will. And mathematics disorder. From here, it sounds like something that's said so the parent and student don't have to accept that math just isn't there thing.
It seems to me that we've come up with disorders to excuse what shortcomings or character flaws we have. Not only that, but when we research these disorders on our own, we can see parts of them that fit our personality. The reason silly personality tests we find on the internet to amuse ourselves work is because for the most part we're quite similar. And as humans, we don't want to admit we're less than perfect.
So if something sounds somewhat true to us, we'll latch onto it instead of admitting we have to work on ourselves. There's over 300 disorders that we could have, so there's got to be one that's bound to fit. And if nothing does, we'll badger people until something can be done. And when something's done, we can finally have an answer and try to do something about it.
Or not. Some people are perfectly content with knowing, and not trying to better themselves. That is, until the problem becomes so severe it can no longer be ignored. As I said before, we don't want to admit we're less than perfect. Because of this, we don't want to try and better ourselves if we see nothing wrong. We blame all our shortcomings on our illness, instead of trying to separate the two.
Nothing's wrong with having a mental disorder. But there is something wrong with attributing all your shortcomings to it. There's something wrong with using it as an excuse for the reason you do things, when it really isn't the reason. You are not your mental illness. You were someone before you were diagnosed, so the illness isn't your personality. Find yourself. I know it's hard.
I know it's hard. I probably struggle with a bit of body dysmorphic disorder. I could probably be diagnosed with depression, especially at this moment. Looking through the list and doing some very brief research, I could also have dependent personality disorder, and dysthymia for the rest of my life outside this past month. Not that I've talked to anyone about this, or read up on them for more than 2 minutes, but the initial research suggests I could. And I'm not planning on going and getting diagnosed, unless I let them affect my daily life.
And I won't let that happen.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Home Life (7/90)
I've been home for a few hours now, and it's a nice feeling. Alone in my room, with shorts on, not caring how I look or if I need to change my music.
I saw my family today, saw my dog, and now I'm sitting on my bed. Somewhat unpacked, but most of my stuff is still in the living room. I got a load of laundry done today. No home cooked meal was waiting for me, but I wasn't expecting one. It's strange to think that my homecoming is the same that it's always been, and this time it's been about four months since I was last home and saw my family.
I left one home today. I was reflecting on that in the McDonald's bathroom today. I was leaving home. Ball State has become my home. I've even got a family there. I'm comfortable at school. It's where I stay for about 8 months out of my year for four years. Ball State University has become my home for the next two years. And then I'll be leaving it behind, and moving...where? Back to Illinois? Back to where I've been for half my life? And then what was the point of going back to Indiana?
I'll be leaving my friends behind. I'm not silly enough to convince myself that they'll follow me back to Chicago. I hope they'll survive the distance, because I'm not planning on staying in Indiana for grad school. Unless I have a good reason to stay, that involves a possible marriage in the future. But for now, it's looking like I'll only be in Indiana for a few years, and then move on.
It's funny how a seemingly small amount of time can have such a big impact on your life. I mean, this past semester made me think about what I had gone through, and how much deeper my friendships have become. I've got people I met this year and hardly talked to telling me they'll miss me, and they truly mean it. I've got friends for two years now who are just now showing me exactly how much I mean to them. I worked hard for my grades. I spent a lot of money on clothes. I bought a skirt. I went to a dance clinic. I took a chance. I rearranged my room.
The rearranged room held so many memories, but making the room look the way it had when we first arrived had some I had forgotten about. When I rolled onto my left side for the last time in that bed last night, it hit me how much I had forgotten. Instead of falling asleep as planned, I had a flashback of the last time I was in that bed with you at that height. I remembered you hitting your head on the ceiling and both of us laughing after. I remember the quiet nights filled with concern. And that was the end of the memories for quite some time, I believed.
