Ideal Presentation
In my fantasy, I see a woman who presents herself perfectly. No matter what the occasion, she is always appropriate. She gravitates to dresses and skirts, feeling more powerful somehow when she feels more feminine. She chooses pieces that accent her narrow waist and long legs, including a wide black leather belt and a pair of red stilettos with a hidden platform. She likes oversized rings and cuff bracelets, but never together. Her professional style is powerful and womanly, leaning just a smidge across the center into formality.
Her version of casual is built around cashmere and dark denim, and her hair is sleek and unfussy. She likes heavy eyeliner and a bold lip, but always chooses one or the other. Getting out of the house on time each morning is a bit of a struggle, but you'd never know that looking at her, climbing out of the car smoothly, scarf draped just so, leather-encased hands wrapped around a travel mug of coffee.
If she were to drink a cocktail, it would be something timeless and classic and built around gin or vodka, but it certainly wouldn't be in public. She seems unlikely to be bothered, but puts together an elaborate dinner for one every night. It might be nice to double a recipe now and again, but she's not willing to sacrifice the quiet of her evenings just yet.
She is somehow impervious and approachable at the same time. She guards her privacy as if it could be stolen and sold for profit, but she shares homemade baked goods on a distressingly regular basis. It is difficult to imagine what she must look like completely undone; a bare-faced, messy-haired, pajama-clad version of this women surely doesn't exist.
And under those carefully chosen and perfectly appropriate clothes, she wears impossibly sexy lingerie. It's just her little secret.
Labels: everyday musings, plans, superficial love
People Do Not Care
and that's a good thing
Labels: quotation
Things I Love Thursday
Hummingbirds Growing up, my Grandma always hung feeders for them, so I followed suit. For the first month or so, I never saw anything and assumed that the nectar was evaporating rather than being drunk. I let it run dry, then rushed to fill it when I saw the first hummingbird come and fly away disappointed. In the weeks since, that one lonely hummingbird has become a family of multiple males and females who play peek-a-boo (or go-away-I-hate-you - who can tell?) and completely mesmerize me. Love.
Getting calls to sub Last year, it took months after I'd given schools my information to get my first call to substitute. It was during that time that I was forced to suffer the indignity of asking my mom for enough cash to get bread and milk. Since summer began, I've been preparing myself for the possibility that I wouldn't work again until October or later. This year, however, I have an estabilished reputation with schools; I'm a reliable, competent substitute, and they like me. Which is why I already have a few days lined up, starting with Friday afternoon! It's a little like insurance, I guess, and it feels good.
Parents who will rescue me Being stranded three hours from home sucks. Sucks. Having parents who will come and rescue their adult child, forsaking one of their few nights off? Pretty awesome, and comes without the guilt I would feel asking a friend or a guy to come rescue me (though I'm totally a damsal in distress).
Synchronicity I'd already written TILT - referencing both
Advice for All My Children and hummingbirds before I checked it this morning for the purpose of acquiring the link. This was the most recent post:
Last weekend Bradshaw and I don't get to spend nearly enough time together, but when we do, it's pretty excellent. If you read yesterday's weekend recap, you know that we aren't always the most exciting pair of ladies, but that's kind of the point. If you can't sit at home and watch TV with someone, are you really good friends? If you always have to be doing something, what does that say? Since B and I don't have to do anything, I think that says good things.
Plans to put myself on a writing schedule Since I was about nine, my mom has been expecting me to be a published writer. Not as something she's pushed me toward, but as something that I enjoy and have a talent for. I have the same expectation for myself, but I tend to lack that vital combination of inspiration and follow-through. I think that part of the Universe's reason for not presenting me with the perfect full-time teaching job (and at this point, I won't settle for a job that isn't what I want) is to give me the freedom to write. I squandered that freedom, honestly, last school year, and I want to instead take advantage this year. I'm going to make an effort to write every day, preferably fiction (though even writing blog posts is something, right?).
Glitter and sequins Mockingjay anticipation - UPS will bring my copy this afternoon (I hope); planning Christmas cookies - too early? no such thing; gorgeous, cool weather; seeing Hawk this weekend - I forget how much I really like that guy;
Advice for All My Children; feeling super-cozy and comfortable in bed; writing grocery lists and planning my shopping trip; thinking ahead enough to bring a book with me this weekend, even though I didn't think I'd have time to read - totally saved me and now makes me think I should keep a book in my car at all times; working so hard to stick to my no-snacks plan; reading nonfiction; gaining clarity; thinking about painting inside my house - I want to paint my door pink and may look at paint this afternoon; eternally cute kittens; red velvet cupcakes (I ate that cupcake, which had cream cheese frosting, even after it sat in my hot car for four hours. Hooray for an iron stomach!);
Radical Self-Hate? Stop the Madness!; Puck and Marilyn's excitement at my return; validation; pretty city landscaping; cake and cookie decorating toys.
all photos sourced at TumblrLabels: TILT
Cupcake and Clydesdales
Budweiser period, kittens.In writing the rundown of my weekend with Bradshaw, I decided that I am boring. I am at peace with that.
