Finally Being Honest

Earlier this morning, I attempted to sit in front of my computer screen and blog about what truly made me happy.

That turned out to be a much bigger and more difficult task than I thought. The very first thought I put down in my process was a negative one.

So I decided to approach this differently. I turned off the computer and grabbed a good old pen and two pieces of paper, and just started to write.

Sometimes, I just don't think I'm enough. Enough of a person, enough of a woman. Not pretty enough. Not funny enough. Not friendly. Unsuccessful.

That was the very first paragraph I wrote. Yeah, I know...ouch. It takes a real lack of self-esteem to be able to write those things without flinching. It actually slightly hurts to know that when I challenged myself to write about being happy, the very first thing I did was put myself down.

I continued on for the next few pages, trying to pinpoint things that make me happy. Dressing up. Getting my nails done. These weren't it. I started writing about school, and wrote this:

I don't miss school as it was 2 years ago. I don't miss the life I had (entirely). What I do miss was the ability to learn new things. I miss being myself.

Lights and sirens started to blare. I hesitated slightly before writing the statement I miss being myself. I wanted to catch it, to stop myself before writing it. I felt ashamed.

I hesitated to write that last statement. And I immediately wanted to try to justify my statement. I wanted to explain myself away, maybe to soften the blow. I cared enough about what people think and the thought of who might read this that I didn't want to be honest with myself. Is that what I've come to? Have I devoted so much of my time to pleasing everyone else that I've forgotten how to be honest with myself?

I had to touch a soft spot within myself in order to admit that for a long time, I haven't been honest with myself. I'm not only referring to the big decisions in my life, such as what career I want to pursue or what I want to do with my credit. I'm referring to smaller everyday decisions. My blogger queue is chock full of half-written posts, abandoned because I felt the topic would be too sensitive to post or because I feared hurting somebody's feelings. I don't do what I want to my hair because I fear what someone might say, even though I know it would look 50 times better if I cut it shorter.

I still don't understand what caused me to start such a self-defeating cycle of doing everything for the acceptance of other people, completely ignoring everything that makes me happy.

Everything, that is, except coffee.

Coffee is the one of the few things I can think of that I've never compromised for anyone. It's the first thing I ever really rebelled with, at the age of 15. My mother forbade me to drink coffee...I drank it anyway. I wish I could say that I did it just because she told me not to...it would make me sound like I had some balls. But I drank it because it tastes delicious to me, and because I didn't understand why it's so bad. Still don't. As a matter of fact, I've told men I dated in the past that if they couldn't deal with me liking coffee, then maybe they needed to look somewhere else.

The reason I thought about coffee, and devoted a page and a half to writing about it, was that I found it interesting how I can quickly assert my beliefs regarding that but I seem to become a sissy about everything else.

But more than that, it was a lifeline of hope, a sliver of understanding in what were once murky waters. I'd asked myself what made me happy. After 3 1/2 hours of searching, I found one thing that purely makes me, and no one else, happy. It's certainly not the only thing, but it was refreshing to have at least one answer to my question. Demiera 1, Hard Life Questions 0.

People are interested in me...nay, I am interesting as a person, when I just do me. When I start doing things that I think other people want, not only am I usually very wrong, but I also stop being happy. I don't know what anybody else wants in their life. Why would I spend my life working on shaping myself to someone else's standards when I don't even know what their standards are, and honestly don't care?

How intriguing...in reading the passages excerpted from my long letter to myself, I feel like I've been more honest as a writer and a person than I have been in a long, long time. I finally see some of my personality coming out, some of my true beliefs, showing their face after so much time of being held back.

I wish I had some catchy conclusion to this post, to wrap it up. I wish I could say that I vow to always follow my own mind, to always do things the way I want them done. Let's be real. Change doesn't occur overnight, and you don't reverse 20 years of dependent thinking in a morning.

I can, however, admit that now that I've tapped a part of my soul and being that had been hidden for so long, I can finally work toward consciously changing my thought processes. I worried that nobody took me seriously...sure they didn't, because I didn't take myself seriously. Now it's time for me to start doing just that. Bit by bit, decision by decision, I'm sure I'll recover confidence that I lost, and finally start on that road to being truly happy again.

------

On a completely unrelated note, I want to stress the importance of family. I kind of strayed away from mine, even though they've always supported me, because I always thought that I needed to constantly impress them and once things didn't start working the way I thought they would, I felt like I was a failure and that I had let them down.

I realize now (and did for a little while, but it's really all making sense now) that everything I had projected that they were thinking was untrue, and largely a product of my own imagination. In fact, any time I think I can guess what's on someone's mind, it's normally just a product of my imagination and I almost always find later on that I was terribly wrong.

In any event, I've reached out, and they've accepted me back (as loving family does) and I'm ready to admit that I definitely was wrong in assuming that they wouldn't love or accept me just because I wasn't living life the way I thought they wanted me to live. I'm wrong in thinking anyone in my life worth having around won't love or accept me just because I don't make the decisions they want me to. Anybody who so conditionally cares for me doesn't deserve to be around me.

My uncle Calvin wrote this on my Facebook page, and as his messages always do, it really touched me and almost brought me to tears, and I wanted to share it here:


You're back in the nest so stay true to the fam and the fam will always stay true to you. Fear not the people you know, but those who are unseen and have not revealed themselves to you. Work on your instincts and learn to walk in the night fearless with your eyes closed. When you are related to something greater than you, shed your fears and pursue your dreams with all the zest and vigor your heart can produce. Don't look back just stay focused on your goals and future.....I'm always watching your back so you don't have too!

Pretty Mixed Babies

There's a new epidemic sweeping the nation, a trend that has silently yet powerfully taken our culture by storm. You might see them walking down the street, milling through stores, traveling in packs...

I'm referring to interracial couples.

An episode of The Golden Girls brought this topic to mind (yes, I do watch the Golden Girls faithfully). The show features a young white man and an older black woman getting married and shows the parents' difficulties dealing with that fact.

It got my mind gears cranking.

I am half of an interracial couple myself. I'm Black and Indian, and Jay is Mexican and Puerto Rican. Other than the occassional racial teasing, when he accuses me of being in love with fried chicken and I protest his insistance of eating everything on tortillas, we get along very well despite any differences in our skin tone. As a matter of fact, our relationship is very culture rich because we have the opportunity to show each other what makes each of us unique.

Unfortunately, skin color is enough of an issue to still create some discomfort at certain occasions. Meeting the parents was a scary experience for both of us because neither knew how we would be received into our respective families.

That, of course, says nothing about the looks we get from people when we walk down the street holding hands, or the comments we hear in passing that we know are directed our way.

We aren't looking for acceptance from the world. We accept each other, and that's enough for us.

But it wouldn't hurt if people weren't so damn unaccepting of the idea that a black woman and a hispanic man can love each other and be compatible enough to come together in a relationship.

What are your thoughts on interracial relationships, good or bad?

We were at Lollapalooza. We were hot, the "liquid courage" was flowing, the air was thick with Mary Jane's perfume...but we were together and we were (and still are!) HAPPY!!

Designing a Home Office (Part 1)

I'm supposed to be cleaning the house.

Instead, I'm online shopping for furniture to create a home office we don't have the space for.

Let me back up. We have the space for an office. It's just not one of the more important things we need to be purchasing right now.

But, in light of the Christmas spirit, I can dream about it anyway.

I found an awesome desk at walmart.com that I've absolutely fallen in love with.

It's the Orion L-Shaped desk, running for $89.00.




How do you beat a price like that??

In addition, the desk is so cute, and looks like it would fit perfectly in the free space we have in the living room. It would be a nice place to store our documents. I think the CD tower is a little unnecessary since we don't stockpile many CDs, but I can definitely find an alternate use for it (outgoing mail, maybe? Bills to be paid?)

Regardless, it's cute. And affordable. And I want it.

Of course, you can't get a desk without a chair. And I found a cute chair too, leather no less, for $49.00.

I'm in office shopping heaven right now.

We need the desk space. Plus, the black/woodgrain will look reeeeaaaaallllllllyyyy nice with our black entertainment center and wooden cocktail table. It will do a lot to bring together the living room, while establishing that little corner as the "office corner".

We can put the laptop over there, and our books, and...

I'm probably getting a little ahead of myself. I haven't formally measured the space I have to work with, so that desk may not work as well as I'd like it to.

I'm also not considering the fact that our refrigerator is smack dab in the middle of the living room, making the task of cutting the office from the kitchen even harder.

I suppose my biggest concern is having way too much going on in the living room. But, if we've got the space, and we can make it work, why not go for it?

I'll plead my case tonight, and we'll see what happens... :)

Organizing From The Inside Out

Yesterday, a trip to the bookstore yielded my second copy of Organizing from the Inside Out by Julie Morgenstern.

