stilettos and broken bottles

*Dancing On My Own by Robyn might possible be the most kick butt song at 5:30 in the morning when you’re trying to get moving. Added it to the playlist below for continued enjoyment cause I’m thoughtful like that.  

*I hate when I reach in my bag for a pressed powder (shadow, blush, or bronzer) and get a fingernail full of makeup. This usually means the lid on the case broke…again!

*Why do I continue to wear corduroy? The sound acknowledging that my legs rub together is not comforting.

*Nutella makes everything/anything better; at least in this current instant.

*Forgetting something at someone’s house can produce an awesome surprise. For instance, when they try to wash your craptastic Wal-Mart cup an accidently break it and decide to buy a stellar Starbucks mug as its replacement.

*Got Carly Rae Jepsen-ed today and it was a dude. Weird. Guessing it’s the bangs. 

 

lil’ smidgens

 

Seriously. Am I not so Mindy today? Long dark locks, pink top, adorable expression…Stalker alert! I love this girl. Her show, her book, her style. Be grateful you’re not subjected to me going on and on and on about her all the time. I appreciate a similar sense of humor and the opportunity to feel a little more normal or at the very least relatable.

Yeah, it’s the end of February but I’m thankful for books, a mini vacation, impromptu break…a time for escape, sometimes encouragement. In the middle of umpteen or so books at the moment and hoping to do some “official” book reviews or maybe just celebrating the finding of a good read.

Like they say it’s the little things. There have been some crap spots in my week but there were also flashes of happiness and hope. They’re often so quick, blink and you’ll miss ‘em. Observe something small today that makes a big impact on you!

 

Getting real…

I’ve been fortunate enough to have siblings. One brother. One sister. Sort of got lucky having one of each I guess. My role in the family has always been somewhat reversed with my mother, for details please see previously published posts on my “old” blog. Kidding…kinda. But seriously, it’s an odd arrangement to some but “normal” to me. This post is about something that bothers me daily. It hurts me, embarrassing me and I wish more than anything it would resolve. My relationship with my sister.

When the time comes and I have a child of my own I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure they have a sibling(s). Some families prefer an only child and I’ve got no issues with that, there are undeniable perks and we all have the right to do as we wish. I just happen to have experienced some incredible benefits of having siblings that I hope my future child can have the benefit of experiencing as well. (Allow me to point out I am not pregnant. Future meaning “possible” “one day”.)

My sister and I are very different. The factors that have created a strain range from paternity, age, sibling order, religion and overall life choices. Differences are good. Kind of the sprinkle of zest added to the mix of life. My closest friends and I are very different in many ways… It helps created depth, widen perspectives, challenge ideals…positive, positive, positive. However in family differences are what often widen the gap in this case destroys something that should be unshakable. Yes, I know that relationships are fragile but this family unit had been through so much I would have hoped it would’ve been able to endure.

She is a difficult person. She grasps onto things and manipulates real life to a dangerous degree. She holds hostage other family members in order to force conflict. The cruelest words you could imagine have been spoken. It’s tough to talk about and it’s a long list moments and exchanges and regrets…I lose sleep over it. I get along with people for the most part. I’m very accommodating and grace through most social situations but I can’t get a grip on interacting with my sister. She hasn’t spoken to me for a number of years with the exception of a random instigation.

The point is there a so many thoughts and feelings I’ve tried to express that have been disregarded or poorly delivered, even overshadowed by miscommunication. I’ve got to get this out of my head and forgive myself for mistakes, take responsibility for what’s mine, stop questioning myself and realize that I can’t make someone accept me whether I feel like I’m deserving of it or not.

 

I want you to know that just because I’m different than you doesn’t mean I think I’m better than you. I know childhood was rough but I was there having the same childhood as you. Don’t let it hold you back more than it already has. Tuck those memories away and use them for fuel and instruction.

