"Life is a fact" - Breakfast at Tiffany's

After an exciting seafood dinner at The Boiling Crab, I brought in the new year watching Breakfast at Tiffany's.  The first and only other time I'd watched it I didn't give it a chance but now I see why it is a cult favorite.  I never realized until now that Fred/Paul was a prostitute who had published one book years prior to meeting Holly Golightly, and hadn't found his muse until they met.  If you haven't seen it, check it out. I hear it's a classic.
So The Boiling Crab was an interesting mess.  Literally.  We ordered a dozen raw oysters, two pounds of snow crab legs, gumbo, and a pound of shrimp, all swimming in separate bags of messy, greasy sauce & seasoning - garlic flavored, lemon pepper flavored, and "The Whole Shebang" flavored.  My hands were an absolute mess when I finished, but I managed to keep my clothes out of it, thankfully.

I was very comfortable and content when 2012 finally arrived, in pajama's fresh from the dryer, clean sheets and pillow cases on my bed, fluffy pillows, and a chilled bottle of apple cider on my nite stand.  Oh, and a few Ghirardelli peppermint chocolate squares to go with it.  It was the perfect way to say goodbye to the year and begin anew.  

Not-so-great Gatsby’s

So another eager candidate joined The Dating Game. We’ll call him ‘Lanky guy’. He’s 39, 6’4, slim, an educator of special needs children, lives about 10 minutes away from me in the hood section of my city, is into holistic medicine, went to school in DC (he keeps mentioning that), no children, weird sense of humor, likes camping and hiking, collects records, calls himself a DJ but he doesn’t do any dj’ing and I’m not sure he ever did, he says he only likes rap music, and that’s all I knew as of Monday night. After our initial conversation in which he did the majority of the talking about everything under the moon, before I hung up he said he’d be thinking about me. That made me pause. He asked me to call him when I could. I said I’d call him after work the following day. He asked what time I got off. I told him that I should be home by 5pm. When the clock struck 7pm, and I hadn’t called him, he called me. This is after sending me two emails and a text message earlier in the day. Anxious, huh? Now, as per usual, I was slightly optimistic yet still cautious, wondering what was wrong with him. As it turns out, his issues are: he’s 39, which isn’t really an issue except he’s never been in a relationship that lasted longer than 1 year. He’s still single, no children, no prospects, has done practically nothing with his life, has lots of debt, is terribly indecisive, has “man baggage” (his ex-girlfriend wouldn’t commit after 5 years of booty calls and he couldn’t understand why) he’s lonely, sad, and is looking to be saved by marriage. Oh, and he seemed to freak out when I told him that I was once in a long-term relationship that produced a now 17 year old, college-bound son. I have no idea why that last tidbit seems to turn older men off. Do they feel threatened? Do they think it ruins their chances of procreating with me, as if I’m tarnished goods, as if their boys can still swim and are still healthy? I don’t get it and find it quite delusional and presumptuous. My nest will be empty in less than a year and will remain that way because my uterus has been placed in retirement. Now, whenever I tell them that little whammy, for some reason they’re not entirely turned off. They behave as if I’m joking and that they have the power to force my girl out of retirement. Silly birds, haven’t they heard of birth control? And the nerve of them assuming that I’d even let them anywhere near her. Men and their enormous egos are the bane of the entire world. So never mind who I am and what I dream about, he can’t see me for admiring himself. Forget what I’ve done and what I’m working on, it’s inconsequential to what I look like and what he imagines me being to him. The morning after our very first conversation where, remember, he did most of the talking about himself, he seemed giddy with excitement over the prospect of developing a relationship with me, someone he knew absolutely nothing about aside from what I looked and sounded like and the way I interacted with him on the telephone. (Kind of reminded me of the crazy 'Marry me' guy who asked me to marry him three times in one month after meeting.) He said “I’ll be thinking about you” with a giggle and a smile in his voice, before I promised him that I’d call him after work. But from the moment that I told him about my long term relationship, which I’ve now been out of for many years, and my teenage son, I could hear the enthusiasm draining from his voice. I could tell by his conversation that his excitement had waned, lol. Funny how that happens. I think he’s the third guy I’ve dated so far to do this. The other two were ‘African guy’ and ‘Skeevy Club guy,’ who happened to have two young children of his own. So if it’s not one thing, it’s a few others. Thankfully, I’ve weeded through them rather quickly and didn’t waste a lot of precious time. What I do waste time doing, however, is longing. Part of me wants to harden my heart and no longer care so that I can get on with other things without distraction, but I know that to live without romantic love is not living a full life. It is almost tortuous wondering and waiting and wanting. I throw myself into projects and for a while I am sufficiently distracted, but never for long. Maybe one of these days I will get better at distracting myself and forget what it feels like to be in a relationship. I don’t know whether that’d be good or awful. One thing I can say is that I do thoroughly enjoy living alone and having the freedom to do whatever I please. I don’t want to change that. When Lanky guy wanted me to call him back, it felt like a nagging chore. I knew I’d promised to call him but I really didn’t feel like it. There were at least 5 other things I wanted to do instead of talk to him. That should have been my cue that I wasn’t that into him and would be wasting my time trying to make something out of nothing. Maybe if I keep that in mind for next time, I’ll weed through guys quicker. Welp, the good thing is I’m learning a lot about myself. This is growth :)

