Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Beyoncé as Life Coach
Guys.
Beyoncé is fucking badass. No seriously. I love that girl. S'always been true, every since I would blast Destiny's Child as I was waiting in the half mile long line to pull into my high school's parking lot. God, "Say My Name" - SO GOOD! It was such a RELEASE to sing at the top of my lungs "if no one is around you, say 'baby I love you'"!!! Hm. Why yes my cheaty ex boyfriend DID live in front of the high school.
How ever did you know?
Anyway, ever since 2000/2001 I've been obse-hessed with Ms. Knowles, and am not ashamed to admit that I often look to her for advice. In college, my body WAS too "Bootylicious" for several boys, and "Survivor" carried me through the eventual (4th of 4) break-up with aforementioned cheaty ex boyfriend. I would go so far as to say "Independent Woman: Part I" (and all the other ones I mentioned) highly informed my college-age formation of my feminism, and if that makes me shallow or not curious enough, well fine. (I'd adopt a slightly defensive tone right now but I'm channeling B.) I've read Betty Friedan, Eve Ensler, Sojourner Truth, Simone de Beauvoir, and of course Gloria Steinem but no one speaks to me like Beyoncé.
And I'm alright with that.
More recently, I've followed the Knowlesian school of thought through her redo-for-FLOTUS of "Get Me Bodied," now known as "Move Your Body". That song gets me to the gym, it gets me to keep running when I'm exhausted, and it gets me up and dancing around my house after a long workout.
In other words, it's nothing short of a miracle.
So it should come as no surprise that as I slowly extricate myself from the remnants of a three year long relationship varying from "ZOMG, SO IN LOVE" to "zooooomg so SAAAAAAAD" and to "zomg? so confused?" I turn to Beyoncé once again for guidance.
And I have not been disappointed.
I know I haven't been talking about my "love life" (or lack thereof) recently, and so I'm sorry if this seems confusing. Quick update: it is officially time for Grad School Ex and I to go separate ways. To be clear, I love him just as much as I did yesterday, last month, last year and when we first started dating (and probably more so) but there comes a time in every girl's life when she says "alright. Enough."
My time is now.
Nothing specific happened, except for maybe some excellent therapy and alone time that made me realize - hey. I'm sort of awesome! And this situation is not. I need to be with someone who wants to be with me in five years, even we don't end up together for more than five months. It's the potential that is necessary, or maybe even just the ability to look forward and say "yeah. That'd be nice!"
And he can't give me that.
Which is fine, honestly. I don't doubt his feelings for me (well, mostly) and I don't doubt he has every intention of not wanting to hurt me. I don't have as much confidence in mySELF however, to prevent him from inadvertently doing so. I tend to fall into the "this is so great, who cares if the long term potential is near nil? I'll deal with that tomorrow" camp, and at some point this summer I realized that just wasn't working anymore. It is time to grow some proverbial balls, end whatever this was that's going on between us, and confidently face being alone and sometimes lonely so that I can find someone who loves me as much as I deserve.
I am woman hear me RAWR.
So of COURSE I would turn to Beyoncé in my time of need. She is the ultimate life coach! When I'm apprehensive about Grad School Ex's reaction if I started dating someone, all I need to do is put on "Single Ladies". When I feel nervous that I'm all wrong, and watch too much WHMS ("at least you could say you were married") I queue up "Irreplaceable" on my ipod and let the rhythms roll defiantly over me.
"I could have another you in a minute; matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute."
And then Beyoncé - sweet, wonderful Beyoncé - did something even better for me. Her latest (I think?) single, "Best Thing I Never Had" certainly isn't identical to my experience (like, at all). But it captures fantASTically well the feelings I've been having lately.
Shocker.
The - dude. Seriously?! - type feelings. The "I've never met someone who'd be better for you than me" ones. And thoughts like "good luck finding anyone ever who will sample all the Trader Joe's dried mango to find the kind you like just cause." The sort of sentiments you have when someone's hurt you deeply, sure, but also ones that I have to believe can be true. Mostly because they've already BEEN true, at least for me. I went on a date in July that utterly lacked in chemistry. It was disappointing - the one thing Grad School Ex and I never lacked was chemistry. It makes you think, if this is so great, why the hell is it over?
In steps Beyoncé.
I imagine her sitting me down, handing me a cup of tea and some healthyish cookies (a nod to FLOTUS of course) and patiently, but methodically, taking me through everything I already know. Just cause this is great on the surface doesn't mean it isn't making you deeply unhappy when you think about your future in days and weeks rather than months and years. You're too old to be excited by drama. And when did he EVER go to Trader Joe's to sample the chocolate covered, peanut butter filled, items for YOU?!
Ok, she wouldn't say that (hello, calories!) and also, he is and was VERY good to me.
But that doesn't change the fact this is over, and I need to get on board with that sooner rather than later. So with my sad sack music (thank you Becca! Useless Desires and Let Him Fly are HIGH up on my most-played list) I shall intersperse Beyoncé. I know that won't stop me from occasionally calling Maria in tears, and having Anna and Dan ply me with wonderful/terrible champagne. I know that won't fix the (small) hole in my stomach that aches when it rains and when I see happy people strolling down Adams Mill Road at night. And I know, as always, the only way to truly feel better is to let time pass, and the only way to truly move on is to love someone else. But I hope.
No no. I KNOW.
That Beyoncé, as she has so many times in the past, will aid the process, or at absolute worst make it bouncier. And in the end I know I'll "thank [Beyoncé] I found the good in goodbye".
Beyoncé is fucking badass. No seriously. I love that girl. S'always been true, every since I would blast Destiny's Child as I was waiting in the half mile long line to pull into my high school's parking lot. God, "Say My Name" - SO GOOD! It was such a RELEASE to sing at the top of my lungs "if no one is around you, say 'baby I love you'"!!! Hm. Why yes my cheaty ex boyfriend DID live in front of the high school.
