The difference between excitement and fear

I learned something new about myself as I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, as blog ideas, paper ideas, half finished conversations, life questions and my to-do list swirled through my head.

Some people have muscle tension when their stressed. Some people go blind. Some people get irritable. Some people lose their libido. And some people eat or cry.

I get insomnia. And headaches. And I eat crapily.

As I started thinking about the times that I have had insomnia (and the other symptoms) in the past, I began to see a pattern.

I had insomnia for the entirety of hell year. I would go to bed around 9:30 pm. Lie awake looking at the ceiling, worrying about the bad ass kids I was supposed to teach. Finally, doze off about 3 or 4 am, and wake up at 5:30 to go to work.

At work I would go hide in the teacher’s lounge and cat nap in the bathroom (on the floor) or I would fall asleep during small reading group when the kids would read to me.

After work, I would spend 2 hours at the gym, go home, have dinner, have a couple of glasses of wine, take a sleeping pill (or three) and go to bed.  Then I would start the cycle all over again.

**shudder**

Four years ago, I started a new job, that I loved and for most of my employment there I took children’s Benadryl at night to help me fall asleep.

When I was studying for the GRE and LSAT 2 years ago, all the benadryl in the world couldn’t help me sleep the whole night through.

Every time I go visit the GF in Atlanta, the first night there is always spend restlessly calming down after the 6 hour drive.

You see, Stressd Moni = No Sleep

So a few weeks ago, the headaches started.  I thought it was the holidays. Or the constant NC-GA traveling. Or the crazy weather we were having . Or the GF.

Then I found myself staying awake until 2 am or later.  I thought it was because I was sleeping with the TV on (*cough*, gf’s fault) or because I was working on my capstone, or I was writing or tweeting or because of one thing or another.

But lately, things have gotten worse.   Even when I try to go to sleep “early”, at let’s say 1 am, I still find myself restless and screaming into my pillow.  I usually doze off at about 4 am.

Then morning comes and I drag my aching head out of the bed and into the kitchen, where I find that all I have to eat is canned soup, oatmeal, chocolate cake and popcorn (just slight exaggeration) because I haven’t been to the grocery in weeks.  So I eat chocolate cake (sans milk) for breakfast/lunch and get to work.

And I sit in front of the computer all day.  I’m working on my capstone, which this week means I’m data mining email addresses from downtown development authority websites.   Very tedious and mindless.

So mindless, that hours pass before I realize that all I’ve had to eat all day is chocolate cake. So I go back into the kitchen, get discouraged and eat some popcorn.

And go back to work.

Pathetic, sure. Stressful? Not really.

So what is my problem?

Then I remember my pattern. Not eating well, Not sleeping well, constant headaches.  Hhhmmmm. Sounds like stress.

But Monica, you’re still on vacation, the semester hasn’t even started, and your capstone is coming along. What do you have to be stressed about?

At some point, I’ve learned to live at a high anxiety level.  So, even when things are good, I CREATE stress. Or the perception of stress.  And if there is a little stress, I make it BIGGER. And if there is big stress, then oh boy!

I’m crazy. *sigh*

So, when I realized today that maybe the insomnia and heaviness that I’ve been feeling is stress related and not emotional or hormonal or a symptom of the coming full moon, I started evaluating my life and my stressors.

Know what I found?

Not stress. Not worry. Not really fear.

I found EXCITEMENT.

I am so CRUNK about this semester. My class schedule is amazing!

I have so many IDEAS. A new blog, short story characters, capstone stuff and business ideas have all taken up residence in my brain.

I will be starting a new employment opportunity soon.

I’ve set up lessons with a swim coach!

I bought a book that will help me create healthy meal plans!

I graduate in MAY and will be moving SOMEWHERE fabulous.

I’m finding direction in my life and I’m happy with where it’s going.

Even the things that scare me sh*tless like my classes or my capstone are contributing to the feeling of accomplishment and excitement and you-can do-it ness that I’m feeling.

I’m beginning to believe that stress doesn’t have to be bad. Stress (and it’s alter ego, excitement) can give us energy, and get our adrenaline pumping.

