It's funny. I had this idea of what my life would be like: I'd fall in love, marry by the ripe old age of 24, have 2 kids before the age of 30 (boys of course), be a stay at home mom, and I would be content. Instead, I made bad decisions, punished someone I love, slid into a self destructive downward spiral, came up for air, got pregnant, and turned bitter. The golden lining is my kid is awesome and I'm best friends with her father. But my life did not go according to 'plan'. Most would say that life rarely does.
It's been 3 years since my ex and I split. He's dating again. He met someone on eHarmony of all places. She seems to be nice, by all accounts. I will admit that I went a little bit crazy. I had had this idea of maybe trying again. I'd thought off and on over the years that maybe we hadn't given it enough of a chance. His dating this new women threw a kink into my half baked plans. Once the crazy passed I did a lot of thinking. I realized that while I love him, I wasn't ever 'in love' with him. Not in the way that meant forever. The part that was making me crazy was seeing him happy with someone else and realizing that I was not capable of being that person for him. Just as he wasn't that person for me.
It makes me sad, that realization. He asked me recently why I thought I didn't deserve to be happy. I hadn't ever really put that thought into words before. There was a reason why I sabotaged every relationship I've been in. Decisions in your life, once made, must be lived with. I'm living with ghosts. I am haunted. Lately I've been pondering the idea of 'letting go'. They say you have to love yourself and just let go. Two things I've never actually been able to do. I've been living this life day to day just getting by. That's not really living.
I need to clear my head. I need to bury the past and leave the ghosts behind. I need to forgive myself. These are the journeys I will take this year.
14.3.12
26.1.12
Old Familiar Shoes - Part 1
Once upon a time, a young girl (23, so not so very young) met a boy. It was a chance meeting as he was only in the area for a short while and really, it was his friend whom had gotten her attention in the first place. If it were a movie, you would insert a vignette of the two talking as the world passed by because that night, at least in her case, they only saw each other. They went on one date before he had to go back to school, and it was less than a month before he flew her out to see him.
Six months went by with 3000 miles between them. They had 3 brief intense visits in that last semester of grad school. But there were mostly hour long phone calls in the dead of the night. Graduation, then summer came. Long distance took its toll as did the daunting task of him finding a job. They began fighting. Most calls ended in her crying. Even as they were planning on him coming back to California and moving in together, she began to see the beginning of the end.
Six months went by with 3000 miles between them. They had 3 brief intense visits in that last semester of grad school. But there were mostly hour long phone calls in the dead of the night. Graduation, then summer came. Long distance took its toll as did the daunting task of him finding a job. They began fighting. Most calls ended in her crying. Even as they were planning on him coming back to California and moving in together, she began to see the beginning of the end.
15.10.10
To Be or Not To Be...It's not really a question
I was warned. I was told that when you're 'on' it's like the sun was shining, but to be careful because the clouds still followed. Of course I wrote it off like a barrel full of bullshit, because I'm right and that person was wrong and had no clue what they were talking about. Well here's me eating crow. They were right, I was wrong and I'm okay to admit it.
Good f'ing lord. At first I thought, oh great, this person is really challenging the way I think, what I stand for, and what I believe in. Now, I think that your version of what a friend is, is someone who just hops on to your bandwagon of beliefs. Well guess what, it's not the <> show. This is life, people are going to do things differently, think things differently, and believe in different things than you. Amazingly enough, it's not all about you.
Good f'ing lord. At first I thought, oh great, this person is really challenging the way I think, what I stand for, and what I believe in. Now, I think that your version of what a friend is, is someone who just hops on to your bandwagon of beliefs. Well guess what, it's not the <>
28.9.10
This Memory Brought to You by the Letters: WTF
"Hey, it's me." he said when I picked up the phone.
"What's up?" I replied, with no small amount of trepidation. It was, after all, only a month after I had broken up with him over the phone.
"Can you get away for lunch today? I haven't seen you and want to catch up."
"Um, okay I guess. Where were you thinking? I don't have a whole lot of time." I was already worried about where this was going to go.
"I'll pick you up."
It was a Friday afternoon in October 2005. He arrived in a car I'd never seen before. I hopped in and we sped off to: Mimi's Cafe. Take note, this location is important.
Once there, the servers seated us in a remote corner in the back. We ordered some lemonade and asked for a few minutes to order. Then he placed a dark blue jewelry box on the table and told me to open it.
"What's this?" I asked him laughing, thinking this was a joke. We had broken up. You don't give exes jewelry.
"Open it." he replied. I opened the box to find a piece of duct tape where one might expect to find a tennis bracelet. As I looked up at him, I remembered something he used to say, an analogy of love, and I felt the color leave my face as the bile worked it's way up.
"I need to give you this duct tape. It represents me. I have given this duct tape to only one person before, and it stayed for awhile until she gave it back to me. It still has a lot of stick. I still have a lot of stick."
I had no reply to that. What does one even say? Then he handed me a smaller box. "Open it." he said, waiting.
"This had better have a pair of earrings in it, or I'm going to be pissed," I told him, hoping to god it wasn't what I thought it was. I was horribly wrong. Nestled in that blue box was a princess cut diamond solitaire. The urge to throw up was equally strong as the urge to run. I remember thinking that this was not the reaction a girl was supposed to have at her first proposal. At the same time, everything else was wrong: Mimi's Cafe on a Friday afternoon with my ex.
I didn't know what to say to him. I tried to be gentle. "I can't accept this," I said, closing the box and handing it back. "I don't know what to say. We're not together. There are reasons for this. I hope you can return it." Okay, so maybe I wasn't that gentle.
"I had them inscribe our initials next to the EGL number."
"Why are you telling me this? Why would you do that? Shouldn't you have waited? Did you actually think I would say 'yes' after everything? You lied to me, you let your daughter move to Sweden without a second thought, you told me YOU were moving. No. This is not happening, I don't think you actually thought this through," I railed at him.
We got up quickly, never having touched our drinks, never having ordered our food. We paid the $4 plus tip and walked out. On the way back to my office he asked me not to tell anyone. I made no promises. I had just said no to unhappily ever after, and I have to say, it felt good.