How ever did you know?
Anyway, ever since 2000/2001 I've been obse-hessed with Ms. Knowles, and am not ashamed to admit that I often look to her for advice. In college, my body WAS too "Bootylicious" for several boys, and "Survivor" carried me through the eventual (4th of 4) break-up with aforementioned cheaty ex boyfriend. I would go so far as to say "Independent Woman: Part I" (and all the other ones I mentioned) highly informed my college-age formation of my feminism, and if that makes me shallow or not curious enough, well fine. (I'd adopt a slightly defensive tone right now but I'm channeling B.) I've read Betty Friedan, Eve Ensler, Sojourner Truth, Simone de Beauvoir, and of course Gloria Steinem but no one speaks to me like Beyoncé.
And I'm alright with that.
More recently, I've followed the Knowlesian school of thought through her redo-for-FLOTUS of "Get Me Bodied," now known as "Move Your Body". That song gets me to the gym, it gets me to keep running when I'm exhausted, and it gets me up and dancing around my house after a long workout.
In other words, it's nothing short of a miracle.
So it should come as no surprise that as I slowly extricate myself from the remnants of a three year long relationship varying from "ZOMG, SO IN LOVE" to "zooooomg so SAAAAAAAD" and to "zomg? so confused?" I turn to Beyoncé once again for guidance.
And I have not been disappointed.
I know I haven't been talking about my "love life" (or lack thereof) recently, and so I'm sorry if this seems confusing. Quick update: it is officially time for Grad School Ex and I to go separate ways. To be clear, I love him just as much as I did yesterday, last month, last year and when we first started dating (and probably more so) but there comes a time in every girl's life when she says "alright. Enough."
My time is now.
Nothing specific happened, except for maybe some excellent therapy and alone time that made me realize - hey. I'm sort of awesome! And this situation is not. I need to be with someone who wants to be with me in five years, even we don't end up together for more than five months. It's the potential that is necessary, or maybe even just the ability to look forward and say "yeah. That'd be nice!"
And he can't give me that.
Which is fine, honestly. I don't doubt his feelings for me (well, mostly) and I don't doubt he has every intention of not wanting to hurt me. I don't have as much confidence in mySELF however, to prevent him from inadvertently doing so. I tend to fall into the "this is so great, who cares if the long term potential is near nil? I'll deal with that tomorrow" camp, and at some point this summer I realized that just wasn't working anymore. It is time to grow some proverbial balls, end whatever this was that's going on between us, and confidently face being alone and sometimes lonely so that I can find someone who loves me as much as I deserve.
I am woman hear me RAWR.
So of COURSE I would turn to Beyoncé in my time of need. She is the ultimate life coach! When I'm apprehensive about Grad School Ex's reaction if I started dating someone, all I need to do is put on "Single Ladies". When I feel nervous that I'm all wrong, and watch too much WHMS ("at least you could say you were married") I queue up "Irreplaceable" on my ipod and let the rhythms roll defiantly over me.
"I could have another you in a minute; matter of fact, he'll be here in a minute."
And then Beyoncé - sweet, wonderful Beyoncé - did something even better for me. Her latest (I think?) single, "Best Thing I Never Had" certainly isn't identical to my experience (like, at all). But it captures fantASTically well the feelings I've been having lately.
Shocker.
The - dude. Seriously?! - type feelings. The "I've never met someone who'd be better for you than me" ones. And thoughts like "good luck finding anyone ever who will sample all the Trader Joe's dried mango to find the kind you like just cause." The sort of sentiments you have when someone's hurt you deeply, sure, but also ones that I have to believe can be true. Mostly because they've already BEEN true, at least for me. I went on a date in July that utterly lacked in chemistry. It was disappointing - the one thing Grad School Ex and I never lacked was chemistry. It makes you think, if this is so great, why the hell is it over?
In steps Beyoncé.
I imagine her sitting me down, handing me a cup of tea and some healthyish cookies (a nod to FLOTUS of course) and patiently, but methodically, taking me through everything I already know. Just cause this is great on the surface doesn't mean it isn't making you deeply unhappy when you think about your future in days and weeks rather than months and years. You're too old to be excited by drama. And when did he EVER go to Trader Joe's to sample the chocolate covered, peanut butter filled, items for YOU?!
Ok, she wouldn't say that (hello, calories!) and also, he is and was VERY good to me.
But that doesn't change the fact this is over, and I need to get on board with that sooner rather than later. So with my sad sack music (thank you Becca! Useless Desires and Let Him Fly are HIGH up on my most-played list) I shall intersperse Beyoncé. I know that won't stop me from occasionally calling Maria in tears, and having Anna and Dan ply me with wonderful/terrible champagne. I know that won't fix the (small) hole in my stomach that aches when it rains and when I see happy people strolling down Adams Mill Road at night. And I know, as always, the only way to truly feel better is to let time pass, and the only way to truly move on is to love someone else. But I hope.
No no. I KNOW.
That Beyoncé, as she has so many times in the past, will aid the process, or at absolute worst make it bouncier. And in the end I know I'll "thank [Beyoncé] I found the good in goodbye".
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Update: the sky is falling! The sky is falling!
I'm sure all y'all already read Lemmonex and don't need me to tell you you should.
BUT!
Just in case you were thinking of skipping her today, don't. Her post is... important. And meaningful. And the scary sad side of the earthquake today, not the funny "I got to have a stiff drink when I got home from work because DC peeps are fraidy cats!"
Ok there's some of that too.