Love; I miss it.  I dream about it all the time, day and night. Last night I dreamt that the artist guy was dating a friend of mines. I really have to stay off Facebook before going to bed. In the dream, he was dating her but it wasn’t clear that he actually liked her. It seemed more like an arrangement of some sort and she paid for everything while he seemed indifferent about the whole affair. Towards the end of the dream I was racing to the salon for my hair appointment with the hope that me having a fancy new hairdo might get his attention and turn him back my way. As if he ever really was digging me in the first place. Dreams are so silly.  Well, mine are at least.  Anyway, I miss romance and intimacy and, honestly, I miss the idea of sex more than I do the actual act. Where sex is concerned, it’s been my experience that my fantasies are often much better than my realities.  I’d say my sex life over the past 20 years has been 45% wow.  But my fantasies? WOW! I have one hell of an imagination!  It’s the intimacy of sex that makes it great, not so much the physical act, in my opinion.  

So yeah, I'm missing love again.  This poem by one of my favorite authors sums it up perfectly:

“Love entered in my heart one day 
A sad, unwelcome guest. 
But when it begged that it might stay 
I let it stay and rest 

It broke my nights with sorrowing 
It filled my heart with fears 
And, when my soul was prone to sing, 
It filled my eyes with tears. 

But...now that it has gone its way, 
I miss the dear ole pain. 
And, sometimes, in the night I pray 
That Love might come again.” 
― J. California Cooper

When I pulled into my driveway last night, I saw a baby possum run into my backyard. since that crazy windstorm about a week ago, I haven't had the time or energy to really clean my yard the way I should, and so now it seems I have some unwanted neighbors - a family of possums. Yuck. There are leaves, tree branches and other debris all over the neighborhood, still, and I'm worried that if the city doesn't come and pick it all up soon, even more rodents will move in. I cringe at the thought. Time, I wish I could buy it. I wish I could manage it better. It's more valuable than money. If I had more time I would be in much better physical shape, which would presumably give me more energy to do all of my chores as well as the things I want to do for recreation, and I'd complain less about not being able to fit everything in. I'd be less stressed and there wouldn't be a family of possums in my backyard.