"What's up?" I replied, with no small amount of trepidation. It was, after all, only a month after I had broken up with him over the phone.
"Can you get away for lunch today? I haven't seen you and want to catch up."
"Um, okay I guess. Where were you thinking? I don't have a whole lot of time." I was already worried about where this was going to go.
"I'll pick you up."
It was a Friday afternoon in October 2005. He arrived in a car I'd never seen before. I hopped in and we sped off to: Mimi's Cafe. Take note, this location is important.
Once there, the servers seated us in a remote corner in the back. We ordered some lemonade and asked for a few minutes to order. Then he placed a dark blue jewelry box on the table and told me to open it.
"What's this?" I asked him laughing, thinking this was a joke. We had broken up. You don't give exes jewelry.
"Open it." he replied. I opened the box to find a piece of duct tape where one might expect to find a tennis bracelet. As I looked up at him, I remembered something he used to say, an analogy of love, and I felt the color leave my face as the bile worked it's way up.
"I need to give you this duct tape. It represents me. I have given this duct tape to only one person before, and it stayed for awhile until she gave it back to me. It still has a lot of stick. I still have a lot of stick."
I had no reply to that. What does one even say? Then he handed me a smaller box. "Open it." he said, waiting.
"This had better have a pair of earrings in it, or I'm going to be pissed," I told him, hoping to god it wasn't what I thought it was. I was horribly wrong. Nestled in that blue box was a princess cut diamond solitaire. The urge to throw up was equally strong as the urge to run. I remember thinking that this was not the reaction a girl was supposed to have at her first proposal. At the same time, everything else was wrong: Mimi's Cafe on a Friday afternoon with my ex.
I didn't know what to say to him. I tried to be gentle. "I can't accept this," I said, closing the box and handing it back. "I don't know what to say. We're not together. There are reasons for this. I hope you can return it." Okay, so maybe I wasn't that gentle.
"I had them inscribe our initials next to the EGL number."
"Why are you telling me this? Why would you do that? Shouldn't you have waited? Did you actually think I would say 'yes' after everything? You lied to me, you let your daughter move to Sweden without a second thought, you told me YOU were moving. No. This is not happening, I don't think you actually thought this through," I railed at him.
We got up quickly, never having touched our drinks, never having ordered our food. We paid the $4 plus tip and walked out. On the way back to my office he asked me not to tell anyone. I made no promises. I had just said no to unhappily ever after, and I have to say, it felt good.
24.9.10
Fuck Cancer
2009 was a rough year for my family. And boy, do I mean ROUGH.
In January of 09 my uncle, my favorite uncle, the guy whom I called my 2nd dad was diagnosed with terminal stage 5 cancer. See, it started in '08 when he found out he had a tumor on his kidney. They removed the kidney and told him the cancer was gone. They never did a bone scan, and it turns out, they were wrong. By the time he found out the following January that the cancer wasn't gone, the tumors were in his bones and all over his body. They tried one round of an aggressive chemo/radiation cocktail. It caused his remaining kidney to fail. That landed him in the hospital for 3 months so that he could receive dialysis treatment twice a day, 5 days a week. He was finally able to go home, and that's where he passed away a month after. July 2, 2009 was the first time I was able to say 'fuck cancer'.
It wasn't the first time cancer had touched my life: my godfather's wife successfully beat breast cancer. However, it was the first time cancer had taken someone from me. Then in September of '09 my mother was diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer. In December, she had surgery and had the pea sized tumor removed. She was lucky, it was caught early in her annual mammogram, and it was small. She's in remission, but I will always worry. Thus ended 2009, it began and ended in cancer. Fuck that.
This August, my friend Dave's wife passed after a long painful bout with Stage 5 metastasized cancer. It began in her breasts nearly 6 years ago. She had a double mastectomy and beating the odds, won another 5 years with her family. But the cancer fought harder, and it won. My friend is a widower at 30. He was only married a year. Fuck that.
Last fall, my dear friend J's father was diagnosed with brain cancer. A tumor had decided to wrap itself around his brain stem, and was deemed inoperable. The past year has had the family taking him to and from chemo treatments, waiting, watching...but not hoping. Instead, they learned to grieve in advance. Pre-emptive grieving. Learning to put things in perspective for the inevitable. The inevitable should have been old age. But in this case, as it is with so many others, it was cancer.
J's dad passed away this morning. She and her family have been a part of my life since 1994. She was the first person I met in high school orientation. We used to joke that our fathers were personality twins. He leaves behind a wife, two daughters, 5 grandchildren and countless friends and relatives. Like my uncle, and Dave's wife, Mr. D touched many lives before his own was taken before those of us left were ready.
I don't believe in the 'cure' for cancer. But I do believe in research and better treatment. I walk for various charities that donate the proceeds to companies that are researching treatment. So that one day, the word 'cancer' won't sound like the gavel on a death sentence. I ask that anyone reading this do the same. Walk, get sponsors, make a donation. Because cancer touches everyone's life in one way or another. It's only a matter of time before you too can say FUCK CANCER.
In January of 09 my uncle, my favorite uncle, the guy whom I called my 2nd dad was diagnosed with terminal stage 5 cancer. See, it started in '08 when he found out he had a tumor on his kidney. They removed the kidney and told him the cancer was gone. They never did a bone scan, and it turns out, they were wrong. By the time he found out the following January that the cancer wasn't gone, the tumors were in his bones and all over his body. They tried one round of an aggressive chemo/radiation cocktail. It caused his remaining kidney to fail. That landed him in the hospital for 3 months so that he could receive dialysis treatment twice a day, 5 days a week. He was finally able to go home, and that's where he passed away a month after. July 2, 2009 was the first time I was able to say 'fuck cancer'.
It wasn't the first time cancer had touched my life: my godfather's wife successfully beat breast cancer. However, it was the first time cancer had taken someone from me. Then in September of '09 my mother was diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer. In December, she had surgery and had the pea sized tumor removed. She was lucky, it was caught early in her annual mammogram, and it was small. She's in remission, but I will always worry. Thus ended 2009, it began and ended in cancer. Fuck that.