But yeah. The cell phone service being out for as long as it was, and the booms, and the sirens, and the eerie lack of people on the streets in my neighborhood, and the general "ohhay! You're a person and so am I and so I won't look down at my cell phone I'll smile in relief at you instead", gave me flashbacks. It wasn't fun. It was, in fact, AWFUL. So you know, it's nice to have people like her who tell things well and make you smile wryly in recognition rather than just sipping your whiskey and wondering if you were the only one who felt that way, and also, if that feeling would ever go away.
BUT!
Just in case you were thinking of skipping her today, don't. Her post is... important. And meaningful. And the scary sad side of the earthquake today, not the funny "I got to have a stiff drink when I got home from work because DC peeps are fraidy cats!"
Ok there's some of that too.
But yeah. The cell phone service being out for as long as it was, and the booms, and the sirens, and the eerie lack of people on the streets in my neighborhood, and the general "ohhay! You're a person and so am I and so I won't look down at my cell phone I'll smile in relief at you instead", gave me flashbacks. It wasn't fun. It was, in fact, AWFUL. So you know, it's nice to have people like her who tell things well and make you smile wryly in recognition rather than just sipping your whiskey and wondering if you were the only one who felt that way, and also, if that feeling would ever go away.
EARRRRRRRRRRTHQUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAKE!
That was kind of scary wasn't it? It's been over an hour and I'm still shaky. I was in the West End Public Library and as the shaking started I sort of looked up and was like "seriously? Earthquake?" People started running and I found myself standing and being like "don't run! Just stay put until the shaking stops."
I have no idea where THAT came from.
Like so many others in DC we were immediately evacuated, so I walked over to my therapy appointment a few minutes early. Of course, they were ALSO evacuated, so I found my therapist (hilarious actually - "are you ok?" "Aren't I the one who is supposed to ask that?") and you know, canceled that. My office was (wait for it) evacuated so I went home, and became the 42 bus expert on earthquakes because I had twitter access.
I knew there was a reason I tweeted other than to talk about cougars!
Anyway, I'm home now and starting to recover (I hate that that's true, but I'd be lying if I said I was tooootes cooo with this shit). The white wine I'm sipping is helping. So is the whiskey that is clinking in my hand. My apartment was thankfully practically untouched (and Daddy, if you're reading this, yes, it might have actually helped the situation, I know you were dying to ask. Also, why the hell are you reading this, GO AWAY), although my wine shelf apparently shifted some so when I walked into the kitchen my bottle of wine from Budapest decided to jump to the floor.
Hungarian glass is STRONG dudes!
I know all you Califorrrrrnians (points to the winner!) are out there on your other coast judging us East Coast peeps (don't MAKE me get all Biggie on you bitches. Or something like that. Yes I had to wikipedia whether Tupac or Biggie was from the east, WHAT?!).
Uh, anyway.
But I'd like to see you all handle the hurricanes we do. Don't tell me about your hurricanes, cause trust me, I WATCH Hurricane Watch on the Weather Channel (and have since 1990, the summer that my father (DADDY GO AWAY) implemented his policy of absolutely no TV other than the Weather Channel in the summer policy) and I know what's what. Also, fine, ok, forget hurricanes. I have one, apostrophed word for you:
NOR'EASTERS.
They don't call them So'Calsters and they are DEADLY. S'not good. So you can take your smug, no-good keester (spelling?) off my property. And by property, I mean facebook feed.
In all seriousness, I know that people get hit a lot worse every day by nature and their fellow man. And I know that in Libya, a brutal dictator is falling, and we should prob just be thrilled that that happened, and maybe that I got to drink whiskey in the middle of the day.
But.
That was really scary for me guys. I hope it wasn't as scary for you. And I hope that that's enough nature throws at us for a little while. Hear that Hurricane Irene?! DON'T MAKE ME GET ALL... um... TALLIE SHORTS ON YOUR EYE.
I've lost you all now, haven't I?
I have no idea where THAT came from.
Like so many others in DC we were immediately evacuated, so I walked over to my therapy appointment a few minutes early. Of course, they were ALSO evacuated, so I found my therapist (hilarious actually - "are you ok?" "Aren't I the one who is supposed to ask that?") and you know, canceled that. My office was (wait for it) evacuated so I went home, and became the 42 bus expert on earthquakes because I had twitter access.
I knew there was a reason I tweeted other than to talk about cougars!
Anyway, I'm home now and starting to recover (I hate that that's true, but I'd be lying if I said I was tooootes cooo with this shit). The white wine I'm sipping is helping. So is the whiskey that is clinking in my hand. My apartment was thankfully practically untouched (and Daddy, if you're reading this, yes, it might have actually helped the situation, I know you were dying to ask. Also, why the hell are you reading this, GO AWAY), although my wine shelf apparently shifted some so when I walked into the kitchen my bottle of wine from Budapest decided to jump to the floor.
Hungarian glass is STRONG dudes!
I know all you Califorrrrrnians (points to the winner!) are out there on your other coast judging us East Coast peeps (don't MAKE me get all Biggie on you bitches. Or something like that. Yes I had to wikipedia whether Tupac or Biggie was from the east, WHAT?!).
Uh, anyway.
But I'd like to see you all handle the hurricanes we do. Don't tell me about your hurricanes, cause trust me, I WATCH Hurricane Watch on the Weather Channel (and have since 1990, the summer that my father (DADDY GO AWAY) implemented his policy of absolutely no TV other than the Weather Channel in the summer policy) and I know what's what. Also, fine, ok, forget hurricanes. I have one, apostrophed word for you:
NOR'EASTERS.
They don't call them So'Calsters and they are DEADLY. S'not good. So you can take your smug, no-good keester (spelling?) off my property. And by property, I mean facebook feed.
In all seriousness, I know that people get hit a lot worse every day by nature and their fellow man. And I know that in Libya, a brutal dictator is falling, and we should prob just be thrilled that that happened, and maybe that I got to drink whiskey in the middle of the day.