I’m glad I have been able to see that I’m excited (which is good), rather than worried or scared (which would be bad.)  I can use this excitement to get me through the next 6 months and make sure I get all my sh*t done on time.

I should probably stay up until 4 and get everything OUT of my head since I’m going to be awake anyway.

And when my body is ready to calm down, it will.

 

Friendly advice from the resident speed demon

I have gotten one (just one) speeding ticket every year since 2003. And apparently, getting caught speeding once is a year is too much (I thought I was doing well, to only get one ticket a year).

My speedy ways, along with the accident of 2008 caused my car insurance rate to increase from $152 to $259.   A month.

I’m spending nearly the same amount for car insurance, monthly, as I am for my car PAYMENT. It’s too much.

So I did a little digging, and called up a few of my insurance agent friends, and asked them for a quote.

After Allstate quoted $237 (with a $500 deductible) and Nationwide $289 (with $100 deductible), and State Farm flat out said that I was uninsurable; I decided to keep myself with my current agency, Progressive, even though sometimes they are a pain in my ass. And they screw stuff up ALL THE TIME.

I was amazed today, not only by the outrageous price of car insurance, but by something the Allstate guy told me.

He said that I shouldn’t want a $100 deductible. Why? Because then I would be tempted to call and make claims.  You see, he thought that a $500 is the least that ANYONE should have (but especially “a person like me”).  Why?

He said that car insurance is not for minor accidents and fender benders.  He said that car insurance is for catastrophic accidents where you are going to get sued or someone is going to the hospital. By having a $100 deductible, I may be able to get my car fixed cheaply, but I’ll pay more over the long haul in higher premiums (which I am currently experiencing).

But how am I supposed to get my car fixed if I don’t file an insurance claim?

He believes that one (me, specifically) should be able to pay for most accidents out of pocket and not involve the insurance company.

What?

Yes. If I hit someone and our cars are minorly damaged, I should just go to the closest Bank of America and withdraw the cash to cover it.

What planet is he from?

According to the insurance guy, that nest egg you have saved up? It’s not for when you lose your job, or have a flood in your house, or have a baby. It’s for that car accident you might have.

Yep, that accident that you shouldn’t call the insurance company to report.

If what he says is true, then car insurance is a bigger rip-off than health insurance!  What is the point in having insurance if you are too afraid, or it costs too much, to actually use it?

If I’m in an accident, I want the peace of mind of knowing that I will be able to get my car fixed. I don’t want to be afraid to call the folks who are supposed to take care of me.

I guess I should be afraid. And I should only call the insurance guys if I’m also calling an ambulance.

And that money I thought I saved by moving into a smaller apartment? I’m sending it to Progressive. Dammit.

 

Time, why do you punish me?

For the past 10 days, the prodigal son my baby brother has been in town. He hasn’t been home in over 2 years, and the last time I saw him, he had a cast covering his entire right leg (courtesy of a roadside bomb in Iraq) and I couldn’t stop petting him out of gratitude that he was still alive. So it was EXCELLENT to get to see him this year whole and walking without assistance. Additionally, my super awesome cityslicker baby sister has been home from college since my birthday.

As my siblings and I are unnaturally close, I’ve been spending a LOT of time at my mother’s house since their arrival. Beating each other up, fighting over the remote, laughing at mom (and each other), burping in each other’s faces and blaming each other for eating the last of the banana pudding (I promise it wasn’t me). It was amazingly fun and I’m so glad I was able to play with them.

I couldn’t help but notice, however, that I’m not 14. My sister isn’t a precocious 5 years old and my brother isn’t a shy preteen.  We are all adults. (That’s a f*cking scary thought).

In addition to our extremely juvenile antics, we also had some real conversations about life, love, depression and death. (Funny how those four go together).  At any rate, my babies are grown. They have opinions and ideas. Nevermind that our conversations, even on those heavy subjects, still result in oodles of raucous laughter.

The lives of my siblings do not revolve around our neat little nuclear family unit any more. I think my mother did a fantastic job of raising fully formed humans, even though, she sometimes (and I when it comes to my siblings) have a hard time adjusting to the way our family roles have changed.