Friday was for enormous burritos and
The Office at home. Hawk, my quasi-fiancée, joined us, though he left when I mentioned that Project was planning to join us. In hindsight, I wish Hawk had stayed. Perhaps I should explain my engagement: About a year ago, Hawk learned that I bake. More specifically, he learned that one of my specialties are chocolate Guinness cupcakes with Bailey's cream cheese frosting. He proposed, and we decided that if we're both still single in five years (four, now) we'd get hitched. It's all very '90s sitcom and I like it.
Saturday morning, I dragged Bradshaw with me to a shop with cake decorating supplies. Rather, she drove me to the decorating shop and didn't complain while I looked at everything. Cookie cutters, fondant tools, sanding sugar, luster dust - and that was just the start. Be ready for sugar cookie Christmas lights and gingerbread snowflakes!
Part of what I bought. Look at those cookie cutters!We headed to the Central West End for cupcakes at The Cupcakery, so my lunch was a yellow cupcake with chocolate buttercream frosting. Worth it.
And that evening? We watched more episodes of
The Office. More specifically, we finished watching all of seasons two and three. I've decided that I want to be the Pam to someone's Jim. Not in a romantic sense though; I want to work with someone who's that much fun and amuses me that consistently.
Sunday morning was bagels, Starbucks, and the tour of the Budweiser brewery. The information about the brewing process? Honestly, nothing special. Beer is beer, even when you're picky like me. The history of the company and the brewery, however, was interesting. How they managed to survive Prohibition, the school that operated on brewery property, the inclusion of
Grimm's Fairy Tale characters in their marketing and architecture - all very cool.
The end of my sampleYou might think that the best part of a brewery tour is the samples at the end. Yes, those are good, but the best part of a Budweiser brewery tour is the animals. Clydesdale horses and dalmatians, kittens! And these animals live better than people I know; their stable is air conditioned and has stained glass windows. If I am reincarnated as an animal, I choose to be a cat in my mom's house or a Budweiser Clydesdale.
Blurry, I know, but do you see the window? Lucky horse. He's probably been on TV.I'm going to say that the weekend ended there, because the nine-hour debacle that was getting home is kind of a drag.
Yes, I took the photos. That's why they are mediocre at best.Labels: alcohol, Bradshaw, updates
It's Like Squishing a Spider Under a Book
I didn't have particularly high hopes for meeting Project this weekend. I'm young enough that not seeing someone for a "long time" is rarely measured in years with double digits, and even so, I try not to let people slip out of my life unless I want them to go away.
Late Friday evening, after giant Qdoba burritos, I invited Project to come watch episodes of
The Office with Bradshaw and me. I proceeded to get more antsy and more awkward. I think, if forced to put a name to the feeling in my stomach, it was dread. The moment I invited him, it felt like a bad idea. After Bradshaw gave him directions, I realized that another part of what I felt was embarrassment. I was embarrassed of him, a bit, and of myself for having been "with" him - or whatever it was that we were. I suddenly didn't want Bradshaw, who knows me better than most anyone and from whom I keep very few secrets, to even meet him.
It was very uncomfortable and he hadn't even arrived.
When he arrived, I felt more relaxed. It was immediately clear that I'm no longer attracted to him (in fact, I had that moment of 'what did I ever see in you?'). I caught myself comparing him to my Quasi-Fiancee, who had been there before - and Project was not coming out ahead in any of my vague internal categories.
I caught myself putting physical barriers between myself and him, first taking a seat on the couch next to Bradshaw and later pulling my feet up to the side between us. I was sleepy, and every time an episode ended, I wished fervently that it was the last on the disc. Eventually, that was the case and I basically told him to go home. Given the former nature of our relationship, I made it very clear a few weeks ago that if we did meet up when I was in the city, nothing physical would happen between us. I think he thought I was kidding, because he seemed a little miffed when I said I wanted to sleep; he asked if he did something wrong. I explained that I'd been up for a while and I was worried about disturbing Bradshaw who I knew had gotten up earlier than I had. There was an incredibly awkward side-hug, he left, and I paced through the apartment for thirty minutes trying to unravel the weird in my brain.
At one point, he looked over and asked if I thought he had changed. I answered, honestly, "not really that I can tell." He considered me for a moment, then said, "yeah, I don't think you have either."
And all I could think was
I have I have I have!
I've grown and changed and matured. I'm more intelligent, more positive, more jaded. I approach situations and people with different attitudes and standards. Project seems exactly the same as he did five years ago, and the person I am now finds that more than a little off-putting, to be frank. The person I am now can't seem to help judging him for being exactly the same. I kind of wish I'd left well enough alone.
Labels: boys, personal growth, updates
In Which Mercury Bites Me in the Ass
Mercury's retrograde cycles tend to be pretty kind to me, but I knew that if ever one was going to get me,
this was going to be it. And, in fact, it did.
After a fantastic weekend with Bradshaw (about which you'll get more information later), I left the city at almost exactly 4 pm to start my four-hour drive home. I was pretty proud of myself; I was always the girl who didn't make it back to the dorms until almost midnight after a weekend home (and that drive was only an hour and a half), and this time I managed to leave early enough that I'd make it home around sunset.
A little over an hour into my trip, I stopped for gas and a snack. Filled the tank, reset the trip, toyed with the GPS, situated myself. I turned the key and, predictably, the car started.