They say dream BIG, think BIGGER and that’s exactly what I want for you. When you make choices that hurt you it hurts me because I want success, love, and stability for you but choices plan a large role in determining that. Trust me, I’ve made poor ones, whether you believe me or not. I hope you surround you and your daughter with people that are encouraging you to achieve what you want in life and will still be there with you went failure and uncertainty try to get in your way. I’m always here…

 

contemplations of a "current" blogaholic

There’s so much stored away… unexpressed thoughts waiting patiently for their grand reveal. It’ll take time to organize and determine a way to express them accurately and give them their proper due. I’m trying very hard to let things flow organically and not over think to a point of detriment.

Hoping to find a comfort zone within my writing, learning to balance out the fleeting, frivolous and personal… Cause that’s real life right? It’s not consistent and emotions can be momentary and planning becomes futile, messy, exhausting, rewarding, advancing all the while. Keeping a steady pace and feeling more refreshed than ever.

It's not the load that breaks you down - it’s the way you carry it”

- Lou Holtz

One concept I’ve been toying with is incorporating a mid week post of “Cheat Sheets”. I don’t claim to be an expert at anything but I have a few tips and tricks up my sleeve within the realm of cooking, hair, make-up etc... (it's all "etc" really)...things I’ve learned or picked up over the years that have been helpful but nobody likes a know-it-all so I’m hesitant. To share or not to share?

 

You better believe it.

Did you know according to my plans…

I was supposed to be about 3 inches taller.
About 50lbs lighter.
Have straight, glorious hair.
Birth five children and adopt a few more
…the most beautiful babies you’ve ever seen by the way.
Have traveled the world.
Found my passion right after graduation.
Own a huge, spotless, Pinterest approved house.
Be debt free.
Be wiser.
Less envious.

My list is so much longer and far more superficially than you might imagine. Today, I laugh at this.
His plans are bigger and better. Right now, I’m certain. Tomorrow I might waver and the day after that be overcome with disbelief.
I think these things. They’re a great weakness. My heart knows better and it’s a daily struggle to convince my skepticism. I’m posting this because I need to read these words that are finally said “out loud”, such immature thoughts, because I know that I’ll need to rewind to this reality check… sooner than you might think.
The best is yet to come...

real thoughts, pure words

i woke up sad
certainly not the first time
felt like i was out of breath
layed still to regain composure
hoping maybe, just maybe…
i’d fall back asleep and wake better than before

the real truth is that these emotions are a shining light
a reminder of life

i’m sad because i dream of it
i’m hurt because i want it so very much
i feel because i still care enough
i plan because i haven’t given up
i continue

 

oink! oink!

A few weeks back I had an opportunity to hang out with old friends; it wasn’t anything special but still something to be cherished. I crave moments like that. In the mist of pottery paint fumes and giggles a friend mentioned “the pig personality test”. I for one love personality test. I don’t feel they’re exactly absolute but they can still be insightful and at the very least a conversation starter.

This is just for funzies. No wrong answers, so for my fellow perfectionist don’t panic.

Grab some paper and something to write with, marker, pencil, pen, crayon, whatever!
Now draw a pig. Don’t over think it. Just your interpretation of a pig.
Don’t peak down at mine either and don’t read ahead because you’ll corrupt the game…
Well I imagine it won’t be as fun.

Remember when I said I wasn’t a writer? Well I’m not an artist either.

Behold my pig:

The pig serves as a useful test of the personality traits of the drawer.
If the pig is drawn:

(My traits have been underlined.)

 

Toward the top of the paper, you are positive and optimistic.
Toward the middle, you are a realist.
Toward the bottom, you are pessimistic, and have a tendency to behave negatively.

Facing left, you believe in tradition, are friendly, and remember dates (birthdays, etc.)
Facing right, you are innovative and active, but don't have a strong sense of family, nor do you remember dates.
Facing front, you are direct, enjoy playing devil's advocate and neither fear nor avoid discussions.

With many details, you are analytical, cautious, and distrustful.
With few details, you are emotional and naive, you care little for details and are a risk-taker.

With less than 4 legs showing, you are insecure or are living through a period of major change.
With 4 legs showing, you are secure, stubborn, and stick to your ideals.