My brother, who, when we were growing up, would easily toss my sisters and I around like his own personal rag dolls, acknowledged yesterday while he was struggling to carry my sister up a flight of stairs, either she’s getting heavy or he’s getting old (both, of course, are true). But I couldn’t help remembering how easily he would have accomplished that same task a few years ago.

Over this holiday break, I have had a chance to hang out with some of my “big” cousins.  I mean those cousins that were grown (and uber cool in my young eyes) when I was a teenager.  Lil’ Moni used to sneak and listen to the “adult” conversations that would flow around them.  They were usually about who’s having sex, is it any good, how often and with whom -apparently conversations that I was too young to hear then (and I didn’t understand them anyway), but now …. now is a different story. Now, not only is my participation requested in these conversations, it’s damn near mandatory. I can’t count the number of times this week that my family asked me about my “social life”.  And the stories that they tell, wow. I could write a book.

And now my big cousins have kids of their own, kids whose ears are routinely covered or who are flat out told to go outside and play, but who I am sure are smart enough to figure it out what the hell is going on.

But I have a very important question. Where did all the time go?

I say all this to say that time keeps on ticking, ticking, ticking, into the future. And there is NOTHING we can do about it.

As much as I’d like to keep my siblings young, carefree and innocent of the dirt, evil, and suffering in this world, I can’t. Life happens, man. As much as I will always remember my big cousins, some of whom are in their 40′s now, as young and bright and shiny twenty and thirtysomethings marching toward the prime of their lives, I must remind myself that I am now in that position.  If my life is to move forward (and it must) then I have be aware that time stands still for no one.

We get two choices: move of our own volition or get run over. I’m not getting run over, but repeatedly this holiday season has reminded me,

Cherish this time. Soak it up. Remember this. You will never live this moment again.

And luckily, I listened.

 

2009 Predictions from NostraMonica

Check it: I looked into my crystal ball, and I saw that 2009 is going to be awesome (for all of us, but for me especially).

Last year, when I was myspace blogging, I made a big deal about the New Year and setting goals, not resolutions, and blah blah blah. Even this past fall, when the semester started, I took some time to set some goals. (Some of which I have done NOTHING about)

As I’m looking down the barrel to 2009, my brain starts ticking off stuff for the upcoming semester and the year. (Get a job, get my portfolio together, finish my thesis, prepare for a change, spend time with my friends and classmates, start my business, learn to swim, self-host this blog).

But my heart says, Oh, f*ck it. Can’t I just chill out and see what happens?

I’m not saying that goals suck and we shouldn’t make them (maybe I am???) What I mean is – If we really look deep within ourselves we know what the hell we need to do. Do we need to take the next step in our career? Step out on our own? Lose weight? Exercise? Eat healthily? Finally get our teeth cleaned?  Do we need to slow down? Spend more time with our loved ones? Concentrate on self-care? Get a life?

Whatever it is I (and you) need to do, WE ALREADY KNOW WHAT IT IS!!!!!!!!! Duh, it’s probably staring us in the face.

My problem, and I’m sure I’m not the only one, isn’t knowing WHAT I need to do. It’s the doing of it that trips me up.  I get scared or anxious or doubtful or LAZY and I cop out.

And that is unacceptable.

So I’m not going to make a never ending list of new goals or resolutions or whatever you want to call them.

I’m just going to make one.

Do the things I know in my heart I need to do.

No matter how scared I get or how crazy it seems or what other people think.  Some things I just KNOW I’m supposed to do.

So this year, I’m just going to f*cking do what my scattered little brain wants and I’m not going to over think it.

And as I write these words my brain says, but wait, you need to plan, you need to think, you NEED to worry…. and I feel the old self-doubt and anxiety pitter pattering through my chest.

SO I take a deep breath and acknowledge that this sh!t ain’t gonna be easy. But it is necessary. Didn’t Tupac say, “I don’t want it if it’s that easy”?

Otherwise, what would be the point? I believe that is would almost be stupid to add “Complete MPA school” or “Get a job” to my 2009 goals.

Why?

Because those things are not OPTIONAL. They are GOING to happen. It’s a wrap.