But.
That was really scary for me guys. I hope it wasn't as scary for you. And I hope that that's enough nature throws at us for a little while. Hear that Hurricane Irene?! DON'T MAKE ME GET ALL... um... TALLIE SHORTS ON YOUR EYE.
I've lost you all now, haven't I?
Friday, August 19, 2011
People Who Rock. People Who Suck.
Alright I was a little bummy yesterday so today's PWS is very very limited, and the PWR are pretty damn awesome. Happy weekend you guys!!
People Who Rock:
People Who Rock:
- My famigs. They are le awesome;
- Vang Thi Mai. She is brave, she is fearless, she is saving women. Read the article, and then join me in wishing we had more ladies like her;
- Hamid Chaudhry, in a slightly different - dude, awesome - vein. I loooove people, and also? I loooooove ice cream. I just sorta want to hug Mr. Chaudhry and maybe offer up some babysitting services so he and his wife could enjoy a night out;
- Tina Fey. My sister, a nonreader, has been enjoying Bossypants all week at the shore and that's damn impressive. Good job Ms. Fey!;
- Jen Lancaster. I thought I had read her books before (based on the looooove from Arielle) but I haven't. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?! She is simply awesome;
- The manicurist who did my nails last Friday. They are still almost entirely intact. WHAT DID YOU DO?! Amazing; and
- Elizabeth Warren. In times of bad and worse news coming from the District, and politicians everywhere really disappointing (Obama) or horrifying (Perry, Bachmann - yes even you my hombre-ette) finding out that a truly principled person (as far as I can tell) put in her name for Ted Kennedy's Senate spot just about made my day. One, yay EW. Two, anyone know if she needs some snarky staffers? Three - I realize there's potential for more disappointment here, I'm not an idiot (on this shit) but for now LET ME HAVE MY BLISSFUL HAPPINESS.
People Who Suck:
- The Bayi Rockets;
- [not today];
- [whatevs];
- [meh];
- Chris Christie. Either until he stops hating on cops and teachers (the very people who you know, MAKE SOCIETY RUN IN A CIVIL WAY), he is number five on the people who suck list. Because he sucks, times five.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
a house divided? a world divided.
Things have really fallen in the pooper lately, haven't they?
Every morning when I wake up the first thing I do inevitably is read the latest news (yes, even if "latest" means "since I fell asleep 3 hours ago"). Recently during this morning ritual, without FAIL, I have been reminded old song by the Kingston Trio song, which I could pretend to know cause I'm cool but really have knowledge of due to Madeleine L'Engle (through Vicky Austin and Zachary Gray). The original version can be found here, but I've modified it a bit for current times:
You know. September 11, 2001.
However, the immediate resolution of all these problems really isn't going to mean much in the long haul. The riots stopped, calls for Al-Assad are growing daily so perhaps he will cease killing his own people (or be deposed), maybe just maybe 2012 won't be the debacle I'm pretty sure we're facing. It's possible the radiation will disappear for Japan, I suppose, and I guess Norway could mend their wounds. Somalia/Mississippi - I've got nothing. Maybe the Dow will go up 600 points tomorrow (in fact, I'm sure that'll be a low estimate) and we all will sing Hallelujah and Kumbaya.
But none of that really doesn't, and won't, change SHIT.
Unless we - and by we, I don't mean people in DC, or Americans, or wealthy entitled countries. I mean as the HUMAN RACE - decide that the destruction of our neighbor means our own inevitable destruction, we're going to wipe ourselves out before the meteors or expansion of the sun or aliens can.
And soon.
Sure, soon in the course of history means in the next millenium, but I don't care. I like people. I like that we think and care and are benevolent and all those science studies that differentiate us from apes. But lately (and again, lately can mean as far back as the 40s) it seems we are more concerned with winning than anything else. Lord knows I'm guilty of that more than many (I believe I just said "V FOR VICTORY" on the beach about my brother's wedding being hailed as the Event of the Year/Decade/Century/Millenium from some quarters. My dad said "who did we beat?" Everyone. Duh.) but the thing is, your mom/soccer coach/Red Sanders was right - winning ISN'T everything. Or maybe they should say BEATING the other guy isn't everything. Because if I beat someone - I meaning not so much your nemesis on the field but rather the corrupt banker, the monopolistic company, the political party, the dominant country, or whatever - that means someone is beaten.
And that someone is a HUMAN BEING.
I don't mean to go all "give peace a chance" hippy dippy on all y'all. But as you probably know from reading this blog (if you do. If you're new, hi! Usually I talk about relationships and booze, feel free to drop in again - tomorrow's post is much more in that vein), I've been reading and re-reading the Hunger Games lately. LOVE those books. And at some point in the third book (not really spoiler alert, but don't read if you're a good rememberer and want to be completely surprised about everything in the third book. Oh hell, whatever, spoiler alert) Peeta says something along the lines of we need to stop fighting before we kill ourselves off.
That Peeta is a smart work of fiction.
Because if we continue in this vein of beating, whether its physical (Mississippi, RIP James Craig Anderson), business (see: News of the World scandal. Banking collapses and financial crises from 2008 and on) sovereign (Israel/Palestine. Bahrain. Saudi Arabia. Libya, Syria, etc etc etc) or just good old politics (here's looking at you DC), at some point there will be no one left, because they were killed, bombed, beaten, destroyed, or just defaulted so hard that they sank like end of Pax Romana.
Nero fiddled, and that didn't get anyone ANYWHERE.