This August, my friend Dave's wife passed after a long painful bout with Stage 5 metastasized cancer. It began in her breasts nearly 6 years ago. She had a double mastectomy and beating the odds, won another 5 years with her family. But the cancer fought harder, and it won. My friend is a widower at 30. He was only married a year. Fuck that.
Last fall, my dear friend J's father was diagnosed with brain cancer. A tumor had decided to wrap itself around his brain stem, and was deemed inoperable. The past year has had the family taking him to and from chemo treatments, waiting, watching...but not hoping. Instead, they learned to grieve in advance. Pre-emptive grieving. Learning to put things in perspective for the inevitable. The inevitable should have been old age. But in this case, as it is with so many others, it was cancer.
J's dad passed away this morning. She and her family have been a part of my life since 1994. She was the first person I met in high school orientation. We used to joke that our fathers were personality twins. He leaves behind a wife, two daughters, 5 grandchildren and countless friends and relatives. Like my uncle, and Dave's wife, Mr. D touched many lives before his own was taken before those of us left were ready.
I don't believe in the 'cure' for cancer. But I do believe in research and better treatment. I walk for various charities that donate the proceeds to companies that are researching treatment. So that one day, the word 'cancer' won't sound like the gavel on a death sentence. I ask that anyone reading this do the same. Walk, get sponsors, make a donation. Because cancer touches everyone's life in one way or another. It's only a matter of time before you too can say FUCK CANCER.
8.9.10
Pretty Sexy Things
I can delete someone from my life, almost like they never existed. Especially if no tears were shed. One minute there, the next minute gone and the past year is now just a warm memory. If I chose to think about it, which I don't. But it's funny how even though someone is deleted from my present, there are clues to their existence in my life that are left behind. That empty bottle of wine that is tucked behind the trash can that I keep forgetting to throw away. The toothbrush on the top shelf of my medicine cabinet. And then, my personal favorite, the underwear that I bought in the early days of the relationship.
Yep. The Victoria's Secret timeline of relationships. Single women should buy stock in Victoria's Secret (LTD, NASDAQ) so that we can at least have some sort of fiscal return on the investment. The VS timeline is a lace bordered reminder of every guy who got lucky enough to see the goods. It's also a reminder of how it felt buying that little scrap of nothing to wear for someone special. There's adrenaline involved when buying pretty sexy things for someone new to see. Along with a tinge of guilt when new guy sees something I've worn for someone else. But a girl is not about to throw away perfectly good panties just because of a breakup. We have way too much common sense for that. Consider it recycling.
Sometimes, it's a little baffling opening up the lingerie drawer and seeing the ghosts of boyfriends past staring at me through lace eyelets. Granted, since I'm all single mom and stuff, I have very few exes staring at me. They're all colors, black, white, pink, mauve...But the blue ones, those ones are for me. Along with all my sturdy cotton numbers. (Sorry boys, you get no credit for those) The nice thing is being able to close the drawer, and send those ghosts packing. Back to the deleted file.
Yep. The Victoria's Secret timeline of relationships. Single women should buy stock in Victoria's Secret (LTD, NASDAQ) so that we can at least have some sort of fiscal return on the investment. The VS timeline is a lace bordered reminder of every guy who got lucky enough to see the goods. It's also a reminder of how it felt buying that little scrap of nothing to wear for someone special. There's adrenaline involved when buying pretty sexy things for someone new to see. Along with a tinge of guilt when new guy sees something I've worn for someone else. But a girl is not about to throw away perfectly good panties just because of a breakup. We have way too much common sense for that. Consider it recycling.
Sometimes, it's a little baffling opening up the lingerie drawer and seeing the ghosts of boyfriends past staring at me through lace eyelets. Granted, since I'm all single mom and stuff, I have very few exes staring at me. They're all colors, black, white, pink, mauve...But the blue ones, those ones are for me. Along with all my sturdy cotton numbers. (Sorry boys, you get no credit for those) The nice thing is being able to close the drawer, and send those ghosts packing. Back to the deleted file.
15.7.10
An Open Bleeding Letter
I wish I had waited to write, instead of doing it at 1am when I was still worked up. I wish I wasn't the type to say things that aren't necessarily true in order to safeguard my feelings. I wish I hadn't felt the need to safeguard my feelings. I wish I had the courage to trust in someone else, but truthfully, I'm the biggest coward. I wish I hadn't been right.
You never made me promises, and I never asked for anything that I knew you weren't capable of giving. I should have asked anyway. We might have left off the same way, but without this feeling of betrayal. Betrayal which I would have forgiven then, had there been no deception, and could even forgive now. If you asked me. You haven't. In fact, you haven't even said you're sorry. An admission of guilt is not the same thing as an apology. I forgive you anyway. This is the story of my nurturing mother heart.
You say it was self sabotage, which is something to which I can relate. I caught myself repeatedly, but the difference is, is that I already know I'm broken. I told myself that it could never last, to just enjoy the time I had. I was setting myself up for failure. In short, I wrote my destiny. I only let you see the surface of me, and in this, I'm slightly thankful. This ordeal would hurt so much more if you had a bigger piece of me. I never let you see my whole life, the one behind the curtain. Would it have made a difference?
I don't think you realized that the wake of destruction behind your actions was going to be this wide. Did you think I was never going to find out? You were quite nearly in the clear. I can only imagine the panic you must have felt when I told you where I was going and with whom. I can only imagine the relief you must have felt when I didn't call you crying. Do you know how foolish I feel now? I was self righteous in my naivety. I had no reason not to trust you. I must have looked like some poor pathetic naive little girl with her head in the sand.
I hate that I miss you. I would have missed you without this mess. I would have missed our hikes, our talks, our tearing apart of your car. I would have missed you in bed and out. I would have missed you. I didn't need to hate missing you. I don't need to bleed over you. Yet here I am. Still waiting for you to say you're sorry.