But I haven’t always followed my heart (or exercised, for that matter). So I’m going to concentrate to those things that I have let fall by the way side. (ahem, me!!!)

(Aside: I heard somewhere that it takes a month to form a habit. So if I resolve to do the things I know I should, by February I should be good. )

So yeah, the crystal ball said it was going to be a super awesome year.  Can’t you feel it!!!?!?!?!?

Hello! Obama is going to be inaugurated, and W is headed back to Texas. That alone is a major achievement.

And

Recessions are hotbeds for innovation, so even though the economy is sh!t we need this time renew ourselves (like when the forest burns down, then it regrows as a more diverse ecosystem)

And

We get another year to grow and live up to our full potential; proving that we can be better than our former selves.

Yay for us!

Happy New Year, party people!

Tell me what your 2009 goals/resolutions are AND what are you most looking forward to in the OH NINE.

 

Ba f*cking Humbug

Every since Eysqueen wrote about Santy Claus, or maybe it was just seeing the fat man EVERYWHERE, or maybe it was the lady behind me in a store telling her kids if they didn’t straighten up she was going to tell Santa to give their toys to kids who could behave. Or maybe it is just after December 13 and no one is talking about my birthday anymore.

Whatever the reason, my HATRED of Santa Clause has doubled tripled.This week I went to a X-Mas party, and the host had Black Santas everywhere. And I wanted to stomp their little fat faces in.

On other occasions this week, I have gotten a chance to play with a few of my very cute little cousins, who have been very excited about getting presents (and having new people to play with). And every so often one of the stupid adults would say something stupid about Santa Claus coming, and I would grit my teeth and hold my tongue.

Why?

Because all I wanted to say was: SANTA CLAUS DOES NOT EXIST!!!!!!!!!!!

I think it is ABSOLUTELY wrong to trick kids into believing in this FAKE person. I mean, boogyemen don’t exist, right? And there isn’t (and has never been, according to my mother) a goblin living under my bed, waiting to eat my toes and suck me under the bed, right?

Then why the F*CK to very educated parents persist in lying to their kids about a fat happy man that breaks into homes EVERY YEAR?

My mother never told my siblings and I that there was a Santa Claus.

And I thank her dearly for it.

WHY?

Because when we got Christmas presents, we understand the SACRIFICE and HARDWORK, on my mother’s part that went into making sure that we had presents at all. AND we were F*CKING grateful and hugged and kissed our mother to let her know that her good deeds did not go unnoticed.

Unlike these badass kids today who do not understand the meaning of thankfulness, giving and sharing.

All they know is MINE and GIMME.

The meaning of “Christmas” has completely been forgotten. So forgotten that I was forced to send out the following Christmas Day message

Merry Hanukkah, Happy Christmas, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice and other pagan and commercial gift-giving season.

I feel that I have to acknowledge the season, but I kind of hate Christmas and all it has come to represent. I would rather get presents during the year for being good, rather than having the pressure and the competition of getting (and giving) the right present for Christmas.

And while I LOVE my family, I would rather visit them individually at their homes, than trudging from house to house on Christmas Day forcing myself to smile and be f*cking merry.

I’d rather be a home in my sweats watching a movie (or a House marathon on USA).

Why do we continue to buy into the forced merriness of this time of the year? (while it is cold as BALLS, and we can’t even go from house to house without repeated layering up (to go outside) and stripping (once we get into the house)).

At the very least, can’t we move Christmas to August? And make it a mandatory beach vacation full of beautiful half-naked people and margaritas?

*sigh*

Anyone wanna co-sign that?

In the meantime, I, evil demon that I am, have been whispering under my breath all week, “I hate f*cking Santa.”  And it has been oh so hard not to randomly tap little kids on the shoulder and say, SANTA DOES NOT F*CKING EXIST!!!!

Would it be so bad to just gather all the munchkins together and say, Kids, your moms and dads work hard. They work and save (or borrow and steal) to make sure that you get that Big Wheel or Xbox or Barbie doll, so when they tell you to do your homework, or clean your room or eat your veggies, YOU better f*cking do it! There is no Santa, there is no naughty/nice list. There are just the parents that you drive crazy 364 days a year. Be NICE to your parents, and be NICE to your teachers. Behave yourselves in public, and stop being an embarrassment.