I thought when I got back to Illinois the memories wouldn't creep up on me as easily. If my parents had moved the bed you stayed in back to my room, then I'd be fine. And they did. It is now safely below me. But when I walked into the family room, they came back. I remember me opening my Christmas present. I remember watching the clock wind down, and the new year come in. I remember watching you play MGS. And when I went to do my laundry, I remembered watching some of The Little Mermaid. Of waking you up.
It's funny. You were only here for a few days, and I can't go into some of my most visited rooms in my house without remembering you. But here's the thing: I don't want to forget. As silly as that sounds, I want to remember you here. Maybe because I don't want to let go of the memories. Maybe I'm just a masochist. Maybe I'm hoping you'll change your mind.
Or maybe I just really liked the flowers. And the muffins your mom made.
I saw my family today, saw my dog, and now I'm sitting on my bed. Somewhat unpacked, but most of my stuff is still in the living room. I got a load of laundry done today. No home cooked meal was waiting for me, but I wasn't expecting one. It's strange to think that my homecoming is the same that it's always been, and this time it's been about four months since I was last home and saw my family.
I left one home today. I was reflecting on that in the McDonald's bathroom today. I was leaving home. Ball State has become my home. I've even got a family there. I'm comfortable at school. It's where I stay for about 8 months out of my year for four years. Ball State University has become my home for the next two years. And then I'll be leaving it behind, and moving...where? Back to Illinois? Back to where I've been for half my life? And then what was the point of going back to Indiana?
I'll be leaving my friends behind. I'm not silly enough to convince myself that they'll follow me back to Chicago. I hope they'll survive the distance, because I'm not planning on staying in Indiana for grad school. Unless I have a good reason to stay, that involves a possible marriage in the future. But for now, it's looking like I'll only be in Indiana for a few years, and then move on.
It's funny how a seemingly small amount of time can have such a big impact on your life. I mean, this past semester made me think about what I had gone through, and how much deeper my friendships have become. I've got people I met this year and hardly talked to telling me they'll miss me, and they truly mean it. I've got friends for two years now who are just now showing me exactly how much I mean to them. I worked hard for my grades. I spent a lot of money on clothes. I bought a skirt. I went to a dance clinic. I took a chance. I rearranged my room.
The rearranged room held so many memories, but making the room look the way it had when we first arrived had some I had forgotten about. When I rolled onto my left side for the last time in that bed last night, it hit me how much I had forgotten. Instead of falling asleep as planned, I had a flashback of the last time I was in that bed with you at that height. I remembered you hitting your head on the ceiling and both of us laughing after. I remember the quiet nights filled with concern. And that was the end of the memories for quite some time, I believed.
I thought when I got back to Illinois the memories wouldn't creep up on me as easily. If my parents had moved the bed you stayed in back to my room, then I'd be fine. And they did. It is now safely below me. But when I walked into the family room, they came back. I remember me opening my Christmas present. I remember watching the clock wind down, and the new year come in. I remember watching you play MGS. And when I went to do my laundry, I remembered watching some of The Little Mermaid. Of waking you up.
It's funny. You were only here for a few days, and I can't go into some of my most visited rooms in my house without remembering you. But here's the thing: I don't want to forget. As silly as that sounds, I want to remember you here. Maybe because I don't want to let go of the memories. Maybe I'm just a masochist. Maybe I'm hoping you'll change your mind.
Or maybe I just really liked the flowers. And the muffins your mom made.
Meet You There (6/90)
This Sex and the City marathon is loooong. Time to blog and avoid more packing. Also: Dave's mom was tired.
Today I decided to get some closure. Actually, I decided it about a week ago. But I wanted to see how my feelings would hold up when it got closer to the meeting before mentioning anything. You know, since it's hardly been a month since we broke up. Not only that, but it was the most invested I've been in a relationship in a long time, if not ever. So it was mainly dependent on how I was going to feel today to see how long I was going to stay.
