Red and Orange All Over
First, Happy Halloween! Tonight I am wearing fishnet thigh highs to work just because I can. Don't worry, my skirt is still an appropriate length.
Second, I'm in love with
this site. I've added it to the sidebar and I think you should do the same.
Third, my hair is now more red than it was before. I'm not even sure if the difference will show up noticeably in photos yet, but I'm loving it. Shiny and rich and once I wash it, it won't smell like dye any more.
Finally, I challenge you to do at least once thing this weekend that makes you incredibly happy, even if it pisses someone else off. I'm going to.
Labels: everyday amusements
Lists: Evidence of Superficiality
The following is a list of things that I am currently in love with:
Tights
Dresses
Cocktail rings
Scarves
Cardigans
Winter coats
Leather gloves
Patent leather
Gingerbread
Latte mugs
Gray eyeshadow
Rounded nails
Non-fiction
Dark nail polish
Shiny clothes (read: silk)
Cuff bracelets
Picture-texts
Bare legs
Blank eyes
Framing photos
Male-inspired watches
My wrists
Fashion magazines
The Daily Beast
Audrey Hepburn
TV on DVD
Candle warmers
Christmas shopping lists
Red lip gloss worn at home
Coffee table books
Terry cloth
Lint rollers
Wavy hair
Big, fat paychecks
Labels: lists
Mission: Evasion
In an effort to stay out of the crazy space in my head, I've started a new personal project. I am attempting to update my style. No, to say update suggests that I had style before, which I certainly didn't. I am attempting to create my style. I'm paying attention to shapes and combinations and accessories and when I look hot. On Wednesday at work, my style-conscious manager Bubbles looked at me and said, "You always look so cute. You could help on
What Not to Wear." Since I love Clinton and Stacy, I took this as a huge compliment. Admittedly, I looked adorable on Wednesday (black knee-length A-line skirt, navy blue half-sleeve sweater, black patent belt and ballet flats, and a white enamel cuff bracelet), but I can't imagine that I was worthy of the compliment.
Part of this is an effort to look outwardly put-together is a disguise against how inwardly fucked I am lately. Between obsessing about Hershey and taking his rejection personally (no matter how much I try to reconcile that in my mind) and dealing with the situation with the guy I work with (which is such a mindfuck that there isn't any other way for me to describe it) and all the bullshit that exists in the in-between spaces, I am honestly a mess. However, I feel like making sure that I look thin and appropriately and interestingly accessorized, combined with some exquisite self-control (I'm channeling Audrey Hepburn) will disguise my inner turmoil. I'm an excellent liar and very few people in my life can look at me and tell when I'm upset - and none of those people live in College Town.
It isn't a new idea, covering insanity with superficiality, but it is new for me, and so far, it's working. You don't see a girl in a brown cotton dress with a faux-python belt and pointy brown stilettos and know that she's going to go spend the night at home home, mopping the kitchen in nothing but teal heels*, black boy shorts, and a wifebeater. You don't see a girl in khaki-colored wide-leg pants with a black shirt and red patent flats and think that she's going to spend that evening in a nightgown, begging her neighbors to turn down their music and watching
Breakfast at Tiffany's. You don't see a girl out in a bar in a silk dress with black patent heels and think that she's having an extremely emotional breakdown via text message and will go home to sob to her friend at 3:30 in the morning.
I'm hiding behind this facade and I refuse to let anyone see through it. In fact, I'm working hard to take the facade even further. And when people see me in flattering silhouettes** and carefully chosen accessories, and I'm wrapping myself in comfortable sweaters and tiptoeing around in wildly uncomfortable shoes, I'm going to let people believe whatever they want to believe about my personal life. They can think that I sleep with anyone I choose*** and drink every night and spend my weekends having crazy adventures. They can think all of this while I spend my nights and weekends hiding out in my apartment, napping with the kitties and flipping through magazines and watching
Gilmore Girls and
Sex and the City for hours on end. I'll continue to play with makeup in Sephora and find fun cocktail rings and search out the perfect pink cashmere scarf (which I desperately want for this winter). I'm going to surround myself with things and hide behind them and damn it, it's going to be fucking effective.
*To break them in, of course.