I previously owned the similar book geared toward teens, written by Morgenstern's daughter Jessi. Ironically, I somehow misplaced that book. I attribute that to my own disregard of the general rules in the book and not to a lack of good advice. The book was awesome.

I am now prepared to launch an all-out organizing assault on our small, one bedroom apartment.

The good thing is that since we moved in only a few months ago, we haven't accumulated a huge amount of unnecessary items. But because the place is so small with so few storage items, it has become very difficult to control the clutter in the house while keeping it as aesthetic as possible.

The main reason not much has been done to decorate is the fact that we don't intend on staying in this apartment beyond the lease, which is up in August. We didn't want to spend a lot of time and money making this place habitable when we knew we wanted to find a new place as soon as possible.

What I'm discovering, though, is our lack of organization here is affecting much more than just the items in our house. Bills we thought were paid are turning up forgotten, important dates come and go without regard, and our important documents end up in a huge pile under the cocktail table and thrown anywhere they will fit.

We don't have much up in the form of decoration, making the apartment look boring and simply as a place to sleep, eat (though not all of the time) and bathe, versus looking like a home.

Since this is the first piece of paper Jay and I have signed our names to jointly, it holds a very sentimental aspect. But the decor doesn't reflect that.

Our bathroom is tiny and I'm an impulsive beauty product buyer, which means I have toiletries on the rims of the bathtub, the sink shelf, in containers under the sink, spread through the medicine cabinet, in the closet, and in a hamper in the living room (which I would like to relocate or even get rid of, since it's simply a shit collector).

Don't get me wrong, the place isn't a mess. And clean up usually isn't terribly painful. But the fact remains that it is aesthetically unbecoming and the important things (mainly our finances) are being left in the wind.

I haven't actually started mapping out a plan for the apartment yet. I chose to review the book first, get a general idea of what I'd be getting into, then will reread the important parts to follow the steps necessary to get organized.

I do, however, have a general idea of how I would like for this place to look.

Most importantly, though, after realizing my own goals and plans for reorganizing and decorating this space, I need to talk to Jay about his own expectations of space, living conditions, and budget agreements. After all, he lives here too (and now pays the bills) so I need to make sure whatever I do will benefit both of us, not cause more stress and problems.

I'll be documenting my progress as I go along, so you can follow along in the steps I do and maybe my journey will help you get organized, too.

Let the project begin...

Ahhh, Technology

I would like to take a moment to thank all of the computer/phone geeks in this world.

I don't mean geeks like me, either. I'm a bit of a geek, but the only reason I can do so much with a computer/phone is because I've learned the value of Google. And I use it quite often.

I mean the geeks who actually sit at home and work out the solutions to our everyday computer problems, then post their findings on the Web for all us lazy geeks to Google. You guys are awesome.

See, I was in a period of need. My laptop has probably breathed it's final breath (piece of shit HP...goddammit...way to put out an extended warranty and cover all laptops BUT mine...motherfuckers...mother board problems...you know how much mother boards cost???).

Unfortunately, my LIFE was on that computer. Meaning, of course, my music library and my iTunes. Now, my iPhone used to be synced to Jay's computer, which worked out just fine because his piece of shit computer at least will TURN ON. But I sacrificed over 1.000 songs from his computer so I could put my 1300 or so from my own computer onto my phone. Then I copied as many songs as I could from his library onto a flash drive and transferred them over.

Yeah, that was a lot of work.

Needless to say, that's all gone. And my iPhone is currently the only proof that I have a music library. It took me well over a year to rebuild my library after the LAST time my computer fucked up and I had to restore to factory settings.

I'm not wiping out my music again.

But I'll never use iTunes again. So what do I do? Google!!

How to put music on iPhone without using iTunes.

I found some interesting little tidbits, but I was directed to a program called CopyTrans Manager. So I downloaded it...and it's A.W.E.S.O.M.E.

Then I downloaded another nifty little program called iRinger. Now thanks to my CopyTrans Manager and iRinger, I not only have stolen all kinds of music from Jay's computer (muahahahaha) but I also have created custom ringtones for my iPhone. So whenever my phone rings you hear:

"Til we die, niggas just don't know...PAYBACK IS A MOTHERFUCKER WHEN YOU FUCKIN WITH THE PSSSYYYYYYCCCCHHHHOOOOO!!!"

(That would be from the song "Do Whatchu Wanna Do" by Psychodrama.)

I like to think about it this way. The price for an iPhone is highway robbery any way you look at it. You're paying an exorbitant amount for it, whether your money goes toward the purchase of the phone or towards the damn near $100/mo plan.

I'm sorry. I'm not gonna pay $250 for the phone, then $100/mo for the shitty plan AND some ringtones.

Honestly, people will do anything they can to make a dollar, even off something as stupid as having a special song when your phone rings.

And don't get me started on Callback tones or whatever THE fuck those things are called...you know when you call somebody and the ring is a song?

No offense to anyone who has that. But it doesn't make any sense.

Why would I spend money so OTHER PEOPLE can enjoy a song? If I'm gonna spend money on a song, I want that song to play whenever I call someone else.

I mean, are the people who call me gonna contribute to the cost of that particular call back tone?Probably not.

More than likely, they won't even mention it. I won't get a "Hey girl, your callback tone sure is neat!" or "Demiera, I want a callback tone just like yours, where'd you get it?"

But.

If I'm in the company of someone else with an iPhone who has not yet learned the (not-so-huge) secret of putting your own custom ringtones on your phone and my phone happens to ring, I will get a "Whoa, dude, you got ringtones on your phone? How'd you do that??"

Bingo...

Plazo Sesamo

So last night I came to a huge conclusion about why I can't speak Spanish fluently given my 11 years (okay, okay, you can pick your jaw up off the floor now) of Spanish class in school.

I mean, it's kind of embarrassing to have devoted that much time to learning a language you still aren't fluent in.

If you want to learn a language, any language, you need to make sure you're learning it by associating the foreign word with an object, not a word.

Let me say that again. Associate foreign words with objects, not words.

This is going to sound crazy, but Jay and I watched Sesame Street... en espanol... it was the best learning experience ever. It's a completely visual process, and I was intrigued by how well I felt I could grasp the show, even though it was entirely in Spanish.

Yes, I know. It's a kid's show. But I was learning, dammit.

I learned that a mariposa is a butterfly, how to say the letter "M", and that if you can't sleep, you say no puedo dormir.

The fundamental error in the way most advanced Spanish teachers teach Spanish is that they tend to associate words and phrases in Spanish with words we use in English. In other words, it's a huge conjugation exercise.

This method of teaching leads to failure, because a person cannot feasibly learn to speak a language when they force their brain to follow so many steps to communicate. You make yourself do extra steps.

Let's say the task at hand is for someone to say a phrase to me in Spanish, and I have to also respond in Spanish.

Sounds pretty simple and straightforward, right?

For me, it's not. Let's say the phrase is "Que quieres comer?"

Step one: I must translate this phrase into English. The phrase means "What do you want to eat?"

Step two: Now that I've translated the phrase into a language I speak fluently, I can finally think of how to answer the question. Suppose I want chicken (no black comments please...JAY :P). Now I formulate my response in English: "I want chicken."

But wait. The task is for me to answer the question in Spanish, not in English. So the third step is for me to translate my response into Spanish. My answer would be "Quiero pollo."

It may not sound like an unreasonable task, but imagine your brain having to follow this process every time you attempt to understand a sentence in Spanish. I spend so much energy and attention translating the phrase that I don't have a chance to understand what's going on.

Thus, the fundamental flaw in my learning: the association of Spanish to English words, not to the objects they represent.

I can look at an apple and tell you it's a manzana. I can look at the color green and tell you it's verde. I can look at the number 15 and tell you it's quince. Anything I was taught through simple repetition, however, is gone.

Likewise, I picked up a couple of words they don't teach you in class, like pendejo. What's funny is I don't even know the English translation for this word, but I can use it in everyday language. Like when I called the cat a pendejo for knocking everything off the table.

If you're trying to learn a different language, don't try to read a book about learning it or buy those stupid computer programs that make you repeat phrases from English translations, because at the end of the day you're only going to end up frustrated. I really believe if you do it right you can become fluent in a language for (almost) free.

Immerse yourself in the language. I live around a couple of Mexican restaurants and supermarkets, so whenever we go to the store I'm associating names with meats and fruits. I look at menus and try to learn there. It's a never-ending process, but I must learn Spanish before I have children... I want them to be bilingual but I have to be first, or else I'll never know what they're talking about...

Adios...!

Should Have Seen It Coming...

Dear Life,


Today, I got fired.


Never been fired before...but I suppose there's a first time for everything.


The general manager was nice about it...and he may have been lying, but it seemed like he really didn't want to fire me. I guess that's why I'm not mad. He said I'm a great employee but not for the job I was working.