And I stayed for two hours. It was awkward. The long walk over had me thinking about what to say, what to do, what to order at Starbucks. And what I would do if I needed to bail. I got there early so we wouldn't have to do the whole awkwardly standing in line deal, and form a back up plan to escape. And to prep. Since he creeped up behind me from a different way than expected.
And I sat and thought for a bit, before his drink was ready. To think about that initial rush of emotions when I first saw him. And it wasn't nearly as strong as I expected. It was...lacking. I mean, I still felt sad, of course, but it wasn't anything like what I prepared myself for. Maybe because I had prepared myself so much already?
So we sat for two hours, with a lot of pauses in between. My pauses were to refrain from all the sarcastic, bitter comments I wanted to mutter to him. His pauses were because he was stuck in his own mind. And there was so much I wanted to tell him. So much I had in my mind that I just wanted to let out. But I'm a civil person, and he wanted to still be friends. So I held my tongue. But not now.
You, my "friend," will probably always have a place in my heart. I don't know if we'll get back to being friends. I think we could've worked, if you wanted to work through things. And today. Today was probably one of the hardest things I've had to do, and I made it out alive. I had to look at you and pretend that I didn't want to break down or snuggle up next to you.
Yes, I'm bitter. I don't want to be bitter. But you hurt me, and this is how I deal, unfortunately. I don't want to see you anymore. I got through today just because it was the first time in a month that I saw you. Your hair doesn't work anymore, you chose a Hawaiian shirt to wear, and you wore flip-flops. I noticed things about you today that I hadn't in a long time, maybe before.
All I wanted was some closure. Maybe to see that you had moved on already, to make it a clean break. Maybe to demonize you some more. And I got the closure part, but I'm not sure if I saw that you moved on. It is interesting, however, that you're the one who broke my heart and went after your rebound. And I was sitting here crying over you.
But I did hear that I did not depress you. That's what I really wanted. I know that I didn't depress you. The fact that you realized that it wasn't me, and that most of the problems with our relationship stemmed from that and you're unexplicable belief that you could secure your high school relationship again when you were different. You're not a child anymore, so stop believing that you can go back and get that feeling again. There's a reason why you never forget your first love.
But you can't dwell on it. Because then you'll end up where you are right now, and miss out on a new love. You'll overlook a true love because you're searching so desperately for something completely unattainable. You had something good, your own friends don't even know why you threw this away. I do know that you needed to work on yourself, and I'm glad you are. I just wish I didn't get caught in the crossfire. I was the poor unfortunate soul that got hurt.
There was more, but I've been distracted. More may come tomorrow, if I can't find anything.
Today I decided to get some closure. Actually, I decided it about a week ago. But I wanted to see how my feelings would hold up when it got closer to the meeting before mentioning anything. You know, since it's hardly been a month since we broke up. Not only that, but it was the most invested I've been in a relationship in a long time, if not ever. So it was mainly dependent on how I was going to feel today to see how long I was going to stay.
And I stayed for two hours. It was awkward. The long walk over had me thinking about what to say, what to do, what to order at Starbucks. And what I would do if I needed to bail. I got there early so we wouldn't have to do the whole awkwardly standing in line deal, and form a back up plan to escape. And to prep. Since he creeped up behind me from a different way than expected.
And I sat and thought for a bit, before his drink was ready. To think about that initial rush of emotions when I first saw him. And it wasn't nearly as strong as I expected. It was...lacking. I mean, I still felt sad, of course, but it wasn't anything like what I prepared myself for. Maybe because I had prepared myself so much already?
So we sat for two hours, with a lot of pauses in between. My pauses were to refrain from all the sarcastic, bitter comments I wanted to mutter to him. His pauses were because he was stuck in his own mind. And there was so much I wanted to tell him. So much I had in my mind that I just wanted to let out. But I'm a civil person, and he wanted to still be friends. So I held my tongue. But not now.