The meaning of Christmas

Every year around this time I hear the belly aching, the complaints, the bah-humbugs about Christmas and how commercialized it has become, and I wonder why so many otherwise smart people allow others to dictate what this holiday means to them. (Not too long ago, I had a case of the bah-humbugs myself) Christmas means different things to different people, obviously. As for me and mine, gifts have never outshined our love for one another. Every year we watch the decorations go up around town, put up some of our own at home, revel in the warm spirits all around, and get excited about coming together as a family to celebrate our love for one another and the blessings the year has bestowed upon us. Not many make it to the end of the year, or feel they have much to celebrate. But if you have breath in your lungs, it is my humble opinion that you, too, have something worth celebrating - the hope for better days, the chance to live the life you’ve always dreamed of, or one even better than you’ve imagined, for starters. Yes, family and love and life should be celebrated all year long, theoretically, but how many of us in this day and age regularly take the time out of our hustle and bustle lifestyles to stop and celebrate our families and friends and the love we share? How often do we stop and spend an entire day together, and sometimes an entire month, giving thanks for our blessings, safety, and fortunes? And where’s the harm in doing it in December? It’s a huge celebration of life and love. For some it’s the celebration of the life and love of Christ, but for many, whether they know it or not, it is the celebration of our own lives and loved ones. And if you’re at all religious you’ve likely heard that Christ loved us so much he died for us to live. And even if you aren’t religious at all, you’d have to have a pretty cold heart not to feel the joy and hope in the hearts of your fellow man, woman, and child during Christmastime. It’s infectious, love is. So resist the urge to be an Ebenezer Scrooge and give in to love, and give a little shout about your life and hope, and the lives and well-being of others. It bodes no one well to focus on negativity when positivity moves you forward, lifts you up, and benefits us all. Christmas is the one time of year when everyone has an excuse to be good and giving ;) And if you don’t have a family in the traditional sense to spend it with, create your own. Serve in a soup kitchen, give to the less fortunate, volunteer, invite friends over or invite yourself to a friends’ house. If you know me, meaning we’ve at least spoken at length before, consider this your invitation to spend Christmas with me and my family. I promise, there will be no shortage of entertainment and love, lol.

One of the best Christmases of my life was spent in Hawaii with my son in 2009.  It was just the two of us, no tree, no gifts, just us and it was absolutely great. Then we flew home and ended up spending Christmas day at my ex’s sisters house with all of his siblings, nieces, and nephew's, both of his parents, and a handful of cousins.  Still no gifts, just good food, laughter and love.

What’s wrong with him?

It’s sad that these days the first question that enters my mind when I’m attracted to a man is “what’s wrong with him?” There’s always something but will it be something I can live with or that I have to live without? The last three guys I was attracted to all had problems I couldn’t bring myself to ignore. One smokes weed, can’t spell, is passionately Christian, yet doesn’t attend church (how the… hell? Lol), still lives with his mother, thinks he has haters, and believes that the US is being run by the UK, among other things. Another one is a patsy for his older brother, thinks way too highly of himself because he went to FAMU, said he’d never listen to another MJ song or support the Jackson family again because Conrad Murray was “wrongfully” charged with his death, claims that there are black people and “n*ggas” and that he is the former, said JLo is “officially” putting her career before a man because she performed at the last awards show (huh?), and is basically an idiot who doesn’t know he’s an idiot. A third one is a highly judgmental, issue-laden, passive-aggressive, stalker asshole (hi! :)). Island boy is a homophobe, doesn’t go down, said vagina reminds him of the predator unmasked, doesn’t see anything wrong with having lots of children that a) he is not in a position to take care of financially, b) all have different mothers, and c) he does not live with or see regularly. He is also cheap, and a huge liar. I could go on but it doesn’t get any better. All signs are pointing towards me being single and sexless for a long time. One of my good friends has been single and sexless for over 28 years. She just recently landed her first boyfriend ever and is ecstatic. Talk about patience and holding strong to your convictions! She inspires me and I’m thrilled for her but the pessimist in me is still leery. She knows I love her though so I’ll gladly be the one of us that worries while she basks in the joy of couple-dom. Meanwhile, I’m sewing, attending classes, working on my house, traveling, paying for Netflix and Direct TV, and hanging out with platonic friends and family, hoping that someday soon I can live with somebody’s imperfections. And honestly, I’d settle for two out of the four above losers as non-live-in boyfriends :( Which two? Does it really even matter? Le sigh.