Then died.
Repeatedly.
I called my dad, who proceeded to berate me for really ridiculous and inconsequential things ("Why did you go to that gas station instead of the truck stop? Why didn't you tell me you were planning to get food? Why didn't you get food before you got gas?") and stress me to tears. So while I sat in my car, sweltering in the sun and crying, it was decided that my parents would come with the tow dolly they use with their RV and drag my car home.
I called Bradshaw and stress-cried to her for a bit, but finally managed to quell the annoying tears. I walked to a nearby fast food restaurant and suddenly felt homeless, which I shared in a text message. Then my phone began to beep, informing me that it was going to die. Awesome. I went into battery conservation mode (don't touch it no matter how much you want to know what time it is) and stepped into the bathroom to attempt to make myself look presentable without sunglasses. And learned that my lady time* had come early. Super awesome.
Let's review. It is now 6:30 pm, I am three hours from home with a dead car sitting in a gas station parking lot off the interstate, and the death of my phone is imminent. Additionally, I am female, very petite, and it is obvious that I have been crying.
I sat at a picnic table until the sun set around 8, pretending to read Catching Fire and hiding my laptop under my purse next to me on the bench. I say pretending because sitting outside alone at a gas station made me a little anxious. When it started to get dark, I locked myself in the car, leaving behind some of the anxiety; now there's metal and glass between me and my would-be attacker.
At 9:30 (four hours after my arrival at the gas station), my parents rolled up. My dad got in my car, turned the key, and drove out of the parking lot.
Motherfucker.
I've always known that my car was female. See, I believe that cars, particularly older cars, have genders and personalities. Mine is a female prone to throwing hissy fits. Bradshaw and I named her S&M a few years back, a play on the name of the paint color**, but she certainly lived up to the sadistic part of the equation.
It was decided that instead of towing the car, I would just follow my parents home. Unfortunately, there was fog, so taking the 30 miles of rural highway that would cut almost an hour off the trip was a bad idea. We had to take the long-but-safe way. Sigh.
I like driving. I especially enjoy taking these sorts of trips alone; I sing with the radio at ridiculous volumes, dance in my seat, and tell stories in my head (and sometimes out loud). I like being in control and I like the solitude. I like these trips even more when I'm not in a hurry to get to my final destination, though I still speed and get annoyed when another driver forces me to slow down.
I did not enjoy the trip home this time around. What was meant to be a drive that took about four hours ended up being a nine-hour debacle. I had
plans for that drive, kittens. All thwarted. I don't typically find driving exhausting, but when we rolled into town at one a.m., all I wanted to do was get. out. of. the. car.
Mercury bit me in the ass. Hard.
*All of the euphemisms we have to choose from for the lady time? They suck. And I will probably never mention that natural occurrence ever again on this blog. I'm actually shocked that I did it this time.
**The sticker lists the color as "spruce metallic." My car is not green by any stretch of the imagination. It is gray.Labels: astrology, drama, updates
Things I Love Thursday
Cooler temperatures It's like the hideous heatwave finally broke! The nice weather probably won't last, but it's been gorgeous for the last few days. When I went outside at night, I kind of wanted - wait for it - sleeves! Excellence, especially on the heels of
last week's celebration of air conditioning.
Breakfast at Tiffany's I haven't watched my favorite Audrey movie in nearly a year, and I can't remember the last time I watched it beginning-to-end instead of using it as background noise to fall asleep to. I never forget that I love it, but watching it serves as an excellent reminder. It also makes me want to wear lots of eyeliner and call everone darling.
Making plans for my weekend with Bradshaw Tomorrow afternoon I will drive four hours to spend the weekend getting into trouble with Ms. B. Of course, our biggest plan at the moment involves
The Office, a couch, and potential baked goods. There's probably an old-and-boring joke in there, but there's definitely a young-and-broke explanation for it. We don't have the sort of friendship that requires entertainment; sitting on a couch with or without something to watch really is enough to get excited about.
Sprinkles on top September's issue of
Vanity Fair;
Leverage; delicious in-season peaches; Ellen on
So You Think You Can Dance; reading in the bathtub; Christiane Amanpour with my coffee; completing the food photography project; browsing online cake decorating resources and making Grand Plans to let them take all my money this weekend; cleaning my house before I spend the weekend away - it'll be nice to come home to tidiness (this isn't done yet, but it's another Grand Plan); soap opera-style storylines - I'll never get tired of them; getting a chance to chat with "the girls" (hi, Spiff!); putting someone in her place; things that fall together with little or no effort; doing laundry, something I actually do enjoy; watching Puck and Marilyn stalk crickets across my kitchen.
original photo sources available at tumblrLabels: TILT
Moving Backwards
Mercury retrograde is one of the few astrological concepts that are a part of the public consciousness. It's a phrase that I think the majority of people have probably heard, though I'd bet that most of them have no idea what it means.
Mercury is considered retrograde when it appears to move backwards in the heavens from our position on Earth, though its orbit around the Sun hasn't actually changed. Astrologically, this is said to be a time when those things that are associated with Mercury go a bit haywire and when we are forced to revisit recent Mercury-related things.