So here's my call, which albeit comes from a nonimportant blog and a nonimportant (well, I mean, whatever) person. As a much wiser man than I once said - can't we all just get along (Rodney King, you are awesome)? Please (that's my addition)? Let's prove the old song WRONG (and now I quote directly):
Every morning when I wake up the first thing I do inevitably is read the latest news (yes, even if "latest" means "since I fell asleep 3 hours ago"). Recently during this morning ritual, without FAIL, I have been reminded old song by the Kingston Trio song, which I could pretend to know cause I'm cool but really have knowledge of due to Madeleine L'Engle (through Vicky Austin and Zachary Gray). The original version can be found here, but I've modified it a bit for current times:
They're rioting in London, they're starving in th' HornI don't mean to sound despondent (I mean, I take 150mg of anti-despondency a day, right?) but still, the world BLOWS these days. Terrorism, uprisings across the globe, some of which I agree with, and some of which I do not (I follow this lady's philosophy: if we're going to fight for a cause, let's fight for a fucking cause!). "Leaders" killing their people (I'm looking at you, Bashar, and you, Qaddafi) and "leaders" fucking their people over (Boehner, the Tea Party) and "leaders" letting them do it (Turkey, the USA, Saudi, etc and then Obama/Reid respectively). Our country, which is supposed to be some fucking shining light on a hill, had a lynching for chrissake the other day, and the Dow Jones is EVEN MORE bi fucking polar than it was TEN YEARS AGO.
The Arabs want democracy; they're just met with scorn
The whole world is festering with unhappy souls
Republicans screw Democrats, the Dems have no goals
Japan is despoiled, over Norway there's a pall
And I don't have much hope at all
You know. September 11, 2001.
However, the immediate resolution of all these problems really isn't going to mean much in the long haul. The riots stopped, calls for Al-Assad are growing daily so perhaps he will cease killing his own people (or be deposed), maybe just maybe 2012 won't be the debacle I'm pretty sure we're facing. It's possible the radiation will disappear for Japan, I suppose, and I guess Norway could mend their wounds. Somalia/Mississippi - I've got nothing. Maybe the Dow will go up 600 points tomorrow (in fact, I'm sure that'll be a low estimate) and we all will sing Hallelujah and Kumbaya.
But none of that really doesn't, and won't, change SHIT.
Unless we - and by we, I don't mean people in DC, or Americans, or wealthy entitled countries. I mean as the HUMAN RACE - decide that the destruction of our neighbor means our own inevitable destruction, we're going to wipe ourselves out before the meteors or expansion of the sun or aliens can.
And soon.
Sure, soon in the course of history means in the next millenium, but I don't care. I like people. I like that we think and care and are benevolent and all those science studies that differentiate us from apes. But lately (and again, lately can mean as far back as the 40s) it seems we are more concerned with winning than anything else. Lord knows I'm guilty of that more than many (I believe I just said "V FOR VICTORY" on the beach about my brother's wedding being hailed as the Event of the Year/Decade/Century/Millenium from some quarters. My dad said "who did we beat?" Everyone. Duh.) but the thing is, your mom/soccer coach/Red Sanders was right - winning ISN'T everything. Or maybe they should say BEATING the other guy isn't everything. Because if I beat someone - I meaning not so much your nemesis on the field but rather the corrupt banker, the monopolistic company, the political party, the dominant country, or whatever - that means someone is beaten.
And that someone is a HUMAN BEING.
I don't mean to go all "give peace a chance" hippy dippy on all y'all. But as you probably know from reading this blog (if you do. If you're new, hi! Usually I talk about relationships and booze, feel free to drop in again - tomorrow's post is much more in that vein), I've been reading and re-reading the Hunger Games lately. LOVE those books. And at some point in the third book (not really spoiler alert, but don't read if you're a good rememberer and want to be completely surprised about everything in the third book. Oh hell, whatever, spoiler alert) Peeta says something along the lines of we need to stop fighting before we kill ourselves off.
That Peeta is a smart work of fiction.
Because if we continue in this vein of beating, whether its physical (Mississippi, RIP James Craig Anderson), business (see: News of the World scandal. Banking collapses and financial crises from 2008 and on) sovereign (Israel/Palestine. Bahrain. Saudi Arabia. Libya, Syria, etc etc etc) or just good old politics (here's looking at you DC), at some point there will be no one left, because they were killed, bombed, beaten, destroyed, or just defaulted so hard that they sank like end of Pax Romana.
Nero fiddled, and that didn't get anyone ANYWHERE.
So here's my call, which albeit comes from a nonimportant blog and a nonimportant (well, I mean, whatever) person. As a much wiser man than I once said - can't we all just get along (Rodney King, you are awesome)? Please (that's my addition)? Let's prove the old song WRONG (and now I quote directly):
They're rioting in Africa, there's strife in Iran.It's not too late people. Let's start giving a shit about the human race, and stop "beating" people - it's the only way we all win.
What nature doesn't do to us, will be done by our fellow man.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Zit Whisperer
So.
I've talked about how I like to pop zits before (apparently less than I thought, which is AWESOME because I'm about to a whole lot). The thing is, it's not just something I resign myself to because it's necessary. I LOVE doing it. It is immensely satisfying, so satisfying, that when I have nothing to pop I squeeze blackheads (cause there are always blackheads). I THINK about doing it when I have a particularly bad one but am in a place where I can't pop it right now. No joke, JK Rowling MAY have cemented her place in my permanent People Who Rock list when she described the bubotuber pus in the third book (if not then, then slightly later with the fight in the common room post-Yule Ball in book 4). In short - this is something I THOROUGHLY enjoy.
And if it stopped there, maybe that'd be OK.
Except it doesn't. Like, at all. I see a zit on someone else and I'm like ooooo that'd be a fun one. My poor baby sister has me and only me to apply suntan lotion this week and every time I pause to squirt out a bit more she tenses up because she thinks I'm going to start squeezing. I mean, cmon! Just because I lunged at her last week being like "LET ME POP IT" doesn't mean I can't restrain myself.