You never made me promises, and I never asked for anything that I knew you weren't capable of giving. I should have asked anyway. We might have left off the same way, but without this feeling of betrayal. Betrayal which I would have forgiven then, had there been no deception, and could even forgive now. If you asked me. You haven't. In fact, you haven't even said you're sorry. An admission of guilt is not the same thing as an apology. I forgive you anyway. This is the story of my nurturing mother heart.
You say it was self sabotage, which is something to which I can relate. I caught myself repeatedly, but the difference is, is that I already know I'm broken. I told myself that it could never last, to just enjoy the time I had. I was setting myself up for failure. In short, I wrote my destiny. I only let you see the surface of me, and in this, I'm slightly thankful. This ordeal would hurt so much more if you had a bigger piece of me. I never let you see my whole life, the one behind the curtain. Would it have made a difference?
I don't think you realized that the wake of destruction behind your actions was going to be this wide. Did you think I was never going to find out? You were quite nearly in the clear. I can only imagine the panic you must have felt when I told you where I was going and with whom. I can only imagine the relief you must have felt when I didn't call you crying. Do you know how foolish I feel now? I was self righteous in my naivety. I had no reason not to trust you. I must have looked like some poor pathetic naive little girl with her head in the sand.
I hate that I miss you. I would have missed you without this mess. I would have missed our hikes, our talks, our tearing apart of your car. I would have missed you in bed and out. I would have missed you. I didn't need to hate missing you. I don't need to bleed over you. Yet here I am. Still waiting for you to say you're sorry.
25.6.10
Change of Plans
If you had asked me 8 years ago what I would be doing at 30, I would have told you without hesitating that I would be celebrating 6 years of marriage, living in Redondo Beach and have 2 children under my belt. I would never have considered for a second that I might be a single parent living in San Pedro, credit shot to hell, overextended and underpaid. I had a plan! But of course, 8 years ago I was 22 and what the hell did I know?
That's the funny thing about plans: they never end up how you think they will. At least mine don't. Ever. I wake up some mornings and wonder how I got here. But then I look over at my sleeping child and I know that I wouldn't change a thing. People often ask themselves if they could go back in time and change it, would they? I have pondered that same question, and even knowing what I know now, I know that I would go back and do exactly what I did before. I honestly believe that we do the best we can as we're doing it. Unless we're psychopaths, in which case, yikes. But the average person is a good person.
We make choices, good or bad. The outcome isn't known until it's done, and every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Our lives are dictated by the choices we make, and every choice made after is a product of that first one. It's a constant domino effect. I chose to destroy the relationship I had at 22. The one that might have landed me solidly in my 'plan'. I had my reasons for doing so, and I did. And every choice I've made since then has landed me here, wondering what today's choices will bring.
That's the funny thing about plans: they never end up how you think they will. At least mine don't. Ever. I wake up some mornings and wonder how I got here. But then I look over at my sleeping child and I know that I wouldn't change a thing. People often ask themselves if they could go back in time and change it, would they? I have pondered that same question, and even knowing what I know now, I know that I would go back and do exactly what I did before. I honestly believe that we do the best we can as we're doing it. Unless we're psychopaths, in which case, yikes. But the average person is a good person.
We make choices, good or bad. The outcome isn't known until it's done, and every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Our lives are dictated by the choices we make, and every choice made after is a product of that first one. It's a constant domino effect. I chose to destroy the relationship I had at 22. The one that might have landed me solidly in my 'plan'. I had my reasons for doing so, and I did. And every choice I've made since then has landed me here, wondering what today's choices will bring.
4.3.10
The Dreaded 3--0
Yesterday, when I woke up, I was 29 years old with mere hours left in my twenties. Last night/this morning when I went to bed, I had entered into a new decade. 30. Thirty. Thir-ty. I've been practicing saying this for a few weeks, so my tongue wraps around the number nicely. It's also a plus that I happen to prefer even numbers. Most odd number years just end badly for me.
Turns out, I'm actually happy to enter my 30's. Single mom sounds better in your 30's than 20's. As though having a child out of wedlock in your 20's labels you as a loose woman. Nevermind that it was late 20's and I have no regrets. Stigmas are what they are. I don't feel yet that I've reached my prime. Which is funny, seeing as when I was entering into my 20's that 30 seems far away and ancient. How very very wrong I was on both accounts.
There are things that I want to accomplish this year, regardless of age, but now I think I'm turning them into goals for the decade. Things to do before 40. Not a bucket list, but just goals. For example, I want to be a better cook. I was a late bloomer with cooking. I burned myself on a waffle maker as a child and it put me out of the kitchen until I was 19 and living on my own. Even then, it started slowly. I picked up things here and there working in the restaurant industry that I would take home and practice. I looked online for recipes to work on making what has already been made. Then I started to get fearless. Now I try and throw things together that I think will taste good. There are complimentary colors, I like complimentary flavors. I work off feel vs recipe (unless, I'm specifically working off recipe), and there are no measurements for what I tend to make. I like winging it.
Part of this particular goal in cooking is french food. I am, and have always been, something of a francophile. Which is hilarious to me considering that while I have a passporte, I have yet to exit the United States with it. I had meant to go for my 30th this year, but it didn't work out. Mostly because of actual work. But that's another story. I digress... So I've been looking for French cookbooks lately, something I can start working out of ala Julie & Julia, only without the Julia Childs bit. I've never been a huge fan, and French cookbooks for Americans just seems somewhat patronizing. I'm sure there are some out there that will label me as blasphemous, but that's how I feel. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. I want authenticity. Which, let me tell you, is hard to find in the Barnes & Nobles and Borders of this world. I'll continue looking for what it is that I'm looking for, and hopefully will have some good stories to tell about the adventures in the kitchen which will ensue. In the meantime, I'm trying to build up my cookware. Today I added souffle cups to my wish list. Along with a terrine and a hand mandolin.
I hope by the time I hit 31 that I'll have come farther in my cooking goal. This year is going to be an adventure.