Mercury is the planet of communication, thought processes, dualities (think twins), our perceptions. Its Greek mythology equivalent is Hermes, making it also the planet of tricksters and thieves, liars and actors. It rules our personal communication, thoughts, and travel. In retrograde, Mercury is blamed for everything from crashed email inboxes to lost luggage. We are cautioned to avoid signing contracts, purchasing electronics and appliances, and to keep our words sweet for the inevitability of having to eat them.
I've done my best to pay attention to Mercury's retrograde cycles so I could decide if they were really worth all the fuss. This year, Mercury was retrograde for New Year's (until January 16th) and then again from mid-April till mid-May. During neither of these retrogrades did I have any issues with electronics or appliances, my car didn't conk out or wind up wrapped around a tree, and I didn't stick my foot in my mouth (or if I did, it wasn't egregious enough to remember just a handful of months later).
I've read - though I have no idea where - that people born under a Mercury retrograde are perhaps less affected when the planet retrogrades in transit; they were born under that influence and are therefore more comfortable with it than the general population. I'm not sure if that theory holds water on a large scale, but it seems to work for me as I was born under one of these cycles.
Mercury will retrograde again on August 21st, and it seems that I've decided to tempt the cosmos this time around. I'll be traveling the four-ish hours to visit Bradshaw and seeing Project for the first time in nearly five years. Who knows what sort of issues I could be walking into?
Have you ever had a Mercury retrograde experience or do you think it's much ado about nothing?
Labels: astrology, everyday musings
Project: Food Photography Results
I spent the last week
photographing my meals. It was an exercise in mindful eating and completed alongside my current no-snacks plan. I don't always manage not to have snacks (I'm very weak) so you aren't seeing everything I ate in the last week, but the extreme majority of it. I missed one photo, an unremarkable Sunday afternoon lunch.
My first draft of this post included two paragraphs defending and explaining my choices, but after sleeping on it, I realized that I don't need to explain myself. So I deleted it, and I'm going to stand by that.
I think the real question is whether or not it made a difference to my mealtimes. Taking the photos took approximately three seconds, though I admit to taking a bit more time "styling" the food before I ate. And in fact, I think that's a good thing. We eat with our eyes first, right? It definitely influenced my choices, but that was the fact that I'd be showing the photos not the simple act of taking one. I wanted the photos to be at least a little visually appealing, and beige food (often bad for you) is not so visually appealing.
Perhaps this is the sort of project to be undertaken periodically. For me, the accountability was key, not the actual photographs. It is interesting, however, to see them put together in a collage like this and use it to consider colors rather than specific foods. The unhealthiest meals? Brown and beige. (Though to be fair, I'm pretty sure that oatmeal with peaches and pecans was pretty nutritious and it's mostly beige too.) This also really brings your less healthy meals to your consciousness, and while I think we all need to indulge, I could stand to indulge less.
Overall, an interesting and successful project. Is this the sort of thing you might want to try? Any questions about my odd eating habits?
Labels: kitchen adventures, project
Amusements
I like to share things that entertain me. Herewith, things that have entertained me in the last couple of weeks.
Not That Kind of Girl is a super funny and very well-written blog chronicling the adventures of a girl doing "uncharacteristic" things. It's so entertaining to see the results when she steps outside of her comfort zone, and I'm seriously sad that I found the blog just a week before she finishes her project. Posts I particularly enjoying:
The Kind of Girl who...seduces you with her eyes and
TKOG Who smiles whether or not the whole world smiles with herI've never been a huge microwave cooking fan - you have to make everything at least twice to get the timing right due to differences in microwaves - but this recipe has changed my life (probably for the chubbier).
Cheesecake in a Mug is delicious and super simple. If you like cheesecake, it's absolutely worth trying.
True Story: I'm a Genius at
yes and yes was so interesting. I admit, I found it more interesting when I began to think about it from my own perspective as an educator, but Sarah's True Story series is really excellent.
Over at
Ravenesque Tarot, Karen's
Weekly Tarotscope is excellent. In fact, most of what she writes is excellent, incorporating tarot and astrology, which I find is an education in both fields of study. For a quick and easy version, scroll down and check out the weekly card for your Sun sign and (if you know it) your Ascendant. Sometimes, if I don't like the card for one, I ignore it and pay attention to the card for the other!
Completely the wrong season, but I'm so planning ahead with these
gingerbread houses for the rim of your mug. So. Cute.
Bradshaw has posted on this, and she has a far more interesting perspective than I do. First, I read a feminist critique of
Twilight:
Feminism Doesn't Sparkle: What Twilight Teaches Young Girls. Then I read through summaries of each book written by a young lady who was raised in a Mormon church (like the author, Stephenie Meyer):
LDS Sparkledammerung is HERE!. Then I showed both to Bradshaw, and she wrote this:
My Endless Love and I believe more is forthcoming from the lovely Ms. B. (I did some reading on the LDS church and I'm fairly certain a post on religion is forthcoming.)