Well. Maybe.
The thing is, I'm GREAT at it. I know exactly how to make those bad boys go away. I have a memory of being in my lateish teens and sitting on the counter squeezing something while my brother watched me from the hall in fascinated horror. I said "now Mikey, what you have to do is make sure it bleeds because that means you've gotten all the gook out. If it's just leaky the clear stuff, it'll come back you mark my words.
And I was right.
It's not just the blood, because once I read if a zit bleeds too much you might have hit a capillary and that's no fun. But it's things like knowing when a zit should be squeezed vs popped vs dissected very very carefully with a cauterized needle. I pride myself on knowing when things shouldn't be popped as well - I learned the whole "cystic acne" lesson the hard way when I had a massive, continuously existing, pulsating, throbbing bump on my chin that WOULD NOT GO AWAY.
That was before I became the zit whisperer.
Now I'm your girl if you have acne on your face, back, arms, legs, ass. I know what kind of acid (glycolic vs salicylic) to be applied, where and when. I've tried all the home remedies like toothpaste and lemon juice and cucumbers. I've done the Acne Treatment (it's a book, and it's great), I was on Proactiv until it dried my entire face out so even water burned, and now I wash with Cetaphil and use a daily face lotion. I've picked, squeezed, jabbed, poked, popped and utterly defeated more zits than a 15 year old boy. I've never been on Accutane, but I know friends who have and who have LOVED it (slash been horrified by the pregnant ladies slashed out on the little white tabs in the box). I've done this for YOU. Well, no, I did it for me (and sometimes my mom) but that doesn't change the fact.
I'm a zit guru.
If only my skills were accepted as fabulous, rather than judged (for example, by my aforementioned sister) as "really weird". I mean, I don't sit here and cast aspersions on people for buying lots of clothes! Or for wanting to be vegan! Why are my habits so scandalous?!
I guess it's the bodily fluid thing, but I'm very careful. I wash my hands, I make sure my needles are properly sterilized, and I am kind! I kiss the boo boos after I'm done! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME.
That said, if you don't want to read my blog again, that's fine. But before you leave forever, just come here a sec... I see a really juicy blackhead that's calling my name.
I've talked about how I like to pop zits before (apparently less than I thought, which is AWESOME because I'm about to a whole lot). The thing is, it's not just something I resign myself to because it's necessary. I LOVE doing it. It is immensely satisfying, so satisfying, that when I have nothing to pop I squeeze blackheads (cause there are always blackheads). I THINK about doing it when I have a particularly bad one but am in a place where I can't pop it right now. No joke, JK Rowling MAY have cemented her place in my permanent People Who Rock list when she described the bubotuber pus in the third book (if not then, then slightly later with the fight in the common room post-Yule Ball in book 4). In short - this is something I THOROUGHLY enjoy.
And if it stopped there, maybe that'd be OK.
Except it doesn't. Like, at all. I see a zit on someone else and I'm like ooooo that'd be a fun one. My poor baby sister has me and only me to apply suntan lotion this week and every time I pause to squirt out a bit more she tenses up because she thinks I'm going to start squeezing. I mean, cmon! Just because I lunged at her last week being like "LET ME POP IT" doesn't mean I can't restrain myself.
Well. Maybe.
The thing is, I'm GREAT at it. I know exactly how to make those bad boys go away. I have a memory of being in my lateish teens and sitting on the counter squeezing something while my brother watched me from the hall in fascinated horror. I said "now Mikey, what you have to do is make sure it bleeds because that means you've gotten all the gook out. If it's just leaky the clear stuff, it'll come back you mark my words.
And I was right.
It's not just the blood, because once I read if a zit bleeds too much you might have hit a capillary and that's no fun. But it's things like knowing when a zit should be squeezed vs popped vs dissected very very carefully with a cauterized needle. I pride myself on knowing when things shouldn't be popped as well - I learned the whole "cystic acne" lesson the hard way when I had a massive, continuously existing, pulsating, throbbing bump on my chin that WOULD NOT GO AWAY.
That was before I became the zit whisperer.
Now I'm your girl if you have acne on your face, back, arms, legs, ass. I know what kind of acid (glycolic vs salicylic) to be applied, where and when. I've tried all the home remedies like toothpaste and lemon juice and cucumbers. I've done the Acne Treatment (it's a book, and it's great), I was on Proactiv until it dried my entire face out so even water burned, and now I wash with Cetaphil and use a daily face lotion. I've picked, squeezed, jabbed, poked, popped and utterly defeated more zits than a 15 year old boy. I've never been on Accutane, but I know friends who have and who have LOVED it (slash been horrified by the pregnant ladies slashed out on the little white tabs in the box). I've done this for YOU. Well, no, I did it for me (and sometimes my mom) but that doesn't change the fact.
I'm a zit guru.
If only my skills were accepted as fabulous, rather than judged (for example, by my aforementioned sister) as "really weird". I mean, I don't sit here and cast aspersions on people for buying lots of clothes! Or for wanting to be vegan! Why are my habits so scandalous?!
I guess it's the bodily fluid thing, but I'm very careful. I wash my hands, I make sure my needles are properly sterilized, and I am kind! I kiss the boo boos after I'm done! WHY DOESN'T ANYONE UNDERSTAND ME.
That said, if you don't want to read my blog again, that's fine. But before you leave forever, just come here a sec... I see a really juicy blackhead that's calling my name.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Things I missed at some point in the last week
In the run up to the wedding and my vacation (oh yeah I don't get to go on the honeymoon but the rest of my fam sans bro-n-sister in law are at the beach for a few days) I had real work to do and loooooots of tasks that had to be completed before leaving for the wedding. Blogging fell to the wayside (so did showering. Ew, I know) but that's a shame because a few things happened with the blog whilst I was gone:
- The blog turned four! Happy blog...irthday? I got nothing.