You, my "friend," will probably always have a place in my heart. I don't know if we'll get back to being friends. I think we could've worked, if you wanted to work through things. And today. Today was probably one of the hardest things I've had to do, and I made it out alive. I had to look at you and pretend that I didn't want to break down or snuggle up next to you.
Yes, I'm bitter. I don't want to be bitter. But you hurt me, and this is how I deal, unfortunately. I don't want to see you anymore. I got through today just because it was the first time in a month that I saw you. Your hair doesn't work anymore, you chose a Hawaiian shirt to wear, and you wore flip-flops. I noticed things about you today that I hadn't in a long time, maybe before.
All I wanted was some closure. Maybe to see that you had moved on already, to make it a clean break. Maybe to demonize you some more. And I got the closure part, but I'm not sure if I saw that you moved on. It is interesting, however, that you're the one who broke my heart and went after your rebound. And I was sitting here crying over you.
But I did hear that I did not depress you. That's what I really wanted. I know that I didn't depress you. The fact that you realized that it wasn't me, and that most of the problems with our relationship stemmed from that and you're unexplicable belief that you could secure your high school relationship again when you were different. You're not a child anymore, so stop believing that you can go back and get that feeling again. There's a reason why you never forget your first love.
But you can't dwell on it. Because then you'll end up where you are right now, and miss out on a new love. You'll overlook a true love because you're searching so desperately for something completely unattainable. You had something good, your own friends don't even know why you threw this away. I do know that you needed to work on yourself, and I'm glad you are. I just wish I didn't get caught in the crossfire. I was the poor unfortunate soul that got hurt.
There was more, but I've been distracted. More may come tomorrow, if I can't find anything.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
White Houses (5/90)
I finished my last test this morning, so all I had to look forward to all day was writing.
And I wrote. And wrote. And watched Sex and the City. And wrote some more. And then waited for who was my first interview to hopefully fill in the gaps and tie my story together. I couldn't write anymore. I couldn't even edit that story, because all that was needed was the three questions I needed to ask her. She forgot to call me, so I watched Man v. Food instead. And hoped that she would call soon.
And when she did call, it was incredibly awkward. She sounded so tired, like she was on her way to dreamland. Or that she didn't want to talk about depression anymore, or deal with it. And after the interview was awkward. Usually the people I interview over the phone will chat with me for a bit, wish me luck, and then hang up. She sat on the line, silent. It felt awkward. A month ago I was laughing with this woman, getting to know her, and having her know me too. A month ago this interview may have been easier.
A month ago I was dating her son.
Maybe that's one of the reasons it was awkward? I was preparing myself for awkward questions maybe heading my way, or telling her that I've been better but am plowing on. Or some small talk, at the very least. But there was nothing, and I'm honestly saddened by it. It's not like I was expecting her to carry on a long conversation, but I was hoping for some interest in my life. I genuinely enjoy her company. Maybe I just caught her at a bad time.
Maybe she thinks I hurt her son. I don't know what he's told them, I've avoided talking to him as much as possible. She could be upset that it seems like I just wanted to talk to her about depression. I would have stayed on the phone with her longer, if she had remembered to call. But an hour of precious writing time had passed, and I needed to try to write. I hope she doesn't think less of me now. And that I can get this article to cooperate. I didn't get as much information from her as I hoped. She really wasn't very talkative tonight. So I'm grasping at straws.
This whole editing process is me now grasping at straws. I can't seem to fit them together to make a nice house. I've got so many different sizes that I don't know what to do with them. There's a solid foundation there, and I've started to build the walls, but I need a roof. The roof isn't working yet. And I'm not sure if I'll get it to. I may just have to make sure it doesn't leak all over the place.
I'm bad at building things. We'll see how this turns out. Back to editing.
And I wrote. And wrote. And watched Sex and the City. And wrote some more. And then waited for who was my first interview to hopefully fill in the gaps and tie my story together. I couldn't write anymore. I couldn't even edit that story, because all that was needed was the three questions I needed to ask her. She forgot to call me, so I watched Man v. Food instead. And hoped that she would call soon.