**Too much Project Runway, What Not to Wear, and Tim Gunn, I swear. Since when do I talk like this?
***I was told that I can by someone who clearly doesn't know me. One, no, I cannot. Two, I wouldn't sleep with someone just to sleep with them - that isn't me.Labels: girl stuff, my insanity
Little Pleasures
It's freezing in my apartment because I refuse to turn on the heater and I have a six-foot window along my living room wall. Also, it is 31 degrees outside and I am smack dab in the middle of "hooray for being able to wear my coat!"
Today I shall wear the shirtdress that is almost too short with a pair of patterned, knitted tights and I will look fucking amazing.
I adore the beginning of winter.
Labels: everyday amusements, girl stuff
Saturday Morning
Yesterday was the first time I saw the guy I work with who sent me the text message - I can't give him a pseudonym right now. It was awkward because I made it awkward. I find it difficult to make eye contact with people in only a few situations: when I am angry, when I am upset, and when I do not know what to say to them. I don't know what to say to him; I meant it when I said that I would pretend like the entire thing never happened, but that's proving easier said than done. I would ask for advice, but I won't follow any of it and I'm not really willing to discuss it at length any more. I'm going to do the very mature thing and ignore it until it goes away or blows up in my face.
Yesterday, I made an appointment to get my hair colored. This will be a first step for me, and there may or may not be before and after photos posted here. My fairly basic, almost-mousy light brown hair will be getting an infusion of red. I'm excited, though I've elected to try very hard to keep the appointment a secret from those people who see me every day. I'll see if people notice it, and I'll try not to be disappointed when they don't.
Last night, I fell asleep watching Sex and the City. I think it was around eight, but I have no real idea. I do know that I woke up at 4:30 extremely confused. I fell asleep again around 8 am, then woke around 11. I had oatmeal and coffee for breakfast, read Elle magazine, and thought about how much I'm enjoying this lazy weekend thing that I've had going on. I chill and drink coffee and do completely vapid and shallow things until early afternoon, when I finally get around to washing my face and making myself presentable for public consumption.* Then I'll go to get more coffee or buy groceries or wander through the mall spending money unintelligently. If I didn't already work in a bookstore, I would probably spend my afternoons hanging out in them.
Please excuse me while I go to make my eyelashes look fabulous.**
*I think it says something about me that I thought, "kinky" as I typed that sentence.
**Seriously, how shallow can I be today?Labels: updates
Stunted
Clearly evidenced by the post below this one from the wee hours of the morning, I lost it last night.
The night, honestly, didn't even start that well, despite how cute I was (and yes, I know I was cute last night) and the fact that I was looking forward to the evening. I feel like I need to give P Bar a break because I cannot go to P Bar without wondering if Hershey is going to walk in the door. Uncharacteristically, in the last month, he hasn't. I'm beginning to wonder if I'm being deliberately avoided; Gallagher thinks he's avoiding her, so now I find myself wondering if we're both self-centered or just hypersensitive. Why I want to see him is beyond my intellect. I think that I just want a chance to show him that I'm not insane, and since I have a problem with proving myself otherwise via text message, I feel like we're going to have to be in the same room and having a conversation for me to get beyond this.
I'm sick of looking at the book on top of the shelf next to my desk. I want to return it to him so I can stop thinking about it. The rational part of my mind knows that I need to just Let. This. Go.
As I was sitting there between a selfish, flighty Gallagher and the guy Legs is dating (who is really quite sweet and charming; I'm jealous), I disconnected. I feel so dis-invested in these people that I don't know what to do. So, I pulled out my phone and began to text someone who was outside of the circle. And by the end of the night, I received the following message:
Seriously. I want to date you. I want to be fuck buddies with you. Hell, I just want you. But I've lived a lot of life.
I've mentioned him before, briefly, as a guy I work with and flirt with. I don't know much, but I know that he is significantly older than I am and that I feel no physical attraction. I know that neither of us is happy right now. I know that I don't have a good answer for what he said to me, and that if he's at work when I get there today, I am going to pretend like none of the conversation we had last night ever happened.
I feel like I'm so far gone that I don't even know which way is up, let alone which way is north and how to get back to the center. Beyond spending time with myself again, I don't know what to do. So, beyond spending time with myself again, I will do nothing.
Labels: losing it
Giving Up
I hate giving up and giving in. I hate to admit that something - or someone - is stronger or has gotten the better of me.
At this moment, after spending my night in a bar in a super-cute dress with carefully chosen accessories and new shoes and fabulous eyeliner, I feel defeated.