Lady Gaga is on the cover of September's issue of
Vanity Fair. I dig her music and her style (like a lot of people), but I'm really interested in her astrology. Born the day before I was, she's the closest thing to an astrological twin I may ever get - at least one that might be written about extensively. Everything in our charts is near-identical with the exception of the placement of our Moons in Scorpio and likely her unknown Ascendant, though I present myself nothing like Lady Gaga. You can read a teensy bit at
Vanity Fair, but the article in the magazine is pretty fascinating, including her attitude toward her fans and her thoughts on sex and creativity.
The Cherry Blossom Girl takes beautiful pictures.
Finally,
pretty foods on Tumblr. Food porn is always fun.
Labels: links
Martha vs. Snooki
Confession: I want to be a
type-A person.
I feel like there's a weird tendency to both revere and tease type-A behavior. Our culture is alternately obsessed with things like organization and hedonism, perfection in appearances and embracing our imperfections. We like the fastidiousness of Martha Stewart and the train wreck that is
Jersey Shore. We're obsessed with organizing our times and our belongings, but we seek out expressions of lost inhibitions (think
textsfromlastnight and
The Real Housewives of Wherever). And I'm just as bad as everyone else because almost all of those examples come from my own interests and habits.
I love the idea of being something who is ruthlessly organized. I want a spotless kitchen and a refrigerator where all of the labels face forward and the leftovers are neatly stored. I want perfection in color scheme and the objects I display in my home. I want my wardrobe to be perfectly cohesive, and when I get dressed I want people to think it looks just like me. I want to make and complete dail to do lists, to make my bed every morning, to eat perfectly portioned and balanced meals.
That's so far from my truth.
I have my type-A moments. I alphabetize my books and DVDs, I color-code planners (when I keep them), and I'm completely anal about the placement of things in my makeup bag, purse, and computer files. But for the most part, I can't keep it up. As I write, I can see the following: five dresses strung across the top of my heating stove, a kitchen table scattered with random things, a sink full of dishes, carpets that need vacuuming, floors that need mopping, and a stack of magazines sliding from the arm of the couch onto the seat and against sleeping Puck. I also know that my bathroom counter is strung with stuff, there is an enormous pile of clothes (mostly from spring) at the foot of my bed, and the passenger-side floorboard of my car is filled with trash.
For all of those organizational tendencies and jealousies, I am a slob. I find none of the things listed in the previous paragraph particularly distressing. At some point, I will either convince myself to take care of them or they will, suddenly, begin to be absolutely unacceptable and I'll be absolutely nutty until they're gone, but there isn't anything that can make me maintain the fastidious organization that I'd like to have.
For years, I've tried to make myself into a type-A person. I've made detailed schedules for cleaning and organizing, read books and websites, berated myself, asked others to berate me - all to no avail. I'm not quite ready to let go of it either. While I've accepted that dishes in the sink and and an unmade bed are far from things to worry about, I'd still like to get rid of my habits of filling every horizontal surface in my home with random stuff and leaving piles of clothes in various places instead of hanging and putting them away.
There are all sorts of negative connotations that go along with this type-A thing. Even my awareness of those doesn't change my mind. I took
this quiz and learned that I am 70% type-A, which the quiz seems to think is a good thing, a balanced thing. I'm sure that's true, but it still annoys me a bit.
Where do you fall on the organizational spectrum?
Labels: everyday musings
Things I Love Thursday
Air Conditioning Sweet baby J, how did people get anything done before AC? As I type this (at two in the afternoon), it is 98 degrees F in Small Town. The heat index? 107! Honestly, without air conditioning I think I would be a worthless, half-sick blob all summer. Hooray for air conditioning and the productivity allowed by it.
Contradictions My mom is one of those don't-eff-with-her sort of chicks. It is from her that I inherited my belief that fewer, closer friends is better than a slew of acquaintances. She's among the worst gossips in the world, but not like you think. She doesn't gossip. When I was living in College Town I'd find out weeks later that so-and-so had gotten divorced/pregnant/arrested. She hates drama. So it was insanely amusing to learn that she watches
The Real Housewives of Wherever with all of their nonsense and dramatics. She almost never sits and watches TV without doing something else, but the fact that it's even the channel she chooses to turn to when she's cleaning or doing paperwork is endlessly amusing to me.
My body My no-snacks plan is apparently paying off. I haven't really modified the meals I prepare - that would be too much change all at once - but I've still lost 1/2 inch off my waist, hips, and thighs (the three things I measured when I started). Hooray, results! I've also decided to challenge myself with push-ups. Currently I can do about 10 girly-style push-ups before my arms give out, and my goal is to graduate to grown-up push-ups. When I get there, I'll set a new goal. I'm enjoying feeling my muscles ache. Weird, but happy.
Jabberwockey peach crostini (toasty French bread, ricotta, sliced peach, honey drizzle - yum);
The Rachel Zoe Project; tarte lip stain, again, because it's so amazing; my new desk space and the inspiration that's come from it;
The Nanny;
Little Reminders of Love; Zoey Deschanel's wardrobe in
(500) Days of Summer - covet covet covet; cats who eat lettuce (read: mine); feeling strong;
microwave cheesecake-in-a-mug; the deliciousness of legumes; walking into a hardware store in heels and the subsequent appraising looks; Mars in Libra kicking my ass into gear; cute new earrings; letting my mind wander when I go for walks; paintings created for the wall above my desk; shirtdresses;
On the Road with Austin and Santino - I saw this advertised and thought it would be ridiculous, which is is, but in the BEST WAY POSSIBLE.
all photos via my tumblr (see sidebar). appropriate credit given there.Labels: TILT
Costume Change
source unknown
"If death meant just leaving the stage long enough to change costume and come back as a new character.... Would you slow down? Or speed up?"