And when she did call, it was incredibly awkward. She sounded so tired, like she was on her way to dreamland. Or that she didn't want to talk about depression anymore, or deal with it. And after the interview was awkward. Usually the people I interview over the phone will chat with me for a bit, wish me luck, and then hang up. She sat on the line, silent. It felt awkward. A month ago I was laughing with this woman, getting to know her, and having her know me too. A month ago this interview may have been easier.
A month ago I was dating her son.
Maybe that's one of the reasons it was awkward? I was preparing myself for awkward questions maybe heading my way, or telling her that I've been better but am plowing on. Or some small talk, at the very least. But there was nothing, and I'm honestly saddened by it. It's not like I was expecting her to carry on a long conversation, but I was hoping for some interest in my life. I genuinely enjoy her company. Maybe I just caught her at a bad time.
Maybe she thinks I hurt her son. I don't know what he's told them, I've avoided talking to him as much as possible. She could be upset that it seems like I just wanted to talk to her about depression. I would have stayed on the phone with her longer, if she had remembered to call. But an hour of precious writing time had passed, and I needed to try to write. I hope she doesn't think less of me now. And that I can get this article to cooperate. I didn't get as much information from her as I hoped. She really wasn't very talkative tonight. So I'm grasping at straws.
This whole editing process is me now grasping at straws. I can't seem to fit them together to make a nice house. I've got so many different sizes that I don't know what to do with them. There's a solid foundation there, and I've started to build the walls, but I need a roof. The roof isn't working yet. And I'm not sure if I'll get it to. I may just have to make sure it doesn't leak all over the place.
I'm bad at building things. We'll see how this turns out. Back to editing.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
My Happy Ending (4/90)
Pretty sure I'm brain dead to writing. And I don't really have a topic for tonight. We'll see how this goes.
It's the end of the semester. Time to move on, leave all the shit at the door, enjoy your summer, and after a well-deserved three month break, come back and do it all over again. I welcome the summer. I love my friends, and even some of my classes, but I need a break from them. I haven't been home since January, and I miss my high school friends. I miss my family. I miss my dog. I miss my bed. I miss being able to cry if I want to, when I want to.
But before I can go home, I have to take these things called finals. Time to dump all the shit you've learned onto a piece of paper, or spend hours working on a project that won't be remembered in two weeks. Most of my week is spent trying to write, getting going for about a half an hour, and getting distracted by doing something else (usually involving Sex and the City). Then I realize what's happened, and decide to be productive by filling out job applications. Eventually I make my way back to writing. At night, I remember that I have a final the next morning, so I cram.
Most of it's pointless. I finished my history final in about 7 minutes. 70 questions. It was memorization. My economics of media final was the review sheet, with a few extra questions added. Tomorrow will be my last test, my lecture portion of fitness final. I've hardly reviewed. I'll forget the history by next week (if not already), the econ's already gone, and what I didn't already know from health, I'll forget eventually. So the writing's where it's at this week of finals.
And I don't want to write. Because it's mostly editing now, and I can't for the life of me figure out what works and what doesn't after spending so much time on them. But at least my other assignment, the one that's due at 5PM and I haven't started yet, should be an easy assignment. Write a fiction story about how the U.S. royally screwed Latin America. It's my own choosing. Eliminates the research aspect, and will easily carry me past the 4 page minimum.
So that's the first thing on my agenda tomorrow, after my fitness final. Then back to editing. And then, I'm done. The school part is over. All that's left is to resolve things with people. Finish Sex and the City with Tif. Eat Chinese food for the last time in this room. Wear a dress/skirt, just because we can. Go to the last fencing practice. Hand over the food I'm collecting for people since my appetite's grown considerably smaller. Stay up late. Stay out late. Watch one more childhood memory come to life on the screen, Pokemon or otherwise.