Which I was expecting. I knew by the end of this month I probably wouldn't be there anymore.

Still.


Let the record show that I worked my ASS off at that job. I never gave up. I asked for help, I researched, I did everything I could. I trained another person so well they bumped her up TWO departments. So obviously I did know what I was doing. I had the mechanics of the job down, the steps to follow, the scripts to read.

At the end of the day, though, I'm just not a collector.

I had hoped that in this job, I would learn to be more aggressive. I had hoped I would learn to be less afraid of doing certain things. I had hoped that through this experience I would learn how to be more assertive, how to go after what I want. I learned a different lesson from this. I learned that sometimes, desire to do well isn't enough. I learned that others can help you only so far...the rest comes from within. Yes, I worked hard and that was obvious. Yes, I put forth my best effort. But I was really just running at top speed on a treadmill...wasting all my energy and not going anywhere. It was a waste of time for both me and the company.

Of course, I'm being completely logical minded on the outside. But I still have tears waiting to fall. I won't say I'm not accustomed to failing but I'm certainly not used to failing at things I put real effort into. But I will not allow myself to think this was all for nothing.

Time to dust myself off, listen to some feel-good music, clean up the house, eat some comfort food, and start the search for a new job. No time to sit and dwell on failures or setbacks...life moves way too fast for that...

Dreaming...

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The time I ever answered that question (that I can remember) was when I was around 3 or 4 years old. I wanted to be a firefighter, and I was convinced I'd grow up to be the best fire fighting machine around.

Ah, how times change.

Over the course of the years, my dreams evolved. I went from fire fighter to nurse to teacher to lawyer to forensic psychologist to lawyer again to high powered business woman.

Now that it's time for me to actually put my dreams in motion, I'm at a loss.

Somehow when you're younger it's much more fun to think about what you want to be when you get older. Maybe it's the fact that when you're young, your dreams remain largely that: dreams. You can't really do much for your dream of what you want to be when you grow up because you normally need to grow up first.

I'm being faced with this decision much earlier than I expected or wanted to be, but in a way it's my fault. I'd rather not be one of those people who spends 20-30 years at a job they hate because they were too afraid to confront their dreams and make them work.

The thing about a dream is there is a reason a dream remains a dream. There's always some obstacle between it and reality.

What do you do when the obstacle lies not in achieving the dream, but in determining the dream itself?

Talk Like You're The Ish

So, Jay and I were conversing on the eloquent art of collecting large balances from a big company.

He's the brilliant mind with the talk. So he, joking around, rolls off the tongue with this smooth operator ass talk off. I mean, it was perfect. He showed no hesitation, no shame, no stuttering. His voice was strong, convincing. He could care less if the person paid the debt and you could hear it...made me wanna go get my checkbook.

And I'm sitting there listening to him, trying to decide whether I should grab a pen and paper and take notes or just be jealous as shit that he can talk like that and I can't.

Teach me to talk like that, I begged him.

"Talk like you're the shit," he says, and leaves it at that.

I couldn't talk like I was the shit if I literally was a pile of feces.

My biggest problem is that I never took the time to develop confidence...I'd always thought that if I weren't the highest form of modest, I would come off as arrogant. In doing so, I think I've wandered to the most extreme end of the modesty spectrum and become rather comfortable with not having that face that point in my life.

And now, I have to. My job requires it, my living situation requires it, my responsibilities require it. I need to learn to have my own voice and not be afraid to share it.

So what should I do? I mean, should I stand in front of the mirror every day and just tell myself I'm the shit until I start to believe it? Should I find a mantra and post it on my desk to look at on every call to remind myself that I'm in control?

Not gonna lie...for about a week, I did feel like I was the shit. I was popping big payments left and right, and I was feeling great. Then something happened and BOOM...the confidence was gone. I never found it back.

So guess what...if it takes chanting a mantra between each call, I'll do it. If it takes waking up 5 minutes early so I can give myself a proper mirror pep talk before starting my day, so be it. If while I'm bored I gotta write down my frustrations to keep them out of mind so I can stay focused, then I'll write away. Put my phone away during work. Do nothing but focus on doing what I need to do to get what I need.

I'm not going to go in there tomorrow with my chest all puffed out, thinking I'll get paid on my first call. It doesn't work that way.

But it IS about time to get in, kick ass, and take names later.

Let's do this.

A Prayer

Dear God:

I haven't prayed in a while, I know. It's got nothing to do with a lack in faith in you and everything to do with me wanting to be an independent spirit and make it on my own.

But I can't do it. Something's truly wrong. I wake up nauseous almost every morning, and I'm not pregnant. Staying up past 10 is an accomplishment, and once I'm sleep I'm OUT. I don't eat, I'm always worried, and reportedly I talk in my sleep now too.

I'm sure my afflictions are my emotions breaking through to a physical medium, where they may actually be acknowledged. I start crying out of nowhere, and honestly if you asked me why I was crying I wouldn't be able to tell you. I get angry at the snap of a finger at the smallest things...to the point of almost cursing out unsuspecting jewellers or almost jumping out the car to destroy a UPS truck that cut us off (true story).

Could stress really be the driving force behind all of this? Or is there something more serious?

I don't want to wake up crying anymore. I don't want to continually pass out at 8 at night anymore. I don't want to snap at Jay anymore, I don't wanna wake up to find out I've called him something truly derogatory in my sleep (I'm so sorry, by the way). I don't want to wake up asking "Can I quit today?". I don't want to go into work knowing that I may be suspended today, or knowing that the end of this month could be the end of my employment just because I've been threatened with the pink slip twice already.

Yes, God, the solutions are easy. Keep your head up. Find a new job. Don't complain about it. Talk to your managers, talk to their managers, talk to HR, talk to somebody. Keep a positive attitude. I've been listening, I swear I have. But as logical as I like to think I am, I also know that I'm an emotion-driven creature, and that if I stifle or try to falsely confront my emotions, eventually they're going to affect me in other ways...like physically.

So first, I pray that you give everyone around me the patience to deal with me...especially Jay. He gets the brunt end of my frustration, depression, and anger and it's not fair.

I'm so confused, God. I don't lead a bad life. I have a wonderful fiancee, my own apartment, and a job where truthfully if I didn't feel so stressed I'd probably have the potential to do really well. I've got a great set of best friends, and even though I haven't seen them in a while I still do care about each and every one of them. I'm finally getting the family support I've wanted for years and years. Why can't I just embrace that and be happy? Why am I continually depressed?

Please, just give me the strength to make it through this. Give me the confidence to not come out of each day beaten. I need to be able to stand on my own two feet and know that no matter what life throws at me, the only thing that can truly make me fall is myself.

Please and thank you, God.

Love,
Demiera

G.I.N.G.E.R.

So, last week on the fly (as all my somewhat stupid decisions tend to be) I decided I wanted to color my hair.

So to Ulta we go in search of the perfect box coloring kit. After some careful deliberation and help from a friendly associate, I buy the box that's supposed to make my hair look like a caramel delight and head home to start my makeover.

Of course, it didn't matter to me that I've never colored my whole hair before and the last time I tried putting any kind of chemicals in it ended in a big FAIL (that would have been my attempt to do semi-permanent highlights, which also ended up in a mess and a red bathroom but at least it didn't look too bad so I kept it).

Also not factored into my snap decision: the fact that I'd washed my hair that very day (big no-no) and that it's very difficult to see the back of my head with the mirror. Which meant I had to ask Jay to highlight the back of my hair for me.

After about 3 hours of sitting, dropping hair dye all over the bathroom, and some fussing back and forth, I rinsed out the final step of bleach to discover a huge chunk in the back of my head (and a little to the left) was almost completely blonde, while other random chunks and streaks were anywhere from a golden brown to the caramel they were supposed to be, and the front of my hair had some hints of red [because I completely disregarded the warning that said not to color over semi permanent highlights]. My hair literally blended in quite well with the surrounding autumn leaves.

As you can imagine, I was mortified. And I had to go to work the next morning with my hair all different shades of FUGLY.

So straight from my job went we to the hair salon down the street, to see what they could do with my now damaged strands. $60 later, I looked like this:


At least my streaks are now all even. I wasn't going for the redhead look but I guess it isn't all that bad....not that I'm going to do anything to change it any time soon. My poor hair was fried from that whole ordeal. I've finally gotten it back almost to how it used to be but you can tell it's no longer as healthy as it was before :(.

Speaking of hair...it's about time for me to start working on it for work today...

Picture Perfect

So...Charlie Murphy is DEFINITELY the star of the house now. He's not terribly photogenic. As a matter of fact, he normally swats at or tries to bite my phone whenever I try to take his picture.

This morning, though, I was sitting on the couch attempting to pull my boots on. Charlie Murphy, being the ever attention hungry little sweetheart he is, jumped right into my lap and looked at me with the "don't leave me, just stay here and pet me" face. And for the first time he let me snap a picture that truly shows how adorable he is all of the time.