Turns out, I'm actually happy to enter my 30's. Single mom sounds better in your 30's than 20's. As though having a child out of wedlock in your 20's labels you as a loose woman. Nevermind that it was late 20's and I have no regrets. Stigmas are what they are. I don't feel yet that I've reached my prime. Which is funny, seeing as when I was entering into my 20's that 30 seems far away and ancient. How very very wrong I was on both accounts.
There are things that I want to accomplish this year, regardless of age, but now I think I'm turning them into goals for the decade. Things to do before 40. Not a bucket list, but just goals. For example, I want to be a better cook. I was a late bloomer with cooking. I burned myself on a waffle maker as a child and it put me out of the kitchen until I was 19 and living on my own. Even then, it started slowly. I picked up things here and there working in the restaurant industry that I would take home and practice. I looked online for recipes to work on making what has already been made. Then I started to get fearless. Now I try and throw things together that I think will taste good. There are complimentary colors, I like complimentary flavors. I work off feel vs recipe (unless, I'm specifically working off recipe), and there are no measurements for what I tend to make. I like winging it.
Part of this particular goal in cooking is french food. I am, and have always been, something of a francophile. Which is hilarious to me considering that while I have a passporte, I have yet to exit the United States with it. I had meant to go for my 30th this year, but it didn't work out. Mostly because of actual work. But that's another story. I digress... So I've been looking for French cookbooks lately, something I can start working out of ala Julie & Julia, only without the Julia Childs bit. I've never been a huge fan, and French cookbooks for Americans just seems somewhat patronizing. I'm sure there are some out there that will label me as blasphemous, but that's how I feel. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong. I want authenticity. Which, let me tell you, is hard to find in the Barnes & Nobles and Borders of this world. I'll continue looking for what it is that I'm looking for, and hopefully will have some good stories to tell about the adventures in the kitchen which will ensue. In the meantime, I'm trying to build up my cookware. Today I added souffle cups to my wish list. Along with a terrine and a hand mandolin.
I hope by the time I hit 31 that I'll have come farther in my cooking goal. This year is going to be an adventure.
25.11.09
Sticks and Stones
They tell you when you are little that words can't hurt you. They tell you this because they know that what they are telling you isn't true. Words hurt. Words can cut, slice, make you bleed. Words, when designed to hurt, can hurt years later after the initial pain has passed, upon remembering, to open the wound fresh. Words leave behind emotional scars that never truly go away. It doesn't matter how much time has passed, how different your life is now, they stick and come up when you don't expect.
I know this best because of the words that I have said, or held myself back from saying. I know the words that can break someone, make them feel small, unimportant, worthless. From the depths I can pull someone's weakest moment, their worst fear, their shame, and turn it against them. I don't say this because I'm proud of it. I say this because I'm not. It's odd really, how much power words hold over people. And more power still when knowing a person's weakness.
With age comes maturity and the wisdom to know that even though I have the capability of being that person, it's harder and far more rewarding to not be. I think back to the words that have hurt me, that shaped the person I am today, and there's great sadness there. There comes a time to let go. I am buried by words that hurt; the guilt of saying them and the pain of receiving them.
It's time to start fresh, to try on a positive outlook (and hope to god it fits). Life is hard enough without carrying all this old baggage with me. I want to send it away on the ocean tide and wash myself clean. 2010 is a new year. It's a great year for starting fresh, starting over, starting anew. I can't wait.
I know this best because of the words that I have said, or held myself back from saying. I know the words that can break someone, make them feel small, unimportant, worthless. From the depths I can pull someone's weakest moment, their worst fear, their shame, and turn it against them. I don't say this because I'm proud of it. I say this because I'm not. It's odd really, how much power words hold over people. And more power still when knowing a person's weakness.
With age comes maturity and the wisdom to know that even though I have the capability of being that person, it's harder and far more rewarding to not be. I think back to the words that have hurt me, that shaped the person I am today, and there's great sadness there. There comes a time to let go. I am buried by words that hurt; the guilt of saying them and the pain of receiving them.
It's time to start fresh, to try on a positive outlook (and hope to god it fits). Life is hard enough without carrying all this old baggage with me. I want to send it away on the ocean tide and wash myself clean. 2010 is a new year. It's a great year for starting fresh, starting over, starting anew. I can't wait.
23.11.09
Days and Dates
It has been 3 years, 9 months, 24 days since I last wrote in my blog. Looking back over those three years, I can see how this would fall to the wayside. Life happens, especially when you're busy creating and nurturing more life.
It has been 3 years, 2 days since I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. One of the more emotional days of my life, but in the end, one of the more blessed as well. Out of fear comes courage. I found that.
It has been 2 years, 3 months, 2 days since the day my daughter was born. I have never felt more powerful than I did on that day.
It has been 11 months, 8 days since I broke up with the father of my child. Love comes in many forms, but not for us. Not how it should be to go forward.
It has been 3 months, 8 days since I moved back in with the parents to get my feet on the ground. Now to figure out where to go from here.
Life happens and it happens when we're not paying attention. One moment I was writing about finding love and endless possibilities, now I'm writing about grains of sand through the hourglass. It happened in a blink. All of a sudden I have a two year old, my life is in a small state of upheaval, and I have only flashes of clarity in what remains of my brain.
In some small, momentous ways, life has moved forward for me, and in others, I'm right back where I started. The question becomes 'what have I learned from this'. I have answers for that, not all, but some. I have learned that I'm stronger than even I could have given myself credit for. I have learned that I don't have all the answers, that I can make them up as I go. I have learned that walls that are built brick-by-brick can be taken down the same way. I have learned that sometimes it's better not to define with labels what happens, but to let things happen organically. I have learned that who I actually am is a work in progress. I am learning to remember what parts of me I liked at certain points and to bring that back around again.
I'm starting over. Again. And I'm finding that I like it. Especially with a cute two year old partner in crime.
It has been 3 years, 2 days since I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. One of the more emotional days of my life, but in the end, one of the more blessed as well. Out of fear comes courage. I found that.
It has been 2 years, 3 months, 2 days since the day my daughter was born. I have never felt more powerful than I did on that day.