I find myself wondering if this is all worth it. I find myself wondering if I'm capable of letting go and letting in someone who isn't my "type." I find myself wondering who this "myself" bitch even is.
I give up on avoiding the funk. I'm going to dive right in and wallow. I'm not sure if I want to go out next Tuesday night (which I've done for weeks and weeks); I'm not sure if I want to stay in College Town this weekend. I'm not sure if I want to talk to anyone for the next six to eight months, although I have to be at work in ten hours, so I guess I don't have much of a choice.
I give up.
Labels: boys, drama, my insanity
Text Analysis
Irrational, passive-aggressive, or valid?
Nic to Hershey (2:26pm): I baked too many cupcakes. If you'd like some, I'd love to share.
Nic to Hershey (9:54pm): Instead of ignoring me this afternoon, a simple 'no thank you' would've been better. Just for future reference.
Fuck me.
Hear this: There will be no more calls or texts after today unless they are initiated by him (which they won't be). I will be polite; I will flirt if the situation calls for it; I will continue to behave as I always have in his presence. I will not have sex with him again unless I am so drunk as to blame it on alcohol. I'm so done.
Labels: boys, drama
Hope for the Hopeless
I can feel it coming. The melancholy, the chronic boredom, the disinterest in my surroundings - the funk, if you will. This time around, I'm fighting it. The post from a Friday still stands: I have so many fabulous things going on that there's no sense in being in a funk. I am enjoying my job, I am enjoying my intellectual pursuits, and I am mostly pleased with my social life. Still, that doesn't mean that I can stop it.
My shopping trip yesterday was cut short by long lines and chatting with a co-worker, so I didn't get what I really needed. I went back today, while I had more time to browse, and managed to leave the mall after going into a dozen stores with some foundation and two cocktail rings. I was searching for cardigan sweaters, ballet flats, and fun accessories. It's hard to focus on the navy silk dress and skinny python belt from yesterday when today's trip was such a bust.
It's almost like I'm in a place where, if things aren't going exactly as I want them to, it's a complete loss. This is irrational and ridiculous, but is nevertheless how my days are going. Something is missing, and I don't know what it is. I can honestly say that I don't think the missing thing is a y chromosome-carrying being - although I did read an article about how if people would just have more sex, they'd be happier due to the hormones sex releases.
I'm still fighting though. With cupcakes and pomegranates and A Fine Frenzy and driving and reading and my cats and attempting to dress well and blogging. I'm watching out for that catalyst that could throw me over the edge, but I'm still trying to keep it at bay. I'm looking forward to cozy sweaters and twinkly lights and buying gifts and special coffee and the excuse to wear sparkly clothes and my hounds tooth coat. I'm holding on to the hope that something fabulous will happen and pull me back from the precipice.
Labels: funk
Sexy Shoe Brunch
Sometimes, my at home habits are a little odd; however, I'm beginning to think that if I could find a boy that I wanted to keep around for more than five minutes, he might enjoy my odd habits.
Last night, on a whim, I decided to bake cupcakes. At the store - chatting on the phone with Bradshaw - I decided that they should be angel food cupcakes. Angel food is delicious and much better for you than regular cake. The stupid box made three dozen cupcakes, so now I'm rolling in them. Were there a boy around, I would be more than happy to share. As it stands, I'm taking a bunch to work.
I fell asleep on the couch in a t-shirt,* but when I woke up and decided to make myself brunch, it wasn't working for me. I changed into a cutesy little nightgown and a pair of heels** and went to
work, putting together a frittata with cheese, a baby green salad with pomegranate seeds, and gingerbread-laced coffee.*** If I added bacon and a shot of liquor to the coffee, it would be perfect boy food.
Why the hell am I single? Or, to a lesser degree, why don't I have someone knocking down my door for sex and food?
In any case, I'm going to sit here and read some news and drink my coffee, then do my dishes (!), shower, and get pretty to go shopping before I have to be at work tonight. I'm on a quest for a shiny, skinny belt, some fantastic, cheap jewelry, and anything I can find on clearance that is lovely and perfect.
I foresee a good day ahead.
*Which certainly wouldn't have happened if there was a boy around. Nic was not enjoying the arrangement so much at the time.
**I'm breaking them in by wearing them around the house. Thursday night I mopped in a tank top, boy shorts, and those same 3-inch teal heels.