And I swear if I didn't have to be at work, I would have stopped what I was doing to chill with him. Even now, as I sit on the couch with my feet propped up blogging, he's laying on the floor directly underneath my legs sleeping. Whenever I'm in the living room or kitchen, he's never far away, no matter what I'm doing.

So cute.

Sensing Some Paranormal Activity?

Finally...I can sit down and blog. It's 8 in the morning and I don't have to be at work until 11 so I'm sitting here with my mug of coffee, ready to unload everything that's been built up.

The night before last Jay and I went to a screening of the movie Paranormal Activity.

Dude.

That movie was fuckin awesome.

Jay, a huge scary movie skeptic, was even spooked. It's got a very Blair Witch Project feel with the whole documentary idea, but it's ten times scarier.

The trailer doesn't even do it justice. Had you seen the first trailer for it, you wouldn't think it was worth watching. For once, the trailer doesn't spoil the movie, let me tell you. And the audience reactions you're gonna see are not simulated. People actually walked out the movie not because it sucked, but because they were so terrified they couldn't stand to watch it.

I can't stress this enough: GO SEE IT.

Development on the job: basically, I didn't get moved into anything clerical.

In fact, they told me they can't keep me in a position I don't want to be in, and on the spot I needed to decide whether I wanted to stay or go.

WTF.

I chose to stay, only (and I do mean ONLY) because Jay asked me to, asked me to stick it out at least until I found another job. Because for once, money wasn't a good enough reason for me to stay at a job. For once, I'm ready to just pack my little cubicle of shit up, all of which would fit neatly into my purse, and chunk up the deuce. I'll worry about the money later.

And though Jay gracefully landed the AT&T gig, is passing training with flying colors, and is more than able to support me, I still want my own job and my own money. So I took his advice, and chose to wait it out.

On the managers' part, they did move me to the more productive side of the floor, so I'm surrounded by people who can help me get money. And I've been staying afloat, not necessarily doing the best, but I'm keeping my nose a centimeter above water level.

I'm thankful to have a job, and glad to have had this opportunity to find out that collections ISN'T for me. Now it's time to move on.

And last but not least, we have a new addition to the family: Charlie Murphy!

He's a 10 month old kitten. We had to drive over to Indiana to pick him up. He's the sweetest little thing, except at night when he decides to pounce on our feet as we're sleeping. And he's a spoiled BOLD little sucker too...will come right up to your carton of ice cream, stick his head inside, and commence eating like it's his.

I've told Jay we can't keep feeding him the table food though. His little digestive system can't handle all that. So we'll see how it goes.

Wow, it felt great getting all that off my chest. Now to get dressed for work :/...

Excuses, Excuses

I've determined that at this point, when I'm ready to purchase a car, I won't be able to buy a car. I'll need an SUV of some sort.

My revelation came to me as I was attempting to parallel park Jay's 2002 Pontiac Grand Am (nice ass car...I freakin love it!). Recently I've gotten better with the whole parallel thing, but before I was terrible at it in the car, needing to pull out and back in 4 or 5 times before I got it right and didn't hit the curb (or gently nudge another car). Of course, I politely nudged the car behind me and that's when I realized it:

I'm not used to accomodating for a trunk.

Sure, in range they had little Ford Tauruses to learn on, but I learned the street language of driving in my mom's Grand Caravan. Vans and SUVS don't have that extension, so you don't have to calculate your space. You can look through the back mirror and back up as far as you need to without any extra allowance.

Such is not the case in a car. And it throws me off, which is why I do terribly.

Meaning Operation Get-Me-The-Acura-MDX-I-Hinted-At-For-Christmas is now underway in full force...

I made a very important decision at my job. I went to my manager yesterday and requested that I be moved into a clerical position versus being a collector. I'll admit, I was terrified to ask because things are different now from when I got hired. The woman who hired me said that the company won't fire you if you're not a good fit for a particular position; as long as you're working they'll try to find a fit for you elsewhere in the company.

That was before management changed and all the old managers were either demoted or fired (or quit). So even though my new manager is pretty cool and seems like a good guy, I was scared my request would be grounds for my termination, even though it's brutally obvious to anyone who looks at my numbers that I shouldn't be in a collector position.

But I got a reaction quite different from what I expected. The manager actually stops what he's doing, looks at me, and goes "You're dead serious?"

Yes. I am SERIOUS AS A HEART ATTACK. Which I am going to end up having before I hit 21 if you don't move me into a calmer, less aggressive position.

Apparently, he and the general manager had been discussing getting another clerical employee anyway, due to backlog and the amount of duties the clerical positions have to do. So had I not mentioned it at all, they probably would have hired someone else or moved another collector into the spot.

On second thought...I really suck at collecting...So maybe I was the front runner anyway...hmmm...

The Never Ending Cycle

Come in. Assess the damage left from the morning, when you were too busy getting dressed to care about a mess. Step over the rejected clothing options on the floor, maybe wrappers from a granola bar you scarfed down as you got dressed. Sit on the couch and kick off your shoes. Leave them there, because you're happy to finally be sitting at home. You've been sitting at work all day too, but it's different from the comfort of your couch.

You don't turn the tv on automatically, because your work day flashes in your head and you have a moment of reflection. The silence is a blanket, comforting you. Today was just one of those days, a day others might deem successful but on the inside you were suffering. This isn't the job for you, or maybe it is but you haven't found your niche yet. It hurts because you're not used to this, and nobody understands why a bad day impacts you so much but you're not acquainted with failure, while now it feels like you flirt with it every day. You see your quota, and your goal is crawling up to it, but it never hits. The day it hits is never the day you get rewarded for it, either.

You sigh in exasperation. Do you stick it out? Do you look for a new job? The job search in itself is a job. And beyond that, do you want to give up so easily? Will you appear weak? Will your resume show consistency in holding a long term job, or will they count your search for the perfect job as a sign that you can't hold one?

What is it about your current job that you don't like? Is it the competition? Or the fact you're not doing as well as you'd like?

All at once, you come back to reality and realize you've been sitting in absolute silence for 5 minutes staring at the wall. You want to reflect more, but there's something criminal in spending too much time thinking about work at home so you flip through the channels, searching for some mindless sitcom to immerse yourself in. They're always so delightfully unrealistic, and they create the perfect escape from reality.

At some point, you decide to eat. And at 9:00pm, you fall asleep (despite all efforts to stay awake to watch the game/movie/tv show) and stay in bed until the next morning, when you wake up and still complain about being tired.

And the cycle begins again...

Time For Change

I've come to the executive decision that I need to change a couple of things in my life. Starting with this blog appearance. It's been with this blue deal for quite some time (I don't even remember when I did this) and I'm getting kind of tired of it. I want my blog to reflect that I am a writer, that I express myself through the use of words, and also to reflect my personality. This dark makes me depressed, doesn't really capture my attention.

And you know a blog needs a makeover if it doesn't capture the blogowner's attention anymore.

I also want to make writing more a part of my every day life, like it used to be. I've noticed with my job and living with someone, I haven't spent enough reflective time with myself, re-evaluating the decisions I make on a day-to-day basis and just pouring out those feelings and emotions I'm not comfortable expressing in any form other than writing.

To be completely honest, blogging became a chore, which is why I haven't done it. I forgot the true reason behind me starting this thing in the first place: as an outlet. A place where I can basically tell-all without restraint, a place where I don't need to hide or wear a mask to hide who I really am. Yes, most people use the Internet to become someone they're not...I'm using the Internet to find out who I really am.

I'm not going to hold myself to a blogging schedule...never have. Any writer, producer, or creative talent knows that inspiration comes when it's ready, not when you force it. My other blog, Cellulary Extraordinary (which I thought had some real potential when I started it) became a chore because I wanted to keep it updated every day. I forced myself to devote time to it. But when something comes from within, and you truly enjoy it, you don't force yourself to do it. You just do it.

I'm also going to start up writing my novel again, a dream I've literally held on to since about the 5th grade. I originally wanted to be one of the youngest authors to write a novel and got pretty damn close more than once too. But I always gave up. I threw 100+ page manuscripts away without a second thought. So as I've promised a long time ago, I'm going to start it up again. And I'm going to share passages with you. Critique them, read them, guide me, whatever.

And in addition to all of this, I plan on starting to write poems again.

Part of this is a result of me not being in school and not wanting to lose the knowledge I've got, at least until I start back again. I also realize that I'm becoming *slightly* dumbed down by all of the television I watch and video games I play and magazines I read. So on my next shopping trip, instead of buying shoes and clothes and hair stuff, I'm gonna buy some books. I need to start reading again.

The change sounds radical, but I'm excited...I need this. I need to get focused again on what I'm trying to do with myself and where I'm trying to go in life.

For now, though, I'm off to find new designs for the blog... :)

Thoughts...