It has been 11 months, 8 days since I broke up with the father of my child. Love comes in many forms, but not for us. Not how it should be to go forward.
It has been 3 months, 8 days since I moved back in with the parents to get my feet on the ground. Now to figure out where to go from here.
Life happens and it happens when we're not paying attention. One moment I was writing about finding love and endless possibilities, now I'm writing about grains of sand through the hourglass. It happened in a blink. All of a sudden I have a two year old, my life is in a small state of upheaval, and I have only flashes of clarity in what remains of my brain.
In some small, momentous ways, life has moved forward for me, and in others, I'm right back where I started. The question becomes 'what have I learned from this'. I have answers for that, not all, but some. I have learned that I'm stronger than even I could have given myself credit for. I have learned that I don't have all the answers, that I can make them up as I go. I have learned that walls that are built brick-by-brick can be taken down the same way. I have learned that sometimes it's better not to define with labels what happens, but to let things happen organically. I have learned that who I actually am is a work in progress. I am learning to remember what parts of me I liked at certain points and to bring that back around again.
I'm starting over. Again. And I'm finding that I like it. Especially with a cute two year old partner in crime.
30.1.06
v-day....schmee day
Current mood: 
okay, i'm going to say it....FCUK Hallmark holidays! every other radio commercial right now is a blast to buy crap for Valentine's Day. i go to the grocery store and there are red hearts, candy, and those stupid stuffed bears every damn where. why do people buy into this crap?
seriously, why should we designate one day a year to show someone how much we care about them? shouldn't we be doing stuff here and there all year long? just because? oh, but noooo, we have to have a set holiday, where let's be serious, it's all based on consumerism. and it's all about the girl? why on earth is it all about the girl? i had a friend once tell me that she wanted her BF to buy her a Dooney & Burke purse ($400) for Valentine's Day. do i EVER hear my guy friends saying, 'oh yeah, i really want my GF to get me that new PS2 game for v-day?' nope.
so here we have one day that is slanted in one direction, you are bombarded by reminders from the second that Christmas ends, you have to have your dinner reservations by the middle of January otherwise you're SCREWED! and even if you do have reservations, you're still dealing with a 2 hour wait! and if you try and go somewhere nice, you don't get the full menu, no, you get a limited menu of stuff that you may or may not want to eat because the kitchen is so slammed cranking out meals.
you become, on february 14th, nothing but a cog in the wheel of consumerism. and for all the people who don't want to get sucked into the joke of a holiday (which i swear, Hallmark made this all up) you can't go out to dinner if you want to, and if you stay home, then you get to watch Dr. Phil on primetime talking to Paula Abdul about her love life. gee. makes you want to just make reservations so you don't get stuck with THAT. i personally intend to celebrate Ground Hog's Day this year in lieu of V-Day.
9.1.06
full circle
i just finished a book that i received for christmas. normally, i would have done this weeks ago, being the ridiculously quick reader that i am, however, life in general has kept me rather busy. the book was essentially 45 years of notes passed, letters sent, and emails/instant messaging between two best friends. a boy and a girl. they went through their entire lives, marriages, babies, failures, triumphs, deaths, everything, separate from each other. part of it was denial that they could ever be together themselves, and part was a few wrong turns. at the end of the book, they finally got together, which you knew they'd eventually do. of course, you didn't figure that they'd be 50 years old when it finally happened. and there was that bittersweetness to having them finally be together. knowing that they had wasted(?) so many years by being apart.
but that got me thinking about all the friendships that we have growing up and as adults. the people that pass through our lives. maybe timing really is everything. maybe we just have to go our own separate ways until everything has marinated enough. for myself, i know that who i was at 21 is only a small part of me now. my responsibilities, maturity, the way i look at the world and everyone in it and around me has changed dramatically. and this is only in 4 short years. imagine, 45 years. my parents and grandparents will say that 45 years goes by in a heartbeat. but looking at it from this side of 30, it would seem such a waste to miss out on all that time. there is of course the old cliche of 'better late than never', which in some instances is true. you can't always live for the 'now'. but i don't want to miss a thing. there's nothing wrong with some things coming full circle, i'm experiencing that in my life now, but i don't know that i can wait 45 years to complete that circle and deny myself the perfect fit. maybe that's the remainder of my childish immaturity speaking. all good things worth having are worth waiting for, i know, i know.
i think i'll just have to follow this by reading a book that has the happy ending at an earlier age.
but that got me thinking about all the friendships that we have growing up and as adults. the people that pass through our lives. maybe timing really is everything. maybe we just have to go our own separate ways until everything has marinated enough. for myself, i know that who i was at 21 is only a small part of me now. my responsibilities, maturity, the way i look at the world and everyone in it and around me has changed dramatically. and this is only in 4 short years. imagine, 45 years. my parents and grandparents will say that 45 years goes by in a heartbeat. but looking at it from this side of 30, it would seem such a waste to miss out on all that time. there is of course the old cliche of 'better late than never', which in some instances is true. you can't always live for the 'now'. but i don't want to miss a thing. there's nothing wrong with some things coming full circle, i'm experiencing that in my life now, but i don't know that i can wait 45 years to complete that circle and deny myself the perfect fit. maybe that's the remainder of my childish immaturity speaking. all good things worth having are worth waiting for, i know, i know.
i think i'll just have to follow this by reading a book that has the happy ending at an earlier age.
4.1.06
un-resolve
i don't believe in new year's resolutions. if i had to resolve to do something, it would be to not have a new year's resolution. i know i should give up smoking (again), but i should do it because i need to, not because it's january first. i know i should make it a habit of doing my laundry once a week, but let's face it, i'm busy, and i have enough underwear and clothing to go a month without thinking about it. i know that i should stay home more, drink less, or join a gym. there's a million things that i should resolve to do. but being the stubborn female that i am, i won't do it just because i should. i'll get around to it eventually when i feel like it, whatever that 'it' ends up being. one at a time and never in order. i never really understood new year's resolutions anyway. people will make one, and maybe they'll be good for a month, or two, or a week. some don't make it a day. so what is the point? to start a year with a clean slate? to me, it just doesn't work that way. every year is just an extension of the last. you'll still have the same family, the same friends. more than likely the same job. you'll live in the same place in the same town in the same state. you'll have the same memories and just be the same person that you were on december thirty-first. why should you change something just to say you did? something that you'll go back on anyway? my non-resolution resolution is perfect. i never go back on it.