***I will be addressing the coffee very soon.Labels: everyday amusements
Fresh Start
I just got my hair cut; I have volume again and my bangs are back to being too cute. My apartment is about ninety percent perfectly clean, and that last ten percent isn't bothering me a bit. I got a raise at work and my hours have gotten more consistent. I'm reading things I love, I'm paying attention to the world around me, and I swear I'm going to get back into the routine of working out. Ignoring my love life (or lack thereof), things are going pretty well.
I know that new starts are for spring, right along with spring cleaning and getting pedicures and taking our bare legs out of hibernation, but I choose to have my fresh start right now. I'm in a good place, a happy place, even if it isn't perfect, and I'm going to embrace that.
Here's hoping that I manage to remember that the next time my boss picks at me or someone ignores my phone calls or Hershey and I finally end up in the same bar again.
Labels: girl stuff
An Open Letter to My Indecesion
Dear Indecision,
For as decisive as I can be in so many areas of my life, you sure are a controlling personality attribute, and, quite honestly, you suck. I am tired of dancing around the same issues over and over simply due to your influence. I am sick to death of allowing you to control my day-to-day life, and I demand that you release me from your hold.
Please suck it,
Nic
Labels: my insanity, open letter
Cry for Help
I am forever talking myself out of things. Getting out of bed in the morning (just one more snooze, really), not going out on the weekends (I'll regret it if I sit at home again), or pursuing something that I may or may not want.
Three years ago, I was telling myself that it was okay to bide my time. I could wait until he was ready; really, I didn't want to pursue anything until he was ready. I still that's true. However, I will always wonder if he wouldn't have been ready sooner if he'd known that I was waiting for him. Fear of rejections, however, is stronger than logic, than desire even, at least for me. My desire for him was so much more than physical that it hurts to think about it. And after he died, after I had that searingly painful moment of clarity, I swore to myself that I would never, ever put myself in that sort of position again. I would pursue any desire, any want, no matter the consequences. Being rebuked or rejected or ridiculed could never hurt as much as this regret, this all-consuming regret that was crushing me.
So now, every day, I have to wonder if my actions are going to lead to regret. If I go back to ignoring the flicker that I started to let myself feel with Hershey - and yes, at this point, it is little more than a flicker - will I at some point begin to wonder what if? And is that possibility of the what if strong enough to undermine my self-preservational instincts? Not allowing myself to think about him or to be upset by his actions is certainly the response to the instinct to avoid pain.
Is it possible to pursue something without fully investing yourself in it? Rather, is it possible for
me to pursue
this something without fully investing myself? I know that I can't be completely invested in it without losing my mind, so to a certain extent, it becomes an all-or-nothing situation, doesn't it? I feel like I need some sort of plan beyond waiting to see if he shows up at Piano Bar every Tuesday and then waiting to see if he approaches me to say hello. I'm driving myself quietly insane thinking about it, and I really need someone's input. How exactly do I make this work?
Labels: boys, my insanity
Lists: Because I'm Avoiding Sleep
Things I Do (Nearly) Every Daydrink coffee
eat something terrible for me
read
get angry
swear excessively
feel guilty
Things I Should Do Every Day (But Usually Don't)wash my face before bed
eat more than a serving of vegetables
write in my journal
tell someone I love them
be honest
Things I Would Do Every Day If I Had Half a Brainmy dishes
sweep the bathroom floor (kitty litter, you know)
tell myself I'm beautiful
pay more attention to accessories
work out
Things I Would Do Every Day in My Perfect World
write something of substance
be hugged
sleep until noon
be with someone I love
read something amazing
Labels: lists
New Information
I always have such good intentions. I tend to fuck things up when I set too much by those intentions. This is, sort of, my way of apologizing for the lack of substantial posts. I've been distracted and stressed and working and sleeping and I can't always make myself sit here to type something.
With that said, let me tell you about the interesting piece of news I received about Hershey this week: He has, apparently, found himself a new girl to sleep with. This doesn't upset me in the way that it might upset the average girl. I never expected monogamy from him, and I was well aware of his sexual history (present, really) when I put myself in the situation. What I am a bit upset about is the fact that I was really hoping that I had found my new "special friend."* The knowledge that I no longer have that option is frustrating. The fact of the matter is, I'm not going to live at someone else's whim; I want a situation like this to be mutual, or at the very least on my own terms.