There comes a time in every one's life when we have to stop and think about what it is that makes each one of us so special and different, and to become aware of what we have to offer to the human race.

I wanted to discover, in a sense, what I'm worth. Not in monetary or materialistic terms, but in spiritual terms. What is my contribution to society?

I don't want to be one of those people who realizes their dream too late. Sure, people will always say it's never too late to find your place, yadda yadda yadda. But there's nothing appealing to me about looking back 50 years from now shaking my head and wondering why I pissed away so many years. At the same time, you want to think that the whole point of life is the discovery of what you're here for, what major life objective were you put here to complete. Because life is full of that, right?

I mean, I look at what I'm doing now. I'm working full-time, living the life of a full-fledged adult...and I'm only 20! But I'm happy. A part of me sees the students around me, wishes to be one of them. I feel like every day I'm getting more and more immersed in television and radio and music and less and less based on books and literature. For that reason, I'm ready to return.

But it's hard to leave the freedom having a steady paycheck can afford. I'm nowhere near ready to go back to being just a full-time student, either.

More deliberation later...

I should be sleeping. Instead I lay in bed, fully clothed, contemplating. How am I supposed to sleep comfortably when things are going the way they are?

He lost his job, then his home. It's the story so many Americans tell these days. All that's left are memories of the days when money was not an issue and a bond stronger than unemployment or homelessness.

And though I try to stay strong for him, for myself, for US, I can't help but realize I hurt more each day. Adolescent acne has returned to my once clear face with a vengeance; my once even toned skin is blotchy and yellowed from malnourishment, because I won't eat if he isn't. My eyes are swollen and sore from days of sobbing, my lips swollen from wailing and screaming. But the countless tears do nothing but pave the way for more salty emissions streaming down my cheeks, endless waterfalls that can't and will not stop.

My eyelids are beginning to droop and my muscles hurt. So I will lock this pain in a lockbox that will keep it out of my way for the time being.0

Me? A Hypocrite?

Before I say anything else, let me say that I'm such a hypocrite. You'll find out why a little later.


Facebook is a trip. I don't understand why people take so much literally on Facebook. It's a social networking site, and it's online. Why do you think that everything I put up there is true? And what's more, why do you think that I care about what you say about what I put up there?

I decided to marry Jay on Facebook. Now, it's not exactly untrue but we're not married (yet). Now, if you've ever married someone on Facebook, you know how it shows up on everybody and their momma's page and then the comments start coming in. The funniest comment? A call from a guy I knew way back when who left me a hilarious "you have made a big mistake" message on my voice mail (I saw him call me but wondered why the hell he was calling and ignored it lol).

Hater.

----

Back to me being a hypocrite. I have some news to share:

I bought an iPhone 3GS.

That doesn't sound like earth shattering news, but you have to remember I've been dead set AGAINST the iPhone movement for quite some time.

Oh well. The phone is freakin awesome.

More on that later...

8-5

Today was my first day of work at my new job.

For security reasons, I can't tell yous the exact name or location of the place I'm working at. But just know I'm pursuing a career in collections.

I know, I know. The first thing anyone does when they realize I'm doing collections now is shy away and go "ewww...you're one of those," all disdainful and such. The second thing they tend to do is say "now if you see MY name, don't call me!" Jay even went so far as to say that if I called him (because he KNOWS he has an account with the agency I work for) that he'd curse me out.

I politely informed him, of course, that should he do that to me that he wouldn't live past 5:05 to tell the tale.

To be quite honest, I sat in a training room today with people who wouldn't dream of doing anything but collections. And the truth is, it's good ass money. Sure, your hourly is gonna be crap, but the bonus check is what you're really there for. That bonus check is what makes all the difference.

I'm actually considering staying at DSW for a period of time, if only for the discount. Which I may not even have to do if I don't want and if the collections thing works out.

I'm also on a mission tonight to speak to an admissions representative to get enrolled in online classes at the University of Phoenix.

My life is finally getting back on track...

Who's Life Is This Anyway?

So...I got the job. And I couldn't be more happy or proud of myself. As I wrote in my last post, I found this job unaided, and I did everything I needed to do to secure it unaided.

Be that as it may, however, my decision to pursue a full-time job/career has been met with some resistance by a few people close to me. It appears what they want me to do and what I've chosen to do aren't quite along the same track.

The job is quite a distance away from my house, so that created a little bit of discord. But the biggest issue is the premise that by me getting a full-time job, I won't be going back to school. Basically, everyone wants me to go to school full-time and worry about working later. I'd rather work and go to school part-time so that I can have some money in my pocket, be independent, and still advance in life.

It hurts like hell that every time I make some progress, whether it be finding a job or making plans to move out or even going to a school that was below everyone else's expectations, there's always a crew of people there downplaying it and making me feel like shit.

I hesitate to refer to them as "haters" because normally haters don't have nothing so they're jealous of anyone who does. I'd refer to this crew more as the "pedestal bunch". They put someone on a pedestal and if things don't go exactly how they want them to go, something's wrong with that person.

No, I'm not living the life everyone else seems to want for me. And I'm sorry. I'm telling anyone who wants a say in how I live my life that I'm so sorry I can't live up to your standards. I'm so sorry I'm not leading the life you want me to lead. But it's my life to lead. And if I'm happy, you should be happy too.

But I guess I'm not entitled that...

Some Thoughts

I used to feel terrible about not being in school, about only working a part-time job, about not doing well in certain classes. I used to think that I didn't know what I wanted from life, and if someone asked me I would give a roundabout answer (or tailor my answer to fit what I figured they would want to hear, depending on the person). And I felt horrible for it, because it made me feel like I wasn't finding my purpose.

But I came to a realization today after an interview at a job I hopefully will get (so far it's looking good; I just gotta keep my fingers crossed). All the preparation I did for this position, with the background research and the sending my resume and cover letter and the interview and finding the perfect outfit and traveling to the place TWICE just to see how long it takes to get there and where it is...all that preparation was because this is something I truly want. It's not what anyone else wants for me but what I really want for myself.

It isn't about the position itself. Nor is it really about the pay (though it's a nice increase from what I make now, plus bonuses, plus benefits after 90 days). It's not about me needing to get some sort of professional trade. It's more about the independence of the thing, and the independence this job will grant me.

I found this job on my own. I applied for it on my own, and obtained an interview on my own. I went through the interview on my own, and researched the place and possible questions they might ask me on my own. I did it all myself, on my own accord, with my own motivation. Jay helped me get there, and supported me and relaxed me before my interview and encouraged me. But as far as the work goes, I did it alone. And it feels amazing.

What's interesting is, a family friend extended an offer to me with the promise of securing an interview at the Trump Tower here. And it pays even better than the place I obtained myself. But I've dedicated NO time to pursuing that lead, because to be honest I don't want another job I have to have help getting. I'm not ungrateful; in fact, I'm very thankful he thought of me for the position. But I would just rather do it by myself.

To me, the means of obtaining something is more important than the thing itself.

I would have loved to live in a tiny apartment with my mom growing up versus the lovely three bedroom home we live in now with my grandmother. Sure, the quality of living would have decreased significantly, but an apartment would have been ours. I would have sacrificed the luxury of the big house to have the feeling that it was something we worked for ourselves. Because nice things aren't quite as nice when you don't have to work for them. Part of what is so humbling about life is struggle.

When I get older, I want to look on the things I've done and the goals I've achieved and have the sense of knowing that I did everything I did with hard work and determination and that I have nobody to thank for my success but myself and those who supported me. It may sound crazy, but I'd rather live modestly and comfortably but independently than to live lavishly but to know my success depends solely on the discretion of someone else.

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On a livelier and completely unrelated note, I got a gift from Jay about a week ago: rose colored Louis shades!! Look for their debut in an upcoming post.

The Day After

It creeps up ever so slowly, ever so quietly, waiting for the right moment to strike. Moments of loneliness, moments of self-reflection, moments when one has nothing but their own thoughts to occupy them. It waits in the deepest and darkest of corners, crouched and ready for attack, preying on the vulnerable and the naive.

It's grief.

I didn't think I'd feel quite as sad going through this whole ordeal given my thoughts on not being able to support a child and needing to get my life together first. But I've got an unshakeable lump in the back of my throat and a nauseated feeling in the bottom of my stomach, and I feel the tears just waiting behind my eyelids.

Everyone's told me to think of it as God's will and to be glad I didn't have to make the decision on my own. which I've adopted as my belief. Or at least, tried to. It's easy to make myself believe that that's the truth, especially when heard from those who have been through what I've been through and knowing how they reacted.

But this loss is...traumatic, in a way. I was 8 weeks along, and in that time I went through a lot of sickness and call-offs and ginger ale and peanut butter crackers and extra sharp cheddar cheese and running through the city for the *right* dill pickle. I gave up my ability to wear heels because they made me lightheaded. And though I was sick often, I kind of liked the idea of having a child.