The size of the ears indicates how good a listener you are.
The bigger the better.

The length of the tail indicates the quality of your sex life.
And again more is better!

 

 

The girls at work and I did this and had a great time. Somebody forgot to draw a tail and I’m still laughing about the implications! Hope this brought you a smile or brightened your day. At the very list my lack of artistic abilities must’ve given a chuckle.

Disclaimer:

I write but I do not consider myself a writer. I don’t feel that I am particularly good at it but it won’t stop me or at least I don’t plan on letting it. There’s something that is deep within me that causes me to use this form of expression. My mother writes. My sister writes. Both of which I feel are spectacular at it. I say this because at times I might post something poetic or even lyrical in nature and that is nothing more than me attempting to “deal”. There’s no great capacity or need for recognition. If anything I feel a little bit overexposed, like singing in public except I’m not referencing someone else’s thoughts or feelings…these are mine and that, to me, is petrifying.

The other day I sent a string of emails to a handful of friends about this new blog. It was on my heart and I knew it was necessary. That was kind of a big deal. I talk, I joke, but I don’t share. I’d give you the clothes of my back if you asked but to really express what I’m thinking or feeling is utterly private. Well turns out it holds me back and I miss out.

As soon as I sent the emails I regretted it. Like EEEmmediately (Note: I know it’s spelt “immediately” but I needed a visual/phonetical change for emphasis.). Panic set in because it was too late. One by one as people contacted me I cringed. Literally squinted when reading responses to somehow avoid actually reading what they said. Why is that? What am I so scared of? So I started asking myself these questions…Playing scenarios out in my mind and this is what came of it.

 

Vulnerability.

Compassion.
Connection.
Sympathy.
Support.

Well hang on a second…Why are these something to fear? They don’t seem negative at all. Yet every time I post something, even the harmless stuff I chastise myself. Because of its quality, genuineness, or whatever uncertainly is assaulting me at that moment.  

So I’m going to continue working through my life. It’s filled with laughter, ideas, change, doubt, as well as heartbreak and I’ll do my best to open it to all the people that care about me.

love day

"Hearts will never be practical until they are made unbreakable." – Wizard of Oz

I love Valentine’s Day. No kidding, it’s one of my absolute favorites and the truth is I’ve celebrated more boyfriend-less, date-less, card-less, flower-less, candy-less (Well maybe that’s an exception there because who really need someone to buy candy for them?) just all around gift-less Valentine’s Days than ones celebrated with a “special someone”. But you know what? That’s okay.

Even single I only posed as a hater. When my girls were in an uproar of our single statues I threw in a “who needs them” and “at least we’ll get cheap candy tomorrow”. The truth is I didn’t care and I also don’t get the hippie, anti- corporate rants about its Americanized commercialism. It’s a great day. Why hate on love?

Love and how you celebrate your love shouldn’t be defined; whether it’s love of life or the people in yours.  We make up our own traditions and have the ability to make emphasis and distinction on what is most import to us.

The different loves that bind us aren’t always necessarily romantic or intimate, we have platonic, friendship, closeness, religious, relations etc… They really exist, and allowing them to matter more than an annual expression or the bitterness or loneliness that is only trying to blind you from the truth is worth a change in focus.

If that’s not appealing then at the very least love yourself a little more today. We are so incredibly hard on ourselves, myself very much included, and it makes a difference in every aspect of your life. Treat yourself, pamper yourself, and appreciate yourself more than you usually allow it simply because it feels good!

I have love in my life now or maybe now I’m just able to see, feel, and appreciate it. The constant ones, the smothering ones and even the ones that don’t know how or may never know how to express it. Either way I’ve made some “me” time today…to remind myself that I am worthy of love even if that means just some quiet time to skim a magazine, pay some bills, maybe paint my nails, sip my coffee a little slower and have a shameless, overrated, rom-com, sure to make me laugh and cry at the same time, playing in the background.

