You Only Live Once, This Is How I'm Doing It!

Month: November 2010 Page 1 of 3

Faking it

Something my mom taught me early on was, confidence, even when faked, is the most attractive quality a person can have. It’s hard when you feel socially awkward and clumsy. I laugh too loud at the wrong times. I trip and drop things. I spit or choke when I drink. I have complete facepalm moments way more often than I care to admit.

I actually have always considered myself shy. This might surprise people who know me because I feel like I fake it pretty well. The most unattractive thing someone can do is insult themselves. This is why it’s sometimes hard for me to be honest on my blog. If I write on here how sometimes I feel like a beached whale or that no amount of make up will make my face publicly presentable then, not only do I feel unattractive but now I am less attractive.

I also would never want anyone to be all “Oh no, you’re so thin/pretty/whatever” after reading something like that because GAH! Nothing is worse than a forced compliment. Nothing. I’d rather be insulted. Really.

So I don’t write those types of things no matter how strongly I feel them.

But sometimes I wonder if writing them would help me find others that were feeling the same way. Maybe me writing how I really feel would actually help someone know they’re not alone.

I know when someone leaves a comment on a post that I wrote from my heart saying they have felt the same way it means the world to me. It helps me immensely to know there is someone else out there who feels the same way. To know I’m not crazy.

Or at least not completely crazy.

I’m also afraid that no one would say anything. That I would pour my heart out only to be greeted with crickets.

I think I’m afraid of that more than anything. More than being seen as less stable or less attractive. I’m afraid of finding out I really am alone.

Or crazy….

So I’m faced with a dilemma. Either carry on faking it all by myself fearing I might be alone. Or letting down some of my walls and possibly finding out I really am.

Both prospects kind of terrify me. I just can’t decide which one scares me more.

Good night

Sometimes you just have a fantastic time. I love spending time with my friends, especially when it involves good wine and good conversation.

Because of the wine I don’t have a whole lot that I can type into words. Typing is way harder when you’ve had wine, in case you were wondering.

Instead I’ll leave you with an adorable picture of the word’s cutest puppy.

She really missed me today. I was gone way too long.

Now to go get my snuggles… Night!

Pointless Ramblings

I’ve had a long couple of days at work. Or weeks. Or months. Whatever I’m tired.

Being tired makes me much less inspired when it comes to blogging. I have no stories.

No, that’s not true. I have a million stories but not one I can put on a public blog.

I have no funny videos. I have some cute pictures but I’m saving them for Wednesday. So basically I’m idea-less. Fun.

When that happens I try to go through my archives and find something I started and never finished. Often that little bit of inspiration makes writing much easier. Sometimes I even get a completely different idea out of reading through a couple half finished posts.

This time however I noticed a trend. It’s a trend that I’m not sure is a good one. The trend is sad. All these half finished posts are depressing and that’s why I didn’t finish them. See, “real” people read this blog. When I say real I mean people I actually see face to face on a semi regular basis. This makes it hard for me to pour my guts out on here. Yesterday’s post was just a glimpse of what’s been churning under the surface for awhile now. I was thisclose to not hitting publish. And several times since I’ve been thisclose to taking it down.

The sad thing is, it’s not even that deep of a post I don’t think. Not compared to some of the amazing blogs I read. It’s not everything I wanted to say. I hate reading vague statuses and posts. That’s all I feel like I publish anymore.

I think part of it is because I’m so tired. It’s harder for me to laugh things off when I’m so tired I could cry. I really enjoy my job, especially since it’s grown so much over the last several weeks. It’s exciting. It’s also exhausting. It’s mostly mental exhaustion.

It’s biting my tongue when I want to talk.

It’s finding a balance between friendship and getting shit done.

I want to be a good manager. I also want to keep the friendships I’ve started. I’m afraid I can’t do both. Not that I’m awesome at keeping friends anyway…

I need to get back into acting. Or dancing. Or taekwondo…. Or something that allows me to be incredibly physical in my stress relief. I mean, being married does offer some activities that are good for that…. but, you know, mixing things up a bit.