Regarding the book that I borrowed from him - and attempted to return a week ago - Bradshaw convinced me to hold on to it. I had considered writing a simple thank you note and returning it to his porch, but instead I'm going to keep it until he asks for it back. I already made the effort, so now it's his turn, and if he doesn't make that effort, I get a shiny new book. That's a win in my book.
I did find myself wondering if I jumped into the Hershey situation too quickly, if I invested too much (even that little bit) that I should have. I still miss Iris too much to even think about someone else in that capacity. I'm not sure of anything any more, really. So now, I shall return to the semi-celibate life that I was living, content in the knowledge that if the opportunity arises again, I'll probably take it.
*Read: Fuck buddy. I want one.Labels: boys, updates
Liar
Clearly, I am one. A liar, that is. I promised a real post, but based on how tired I am right now and the thirteen-hour work day I'm looking at tomorrow, you won't be getting one until Wednesday. However, here's hoping that tomorrow night's venture to Piano Bar leads to something interesting for me to talk about.
Right now, I have nothing interesting to say.
Labels: updates
An Update in Tidbits
First, I'm back in College Town for "good," after spending the last week going back and forth between Small Town and Kansas City and Small Town and College Town and Small Town. Hooray for my coffee maker and being close to tasty coffee and having places to go where I won't be stir crazy.
Second, I didn't call Hershey when I got back to College Town on Wednesday night. I did, however, text him under the guise of wanting to return the
book I borrowed from him (which, incidentally, I loved). The text was my compromise, and I would like to say that I was right, as he did not respond. This bothers me, not because Hershey specifically ignored me, but because I hate being ignored in general. It is a pet peeve of mine, probably rooted in the fact that my small stature makes it easy to overlook me - sort of. I tend to demand attention when I really want it. On the negative side, sometimes my way of demanding that attention is childish or bitchy, two things that I do not want to show Hershey.* This is my spoken resolution to rise above my instinct to throw a hissy fit about this.
Third, I watched the vice presidential debate last night while chatting online with the Wifey.** About ten minutes in, we decided that the debate could have been a great drinking game. The rules are as follows: Any time Sarah Palin says "Alaska" or "maverick," you drink. Anyone playing would have been wasted by the time things were over.
Fourth, I have zero desire to go find work appropriate clothes and spend my entire afternoon shelving books.
Fifth, I have even less desire to come home from work and spend my entire Friday night cleaning my apartment, but that is what I'm going to be doing. I mentioned that to my mom, who suggested that I do not sit down when I get home, but immediately jump into cleaning. Apparently sitting down makes getting up and being productive impossible.
Sixth, I started a new book last night,
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. A hundred pages in, and I'm already in love. Thanks to Bizz for the recommendation!
A real post is coming soon, I promise.
*At least not yet. Come on.
** Yes, I have a Wifey.Labels: boys, everyday amusements, updates
Love to Hate
Every time I come home to Small Town, I am reminded of all the things that are great about small towns, as well as all of the things that suck. Specific to me, some are as follows:
I love that it takes less than five miles and five minutes to get everywhere. I love that I don't have to give my name when I go to pick up my pizza. I love standing on my front porch in my underoos and knowing that no one can see me. I love having free time to finish a fantastic book. I love knowing that I'm incommunicado unless I choose to communicate with someone - that is, no one can show up at my door yelling at me for ignoring their phone calls. I love playing with teensy kittens. I love my dad's fancy pants high-def TV. I love that I have quiet time to just think.
I hate that there isn't anywhere of interest to go. I hate that there aren't any people left here in Small Town that I give two hoots about. I hate that all of the coffee here sucks. I hate that I can't have food delivered. I hate that I can't go get another book immediately after finishing the first. I hate that when I start to go stir-crazy, there isn't anyone around to break up the monotony. I hate that there isn't even somewhere for me to go and read a book and drink a cup of coffee. I hate the compulsion to go to the cemetery where Iris is buried. I hate driving past my grandma's house every time I want to go somewhere. I hate that too much thinking time leads to obsessing time and then I start to lose it in my head.
Maybe coming home is a small doses sort of thing. My mom wants me to stay an extra day or two, which is only possible if I rearrange my work schedule. Due to the last few things on my "hate" list, I'm compelled to tell her that I couldn't work it out. If I spend too much time here, things will start to get bad.
Labels: lists, my insanity, Small Town