Chuck Palahniuk
Labels: quotation
Project: Food Photography
I recently came across an article on mindful eating, and it piqued my curiosity. The author began with an anecdote about seeing other patrons in restaurants pausing before they eat to photograph their food and her own impressions and opinions of it. Ultimately, she seemed to think that it was an interesting facet of the habit of mindful eating - really paying attention to what you're putting in your mouth and all of the sensations that go along with it. It's about focusing your attention on your meal rather than on the television or the book you're reading and listening to the signals your body is giving you about that meal.
Maybe you love a dinner of nachos with spicy cheese, beef, and jalapenos washed down with a giant margarita, but an hour after you eat, you feel sluggish and you have heartburn. Your body is telling you that it was a bad choice; nachos and margaritas make you feel bad. Then you can pause to consider why you like them in the first place. Sure, you like spicy food and tequila, but really, this is a meal that you associate with late nights with your college roommate. In fact, when you eat mindfully and really pay attention to the food as you eat (instead of watching
Jersey Shore and rolling your eyes at Snooki's sunglasses), you begin to notice that most of the chips are soggy, the cheese is congealing, and you added a bit too much ice before you blended the margarita. It's actually a poor substitute for a meal you had at a
time when you had a lot of fun.
I am among the last people who should tell anyone how to eat. The fact that I don't weigh 300 lbs and suffer from a whole host of medical issues is a testament to good genes and good luck. When I was living in College Town (and honestly, through most of high school), almost everything I ate was crap. I was completely addicted to Totino's pizza rolls for about three years, my shopping trips always included large amounts of junk food, and I ate fast food constantly (my apartment was a block from a Taco Bell that was open till 5 am - seriously).
When I moved in with the roommate, having someone see what I was eating did shame me a bit into pretending that I was eating healthier, but the fact was that I still fed myself predominantly with junk. And our house was a different culture than that of my parents' home, a dorm, or my solo apartment: We were drinkers. Beer and liquor were a part of daily life with the Roommate instead of a sometimes thing or a going-out-binge-drinking thing.
Moving back to Small Town where eating fast food became more challenging (the only fast food establishments in Small Town are McDonald's and Sonic; the only other chain restaurant is Pizza Hut) meant that I was going to have to cook more. Combine that with my four months of not making a single dime and preparing my meals became the norm. While I occasionally ate at my parents' restaurant and they would occasionally bring me takeout, I made nearly everything I ate. I'd like to think I've cultivated some good habits in the last six years, and particularly in the last year. I switched from the whole milk I was raised on to nonfat, unless the bread is French I buy whole wheat, I've taught myself to like peas and broccoli and onions, and I've made an effort to eat meals that are more balanced, even if they aren't always the height of health.
For the last two weeks, I've sworn off snacks in an attempt to look hot(ter) when I see Project later this month. It is absolutely vanity and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I struggle with eating snacks that are a) a reasonable size and b) not junk food. So I didn't allow myself to buy any junk and I'm not allowed to eat between meals. Because I'm thinking about how long it's going to be before I can eat again, I'm thinking about balancing my meals better than I ever did before, and I think that's probably the best thing that will come from this little experiment.
Still, I've fallen off the wagon a time or two. One night last week I had such a craving for sugar - of any kind, really - that I sent a despairing text mesage to Bradshaw. I then proceded to pit some of the cherries in my fridge and warm them with a bit of butter and brown sugar before gobbling them up. (Apparently just the sugary-ness of the cherries themselves wasn't enough for me.)
I'm going to experiment with mindful eating. There are plenty of aspects to this, but I'm not going to promise that I'll sit at the table and avoid watching television while I eat (in fact, I almost certainly will be watching television). What I will do is take a photograph of each meal before I eat, and as an act of accountability, I will post about the experiment in one week.*
Wish me luck. And, if you're at all intriguied, I challenge you to play with me. Photograph one meal each day if you aren't feeling as ambitious as I am.
*And I swear I won't make you look at a slew of poorly styled photos of my food. I'll make a collage that you can give a cursory glance and then ignore.Labels: kitchen adventures, project
Journey
I never started blogging for other people to read. My goal at the beginning wasn't for anyone to discover my writing and suddenly become wildly interested in me and what I had to say.
That sounds strange, and for an attention whore like me, unlikely, but it's true. My very first blog post was on livejournal in the summer of 2006. I was mourning and lost and depressed and I didn't feel like I could talk about it. What I could do was write, but somehow it wasn't enough to write in a journal and put it away. So I wrote and posted it online. I think there was something in the idea that someone could read it that was appealing, and something in the fact that it was unlikely to be read that was comforting.
I think forcing myself to tell my story made a difference. And at some point, I decided to move to blogspot and begin writing in the hopes that someone would read it. I wanted to step away from the soul searching introspection and just put myself out there. And for a long time, it seemed like no one read it at all. Maybe no one did.