And then finish things with boys. Leave the one who would never have worked out behind. I don't have any more classes with him. Today was the last day to talk to him, or even see him. And I got nothing: no head nod, no smile, no acknowledgment. Cements in my mind what I had a feeling about, and I'm glad I didn't go down that path. But he's somehow stuck with me. Maybe it's just because he was more upfront about what he wanted than what I'm used to. Maybe it's because I want to do something completely different. Maybe it's because I'm still reeling.
But I don't think I'm still reeling because I miss Dave. I think I've gotten to the point where I miss what we had more than I miss him. I miss the feeling. I don't think about him and cry anymore, I think about certain instances when I was truly happy and tear up. That's not to say that I'm completely over him, or over it; I know I don't move on that fast. But I think I'm in a place that I can initiate a re-building of a friendship before I leave.
I think it's something I need to do. My close friends say they admire me for how strong I am. Now I guess I have to prove it to myself.
It's the end of the semester. Time to move on, leave all the shit at the door, enjoy your summer, and after a well-deserved three month break, come back and do it all over again. I welcome the summer. I love my friends, and even some of my classes, but I need a break from them. I haven't been home since January, and I miss my high school friends. I miss my family. I miss my dog. I miss my bed. I miss being able to cry if I want to, when I want to.
But before I can go home, I have to take these things called finals. Time to dump all the shit you've learned onto a piece of paper, or spend hours working on a project that won't be remembered in two weeks. Most of my week is spent trying to write, getting going for about a half an hour, and getting distracted by doing something else (usually involving Sex and the City). Then I realize what's happened, and decide to be productive by filling out job applications. Eventually I make my way back to writing. At night, I remember that I have a final the next morning, so I cram.
Most of it's pointless. I finished my history final in about 7 minutes. 70 questions. It was memorization. My economics of media final was the review sheet, with a few extra questions added. Tomorrow will be my last test, my lecture portion of fitness final. I've hardly reviewed. I'll forget the history by next week (if not already), the econ's already gone, and what I didn't already know from health, I'll forget eventually. So the writing's where it's at this week of finals.
And I don't want to write. Because it's mostly editing now, and I can't for the life of me figure out what works and what doesn't after spending so much time on them. But at least my other assignment, the one that's due at 5PM and I haven't started yet, should be an easy assignment. Write a fiction story about how the U.S. royally screwed Latin America. It's my own choosing. Eliminates the research aspect, and will easily carry me past the 4 page minimum.
So that's the first thing on my agenda tomorrow, after my fitness final. Then back to editing. And then, I'm done. The school part is over. All that's left is to resolve things with people. Finish Sex and the City with Tif. Eat Chinese food for the last time in this room. Wear a dress/skirt, just because we can. Go to the last fencing practice. Hand over the food I'm collecting for people since my appetite's grown considerably smaller. Stay up late. Stay out late. Watch one more childhood memory come to life on the screen, Pokemon or otherwise.
And then finish things with boys. Leave the one who would never have worked out behind. I don't have any more classes with him. Today was the last day to talk to him, or even see him. And I got nothing: no head nod, no smile, no acknowledgment. Cements in my mind what I had a feeling about, and I'm glad I didn't go down that path. But he's somehow stuck with me. Maybe it's just because he was more upfront about what he wanted than what I'm used to. Maybe it's because I want to do something completely different. Maybe it's because I'm still reeling.
But I don't think I'm still reeling because I miss Dave. I think I've gotten to the point where I miss what we had more than I miss him. I miss the feeling. I don't think about him and cry anymore, I think about certain instances when I was truly happy and tear up. That's not to say that I'm completely over him, or over it; I know I don't move on that fast. But I think I'm in a place that I can initiate a re-building of a friendship before I leave.
I think it's something I need to do. My close friends say they admire me for how strong I am. Now I guess I have to prove it to myself.
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