Or something.

So basically I’ve just rambled for 400 words or so. And…. I’m not sure where all these words have gotten me exactly. I guess to the conclusion that I need to take a class.

Or start an anonymous blog…. who’s with me?

Versions of Me

There is not just one Me.

There’s the one in my head.

The one I wish I were.

The one I am at home.

The one I am with my family.

The one I am when meeting new people.

The one I am with my friends.

The one I am with my dog.

The one I am at work.

The one I am in public.

All of them are similar but they are not the same. Sometimes it’s exhausting. I wish I could figure out the balance because I feel like I’m being pulled in a million directions. A person can only be pulled so far before they break. It’s just science.

It’s mostly the pressure I put on myself that makes me feel this way. I must be confident. I must feel beautiful. I must be happy and smiley. I must be positive. I must. I must.

I’m tired.

Every once in awhile I’m tempted to withdraw. I consider myself a people person but sometimes I have an incredible urge to run away and hide from humanity forever. Or to start over somewhere that nobody knows me. I want to take everything I’ve learned and become this super human I envision.

The problem is that Me always follows. Every stupid version.

Some versions are better than others. Every version has flaws.

Except that one I wish I were. She’s perfect.

I’m not her.

No lie

The other day I was getting ready to leave the house. I was searching for a pair of my pants and couldn’t seem to find them anywhere. You’d think it would be strange for me to have a hard time finding a pair of pants but unfortunately it’s a fairly common occurrence around my house.

See, right now my clothing situation is a bit of a disaster. I have plenty of clothes (Joel says too many, I say he’s crazy, you can never have too many clothes) but when we moved we went from a big beautiful walk-in closet to a normal sized regular closet. Waaaah! Sad right?

So, since we moved in July I’ve never quite gotten a handle on getting all my clothes organized and put away because I simply don’t have enough room for them all anymore. This means I often have piles of clothes all over my bedroom and sometimes the living room depending on if I’ve recently done laundry or not.

We were running slightly behind schedule (per usual) so I was getting a bit frantic searching for my missing pants. I had Joel looking as well and neither of us could find the stupid pair of pants anywhere. Not long ago I packed away all my summer clothes so in a moment of desperation I started digging through that box. I pulled out a rather large pile of stuff when suddenly Joel yelled that he found them. They were hanging in the closet. Go figure.

I grabbed them and ran into the other room to finish getting ready. I asked Joel if he’d please pick up that pile that I had just pulled out really fast so my packed away clothes didn’t get mixed up with the other piles in the room. He mumbled something that I assumed was an unenthusiastic yes and I didn’t think anything else of it.

We got out of the house mostly on time, went about our day and got home late that night. We began getting ready for bed when we started smelling the heater. It was a very sharp, hot, almost chemical smell. We have the kind of heaters that are low on the wall and heat up with water. I want to say they’re radiators but I’m not really an expert on that sort of thing. Anyway, they do get very hot. So hot in fact we often have to open windows sometimes so it stops feeling like a tropical rain forest. There’s not really a happy medium, they’re either set at sweltering or off.

We’re really careful to keep things away from the edges but the smell kept getting worse so Joel got down with a flashlight to see if he could find anything. He found a rubber band that had fallen into one of them but it didn’t seem to be hot or melted or what was causing the smell. To be safe we just turned the heat off and went to bed.

The next morning we got up and began to get ready. We still had the heat off from the night before. Weirdly we began smelling that same smell again. I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth when suddenly Joel ran in from the bedroom shouting about how he found where the smell was coming from with a smoking pile of clothes. He had been standing in the bedroom when all of the sudden he noticed little puffs of smoke coming from that pile of clothes I’d asked him to clean up.