It’s the least the little rugrats can do to repay their lemming parents for keeping Toys R US in business, right?

Ok, I’m done.

I hope everyone had a nice semi-religious, pagan holiday season.

Love,

Your neighborhood Grinch

 

Monicaliciousness and other thoughts on 27

On December 13, 1981 a star was born.

That was real dramatic wasn’t it?  But it’s true. On that date, around 7 pm, according to my mama, a new (or fairly new) person entered this world.  I say fairly new because I’m not convinced that reincarnation isn’t real. I mean, how else to you explain deja vu or how some things (and some people) almost immediately feel like home? It’s because we’ve been here before and we’ve been sent back here to get things right this time (or just do a better job, at least).

What does it mean, to get things right? To me, it means fulfilling a purpose.  I’ve been thinking a lot about my purpose this week, partially because most days don’t go by without me thinking about what the hell I’m supposed to be doing. But it has been more heavily on my mind this week. And I’m blaming my mother for this too. (Most things are her fault, anyway, right?)

She says to me (on my birthday), “You are special. You have always been special. You have a calling on your life. I don’t know if you are supposed to preach (her wish for me) or if you are supposed to help people in some other way, but your life has a purpose, you have a mission.”

After I picked my damn mouth up off the floor, I stuttered my agreed. Yes, I said, I’m supposed to help people, and I went on to ask, “And since you are prophesying-why don’t you just tell me HOW I’m supposed to help people, I know the WHAT (sort of) but I’m stuck on the HOW.”

Of course, she didn’t have that answer. And yes, my mother is, like, crazy ya-ya spiritual. I just go with it; there is NO WAY to explain it. So when she starts telling me a dream that she had about me (that mirrored something that actually happened in my life) or when she says I’m “called” to do something, I take that sh*t seriously. She’s just that connected to whatever higher power is pulling the strings (or she’s crazy).

Either way, She’s right. I’m here on purpose. My birth was no accident. I have something to do that no one else could do. Now, if someone could just TELL MY WHAT MY PURPOSE IS!!!!!!!

Well, I’ve decided that 27 is a good enough age to figure that sh*t out. And it’s time for me to embrace whatever the hell I’m supposed to be.

I’m excited about being 27. Isn’t 27 the BEST age? It’s not like 24 where you are still too young, in most cases, to be taken seriously, or like 35 when you are too old to “drop it like it’s hot” or some other thing that 30+ people don’t do.

But at 27 I’m old enough to prove that I’ve been around the block and I know what the hell I’m talking about, but I’m still young enough to get a tattoo without having folks roll their eyes.

So I’m excited about 2009 and I’m looking forward to all that I will accomplish during my 27^th year!

I’m going to go ahead, letting the Universe know that I’m expecting this year to be moniceriffic (or monicalicious, or monicawesome (either will do).

 

How the recession hit me

I think I’ve mentioned at least once or twice how I love my job at the Chamber of Commerce. I’ve learned a lot since I started working there. I’ve learned so much; about myself, the kind of job I want in the future, and about the kinds of work I want to do. (An ode to why I love the Chamber is in the works, just not for today.)

Last week, I approached my boss to ask for the week between X-mas and News Year’s off.  And was informed that my services would not be needed after Wednesday. This coming Wednesday.  Sadness (and panic), ensues.

I mean my boss was is awesome.  He made sure I understood why I’m being laid off. I’mbeing laid off because they can’t afford me, not because I suck as an employee.  He even said that I rock as an employee and he wishes he could keep me and he’s being talking me up to folks who may be in a position to hire me.

I can’t believe that I’m being LAID OFF, this is so weird.

Why I’m being laid off (a longer version):

You see, the Chamber of Commerce is a membership organization.  Their members are local area businesses. And in a recession, businesses make less money.  All the businesses, regardless of whether they are professional services, restaurants, retailers, bars, or financial institutions when they make less money, they cut stuff to preserve the bottom line.   And some (I don’t know how many, exactly) of the Chamber’s members are not renewing their dues. I know the real estate and development community has been hit pretty hard.