I’m in a really good mood today.  I generally don’t like to post when I’m not feeling so great, which has been often lately, hence me not posting as much as I have in the past.  But recently, my spirits have been up.  I feel light and airy, lol.  I’m not worried about anything, even though I still have many of the same challenges (fighting that ticket in Malibu, issues with my ex, etc.) that I had before my current disposition.  I think it stems from the great time that I had with my family on Thanksgiving.  Everyone is still talking about it and we’re all closer than ever.  My niece, the one who is usually surly, has been unseasonably sweet.  She answers her phone now when we call, lol, and drove my mom and little cousins all around town two days in a row.  My cousin called just to check on me the other day.  And the “little ones” can’t stop talking about the fun they had with “Tee Tee”/my mom and I shopping and going out to eat on Friday.  Everyone is on a cloud except my trifling cousin (the mermaid) who didn’t join us.  She spent the holiday with her recently-released-from-prison, boyfriend, and prior to, spent a lot of time berating her son for the crime of simply breathing.  She does this all the time.  This time, though, it was enough for all of us to just write her off as a nutcase, and move on with our lives, for his sake (poor thing) and our sanity.  That broad definitely aint working with a full deck.  Anyway, last night I had a dream that solidified for me that I am finally and completely over my ex.  In the past, when we were togehter I had dreams where he would behave as his usual asshole self and I would plead with him to stop so that we could be in love again, then I’d wake up sad.  But last night during part of my wacky dream (and it was wacky, no doubt, but that’s another post) he showed up and tried to get huff and tough with my cousin, T-man, who turned and asked me “Do you still love this n*gga?” and I replied “Hell no! Do what you got to do” so T proceeded to whoop his ass.  I told you the dream was wacky.  Anyway, I awoke feeling no way about it at all.  I just acknowledged it and proceeded with my day.  That’s a sign of progress!  I’ve come a very long way and now I feel like I can really move forward with my life. 

Thanksgiving Day Dance Off

The last few years we had been estranged.  One person wasn't speaking to the other then someone chose sides while everybody had an opinion and an attitude about someone else's business, or someone else's doings, and other unimportant-in-the-grand-scheme of things, stuff.  But this year we all came together and it was clear that we all truly missed each other.  I know I did.  We met up in Carson at my cousins house and ate, drank, laughed, and loved on one another.  The twins must have kissed my face a hundred times.  Then we pulled names for a Secret Santa gift exchange.  Above and below is crappy video footage of just a little of the fun we had (my camera SUCKS! It kept running out of memory so it wouldn't record for more than seconds).  The kids were battle dancing and my mama served 'em, but, alas, my camera was acting finicky at that point so I only have to share what is posted here.  Hope you enjoy watching my relatives having fun :)