See, I don't think there's a certain age people should wait until to get pregnant. If you're self-sufficient and able to take care of yourself, and you're responsible, then go ahead and have a child. The time is different for everybody, I just know that at this point in my life I'm not responsible or self-sufficient enough for one. Which could be why God took it away from me.

And I know I should be reasonable about everything and just be glad I'm still alive and didn't bleed to death or any other complication from the incomplete abortion or the surgery. But there's something inside of me that still wants to ball up and cry. A part of me still feels terrible over this loss, and I just don't know how to get over that pain.

Luckily, I've got a lot of support from my family and friends, so I don't have the feeling I had when I first found out that I was going through it alone. And I know when it is my time to have children, I'll be healthier and they'll (hopefully) be healthy and I won't have to feel any guilt when I announce the news nor will I feel the need to hide it from anyone.

I just want this new pain to go away...

Live From Room 1005 (Updated)

*Sigh*

I thought after my last hospital episode I was done with the whole hospital scene...

Okay, that's not completely true, and I didn't tell you guys the whole story.

See, I went into Cook County for shortness of breath...came out with an infection...and (dare I say it) pregnant.

Yes, yes, you read right. Straight up, lightheaded*morning sickness*headaches*weird cravings* excessive fatigue preggo.

I didn't intend on keeping it, but after a week passed I got attached to the little thing. It was certainly attached to me, sucking all my energy and making me sick...or so I thought.

See, you're not supposed to bleed AND have cramps while you're pregnant. One or the other is fine, but both is a bad sign. So off Jay rushed me to the hospital again, this time to Saint Mary.

After laying 5 hours with needles and ultrasounds and speculums and all other tests, I found out that I was miscarrying because it wasn't developing properly...to be completely technical, it wasn't developing at all. I didn't even know something like that could happen.

So here I am, blogging to you live from my hospital bed with an IV in one arm and a bandaid from a recent blood test on the other. My cramps are getting progressively worse today and I'm hoping the doctor comes in soon so we can alleviate this pain.

As far as emotionally...I'm holding up ok, not the best but I'm not in pieces either. Though the original plan hadn't been to keep it, I didn't expect it to happen this way. I guess it's better my body is doing it naturally, but I still wasn't quite prepared for it.

And once again, Jay stayed with me *almost* the entire time; I sent him home around 5 this morning to get some sleep and do some other errands because I felt so bad for him sitting in the chair next to my hospital bed, unable to sleep or get comfortable. It didn't help that the first time he finally agreed to leave I almost started crying (really couldn't help it; even though I didn't want him sitting in that chair I didn't want to be alone in the hospital room ), so another 30 minute disagreement ensued until I finally fell asleep and he awoke me just to say goodbye and made me go back to sleep promptly. And even when I texted him a little while ago he was still apologizing for leaving my side. But that wasn't even the kicker. The kicker was the care he took in making sure I had food when I got to my room, going home just to get entertainment for us for the night, bringing me something to change into and all my favorite foods and drinks (though after midnight I wasn't allowed to eat anything else), combing my hair when I had the IV, and snapping me back to reality when the cramps had tears streaming down my face and I was ready to break down.

I don't know how I would have made it through all of this without him.

**********************

I had to stop my story here to impart a very important message and lesson I've learned to all my fellow bloggers out there or anyone who stumbles upon this blog: follow your intuition.

That seems like such a "common sense" thing to do, but as you know, this blog is aptly named for this reason: you'd be surprised how many people ignore their intuition and end up getting into trouble later.

I say this because when I first started bleeding, everyone but my store manager thought it was no big deal. Everyone said "don't worry, it's perfectly normal, women still go through it during their pregnancy, you're okay".

I haven't gone through it since April. You can't tell me its normal to skip two months then all of a sudden start back again...something's not right with that picture.

However, I do tend to exaggerate my symptoms (a simple headache can turn into a brain tumor if you'll let me think about it long enough) so I decided to chill out, do a little Googling, and see what happens.

Well, we see what happened.

Listen to your intuition because it knows better than anybody else. Only YOU know what you're feeling and what's going on in your body. If something doesn't feel right, question it. Get to the bottom of it, and then you can move on. Don't let everyone else try to quell what your body is trying to tell you.

We're given intuition for a reason. All we've got to do is listen to it.

----------------------

New Events:

When I told ya'll the story earlier, it was a little after 7 in the morning. As the hours ticked passed, I started having the WORST cramps of my life...come to find out, they were really contractions. So basically I was in labor for 9 hours, getting these horrible tear evoking contraction/cramps every 6-7 minutes.

Pregnant women can imagine. Let me tell you this: if babysitting or fear of AIDS wasn't a good enough method of birth control, those contractions sure were. It was the absolute worst pain I've ever felt. I'm not looking forward to feeling that pain again any time soon.

At around 4 the gynecologist finally came in (they'd been promising her arrival since 6 in the morning) and it was time for my D&C. I wasn't looking forward to it, but I needed those cramps to go away and this was it.

The anesthesia was da bomb...I wonder if they'll let me take a little home with me. The anesthesiologist said "you're going to sleep" and two seconds later I was OUT. I woke up high as hell in the recovery room. Then the nurse pumped me full of morphine and anti-nausea drugs. I'm telling you, it's the first time I've felt relief since yesterday morning and it feels amazing.

I'm due to finally leave here sometime between 9 and 10, provided all my vitals are fine. If not, I'll be out of here tomorrow morning. Which is fine with me.

As usual, I'll keep you all posted.

Charlie's Angel/Thriller

Today, we lost two greats:

I'm not going to spend a lot of time going into details...all you have to do is tune into any major television station (except WCIU) and you'll get details on what happened. Farrah died of cancer, and Michael went into cardiac arrest.

My prayers go out to the families of Farrah and Michael.

You all will be missed.

Change of Plans

I'm about to start working out, changing my eating habits, and becoming healthy.

I know, I know. This is one of those things that's going to be REALLY easy to procrastinate with. I can already feel the potential excuses building up:

-I don't have any appropriate exercise shoes.
-I have asthma and I don't wanna collapse while trying to walk/jog/run.
-It's raining outside and all I wanna do is sit in the house eating flamin hots and watching South Park.

And other such random reasons for NOT working out.

But it's for a good cause. I'm in terrible health (even if my vital signs don't wanna prove it). I've had a headache almost every day for weeks. I'm tired. And I attribute it to my terrible eating habits and innate laziness. I might have a high metabolism but it doesn't mean I need to just eat junk food all day and sit around. That's not good for the body or soul.

I always say that if healthier food were available I'd eat it, but because healthy food isn't available I don't. So that's going to have to change too. I'm going to have to determine a healthy diet that's going to work for me, seeing as I'm not trying to lose weight but am just trying to be a healthy 120 lbs vs 120 lbs of fatty sugars and salt, which is about all I eat these days.

Don't get me wrong...I'm not cutting Oreos out of my life forever. But I notice that when I was a kid eating three meals a day every day (sans sweets other than every once in a GREAT while) and getting anywhere between 7-9 hours of sleep a night, I was much MUCH healthier and you could have even called me athletic. Those were the days when I climbed rock walls and ropes and could run a decent mile. But now that I'm averaging around 5 hours of sleep a night and one halfway decent meal a day, I can't do anything without running out of breath, getting lightheaded and tired, etc...

I gotta start drinking water, too, which is a bit of a problem only because I'm very particular about what kind of water I drink. I prefer tap to bottled water because I grew up drinking unfiltered Chicago tap water (arguably some of the most delicious water in the nation). Bottled water, with the exception of Fiji and Smart Water, always seems to taste processed and plasticky to me.

Aside from health reasons, I have another reason for wanting to get healthy: I am trying to become a Chicago Police Officer, with plans for promotion into the narcotics unit or some other interesting endeavor. I've been doing some research, and I'll need to get my bachelor's before I can apply which is okay seeing as I can (hopefully) knock that out in three years provided I stay on my grind and stop playing around. There's a psychological test, which I should be able to pass, a drug test, which I KNOW I'll be able to pass, and a physical fitness test, which I'd FAIL terribly if I took it right now. But I'm keeping my eye on that goal, and if I continue staying out of trouble for the next few years I can definitely do it.

Sidenote: I know I had been stuck on the business thing for a long time, and it was a toss-up between being a lawyer and being a businesswoman and all that. But I never knew specifically what I wanted to do. Being a police officer means I get to put my affinity for law and writing together with helping the community, protecting the good, and busting the bad guys. And...not gonna lie...I've got a little bit of "school girl" excitement over the thought of wearing a uniform that everyone's got to respect with a bad ass gun on my hip. I'll have to get in touch with my friend in the NRA to figure out what gun I'm gonna replace my police issue with. But that's a whole different topic.