As the Chamber’s members tighten their belts, the Chamber has to tighten theirs. And the intern budget disappears.

So I’m jobless. And not because I did anything wrong. Which makes it so much easier and happier (you can tell by my use of flowers and smiley faces and exclamation points, how much I mean this)

How the hell did I not see this coming???

But I didn’t see it coming. All this time, I’ve been making fun of the Big 3 and how they failed to innovate or do ANYTHING really.

And I’ve been scratching my head about the financial crisis and have shaken my head in disgust in my policy class when we would learn about the greed of Wall Street investors and am incredulous that they could do the sh*t they’ve done and still be holding their hands out.

I still haven’t figured out what the fu*k is the problem with the banks and why the hell can’t they just LEND money.

I’ve rolled my eyes at folks who made bad mortgages decisions. I mean, when I was looking for a home at age 24 I knew enough not to get into a ARM or a Balloon or a variable rate mortgage, so how are all these other people stupid enough to fall for it?

Well, I’ve heard the Chamber’s Executive Director talk about how next year will be the hardest year for the Chamber, who over the past 10 years has experienced double digit growth, but for the first time ever will be facing a cut.

But I didn’t know that meant that I’d be history.

Basically, I was stupid.  I thought that if I did more than my job, took initiative (asked for more work), and stayed visible and engaged, I’d have a job as long as I wanted it.

I was wrong. Sometimes when you do everything right sh*t still happens. And since I’m the low man on the totem pole, I shouldn’t be surprised that I happened to me.

It is fu*king hard out there for a pimp. (and I should know, as I am a pimp)

And the more I’ve thought about it today, even as I made a list of all the organizations in the area that I’ve like to work for the next semester, places I’m going to call right after the holiday break, I realized that probably every one of those organizations is going through a hard time. And as organizations slash millions from their budgets I KNOW that hiring me is going to be a hard sell.

Then I read this offer on Havi’s blog today and it seemed like a dream.  So I applied. And while I didn’t get the offer, it has given me another angle with which to approach my next move. And it gave me hope that work does exist. And I mean work from anywhere in the world kind of work, which would be awesome.

I mean, I’ve been toying with the whole freelance copywriting idea since the summer, and even talked to Naomi about it. But I never followed up or through.

So I’m developing my pitch, which will highlight the fact that hiring me as a contract working is WAY cheaper than hiring a full time employee, the fact that I can research and write, and the fact that I know all the local players.  And one of my favorite local news sources has even mentioned the fact that I’m hirable.  And that gives me hope.

And Kelly gave me a whole list of sites that I can use, in addition to what Naomi gave me, to start seriously start copywriting. And I starting feeling a little better. A little more hopeful.

And I talked to the gf and shared my fears about never getting a job (now or before May) because this is like a replay of 2003 right after Bush bombed Iraq and all the job leads I had dried up (I wanted to be an au pair in France, but after the bombs fell and the whole freedom fries thing, French parents started specifying English, from England au pairs, not American English-speaking girls.)  That’s right the Spring of 2003 was the pre-cursor to Hell Year!!

And when I think about that I get nervous and I start to sweat and I get paralyzed and unable to do ANYTHING. Then the gf tells me that she believes in me, enough even, that I don’t have to believe in myself today. And that gives me LOTS of hope, because she’s pretty smart, and she wouldn’t have faith in me if I were a complete loser.

To all my fellow low men on the totem pole, I wish I had something uplifting and spiritual and sh*t to share with you to make you feel that your job is not  in danger.

Sorry, I can’t say that.

But I can say that even if the complete bottom falls out. I am NOT too proud to work at Target. I am NOT too proud to bus tables. I am NOT too proud to work at the mall. (and neither should you be)

But I don’t really want to work at any of those places (and neither do you). What I do want to do is convince organizations that they need my skills (even if they don’t necessary have the budget for staff) and that hiring me to work on projects saves them time and money, and helps them to check small-ish projects off their to-do list.