I got my heart from my mama

I'm abnormally compassionate, lol. For instance, years ago m ex talked major shit to me about a vehicle that he was driving, which was in my name. So when we broke up (while still living together) I kindly asked him what he wanted to do about the truck. He popped off at the mouth real tough-like and told me to "sell it, then, Val! I don't give a fuck!" so I calmly placed an ad in the penny saver asking for just what was owed on it, and sure enough they were beating my door down for the sale. I invited one couple over for a test drive and they showed up while my ex was sprawled on the couch watching the game. Oh, the look on his face was priceless. So I told the people I'd let them know in a couple of days if I still wanted to sell it. My ex is proud as shit though, so despite me trying to reason with him to reconsider and just switch the truck over to his name, he refused. So, I sold it. And I was actually sad about it. Sad that my ex was such a stupid asshole. Damn shame. Then he had the nerve to never forgive me for it. Wtf, right? That wouldn't be the last time his pride fucked him up, either.
Anyway, so remember island boy and how I hadn't heard from him in about 6 months until about a week ago? Well, he called me again last night while I was in the throws of an exciting texting session (yeah, I be having those :)) and he left me the most pitiful voicemail. At first he hesitated like he wasn't going to leave a message and just hang up. And then suddenly he started whining about me not calling him back like I allegedly said I would, and "are you mad? Ya could tell me." and some ol other rigamoro I could barely understand because of that damn accent. So I mentioned it to my mother, who I mention at least 80% of the happenings of my life to, and she said "aw, just call and explain it to him." so I rolled my eyes, felt a little bit guilty, and called to break it to him, and now he's begging to be my friend. WTF FOR? Why?!?! He lives in Las Vegas, I could see if he lived even remotely close to me, then I'd be more open to it. But where's my motivation here? Where the benefit in being friends? I've come to realize he's not really even funny, I was just lusting. What do we have to talk about that I give a damn about? I can't come up with one thing. Am I being mean? Wouldn't it have been nicer to just ignore him? I mean, it's been 6 gotdamn months. I've more than moved on. Ugh. And it seemed the more that I resisted the idea of us being friends, the more he pleaded that we should be. I got a whole sermon on how he'd always be cool with me and I should feel the same about him. Yeah, yeah, yeah dude, whatever. So then came the passive aggressive boyfriend questions "did your man get mad when I called? Is that why you didn't pick up?"
"you called me when I was asleep, that's why i didn't pick up"
"but what about the second time I called, were you trying to play it off like you didn't know the number?"
"nah, because I DIDN'T know the number"
Then he gave me a sermon on kismet and how it was meant for us to meet that night in Vegas. I did a whole lot of eye rolling and then said I needed to rest up for a full day tomorrow because I'm fighting a cold, which is partially true. I am fighting a cold.
But now what? I won't call, I wonder how long it will take for his persistence to wear off. I don't have it in me to just tell him to kick rocks.

Church today

So I went to church today and I feel like I wasted an entire day. I love my family but I keep forgetting that I hate dealing with them. I told my mother last night before bed that if we leave my house at 9:30 am, we'd make it to church in L.A. by 10am. She didn't believe me. She hasn't driven a car in over 30 years but she still doubted me. So she got up at 7am and yelled at me for not waking her up earlier. I rolled back over to try to go back to sleep and ten minutes later my phone rang. It was my step father. Then 15 minutes after that, my cousin called. My mom spoke to both of them and after she hung up, she told me they'd meet us at church. Cool, whatever. I gave up the fight to sleep and decided to get dressed. We made it to L.A. at 9:30. We'd planned to go to the 10am service. As soon as I got off the freeway, she says to me "We have to pick Tony up!" HUHN?! "I thought he was meeting us there!?"
"Oh," she says, "no, he needs a ride."
This is the kind of shit that annoys the hell out of me. Don't spring stuff on me at the last minute. Ugh! So I make a detour to her house, in the opposite direction of church, and we pick him up. Then she says "call Nicky and tell her we're getting on the freeway." So I do. Nicky says "okay" and 10 minutes later, we arrived at church. Early, just like I told her, lol. Smh.
Throughout the whole service all of us kept looking towards the door for Nicky to show up. She's always late so it didn't occur to me until about 30 minutes in that she might've wanted to be picked up. Never mind the fact that she lives 5 minutes away from the church and has a gotdamn car herself. If she can use you in any capacity and save herself some gas and effort, she will. Thats how she is. Then my mom begins to yell at my stepdad for making room for yet another woman in our already crammed pew. My son is mad dogging everyone because he doesn't want to be there, and every time we're told to bow our heads and pray, my mother nudges me to point out something stupid. "Look at Barney over there in all that purple," she says referring to a woman in a purple hat with purple feathers and a purple cape. Then, every time the choir starts singing, she quickly finds the song lyrics in her book, nudges me and points them out to me because I'm not singing along. I used to leave church feeling refreshed and smiling, thoughtful and energized. But today all I wanted to do was drive home and start my day over after a nap. It wasn't our usual priest giving the sermon today. It was some Jamaican man that, for some reason, I couldn't believe was a priest :( so it took real effort for me to focus on his word and not his accent/nationality. And I can't decide if it was just me and my prejudice or if he was all over the place with his message, not making any real points. He began to talk about the virtues of a good wife, which I was dreading but was open-minded about. Then he asked women to tell him what they wanted in a husband, then he asked the married men to tell him what made them want to marry their wives, and then he started talking about being greedy and selfish and shopping for things we don't need, and he finished with forgiveness. Somehow, though, I was able to pull a couple of good things out of it, thank God. What I was really disappointed about was that they didn't sing my favorite church song and they've changed things so much since I was last there. I don't know if I'll ever be back. In my older age, I've found that I don't care for change in tradition so much. More on that some other time though. My takeout dinner is here.