Needless to say what I thought was a mumbled yes was really just a mumble about how he didn’t want to clean up my clothes. And he didn’t. What we both didn’t realize is the pile went high enough that a couple things were resting on the light bulb of an Ikea lamp in our room.

Apparently, those light bulbs get extremely hot.

Especially when covered in clothes.

Hot enough that this happened.

In case you can’t tell that’s what use to be two of my suits.

It burned a hole fully through five layers of suit material.

Here is the light bulb of doom.

See, normally this lamp would have had a fancy light shade over it. But we just replaced the burnt out bulbs and hadn’t gotten around to putting the shade back on.

Thankfully nothing more was hurt than a couple of suits I don’t ever wear anymore. I’m a little sad because one was the suit I got hired by my airline in. ::sniff:: However, I realize things could be much worse. I only just moved the dried flowers that had been sitting there a few days ago. We’re the kind of people who obsessively turn lights off when we leave a room. Had we left the house with that light on like that we might have come home to no house at all.

But no one was hurt so now it’s just a ridiculous story I get to tell.

Also? I had to get rid of some of the “too many” clothes Joel says I have. He says he definitely did not set fire to my clothes on purpose just so I’d get rid of some. But what’s that saying again?

Liar, liar, pants on…..

I’ll let you be the judge.

So thankful

For my wonderful family.

For sisters who look like me.

For cousins and nephews and their cheesy smiles.

For future nieces or nephews.

For football and snuggles.

For time spent laughing and talking around the dinner table long after the food is gone.

For puppies that love attention.

For the one I adore and for being adored in return.

And for a million other things….

It was a wonderful Thanksgiving full of delicious food and quality time with so many that I love. Those that weren’t there were thought of and missed. I’m so lucky for everyone and everything in my life.

Hoping every one of you were surrounded by love and warmth on this holiday.

You are missed

Today we had the funeral for my step father-in-law, Ron. I can’t really come up with the right words. Saying goodbye is really hard. It just doesn’t seem right that he won’t be around.

Phoebe still runs around the house when we’re over at my mother-in-law’s house looking for him. She begs for food so much more because he could never resist her little face. She adored him. When a dog adores someone I think that says a lot about them.

She really adored him.

He was only 58. That’s way, way too young. It’s good that he’s not in pain anymore.

But it was too soon.

I sat next to my dad at the funeral. I can’t imagine losing him. Ever. He’s so much older than Ron was. My dad is going to be 73. Ron was only 58.

Fifty eight.

It’s just so unfair.

I don’t deal well with death. It makes me sad and angry. No one I know should ever die.

The fact that people I know are mortal? Terrifies me.

I want to put every single person I love in a bubble. They are not allowed to leave me. Ever.

But unfortunately part of life is death. I’m not ok with that but I don’t really get a choice in the matter.

This holiday season I’ll be holding everyone I love a little bit closer.

And I’ll be remembering the one who is missing.

Crazy bells

Today was my step father in law’s wake. So sad. But I’ll talk more about him tomorrow.

We were running late (because apparently it’s impossible for me to be ready on time. Plus traffic. Ugh) so I was a bit stressed out. It’s not that we were that late but people drive like idiots and it’s the holidays and blah blah blah.

Anyway, since we were running late I decided to put my make up on in the car (don’t worry Joel was driving). I was putting my eyeliner on when the tip broke off. It annoyed me but whatever… until I tried to roll it up and get more and realized that was it. I was out of eyeliner completely.

So there I am, half of one eye done, late to a funeral with no more eyeliner to complete my face. Freaking awesome.

I couldn’t go like that obviously. Luckily minutes down the road we found a Walgreens so I made a mad dash into the store. Outside the store there was a Salvation Army bell ringer. Now normally I’m a smiley pleasant person. I don’t often carry cash on me but if I do I’ll drop whatever I have in. I’m no Scrooge.

However, at that moment I wasn’t in the mood to be pleasant to anyone. I was a woman on a mission so I just walked as fast as my high heeled feet could take me directly into the store. As I approached the man called out

Hey how you doin’?