So I’m still tackling the list of organizations that I made earlier today, I’m just refining the way I talk to them. And I’m no longer panicked. I have a plan. A plan that I probably should have BEEN working on, anyway.

How are you recession-proofing your job?

 

I carry your heart with me

I watched In Her Shoes on Sunday, and I, cold hearted snake that I am, was congratulating myself for staying emotionally unattached. I mean, it is a movie and all. What’s there to get worked up about?

Then Cameron Diaz’s character reads her sister this poem at the end…. and I damn near burst into tears. This is a great poem.

Enjoy

-M-

i carry your heart with me
by e. e. cummings

i carry your heart with me

(i carry it in my heart)

i am never without it

(anywhere i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)

i fear no fate

(for you are my fate, my sweet)

i want no world

(for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart

(i carry it in my heart)

 

Learning Personal Style

I am the oldest of four children.  Luckily, my mother gave birth to excellence all four times. We are smart, beautiful, gifted, funny and one day we will rule the world.

While I do believe the genes worked in my favor in a lot of ways, there is at least one way that my siblings are better than me.

My brother and sisters have awesome fashion sense.

And I don’t.

This comes to my attention every time I look at my youngest sister.  This woman is 18 and she dresses beautifully. She always looks well put together (even when she’s wearing sweatpants and t-shirts).  It is so not fair.  And my brother, goodness, this boy makes jeans and polos look as good as anything I’ve ever seen. They can wear colors and shapes and style and so many things that make me look dumpy and old. Or too young and fat.  Either way, my babies always look great, and I often look a step-child. And they are quick to point out all the fashion mistakes I make.

Well, this year I made a decision.  I am an adult andI need to dress like an adult. And just any old adult. I need to be hot, sexy, (but professional) lady.  I need to be a bombshell at all times.  I need walk into a room and hear my theme music.  [It is Dancing Queen, btw]

I need confidence.

I think better clothes will give me more confidence.

Furthermore, I’m in transition. I’m about to start the last semester of MPA school.  I’m going to going on interviews soon. I’m moving across the country. I’m starting a new life.   I am an adult, I should look like one. And I need to feel good about myself.  Now. Not just when I lose 20 pounds.

I’m growing up, and creating my personal style. Most importantly, my outside needs to match my inside, which we all know is peaches and cream, sugar and spice, super cool and awesomeness.

So this year, when my mother took me out for our customary “its your birthday, let’s buy clothes” shopping extravaganza, I made my super awesome, fashionista sister come with. And I made her give me lessons on putting outfits together. She had some good things to say:

• Make sure that shirts are long enough, so that you aren’t fidgeting with a too-short shirt
• Pants, likewise, should be long (my sis is tall and thinks highwaters are the devil)
• Stick to colors that are easy to match (but don’t get stuck)
• Take risks and don’t be afraid to try new things
• Love accessories (belts, necklaces, earrings, etc)
• Layer- camisoles and cardigans are your friend
• Buy clothes that fit (not too tight or you look skanky, but not so big that you look like a balloon)
• Create a long leansilhouette (no bulges)
• Be comfortable

This shopping trip was fun. For the first time, i didn’t fret that all the trendy jean styles didn’t look good.  I didn’t buy pants thinking, well, when I lose weight it’ll look  better. And I wasn’t in charge of finding my sizes (my sister was).

[Aside: This girl is a Economic major, but I swear she should be an image consultant. I'd PAY her for her insight, or to just go shopping and bring the clothes to me.]

I bought clothes that fit well and made me look more awesome than usual. And I’m really f-ing happy with my purchases.

Granted, some things never change so most of my new clothes are black, gray and red (I bet 80% of my closet consist of those colors). But wait, i bought a green cardigan and I bought something purple.   I also bought a few items that I normally wouldn’t wear, like buttondown shirts and hip hugging sweaters. AND I bought one of those wide belts that is supposed to accentuate my figure, and  long pants that fit. (no muffintop or highwaters for me, lol).

But since my birthday isn’t until Dec. 13 (that’s right, Saturday!!!!) I can’t wear my beautiful new clothes until then. BOO!   However, my lovely gf is taking out for fabulous dinner, and I’m looking forward to getting dressed up in my  new birthday clothes!