So after 6 months, island boy decided to call me. I wish he would've kept stepping, though. So I told him I was busy (I was)and he asked me to call him back. I didn't and don't plan to. I mean, for what? His number been up. The thing is, I suspect that he couldn't handle me not giving a damn...whether he gave a damn or not. Funny.
I got a raise today :) so I posted a blurb about it on that social networking site and of all of my 100+ "friends" only 3 could even pretend to give a damn. Who does it hurt to click "Like"? And this is why my friendship circle is so incredibly exclusive.
I wore a "kiss my ass" dress today and surprised myself with how fucking HOT I looked in it. I caught a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror at work and did a double take. My thoughts: GotDAMN! Look at ME! I had curves I didn't even know I had, hips, ass, and that belt squeezing my waist so tight accentuated it all. I got so many compliments, I don't know why I never wear that thing. Yes, I do, I'm too modest and prefer comfort. I never was a ham. But today I strutted my stuff around that hospital until 4 o'clock, when that belt began to feel like an anaconda around my waist, lol.

Sometimes you annoy me.

Sometimes it bothers me that you stalk my blog but never say anything to me. Don't have your way with my words and then leave me cold and empty, without so much as a "hello." Slam, bam, "thank you, ma'am." That's what it feels like. But I'm sort of glad that you come back time and time again and read whatever's on my mind and that I decide to share. I just wish I knew where this relationship was going, you know? I just wish you'd give me a sign, some feedback. Until then I suppose I will continue to pull the blanket up to my chin after you leave, and wonder what it is that keeps you coming back but never sharing.

I don't believe I'm ugly. I don't think I'm the most beautiful woman in the world, either. I believe that looks only matter to the person they matter to. One Halloween, about 6 or 7 years ago, I went to a party with my cousin and, while standing in line, I discovered this guy who seemed absolutely smitten wit me. I wore an ankle-length Chinese cheongsam, blue with gold and pink detail, buttoned up to the neck, and flat shoes. My long hair was in a bun with chopsticks sticking out of it. He was a sheik. While standing in line he stared at me, but it wasn't a confused looking stare, it seemed to be an intrigued stare. He chatted me up about everything, literally, and I became intrigued. Once inside the party, he found me sitting with my cousins wallflower friend and he sat and chatted me up some more. I discovered that he was one of the party-giver's/hosts.  He bought us drinks and finally asked for my phone number. I gave it to him, utterly intrigued by this man who seemed captivated by me. For no other reason than that he was so open and captivated, I was interested. Then, as the night progressed, feeling confident and lovely, I saw a guy dressed as a mail carrier and he was just my type. I tend to gravitate towards a certain look and he had it. So I smiled at him and he frowned at me. Ha. I didn't give up so easily though, the sheik had given me a bit of bravery and self confidence. I felt like a live wire. So when the mailman came outside and stood right next to me smoking a cigarette, I took it as a sign, I tried to strike up a conversation. He looked at me with disgust, though. Not at all like the sheik had stared at me. He damn sure didn't see what the sheik saw. So, deflated a bit at having struck out, I shrugged it off, albeit a little perplexed because I didn't know then what I know now, and went to check on my cousins wallflower friend. She wanted to go home and asked me to walk her to her car, so I did. And on my walk back to the party, a guy hanging from a moving vehicle yelled out at me "CONEECHEEWAH!" I laughed and when I'd finally made my way back to the party, he introduced himself to me. We danced, he made me laugh some more, he was fun, so I wrote my number down on a napkin for him (this was all an experiment folks) and then I turned around and looked directly into the sheiks eyes. Whoops! This time, he didn't look happy. He never said anything about it, he just took my hand and lead me out to the patio where the mailman had rejected me. Feeling confident and playful, I wrapped his arms around my waist from behind me, and we walked outside as a unit. Shortly after that, we heard a bit of commotion going on inside the party. It sounded like someone was fighting. I was naturally concerned, but the sheik didn't seem phased at all. He acted like he hadn't heard the yelling and screaming and kept trying to turn my attention back to him. Then, suddenly, my Blackinese suitor, the guy I'd written my number on a napkin for, came running directly past me with a bloody face. He looked absolutely terrified as he hopped the wall behind me and fled. I was absolutely terrified, ready to find my cousin and do the same, lol. But, just like that, the bouncers went back inside and the party resumed as though nothing had happened. The sheik looked at me with a devilish smirk on his face this time and proceeded to tell me about his wives in Morocco and how it's customary in his culture for a man to have multiple wives. I don't really think I have to tell you that after that night, I had no plans of ever speaking to that man again. But it's interesting to me how beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I've been complimented in the best ways based on my appearance, and rejected based on it as well. Que sera sera?