So that's my goal. It's gonna be HARD. And I know there's gonna be a lot of bumps and falls along the way. But I'm excited and amped and ready to get the ball rolling. Let's just hope that this time I can KEEP this resolve.

Just A Question...

What is happiness?

Is it a fleeting emotion, like anger or sadness? Something we can only enjoy in the moment as it's happening and then watch it float away just as quickly as it appeared? Or is it more long term?

If we're talking happiness in terms of daily pleasures (spending time with a significant other, feeling instant gratification from a job, buying things to make you happy), then I'm a very happy, fulfilled person. My day to day life goes just fine. I have fun with the people around me, get the chance to spend a lot of time with the person I love, I have a good time at work and with customers, and because of that job I'm able to buy (some) things I want or need.

But if we're talking long term happiness, as in long term career fulfillment or feeling like you've found that niche, I'm completely down and out on that one. I haven't quite found my slot in life, though I think I'm starting to get close. I actually finally have a career goal in mind (as in this is the exact position I'd like to hold, this is what I need to get there, and this is where I want to go after that), and it's already made a huge difference. But the fight is far from over.

I've had a lot of time to myself today to think and reflect, something I haven't done in quite some time. And in a little bit I'm actually going to write everything down on paper. It may help, it may not, but it's worth a try and if I can get some kind of validation from doing it then I guess it's worth it. It's a start, though, and I can't possibly lose anything through the effort.

I'll be keeping everyone posted.

Shooting at the Museum

Freedom of speech is probably one of our most treasured (and consequently most abused) rights.

It's nice to live in a country where we're *supposed* to be able to believe whatever we want to believe and think whatever we want to think without interference from others or the government.

If only it were that simple.

The recent shooting in the Holocaust Museum in DC is a terrible reminder of the lack of respect, dignity, and honor some Americans seem to have. The whole point of us having freedom of thought and speech is to prevent persecution from others, and yet what do we have here? Some old ass idiot white supremacist who decided that the Holocaust wasn't horrifying enough and decides to go shooting up a museum.

What was he trying to prove? What point was he trying to get across to his audience? What statement was he trying to make? Because from what I can see, all he was able to prove to us is that he's a bigoted fool. It's just his own little "end of life" stunt that he decided to pull, an item on his twisted and insane bucket list.

To the press: Don't mention his name. Don't let anyone know who he is. If you do, you'll generate just the kind of press and attention he wanted to create. Punish him as you wish: send him to prison, let the Texans put him to death, set him out in front of a Mexican firing squad for all I really care. Hell, you can blindfold the bastard and make him cross the freeway Frogger-style. But don't mention his identity. He doesn't DESERVE the public's knowledge or acknowledgement of who he is. His name doesn't deserve to fall out of not one person's lips. To acknowledge HIM is to give him the justification he was looking for. I don't know about anybody else, but I'm not a huge fan of doing that. I say let the man wither through the rest of his existence in jail knowing everyone knows what he did but no one knows his name. Let him deal with the fact that his "valiant" effort to promote his own beliefs and his move to prove a point did NOTHING and that we as a nation won't give him the satisfaction of enjoying infamy.

What the hell is wrong with people these days?

Cinco De Mayos

I officially bought my first pair of Jordans a few days ago.

I know I'm about a month late with the whole Cinco de Mayo thing (seeing as that WAS in May) but the shoes are still hot.

I had never purchased Jordans before because when I was younger I tried getting some and they didn't fit properly, and I was discouraged from ever owning them. I wouldn't say I'm obsessed now, because I'm still a bit of an Air Force One/Chuck Taylor girl myself, but these don't look quite as basketball-ish as some of the other ones do.

Only problem is, I don't have enough red and green in my wardrobe to justify those colors, but whatever. I'll work it out.

----------

I went to Jay's house after work yesterday and when I got there he confined me to the living room where he had ordered my favorite type of pizza [pepperoni] and bought my favorite pop [Sierra Mist], but he wouldn't let me go in his room.

After we ate, he turned all the lights out in the house, took my glasses off, covered my eyes, and led me into his room.

My jaw dropped.

He had hung scented tea lights all over the wall which gave off the most perfect amber glow. He had changed his comforter to a fancy gold one (we're talking 5-star hotel quality) and had put these pretty red, gold, and white pillowcases on all these pillows. And there were all these rose petals spread in the middle of the bed. It looked like something you only get to read about in romance novels or see on tv but never get to experience in real life.

On top of all that, he gave me the most wonderful back, leg, and foot massage with aromatherapy massage oil.

I needed that last night more than ever. My back was hurting from all the shoe moving I was doing at work, I was sleepy, and actually a little cranky. Plus it was starting to storm when I got off work so I was a little nervous too. But he made all of that go away and it was the most wonderful thing I've ever experienced.

What's the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for you?

Lost

Ya'll know I often have a favorite song of the week...a theme song, if you will.

When I first heard this song, I had no idea it was Gorilla Zoe (remember him from that horrid "Hood Nigga"?). It sounded a little too chill for that. But it's a pretty flame song. It's a little depressing if you listen to the lyrics, but again the beat is real chill and Lil Wayne adds fire to the track.

Enjoy!

Long Night

What a trooper.

I've been suffering from shortness of breath lately and have been feeling a generalized sense of sickness even though nothing in particular seemed wrong. So when last night I started breathing hard out of nowhere, Jay decided to take me to the hospital. Now, I've mentioned before somewhere that Cook County is where you go to die. But that's where I ended up going because that's the place for people who don't have insurance.

When we first got there they sent me to a special room for asthmatics since I had the shortness of breath. But the doctor became slightly stumped when he found out I was short of breath but that all my vitals were fine and I wasn't wheezing or congested. So he decided to take a urinalysis. And we found out I have an infection (goddammit). They pulled some blood samples and when they did I had a FIT and started hyperventilating and shaking. I probably scared the crap out of that poor nurse. Then they moved me onto a random bed in a hallway and hooked me up to an IV with saline solution to try to stop the shortness of breath. I kept asking for Jay so my nurse personally went out into the waiting room and got him, which was around 3:00 am. He stayed by my side until after 11:00 this morning, even through the continous IV treatments, blood sugar tests, and chest x-rays.

That's why I said what a trooper. Poor guy had been up early yesterday, up all day, didn't get any sleep last night due to my tossing and turning and lack of air, stayed up in the hospital til this morning fully awake refusing to leave my side even though I kept telling him to go take a nap AND even though he almost got kicked out for not having a visitor pass. And even after we finally left the hospital he refused to go home but instead took me to IHOP just because I mentioned having a taste for pancakes.

I'm doing a little better now but I've still got this generalized laziness and fatigue that lasted since yesterday morning, plus a nagging consistent headache. I gotta go back tomorrow to get my medicine (vitamins, antibiotics, and albuterol for the asthma) and luckily I don't work again until Saturday so hopefully by then I'll be feeling a little better.

I just found it so odd that I came into the hospital expecting to get a puff or two of an inhaler and being able to go right back home and ended up finding out I have an infection that's causing me to feel bad and would have only gotten worse had they not found it.

Modern medicine is amazing.

Stay In Your Lane

I almost had a nigga moment last night, ya'll.

For those of you not familiar with the Boondocks or the concept of a "nigga moment", it's basically when ignorance overpowers the mind of an otherwise logical black (wo)man, causing them to act like a "nigga".



I say "almost" because I managed to hold on to just a little logic. But last night was no joke.

Jay and I went bowling last night. The problem was that the group of people in the lane next to us have no bowling etiquette whatsoever. Now, had they been little teenagers or something with no obvious bowling skills to speak of, I wouldn't have been so bothered because, well, I'd charge it to them never having really played the game before and so not knowing. These people were grown ass MEN who obviously had a little skill to them.

So I couldn't understand why they were all up in MY lane when they weren't even bowling, why they had to walk in front of us when they were bowling, and why they didn't have the common courtesy to wait for the person next to them to bowl before running up to the foul line and heaving their ball down the lane.

I wasn't so pissed the first time some idiot decided to wait until I was lining up my shot to just run up from left field and take his shot instead, fucking with my peripheral vision and throwing me off. I got teed off when some dude randomly walked right in front of our lane in a STUPID attempt to influence his ball by walking (because of course the magnetic gravity of our bodies will pull the ball in the direction you walk in waaaayy after you've released it) and almost got trampled by Jay who was in the process of approaching the foul line but who had to turn around. I got PISSED when a dude just kept standing in the bowlers area all in my way so I had to maneuver past him to bowl in my own lane. All that together, plus the REPEATED occurrence of these events, made me furious.

And when I say furious, I mean itchy hand I'm bout to slap somebody furious.

Irrationality made me pick up a 12 pound ball like it was 5 lbs and just fling it down the lane. Rationality (the only thing that stopped the nigga moment)kept me from flinging it at one of their heads.