 

 

Jus' curious

Loofah  (loo·fah) noun

Similar to a sponge, it is an object used to clean ones self. For this reason, many people incorporating loofah into their beauty regimen prefer to use it as a dry exfoliating brush before bathing, or to grind it and use it in exfoliating scrubs.   Men and women. We’re so different right? It makes things, like marriage a little more exciting, challenging and sometimes bizarre. First of all my husband uses a loofah. I’m fine with it because good hygiene should be praised and it does make skin oh-so soft. For awhile I bought him girly colors just to be ornery until I notice his were undergoing a weird degeneration or transmutation. The last thing I wanted was guest to see a disheveled pink loofah, assuming that it was mine. So I decided for my reputation to buy more masculine colors. But I digress…I present the mystery of the loofah; along with a picture to express my exact concern and puzzlement.

 

What happened to this thing? Seriously? For comparison sake I have included my personal one in the picture and they were purchased at the same time. Same brand. This poor thing has been tortured. Does he not know how to use it? Has he been doing pull ups from it? Bungee jumping? Is he The Hulk? A game of tug-of-war with the dogs? Does he use it in place of a stress ball? What’s wrong with his skin? Or is it his brand of body wash? I wonder all these things while in the shower.
Upon confrontation he assures me that I don’t use mine right. Hmm.

Goldilocks and the Three Scales

I bought my very first scale not too long ago. For whatever reason we didn’t have one growing up. Maybe my mom was trying to maintain our healthy psychological views on weight gain and loss…or maybe cause we were broke. Don’t really know.

Since I was getting serious about the “weight loss” thang it seemed like a necessary tool for tracking. No sooner did I realize I had some undiscovered addiction to weighing myself. Turns out just as portion control was necessary for eating it was just as important for my relationship with the scale. Quickly I decided on some healthy guidelines so I’d stop having manic episodes throughout the day as my weight shifted and the numbers grew. Insert #genius #bestbutmostobviousdecisionever

Fast forward thru… (Babysteps.) (Small achievements.) (Off the wagon.) (Fat, fat, hippo fat.) (Pep talk.) (Back on track.) (Seriously! back on track.) Those were dark times that I don’t wanna share at the moment. Anyway once I reached the segment of “Seriously! back on track” my scale broke. Note to self: one of the best reasons not to own a scale. When it breaks, like dunzo, and there is no knowledge as to the cause it is traumatizing. First thought is inevitably, “Did I break it?” It’s absurd cause I’m pretty sure my girth didn’t cause it to commit suicide but it’s there is the recesses of my mine. Forever.

Time to shop.

We have an unused scale at the office that hasn’t been used since I started here, some 3 years ago. Bought some batteries and viola, new scale! The model is similar to my previous scale but looks can be deceiving. That cursed scaled told me I was like 4lbs heavier than I am. And in “girl-weight-numbers” that’s like 50lbs. Right? No, not happening free isn’t always best. Returned.

I’d been enamored the idea of one of those fancy scales that tells your BMI, water weight, bone mass etc… Ooh la la. It wasn’t that pricey but it was too smart for me. I defeated will trying to set it up. Then I got 4 different readings in a matter of minutes. The fact that the box read do not use if you have a pace maker or could be pregnant should have been my first sign. Returned.

Good old fashioned, unintimidating dial scale. I think I fell in love with the price first. It seemed to pure and simple. The first use I literally screamed and my husband came running. I had gained +25lbs in a single day. As it happens for those as naïve as I am, there’s a knob on the bottom that you have to adjust to “0”. Oops. All is well until I realized those things are a bugger to read. I’ve also grown to cherish the triumph of a .2 or .3 lose that is not accumulated on this outdated scale. Returned.

All the time and drama aside I landed back on the original model I owned. Modest price; conservative look; accurate or at least acceptable weight reading… Just right.

rising hope

a slip of paper

some time to pass

meaningful words

a tear to fall

a truth buried deep

reality unfolds

 

thoughts plagued by images

cold tile, icy feet

empty.

time grows again

further. longer.

 

doubt; quick, strong, binding

possibilities to dwell on

sleepless dreams

lifeless moments

 

rising hope

body lifting

shy, uncertain smile

next time. next time.