Eventually I decided that Bradshaw was, in fact, trustworthy, and I gave up a little piece of my anonymity. Part of the motivation to keep the blog a secret from those in my day-to-day life was the freedom to write not-so-nice things about them if I felt compelled. I finally realized that it was extremely unlikely that I would ever feel the need to write not-so-nice things about Bradshaw. I wanted to share this part of myself with her, so I did. I've never regretted that, and in fact I've shared the blog with a handful of other people who matter to me.
But now that I've worked through most of the issues that first prompted me to begin blogging, what is the point of writing now? What is the purpose of my blog? It's more than a place to blow off steam or ramble - handwritten journals are far superior to the internet for that. I want it to be more than a place to share gratitude and quotations and pretty images and my kitchen adventures- though I think those things have a certain value of their own.
It was about two years ago that I started working deliberately to pull myself away from those difficult things that were hanging over my head when I started writing. I began to actively avoid writing negatively to take the power away from those days and those emotions. If we assume that I've "conquered" my grief and negativity, why am I still writing at all?
I don't think the internet needs another make yourself happy/be positive/you're awesome/hooray for gratitude blog. It's been done to death and by people who do it better than I can. There aren't a lot of things I know or do better than anyone else. Maybe the only thing that I know better than you, kitten, is how to teach Romeo and Juliet to a classroom of high school freshmen. I'm still trying to be a better person. Not a poised, self-actualized, perfectly positive karmic goddess: I just want to be happy. I think that maybe the first step on that road is really learning who I am to begin with. Then I can embrace what is good and beautiful, work towards changing what's less-than-fantastic, and learn to love even the unattractive.
This blog is my journey toward being that person. I want to explore and think and read and try different things. I want to experiment and to grow, to learn what works and what doesn't - for me. I want to own my quirks, conquer my fears, and revel in the things that make me happy. I'll stumble and fail and probably get hurt, but I think I'll also succeed and triumph and become a better person for my efforts. Here, I want to share my journey with you and maybe, if you're game, drag you along for the ride.
I'm so glad that you've joined me.
Labels: personal growth
A Space of My Own
Today, I created office space for myself. I am weirdly happy about it.
I never really used my desk in high school, but when I went to college, that was where the computer lived, so I began to find it useful. Not for sitting and doing reading or handwritten assignments. I really just used it for computer time. Granted, most of the works I completed in college (that wasn't simply reading) was done on the computer in some way, but if I'd had a laptop instead of a desktop, I know I would've done all of that work on my bed or couch.
A day or two ago, I discovered
yes and yes (see the sidebar, kittens) and Sarah's photos of her compact
Office Space. Apparently it inspired me, because this afternoon I relocated Grandma's sewing machine and turned an end table into my new desk. With a bulletin board and all of my writing references in easy reach, it seems perfect even if it is humble. As soon as I put away the mountain of clothes next to it, I'll take pictures for you.
I've been hearing for years that people are more productive when they have a place dedicated to work, and I think it's time I test it out. I've always written it off, to be honest; I made it through high school and college doing homework on beds and couches. Of course, there were also deadlines and due dates that were imposed by someone other than me, and I work better with expectations. Perhaps having the space will help the good habits and the self-regulation to come.
I'll never know if I don't try.
Image from tumblr. I wish it was mine.Labels: everyday musings
Things I Love Thursday
Things I Love Thursday is one of the things I consistently missed when I stopped blogging last fall. A concept originally borrowed (read: blatantly stolen) from
Gala Darling, it forces me to stop and recognize all of the lovely things in my life that bring me happiness. I have a feeling that living in Small Town again will change the way these lists look, but I'm no less excited to write them!
Food Food in general, yes, but lately I'm loving some things that are newer additions to my diet. Ricotta cheese is good with everything - it's so much more than lasagna. My current favorite way to eat it: mixed with fresh basil and dolloped on top of linguine with marinara sauce. So yum. I've begun to appreciate the protein-y goodness that is lentils, sometimes just eating a bowlful (with a bit of white wine vinegar and olive oil) instead of preparing a real meal. My final food love: homemade tomato "jam." I peel, seed, and chop roma tomatoes, then cook them until they're thick and sweet and jam-like. I add a splash of balsamic vinegar and enjoy, mostly on bruschetta (and often with little blobs of the aforementioned ricotta).
Astrology For me, it's kind of an exercise in narcissism. I study my own chart almost exclusively and am always most interested in topics that pertain directly to me. This means that when I do look at someone else's birth chart, it's because they're important to
me. Impure motives aside, it's fascinating. My favorite moments in astrology are those in which something you've never quite understood about yourself is crystalized through an aspect you never paid much attention to. One example: I believe my Mercury in Pisces has predisposed me to the ambivalence which is so pervasive in my life. (Mercury is also my chart ruler since I'm a Gemini Rising; Gemini is another sign of duality.)
Rediscovering When I took a break from blogging, I also took a break from reading a lot of the blogs and sites I'd once read regularly. And, honestly, for a while I spent almost no time on the internet. This week, I've been exploring some of the archived material I missed from Gala Darling. I prefer her "lifestyle" work to her fashion work, and I can't get behind all of it, but I do believe her heart is in the right place. Self-loathing is an issue for our generation, and her series in February on Radical Self-Love is a wonderful counteraction to that. It's worth a browse to absorb the tidbits that speak to you.