And the only reason I was rational at ALL was because we were on the North Side, and they'll kick you out of an establishment in a minute, and I didn't want Jay banned because I decided to go upside someone's head with a bowling pin for being in my way.

The only good thing that came out of it was that in my fury I actually threw a couple of good balls and ended up winning the game.

And in hindsight it really wasn't all that serious enough to get THAT irritated over. But then again, that's what made it a classic nigga moment contender.

I just hope next time something like this happens I stay rational. Cuz the results could have been disaster.

Upgrading

Sooo..I haven't blogged in a REALLY long time.

Sorry, guys.

I've been very busy lately with a couple of things...but I'll go ahead and give you a quick update on the goings on in my life.

I'm still at DSW. And it's...okay for those who like it. I'm more of a computer type so the whole retail/customer service deal isn't really my bag. But it's an easy job. And the discount keeps me there...at least until I find something a little more tailored to my skills.

=>Sidenote: i just applied for a data entry job today. Cross your fingers!

I'm gonna be a model! I was at work a few days ago and a customer walked up to me and asked if I wanted to be a model...and I said yes! She needs my measurements for an upcoming show, and I have a fitting session today. I'm sooo excited about this opportunity I don't know what to do! Hopefully it all goes well!

Definitely not the least important, though, of all the new occurrences in my life: I have a new boyfriend! We've been together for over a month and a half and it's been the best time of my life.

I'm gonna refer to him here on out as Jay. It's so funny because we're basically carbon copies of each other (with the exception of me being able to outeat him almost every time we go out to eat) and we've been through a lot of similar situations so it's very easy for us to get along. We have a lot of fun together. You'll be seeing a lot more of him in the blog.

Oh and one more development: I got my nose pierced!

Did it hurt? Not really. I did almost slap the guy's hand away as he was in the process of piercing. And yes, I was bamboozled. I thought he'd use the piercing gun but he used no such thing. I've wanted my nose pierced for some time but the motivation to finally do it came partly from Jay and partly because I want it healed by the time I get an office job (in case they don't allow it). That's a pretty bad picture but it's actually very adorable in person =).

Those are my updates so far...tune in next time for more!

Under My Skin

*Sigh*

You're trying real hard right about now to get to me, and the fact of the matter is...its working. A little bit. You know I know what's going on (and if you didn't...now you do). I've got a lot more connections than you think I do, and I know SO much more than I'm letting on. But that's beside the point.

I can't tell whether all this is something you really just chose to do or if its just for my benefit. I get the feeling its more the latter than the former, but what do I know, right? I mean, I was right all along about everything, but for some reason you still wanted to play it to the left and pretend like I was talking out the side of my neck. I knew what I was talking about when I noticed the things I noticed about you and *the other*. I'm no dummy. I've been through some foolishness in my life and I already know what bullshit smells like. So you may have gotten away with murder for a while, but eventually I got smart.

It probably makes you real happy to think you've gotten under my skin. I just don't want you to flatter yourself. Yes, I'm slightly bothered by this whole situation. Yes, I'm fully aware that in the bigger scheme of things this shouldn't be an issue seeing as "we" are not a "we" anymore. I'm also fully aware that I am human, and being human means having the ability to feel emotion...so I'm entitled to a raised eyebrow, a loss of a few points on the self-esteem scale, and maybe a pang of anger. Im entitled to an "I cant believe THAT happened" moment or two.

But the one thing I don't feel is regret...and truth be told, regarding you I never will. And unlike a lot of people, I've learned to control my emotions to an extent. Its hard, and it doesn't protect me against knee-jerk reactions to the things you do. What it DOES do, however, is prevent me from allowing other people to determine how im going to feel. Granted, you used to have the power to turn that safety mechanism of mine off. But I've got my power back.

And as always, I still find this all quite humorous. But, do what you do homie as long as you do what you're doing for YOU and not for my benefit. Think about it this way: if you're doing things just to get a reaction from me, who's REALLY got the upper hand?

BFF Field Trip!!!

Today, me and Bff decided to take a little field trip. She had a job interview today so we drove from Chicago to Dekalb. I figured it would be fun to catch up since I haven't seen her since I moved back home, and I haven't been to Dekalb since the New Years fiasco so I figured that would be interesting too.

I had a weak moment, guys. I saw some things I really didn't agree with. And heard some things, and just went through some unnecessary drama. I wanted to curse *a certain person* out. I wanted to write this long entry about...everything, and say all kinds of things.

But I'm in Dekalb with my bff, and it's pretty damn rude to spend my time focused on insignificant *people* when I'm supposed to be hanging out with her. It's really not all that important...

I Disagree...

Things that just have made me go wtf???...

1. Facebook changed the layout AGAIN...smh...(sidenote: I had no idea what "smh" meant until yesterday...lmao!!) Although it's definitely become more stalkerish, I can see how it's a little easier to use than the old Facebook.

2. I love how people do things they think are gonna bother you but they really don't. For instance, don't you just love it when someone says something simply to get a reaction out of you, especially when the expected reaction is hurt or anger or jealousy? Why would you do things just to *try* to make me mad? If I react to what you do, it implies that I care (key word: implies). So if you say or do something, whether indirect or direct, and I don't respond, it doesn't mean I didn't see it. It means I'm sitting somewhere laughing my ass off saying "wtf...for real? People actually waste their time doing this??"

3. I also love how people think you owe them something or are obligated to give them special privileges when they really don't deserve them. Like, just because you call out to me I'm supposed to stop what I'm doing to answer. Or just because we have some sort of relationship (be it work, personal, whatever) I owe you something. I don't owe anyone ANYTHING...and no one owes me either. If you do something for me, it's a personal decision YOU made. If you go through life doing things just to expect something in return you're going to be a very disappointed person...

4. Chivalry is NOT dead. Believe it or not, there are still men out here who do sweet things like drop you off at the door of the restaurant and open doors and pull out chairs and carry your bags when you go shopping and won't go somewhere without asking if you want something and drive across states just to see you for an hour and carry you across the parking lot when you're wearing four inch heels and it's cold and the car's not far enough away for you to just wait for him to pull up in front of the door like he normally would...I know these men exist because I'm talking to one now =)

5. I think the decision to change the name of the Sears Tower is selfish and silly. I will never call it a "Willis" nothing. This is even more selfish than changing Marshall Fields to Macys and taking Carson's off State Street. The Sears Tower is an internationally known and recognized building, people...you can upset a city and get away with it but the whole world???

6. I just discovered FML today and I'm having mixed feelings. On the one hand, some of the stories are pretty damn funny. On the other some are really really REALLY lame and not really what I would consider an FML moment. Of course, I can't stop reading...

7. Why is Chicago weather on crack? We had a week of temperatures in the 20s and 30s and all of a sudden it blasts up to 73. Now it's in the 50s and rainy. People were in shorts and tank tops yesterday (not an exaggeration) and today there are people wearing winter coats. And people wonder why everyone in Chicago is always so sick...

8. You know you're lazy when you decide to take a nap before getting up to go eat (even if you're starving) just because your bed is too comfortable to get out of.

I think I'm done for now...I'm sure I'll think of more, and hopefully if I'm not too lazy I can post them =)...

Work Ethics

I have a low tolerance for bad working conditions.

I've been working for all of three months now, and clearly my seasonal status has been transferred to part time status, which is good. But some things are starting to happen that are making me ready to break out the ol' resume and get to hunting.

First, we're experiencing a huge change in management. They took the two GOOD managers and sent them to a struggling store and left us with the other two somewhat cool but not that hot managers. So now we have a new manager (who clearly isn't too new because he's been there before) and an acting store manager to fill in until our real new store manager gets here.

The change in management is tolerable at best. What sucks, though, is how they've been treating my time and the time of select other employees. Thursday night they made me do an extended shift and close even though I really didn't need to be there. Friday I had to come in early and then the manager tried to make me stay later even though I wasn't extended and again had NO REASON TO BE THERE. And tonight I worked a DOUBLE EXTENDED SHIFT (which don't even exist) and had to close, which resulted in me not getting home until 12:30 am. Add in the fact that time skipped ahead and technically my ass was out until 1:30.

When I say that's some bullshit, I mean that's some bullshit.

I've stayed way too many unplanned extended shifts, and covered way too many unexpected call offs, and now I guess its expected that im supposed to just always be freakin available. My problem is I cant say no, not because of money but because of my work ethic and I know that its good when you make sacrifices for the sake of the team. This time was just particularly infuriating.

So for now, I will bite my tongue and bear it. Ill work the extra hours. Stand all day in those damn high ass 4 inch stiletto boots I wear to work to promote the brand (which works) and go home with sore feet. On Fridays I will prance to the bank. And all the while ill be perfecting my resume and applying to school. This is not where I want to be for another 6 months, much less the rest of my life.