 

Day without a Gay and other random gay news

I heard that Wednesday is Day without a Gay Day, where gay people are supposed to call out of work to show the straight people what it would be like without gay people. Unfortunately (or whatever) I am an hourly employee, and I do not have the option of righteous indignation. A day without work, for me, equals a day without pay. And it’s the holiday season so I gotta buy gifts and my bills still come whether gay people have equal rights or not. So instead of calling out of work, I’m writing a blog about gay stuff. That’s just my contribution.

In addition to telling everyone I know about Day without a Gay day, I decided to also tell some gay stuff about myself.  Wanna hear it? Here it go.

1. I’m not one of those man-hating dykes.  I actually really love men. Some of my favorite people are men.  I find them attractive and wonderful.  Some of them even smell good. Some are even super awesome kissers. And in my book, being a good kisser and smelling good are good ways to end up with a Monica attached.  Unfortunately (or whatever) the thought of actually having sex with a man makes me throw up a little in my mouth. No, not really. In all honesty, it makes me feel like this: ____________________________________________________________________________________

And that is not the way I’m supposed to feel about having sex.

2. I think there is a gayness scale. And EVERYONE, even ugly ass Laura Bush falls somewhere on the gay scale.  As one of my lesbian friends tells it, everyone has a little homo inside. She actually said something dirtier, but I’m not printing it in this blog, lol.

On my gay scale, 1 equals not so gay and 10 equals super duper gay. I think I fall around a 7-8 on most days.  This makes me pretty freaking gay, as the gf often tells me.  The gf also says many gay people who have been gay for a long time aren’t as gay as I am.  I take that as a compliment.

3. My mother told me today that one of my cousins said I had gay tendencies. Hilarity (and slight confusion). What’s even funnier is that this is a cousin that I see, tops, 3 times a year, and one of the last times I saw her, I was engaged. To a man.

So my mom was telling my cousin about my ‘friend’ and it slipped that this was no ordinary girlfriend. To which my cousin replied, I’m not surprised, Monica does seem to have gay tendencies.”

What the f*ck does that mean? I mean, gay people don’t always think I’m gay. In gay clubs, I’m the chick that looks like the straight chick that’s just there to support her gay friends. And none of the lesbians talk to me. Which is tragic, because I like to be hit on.

But really,  I shouldn’t be surprised. When I came out to my friends, for the most part, they all said some form of, Well duh, nitwit, we were just waiting for you to figure it out.

Argh! I wish my asshole friends had let me in on the secret, or set me up with a pretty girl or SOMETHING! Damn them.

4. I’m pretty out to my friends; they know me better that I know myself anyway.  I came out to a select few of my classmates, although I think most of them had figured it out, ’cause you can’t refer to a person as a) A significant other or 2) They, them or other non-gendered pronouns without the Master’s kids figuring out that something is up. But when we were thinking of renting a 6 bedroom house together I figured I should tell them that I’m sleeping with a woman before we signed the lease paperwork (I wanted to give them one last out before they’d be stuck with me).

I’m not out to my co-workers, not because I think they’d stone me, but because I’m really confused about how the whole, “Hi everyone, I’m gay” conversation actually comes up.  I mean, if the gf is ever in town when I have a work thing, I would definitely bring her and introduce her as my girlfriend, just like I did over the summer on my internship. (I still don’t think most of my summer co-workers got it, even though L tried to make it as obvious as possible.)

5.  I don’t really think gay people should get married.  But not because they are gay.  I don’t think anyone should get married. I think getting married is stupid.  What’s the point really, when you can get divorced for $300?  However, I do think that EVERYONE should have the right to do the same thing, so if straight people can get married (and divorced) at the drop of a dime, why the hell can’t everyone else?  Especially since I fully believe that 2/3 of the straight people could happily be in homosexual relationships.

6. Love, Actually is my FAVORITE holiday movie, and I think someone should buy it for me.  I’m adding it to my Amazon wish list. Look up my Amazon wish list using my email, which is here.

Happy Hump Day!!!!!!!  Hug a Gay person