I ignored him because, like I said, I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone, much less be happy and charitable.

Now, correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t Salvation Army bell ringers usually full of holiday cheer? Aren’t they just supposed to wish you merry Christmas and tell you to have a nice day whether you drop anything into their bucket or not? It’s not as if it’s a contest, right?

Or maybe it was for this dude because me not responding to him kind of pissed him off. It started with a “hey” and escalated to “HEY, HEEEY! Don’t be like that!

All I could think was wow, dude needs to chill. I found my eyeliner as quickly as possible, all the while thinking of how off kilter my face must look with only half of one eye done.

When I left the store the dude must have been waiting because he was even louder this time

Hey Lady, just smile. What’s your problem? Have a little holiday spirit. Seriously, what’s your problem?

I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up. I’m on my way to a funeral for goodness sake! Smiling? Not really in the mood.

Instead I just kept my eyes straight ahead and walked as fast as I could to the car. I was fairly sure that if I let loose even a little I may just emotionally explode all over the guy. I was thisclose to bursting into tears and if I let the dam open even a little I knew that guy would have gotten way more than he’d bargained for.

Although as rude as he was being he may have deserved it. So much for Christmas cheer.


I had plans to write a whole post about the TSA controversy. I even started it before I went to work.

Unfortunately I didn’t finish it so it sits in my drafts folder to wait for another time.

Why you ask?

Because I’m tired. And my throat hurts and itches like crazy. And my ears itch a little too.

I’m actually wondering if this is a cold coming on or some sort of reaction to all the red wine I had Friday night.

Shut up that could be it.

Because otherwise it’s a cold and waaah I don’t want a cold. It’s almost Thanksgiving. It’s my very favorite holiday. I’m going to be so pissed if I’m sick for it.


So yeah, I’m fighting whatever the heck this is and I’m sleepy from a long work day of almost constant running around. It was good because it made the night fly by. But yeah, I’m too tired to do anything but try to itch my throat.

Cross your fingers for me that I stay healthy and this throat thing goes away. I’m so over it.

Drowning in stress

I’m so stressed out I can physically feel it. Like a tight grip across my chest. I’m sure that’s why I’m fighting one of the worst sore throats I’ve ever had in my life.

I hate feeling stupid.

And inadequate.

I’m just overwhelmed.

The worst part is, the one person who can help me hates me.

So that’s basically no help at all.

I’ve noticed my heart racing at random times lately. Even when I’m just lying down.

That can’t be good.

It’s probably because my mind never stops going a mile a minute.

I never do anything halfway. Whatever I do I throw myself into 100%.

I can’t stand screwing up or making mistakes.

I want to be perfect.

Except I’m not.

But the idea of disappointing people in my life….

Hate it.


I can do this.

I. Can. Do. This.

I have to. I refuse to fail. All I need is a little more information. I just need to actually do certain things once and then it will be fine.

It will be nice when I don’t have someone undercutting me and trying to make me look bad at every turn. That’s really tough.

The irony is, by trying to screw me over it’s only made me look better and made them look like an ass. So not the most effective sabotage.

However, to my morale? It’s been relatively effective. My mind is constantly racing trying to catch mistakes before they happen. I feel like at any moment I’m going to fail and fall out of good graces.

It makes me feel like throwing up.

Or crying.

Or screaming.

I want to do well but it’s starting to wear on me. I’m not ready to give up, not by a long shot. I just feel like I’ve been waiting for things to get better for months and I’m still waiting.

Overall I’m very positive. Things are vastly better than they used to be. There’s still so far to go and if I let myself focus on that too much I’m afraid I’ll drown in those thoughts.

My goal right now is to keep smiling. No matter what. Amazingly a smile, even when it starts out faked, can turn a day from bad to good. It improves my mood almost without me realizing it.

You just can’t smile and have a bad day.

Or at least that’s the idea.

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