Nature It is unbearably, hideously, sickeningly hot right now. Still, nature gives me the gorgeous blooms that I planted (lantana, celosia, coleus, verbena, dahlia, geranium, and petunias are still going strong) and Grandma's favorite hummingbirds enjoying the feeder I hung outside the kitchen window. The Moon, stars, and planets have been particularly bright this week and absolutely beautiful. About a week ago, the most gorgeous rainbow I'd ever seen painted the sky - and it was a double rainbow on top of that. Beautiful.
Brad, Jen, and Angelina - in cupcakes Ignore most of the writing parts. Look at the pictures and captions. Snicker.
Bunches and bunches watching Puck chase his tail; caramel frappuccinos;
So You Think You Can Dance; catcalls ("Nice ass!"); making petit fours for Mom's birthday; the new khaki shirtdress;
Atlas Shrugged; 1000 Awesome Things; sticking to my guns for nearly two weeks; hula-hooping; baking experiments;
Gossip Girl on DVD (I'm so predictable); preordering
Mockingjay for less than it'll cost in-store - including shipping; acceptance; psychoanalysis; slipping into familiarity;
Everyday Food magazine; having my ass kicked by Carmen Electra; Nigella Lawson's choice of words when she cooks; long, long baths; Rachel Maddow; Tarte lip stains.
Now, here's how it goes. I shared, so you share. Because it's only polite.
What are you loving this week?
Labels: TILT
Loneliness. Solitude.
Recently, and through a rather strange series of events, Project reentered my life. That, and all of the stuff that goes with it, is another post in itself, and I've not quite sorted out the way I feel about all of it. It's for another day.
Since we hadn't spoken in over four years, we had a bit of catching up to do. Given our quasi-romantic history, the subject of relationships came up, and my lack of relationships seemed to surprise him. When I explained that I had accepted and was embracing a solitary life as the way that I'm meant to live, he seemed almost upset. Since, like so many other people, he's apparently been in a serious, committed relationship (mind-bending as that is), his reaction didn't surprise me. In our society it seems unthinkable that someone would choose and actually enjoy being alone and not having a "significant other." He asked me if I didn't think that choosing that sort of life would be lonely.
I've always been a little judgmental of people who seem unable to spend any time alone, particularly those girls when I was in college who would complain about how they wanted someone to share their bed because they wanted company. While I realize that people enjoy companionship, I can't understand how someone can't entertain herself and learn to enjoy solitude. I don't understand people who are bored when they're alone, who seek the company of another simply because they can't enjoy the company they provide for themselves. I know those people exist, and if that's how you want to live I'm not going to judge, but I don't
get it.
No, I'm not lonely. No one steals the covers or crowds my space in bed, there isn't anyone expecting me to make polite conversation before coffee, no one to compromise with when choosing what to watch on television, no one expecting me to make dinner or complaining about what I choose. When I choose to spend my whole day at home - which is more days than not - I get to spend time sans-makeup, something I couldn't do if there was a man in my house (my pride wouldn't allow it). There isn't anyone talking when I'm engrossed in a book, no one judging when I get sappy movies from Netflix or choose to spend my weekend in a
Gossip Girl marathon, and food I put in the fridge never disappears.
I'm the opposite of lonely; I revel in my solitude. When I do want company I know where to find it. And sure, I have moments when it would be nice to have someone around, but those moments of want rarely come from inside myself. I watch a silly romantic comedy and catch myself wanting someone to look at me like that, to kiss me like that. Then I remember that romantic comedies omit the hard parts of sharing yourself with someone. I crawl in bed and catch a bit of a chill and think of how nice it would be to have someone to snuggle up against. Then I remember that I've never been able to sleep peacefully with another person in bed with me. I pour my first cup of coffee and think how nice it would be if someone else made it just the way I like it before I woke up.
Then I remember that the coffee pot has a timer.
Labels: boys, personal growth
Nic Returns, Part 73
I have succumbed to peer pressure.
I've always been a sporadic blogger, and it wasn't really surprising to me when I abandoned the blog again about a year ago. I'd just moved back to Small Town and I felt like I didn't have anything interesting to talk about any longer. I wasn't working, I was far from friends, and I had no romantic - or sexual - prospects on the horizon. Unless you wanted to read post after post about what I was watching on television and the indignity of being forced to ask your mother for money to buy cat food, the blog was going to be pointless.
Ten months back in Small Town, I've found my way. I started substitute teaching, I discovered a love of (and talent for) baking, and I've made peace with my solitude. People have slipped out of and back into my life. My interests have deepened and broadened.
I'm happy.
So, while I can't promise that it will be consistently - or ever - interesting, and I can't swear that I'll even post with any sense of predictability, I'm back.
Potential topics up for discussion in the near future: astrology, my adventures in baking, the reappearance of Project, loneliness and its lack of presence, my desire and failure to be type-A, my thoughts on philosophy and Ayn Rand, and what's going on with my career. I will also continue to share favorite quotations and to celebrate Things I Love Thursdays.
Here we go.
Labels: updates