21.12.05
to all the men i've loved before
you beat me down with your bitter lies, your rationalizations of what was, the excuses for your behavior. i never asked for niceties, just for you to be honest. you couldn't even be honest with yourself. my guilt has run out, the reasons why i stayed, knowing that you could never be what i needed you to be. and perhaps i was different then, less of a clue of who i was than where i was going. with age i see our faults, and looking back doesn't hurt as much as it used to. my sadness comes from making the same mistakes that i've made with you, learning is always such a battle. i've loved you and hated you, the line sometimes indistinguishable. it's time to let go of you, the memories (of which i tend to only remember the happy ones), the pain. life goes on, mine without you. i've found peace in that, and no longer fear being alone. i'm thanking you for everything you taught me, the good times that we shared, and the pain we caused each other. we would not be who we are now without the past. all lines will cross again, and i wonder if when that happens, will we recognize who we were once in who we will be then?
14.12.05
Christmas Cheer
Last night my BFF and I took her kids to see the Christmas lights in Sleepy Hollow to continue a tradition passed along from our own respective childhoods. It's still as amazing now as it was then. Funny how every year, once I see the elephant made of lights sitting on the tree swing, I am catapulted back to my youth. It's at that moment that the Christmas spirit finally arrives for me. Until seeing the elephant last night, the only Christmasy thing that I felt was the dent in my bank account. But with the kids in the car, with their wide eyes open trying to take everything in, I could remember how I felt when my parents took me. Each house competing so hard to be different and more spectacular than the next house. Each year more extravagant than the next. 3 streets and 6 blocks of Christmas light extravaganza. Southern California Edison must be having a field day with the supply and demand of electricity in this neighborhood.
With both kids in the back, and our mugs of hot cocoa in our hands (lap if you are me, since I drove), and the station set to Christmas carols, the season truly had begun. Ryan pointed out every toy soldier that he could see, and Alyssa fell in love with the candy canes. There was Sponge Bob and the characters from the cartoon dressed up in Christmas regalia, and there was Jack Skeleton from The Nightmare Before Christmas. There were polar bears ice skating, and an electronic dancing Santa that was larger than life. There was reindeer pulling a sleigh, and lollipops lighting pathways. I think that magic only happens when you aren't looking for it. And though I wasn't looking for magic last night, I found it in the eyes of two kids who still believe in Santa Clause.
With both kids in the back, and our mugs of hot cocoa in our hands (lap if you are me, since I drove), and the station set to Christmas carols, the season truly had begun. Ryan pointed out every toy soldier that he could see, and Alyssa fell in love with the candy canes. There was Sponge Bob and the characters from the cartoon dressed up in Christmas regalia, and there was Jack Skeleton from The Nightmare Before Christmas. There were polar bears ice skating, and an electronic dancing Santa that was larger than life. There was reindeer pulling a sleigh, and lollipops lighting pathways. I think that magic only happens when you aren't looking for it. And though I wasn't looking for magic last night, I found it in the eyes of two kids who still believe in Santa Clause.
9.12.05
Christmas Tidings
Yesterday I started on my Christmas card list. Who do I send cards to? Who do I not? What criteria defines a Christmas card receiver? I only came up with 6 households. Being single during Christmas shortens my list. I used to send cards to his parents and aunt, but those days are over. Christmas cards make me sad. I start thinking of all the cards my parents receive from people I have never met that were at one time close friends with them. They’d send pictures of the kids or whole family. Now they send pictures of their kids and grandkids. Time passes. It always amazed me that my parents once knew that many people. How come they never came around? How come they never called? As though being a grown up and having kids cut you off from the world. That you would have to give it up, you can’t have both.
4.12.05
bar·ri·er -A structure, such as a fence, built to bar passage.
Today, after waking up at the ridiculously late hour of 12:30 in the afternoon (note: this was after being up until 5am noodling on the couch with the NS) I looked around my room, which is a complete mess, and pondered what to do with the few remaining hours of daylight. Finally putting away my clean laundry was definitely out. I have let my laundry sit, wrinkled and unfolded in my laundry baskets for a week. One more day won't hurt. I thought about going to the store to start my search for the perfect new mattress. I have recently decided that upgrading from a full to a queen is a wonderful way to blow my annual bonus. So I must visit the local mattress store and bounce around on a few to see which one I want to take home. But that sounded like too much of an adventure.
I thought about cleaning out my closet and taking a few things to Goodwill, but to do that would require two things a) putting my clean laundry away since it's all blocking my closet door, and then b) gutting my closet in order to unearth anything at all. The name of the game lately has been ' too lazy to get anything of any value done...at all'. So cleaning closet was now out. Instead, I waffled in the comfort of my bed, with my 3 blankets on top to keep the chill off. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and recapping the previous evening with the NS, I mooched over to the computer where I thought I'd write a paragraph or two. Checked my myspace (a crazy addiction, that like cigarettes must be weaned from slowly), checked out some blogs that I've gotten into recently, and finally made my way to my own blog where I sat and came up with nothing.
I had an idea that came to me at the bar last night as I fended off the usual one liners. About how guys will come up with the things to say that will induce girls to go home with them. Commonaly referred to as 'players', these guys are usually slick, convincing, and you don't know that you've been 'played' until it's over. However, I figured that I would ask a few of my friendboys for some helpful hints on how to tell the BS from sincerity. Of course all 3 that I asked said they've never used lines. I call shenanigans on that. Considering I dated 2 of the 3, I know better. But I didn't press too much. I figured they knew I'd use it against them. Which I would, when necessary, without regret.