I want to give up. I am so stressed right now and jaded about everything, i just dont give a damn. I'm hanging on by a thread. I haven't cleaned up in a week, you should see my kitchen :( my hair is a mess, I'm not even motivated enough to care about my health. I didn't cook dinner last night. Instead I ordered spicy seafood fried rice and loafed around the house in bummy clothing for most of the day. I told myself that I'd get up early and go for a run or a walk today. It's 10:20am and I'm still in bed. This sucks. I hate this feeling, like I'm helpless, like I can't win for losing. And to be honest, I haven't really lost much. I'm just frustrated that I'm not moving forward at the pace I want to move at. I hope this is just pms, because then it will be over in a week or two. I need to go walk. I'm going to force myself to get out and walk. I could use the endorphins.

++++

Trying to stay positive but it's difficult with so many worrisome things going on. I'm on the cusp of a huge change and I'm feeling both antsy and stressed about it. I need and welcome this change but it's hard for me to rest not knowing just when and how things will come about. My only resort is to hold on to my faith, in God as well as in myself, and know that all of the great things that have occurred to me in my life were preceded by worry and stress but everything turned out well in the end. Stress and worry are taxes paid that may never come due, right? It'll be okay.

Bored

And impatient. I've cleaned the house, washed the car, flipped through 4 magazines, and watched DIY network and the Food network. But what I'd rather be doing is talking to someone interesting, laughing, flirting, and maybe even a little snuggling. I need somewhere to get dressed up and go to. I have a new jacket and a beautiful, sexy new handbag I want to rock. But here I sit, in bed, munching on junk food, flipping through magazines and watching T.V. ugh. Sara Lee makes sweet potato pie. Did you know that? I bought one the other day and I can't wait to try it. My hopes aren't high though. Sara Lee is generally wack at everything except pound cake. The grocery stores usually have an abundance of pumpkin pies for sale this time of year so imagine my surprise when I saw Sara Lees sweet potato pie in my grocers freezer :) I make at least 4 pies every year from scratch so I only bought this one to illustrate the need for more and better options, lol. I hate anything made out of a pumpkin, except jack o'lanterns so I used to get irrationally angry whenever I'd see a shitload of pumpkin pies at the grocery store, yet not one made of sweet potatoes. who the hell did they think was going to buy all of those nasty ass pumpkin pies?
Anyway, I am booooored. I have nothing to write about, obviously, nowhere to be, and nothing (I want) to do.

Are there exceptions? Define true love. I dare you.