- You all hit a huge milestone with visitor amts! That number has a LOT of zeroes my friends!
- The economy is dying. Or something. I have a feeling we might revisit that.
- I got my nails done and they didn't chip on the first day. SUCCESS!
- I met a boy, we fell in love, we got married and had kids. OR whatever, that didn't happen, except for in a weird dream I had that ended with a hostage situation in a house overlooking some verdant valley in SE Asia where I knew everything that was going to happen but couldn't tell anyone.
- I read some books. I need some more to read. Please send suggestions.
- That's it really. How have you been?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Best Wedding EVAAAAAAAAAAAR
So.
My baby brother got married yesterday. I mean, he's not a baby anymore, cause that would be awkward and also probably illegal, but he is 1 year, 8 months and 26 days younger than I am and so he is and always shall be "little" to me.
Even though he is 6ft and I'm 5'6 on a good day.
Anyway, he got married to his lovely wife (!!!) Alexis at Columbia where they met as students at Barnard (she) and Columbia (he).
Roar Lion Roar.
And I can say, after much thought, reflection, and note-comparing (with myself) that it was absolutely the best wedding I have ever been to in my entire life, which at this point is a number approaching if not triple digits, something in the range of 50-75.
I'm not joking. I started very young.
Anyway, so that I don't just get sort of weepy that it's all over and that I DON'T get to now go to Hawaii (annoying), I think I'll go right into the recap.
What: a secular ceremony on Columbia's campus
Where: New York, NY
When: August 2011
Why: uh, hello?
How: drove up to New Jersey la-ha-haaaate on Thursday night, tried to sleep it off at my parents' house (failed). Drove into the city with the fam (minus the groom obvi) on Friday for the rehearsal; stayed at the W in Union Square.
Drink(s) of choice: the signature cocktail (naming it would definitely out me, ehem) which was based on a bellini. Also, prosecco that I stole from the groom cause I'm a good sister like that.
Highlight: too many. The vows they wrote. The bridesmaids being just incredible human beings. Bagels for breakfast. My mom being tipsy at the rehearsal dinner. Meeting the other brother of the bride for the first time, plus his two kids. Stealing the child of one of my brother's friends because he was so sweet and so cute and so warm against my chest that it makes me want to cry now. Getting a card in the mailbox from Arielle when we got back to New Jersey. The best man's speech. THE BEST MAN'S SPEECH! Telling my lame(r) cousins it was time to get over themselves and dance. Dancing the tarantella. My brother dancing to Single Ladies. Them actually getting married, ie, being one of their official witnesses to the signing of the license. Post-reception pizza and karaoke. Forget that - the food at the reception!! PANCETTA!! But the absolute best part of the night for me was when we were eating and the DJ put on Billy Joel's Italian Restaurant. My siblings and I came up, started singing along and dancing (obvi we know all the words) and soon after the bride joined us (she had to put down her fork etc). The four of us danced like the crazy white people we are and sang and everyone watched and there is no part of that sentence that doesn't fill me with joy.
Lowlight: I wish this wasn't true, but for about 3 hours that morning my parents were getting very very sick. But in case anyone was wondering, Emetrol WORKS!!!! So that's it. If that's a lowlight.
Music grade: A++++++++++ DJ WAS AMAZING!! Actually, probably the bride was amazing, although the DJ was very good. Perfect mix (like, people kept commenting on it) of classic dance music for the first few hours, sprinkled with some Italian-American fabulousness and then BAM Beyonce, Miley, etc. I requested the Cha-cha slide which apparently wasn't supposed to happen (no line dances?) but it DID and everyone LOVED it and they ended with Billy JOEL and there was so MUCH Billy Joel and I AM SO HAPPY I CANNOT STAND IT.
Lessons learned:
My baby brother got married yesterday. I mean, he's not a baby anymore, cause that would be awkward and also probably illegal, but he is 1 year, 8 months and 26 days younger than I am and so he is and always shall be "little" to me.
Even though he is 6ft and I'm 5'6 on a good day.
Anyway, he got married to his lovely wife (!!!) Alexis at Columbia where they met as students at Barnard (she) and Columbia (he).
Roar Lion Roar.
And I can say, after much thought, reflection, and note-comparing (with myself) that it was absolutely the best wedding I have ever been to in my entire life, which at this point is a number approaching if not triple digits, something in the range of 50-75.
I'm not joking. I started very young.
Anyway, so that I don't just get sort of weepy that it's all over and that I DON'T get to now go to Hawaii (annoying), I think I'll go right into the recap.
11 in "11" - Wedding Recap 3
Who: my brother. Also, clearly, his wife. Met 8 years ago, started dating 2 years later, and are now married!What: a secular ceremony on Columbia's campus
Where: New York, NY
When: August 2011
Why: uh, hello?
How: drove up to New Jersey la-ha-haaaate on Thursday night, tried to sleep it off at my parents' house (failed). Drove into the city with the fam (minus the groom obvi) on Friday for the rehearsal; stayed at the W in Union Square.
Drink(s) of choice: the signature cocktail (naming it would definitely out me, ehem) which was based on a bellini. Also, prosecco that I stole from the groom cause I'm a good sister like that.