But I digress. I still had nothing. How do you get writer's block when blogging? Seems daft really. Let's recap here, I have chosen to NOT fold and put away laundry, NOT clean my closet, which would include putting away laundry, NOT go mattress shopping, and was mentally unable to write anything of any worth. The short version, I was depressed. About what? God only knows. I have spent all day with myself and have not figured that out. So I did what anyone in my position would do. I called my best friend, and went to her place to distract her kids so she could get some things done.
Kids are the best. Especially when they are someone else's. I get all the fun stuff, and skipped all the nonsense: the 2am feedings, the colic, potty training, though I did have some hand in that, and all the other stuff that actual parents get to deal with. My BFF's kids are fantastic, most of the time. Today they were monkeys. But they put things in perspective. For 7 hours today, none of my non issue 'problems' mattered. All that mattered was hanging out with them. And I'll figure out what everything else is later.
I thought about cleaning out my closet and taking a few things to Goodwill, but to do that would require two things a) putting my clean laundry away since it's all blocking my closet door, and then b) gutting my closet in order to unearth anything at all. The name of the game lately has been ' too lazy to get anything of any value done...at all'. So cleaning closet was now out. Instead, I waffled in the comfort of my bed, with my 3 blankets on top to keep the chill off. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and recapping the previous evening with the NS, I mooched over to the computer where I thought I'd write a paragraph or two. Checked my myspace (a crazy addiction, that like cigarettes must be weaned from slowly), checked out some blogs that I've gotten into recently, and finally made my way to my own blog where I sat and came up with nothing.
I had an idea that came to me at the bar last night as I fended off the usual one liners. About how guys will come up with the things to say that will induce girls to go home with them. Commonaly referred to as 'players', these guys are usually slick, convincing, and you don't know that you've been 'played' until it's over. However, I figured that I would ask a few of my friendboys for some helpful hints on how to tell the BS from sincerity. Of course all 3 that I asked said they've never used lines. I call shenanigans on that. Considering I dated 2 of the 3, I know better. But I didn't press too much. I figured they knew I'd use it against them. Which I would, when necessary, without regret.
But I digress. I still had nothing. How do you get writer's block when blogging? Seems daft really. Let's recap here, I have chosen to NOT fold and put away laundry, NOT clean my closet, which would include putting away laundry, NOT go mattress shopping, and was mentally unable to write anything of any worth. The short version, I was depressed. About what? God only knows. I have spent all day with myself and have not figured that out. So I did what anyone in my position would do. I called my best friend, and went to her place to distract her kids so she could get some things done.
Kids are the best. Especially when they are someone else's. I get all the fun stuff, and skipped all the nonsense: the 2am feedings, the colic, potty training, though I did have some hand in that, and all the other stuff that actual parents get to deal with. My BFF's kids are fantastic, most of the time. Today they were monkeys. But they put things in perspective. For 7 hours today, none of my non issue 'problems' mattered. All that mattered was hanging out with them. And I'll figure out what everything else is later.
2.12.05
No more fake I love you's
The most abused words in the English language is "I love you". People either don't say it enough, or don't mean it when they say it. I am guilty on both accounts. I've been nearly dumped before because he didn't know where I stood. Here he'd been saying I love you for months. And I just smiled and kissed him back. It wasn't that I didn't feel the same, but I wasn't really raised to say it. I've always been horrible at expressing how I feel. I don't show anger so much as get moody. Or I'll try and just fix the situation without discussing it. Needless to say, I have a lot of failed relationships under my belt. Sometimes I wonder what the point is in saying anything at all. What happens when, and this has happened often, I finally say it. And life goes on well enough for months. And I may start off meaning what I say, but then I fall out. Or he falls out. It could go on for weeks, months of fake I love you's. The ones where you say it because you're just so used to saying it. It doesn't mean that you mean it anymore. And then you start questioning if you ever really did. Then you get neurotic...What is love? How do you know you are in it? Isn't lust often confused for love? What if it was just that? And on and on and on.
And then, when it's over, and you start dating again you start to wonder if you will care enough about the new someone to ever say it. And then what if you just confuse lust for love again. It's a vicious cycle. So now, you don't trust the NS (new someone) to not hurt you. So when it gets serious and that person starts in on the I love you's, you question the validity of their statement. I realize that by continually questioning everyone's motives, that I'm missing out on the rush of the beginning. And I know that eventually I'll move past it. But for now, the only one truth that I know for sure is that I won't dole out any more fake I love you's. It's not fair to them, and it's not fair to me.
And then, when it's over, and you start dating again you start to wonder if you will care enough about the new someone to ever say it. And then what if you just confuse lust for love again. It's a vicious cycle. So now, you don't trust the NS (new someone) to not hurt you. So when it gets serious and that person starts in on the I love you's, you question the validity of their statement. I realize that by continually questioning everyone's motives, that I'm missing out on the rush of the beginning. And I know that eventually I'll move past it. But for now, the only one truth that I know for sure is that I won't dole out any more fake I love you's. It's not fair to them, and it's not fair to me.
29.11.05
I'm not a phone person. The idea of talking on the phone for extended periods of time annoys me. Not to mention that it completely destroys my cell phone bill. I once had a $900 cell phone bill, and to this day, I have no idea what we talked about. Which tells me we talked about nothing. Frivolous nonsense. Since then, I have hated talking on phones. It's one thing to blabber on with a close girlfriend. Girls always have something to talk about. We can have meaningful conversations about nothing. But with a guy, unless we're coordinating hanging out, there's really no reason to talk at all. Calling 'just to say hi' doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. Especially with the onslaught of text messaging. I swear texting has saved my life. It has completely eliminated having to physically talk to someone. Just think of it. Instead of wasting minutes speaking to someone about nothing, you can just send a nice little one liner. The person on the other end replies. No awkward silences. Just succint messages that cut right to the bone of whatever it is and leave it at that. Trying to call someone when you are in a club or bar is another good crossover to texting. A few pushes of the buttons and they know where you are, where you are standing, who you are with and what you want to do to them later. None of the one finger in the opposite ear, with cell phone pushed so hard against your head that you start thinking that maybe you should get cat scanned the next day for the brain tumor that everyone will someday have from using cell phones. Lovely thing text messaging.
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