Have you ever had someone that you KNOW loves you say something so Earth shattering that you're left speechless? So...cruel that you're left bewildered because you KNOW they love your dirty drawers? That happened to me recently. A few days ago, to be precise. And I was floored. It was like someone removed the plug and drained me of every last drop of glee I had. So for those three days I walked around questioning everything and feeling like a gray blob. According to my mom, love is absolute, but I'm not so sure. I sort of think there's wiggle room. While evaluating HER love for me, I found that there are no true signs of whether or not someone loves you because nobody's perfect. I've had my (many) moments with my mother over the years, enough to make you wonder about us, but I'm certain she loves me. Even when she put me out of her house over chicken. But that's a dirty tale I'd rather not rehash, lol. Anyway, aren't there exceptions? Like, people saying things out of anger. Things they really don't mean, but they hurt the other party, nevertheless? I mean, they say if you love someone you'd never purposely hurt them, right? I, for one, know that's not exactly true. I've purposely hurt people I love. But it was because they had already hurt me! Whether they realized it not, I guess. Or it could've been a misunderstanding. What if someone who you believe loves you accidentally hurt you? Would you forgive them, knowing that they didn't truly mean to cause you pain? Or do you believe in absolutes, like my mother? That there is a true definition of love without any room for error. I'm rambling again but that's what this blog is for, so if you're reading and you're a grammar nazi suck it up. Love isn't perfect, apparently. The verdict is that loves as complicated as it's been rumored to be. As a matter of fact, I think love is a stone cold, rotten-assed bitch. But I can't live without her, unfortunately. I don't think I'd want to live without her.

I bought some white converse today and put them on when I left the store. They're dirty already. Damn.
The sleep study went well. I don't have apnea but I do have a breathing obstruction akin to SIDS. I have to go see an ear, nose, and throat specialist. I may need my tonsils removed (ICE CREAM!) The tech said this is common in young teens and kids. I slept good as hell last night, too, despite the 5,000 wires protruding from my neck, chest, skull, and legs. I think I need some blackout curtains.
The weekend really needs to be three days. If Obama makes that happen, I'll believe in him again and give him my vote.
I knew I should've squashed that spider in the bathroom. He damn near ate me alive, the little bastard. I got calamine lotion all over my legs and they still itch. Ugh.
F*ck what you heard, Bob's Big Boy has the biggest burgers in L.A. And way less expensive than Johnny "punk ass frontin on the shakes" Rockets.
Rick Ross' seizure reminded me that I need to work out and lay off bad foods. Tomorrow.
It's too late to do anything about today or yesterday :)
Good night.

What’s up with me?

Well, next week I officially become a seamstress. I have a pillow making class lined up that I’m excited about. Next weekend I will begin my Halloween festivities, accompanied by The Boy, The Dude, and some friends at Universal. I’m still battling the City of Malibu over that expired tags ticket (I aint going DOWN without a fight!). I have successfully organized my back porch (OMG, it’s beautiful), and, as you probably know, I bought the Razzle Dazzle and am pleased with my decision. I’m broke as hell but all is well. Oh, and I have a sleep study on Friday that will hopefully enable me to sleep through the night, uninterrupted. Apparently, I tend to stop breathing while asleep, which isn’t good for my heart, obviously, and keeps me tired during my work day unless I take an afternoon nap. I’m tired of being tired so if I have to wear a C-pap mask, so be it, I will. I tried on my mom’s last weekend and I’m pretty sure I could live with one. She says she sleeps like a rock with it on and wakes up like Spongebob. I want to wake up like Spongebob, too. Shit, who wouldn’t?

UPDATE!

I am entirely too excited about this new car. I can see that it won't be long before I start saying "Ginger, who?" I drove The Boy and his friend to get something to eat and I was flossing like shit, lol. Had the music on blast and was accelerating like I had no good goddamn sense. I picked up 'Ol Dude and we went to Best Buy and Pei Wei and I didn't want to stop driving. I had forgotten what it felt like and how much fun driving a cute, fast, new car is. It's safe to say that I am pleased with my purchase.