Highlight: too many. The vows they wrote. The bridesmaids being just incredible human beings. Bagels for breakfast. My mom being tipsy at the rehearsal dinner. Meeting the other brother of the bride for the first time, plus his two kids. Stealing the child of one of my brother's friends because he was so sweet and so cute and so warm against my chest that it makes me want to cry now. Getting a card in the mailbox from Arielle when we got back to New Jersey. The best man's speech. THE BEST MAN'S SPEECH! Telling my lame(r) cousins it was time to get over themselves and dance. Dancing the tarantella. My brother dancing to Single Ladies. Them actually getting married, ie, being one of their official witnesses to the signing of the license. Post-reception pizza and karaoke. Forget that - the food at the reception!! PANCETTA!! But the absolute best part of the night for me was when we were eating and the DJ put on Billy Joel's Italian Restaurant. My siblings and I came up, started singing along and dancing (obvi we know all the words) and soon after the bride joined us (she had to put down her fork etc). The four of us danced like the crazy white people we are and sang and everyone watched and there is no part of that sentence that doesn't fill me with joy.
Lowlight: I wish this wasn't true, but for about 3 hours that morning my parents were getting very very sick. But in case anyone was wondering, Emetrol WORKS!!!! So that's it. If that's a lowlight.
Music grade: A++++++++++ DJ WAS AMAZING!! Actually, probably the bride was amazing, although the DJ was very good. Perfect mix (like, people kept commenting on it) of classic dance music for the first few hours, sprinkled with some Italian-American fabulousness and then BAM Beyonce, Miley, etc. I requested the Cha-cha slide which apparently wasn't supposed to happen (no line dances?) but it DID and everyone LOVED it and they ended with Billy JOEL and there was so MUCH Billy Joel and I AM SO HAPPY I CANNOT STAND IT.
Lessons learned:
- August weather is fickle in New York, but if you're lucky, it's not too bad. Still - coulda been today. Eek! Rain everywhere.
- Have water at the reception?
- Day-of coordinators are KEY. KEY! They kept everyone on schedule and happy (and hydrated. I'm sorry I get thirsty!).
- I might make my sister do a "reading" at my wedding (if it happens) in song, because she spoke a Sondheim song and it was fabulous, but she's got a really good voice.
- Fake eyelashes are the shit.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Hole in my pants and other sundry things from my day
I'm having a sort of weird day. Well, actually, it's been a weird week and it seems as though it's not just me. I'm gonna go ahead and bullet it out for all y'all, and then you guys should feel free to add what's weirding you out in the comments!
- There are ants on my windowsill. I don't know where they're coming from. I'm assuming the window but there's not like, a telltale line of ants. All I know is I keep vacuuming them up, and they keep reappearing. It's like zombie ants or something.
- Vacuum is a funnily spelled word. Why do I always, still, think it's spelled vacumn?
- I've got an awesome whiteboard in my house that I use for to do lists, and I've now gotten to the point where everything on it is something I don't want to do. Here's how you know: I've been vacuuming or vacumning or WHATEVER everything that moves. And a bunch of things that don't.
- Telling myself I can eat anything I want weirdly has resulted in my eating healthier than I have in a while. I think my mom would be happy to know that she's not the only one who my brain responds to with "you DON'T want me to do X? Oh just watch me do it. Right. NOW!"
- There is a hole in the ass of the leggings I'm wearing right now. I didn't realize it until AFTER I had been to the grocery store, running store, post office, and landlord's office. Whoops. Hope you guys enjoyed the show?
- I came back from said errands with 2 pints of Ben and Jerrys and a massive stick of body glide. I can't tell if this means I'm working out and I can now eat all the ice cream I want or if I maybe cut OUT the ice cream I wouldn't experience the chafing. Hm.
- I moved someone's laundry from the washer to the dryer today, and I got ill at the thought of touching their (well, his) underwear. First of all, there weren't any briefs, boxers or anything IN the load. Second of all, it was coming out of the WASHING MACHINE. I'm squeamish. Who knew?
- The air conditioner in the apartment above mine leaks and the leaks hit my airconditioner and spray into my apartment when I have my windows open. Do we think I'm going to get some sort of burn from all this A/C fluid? Or like, is it just water? Cause I spent 15 minutes thinking about this today.
- I wonder if post paralegalling I will ever be able to think of my day in anything but 15 (or six if it's bankruptcy!) minute segments. It's been almost five years since I left the firm. This has to go away soon, right?
- 90s music was pretty much the best shit ever. Remember ska? I do. Remember emo before it was all wah wah? I DO. Why do musical artists suck these days?
- Not you Rihanna. Or you Beyonce. You guys are my girls. Or something like that.
Also, I need feedback from you guys:
- My lower back hurts and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I've tried every stretch I know and nothing works. Mostly, I feel like I'm getting my period except I'm def not. So - any tips?
- I'm starting to get serious enough about running that I'm thinking of buying legit gear as opposed to my old DC Bocce and Corporate Challenge shirts. Aside from a ridiculously sturdy sports bra and something new like shorts or a running skirt to augment my wardrobe, and maybe one of those goofy water holders, what do I need?
- I need new songs. I have like 16GB of music and everything sounds old. Help me!
- What does "so I said I'm a snowball running" even mean? It doesn't make sense. Snowballs don't run damnit.
- How do I stop thinking in short 1-2 sentence bursts? Cause this is starting to get old.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
How do you like THEM apples?
I'm feeling super opinionated these days, so all y'all should feel lucky that this is the first sort of partisany post you've gotten. XOXO:
Also. I LOVE MATT DAMON I WANT HIM TO MARRY ME EXCEPT HE'S GOT THAT WIFE AND LIKE FOUR DAUGHTERS SO FINE STAY WITH HER AND I'LL JUST SIT HERE AND PINE.
Love. LOVE. LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!
Also. I LOVE MATT DAMON I WANT HIM TO MARRY ME EXCEPT HE'S GOT THAT WIFE AND LIKE FOUR DAUGHTERS SO FINE STAY WITH HER AND I'LL JUST SIT HERE AND PINE.
Love. LOVE. LOVE LOVE LOVE!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)