Why I Hate Gotye or the Stalker's Lament, as I like to call it.

OK, we all know that stupid song by Goyte; “Somebody I Used to Know”… This song, annoys me more than just about anything else on the planet. I mean, seriously. This fucking song.

It is really the lyrics that spawned my unequivocal hatred for it. I mean, really this song is 4 minutes of whining about just how fucking broken hearted he is about his loss of a girl.

 I get it… break-ups blow. That’s why it is a break up. And everyone has earned the right to write a hit song about it (Taylor Swift, I’m looking at you) and whine and cry and have your breakdown about it sponsored by Haagan Dazs. I however, reserve the right to hate it—and critique it (see below).

Now and then I think of when we were together
Like when you said you felt so happy you could die
I told myself that you were right for me
But felt so lonely in your company
But that was love and it's an ache I still remember
I get it. He is lamenting the love. I understand that. Nothing hurts worse than feeling alone, in a relationship. Also, it hurts knowing you thought they were the one, but they are not. Very. Sad. This part is not bad. In fact, it is a somber, contemplative verse—when it could have opened with a wailing “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy…”

You can get addicted to a certain kinda sadness
Like resignation to the end, always the end 
So when we found that we could not make sense
Well you said that we would still be friends
But I'll admit that I was glad that it was over
Now, here you can see the start of a downward depressive (dog) spiral. I mean opening the next verse with “addicted to a certain kind of sadness”—pop an Xanax, or do some of my implied yoga. Everyone know when you say “be friends” this means on Facebook… or friend-ly, like I won’t stalk you, break into your home, try to kill your pets, destroy your car and tell all of your friends (and his) vicious nasty un-true things about you. Were you glad, Mr. Goyte? Were, you—if you REALLY were, I doubt this song would exists.

But you didn't have to cut me off 
Make it like it never happened and that we were nothing 
I don't even need your love, but you treat me like a stranger
And that feels so rough
This negates your last bit about resignation and “gladness.” Maybe she had to cut you off. You sound like a bit of a wet blanket. And If you were said blanket, then it might be better that she acted like you were nothing in the end. And I venture to say that even if you don’t “need” her love, you clearly want/miss or are in denial about it.  OH it feels rough?? Well, I guess you are not a Alpaca fiber blanket.

No, you didn't have to stoop so low
Have your friends collect your records
And then change your number
Guess that I don't need that though
Now you're just somebody that I used to know
Look, dude… she didn't want to see you, or put up with your wet-blanket- lament, while you bemoan your part in the break-up. And she changed her number to avoid the annoying crying voice-mails you would have left—or did leave, after you realized she changed her number. And sir, she is someone you used to know—used to date, used to fuck.

Now and then I think of all the times you screwed me over
But had me believin it was always something that I'd done
But I don't wanna live that way
Reading into every word you say
You said that you could let it go
And I wouldn't catch you hung up on somebody that you used to know-oh-oh
Ms. Kimbra chimes in here as the Girlfriend. And she firstly states off your parts in the break-up. I guess you thought you did no wrong? AND of course you couldn't let it go. I mean really. You’re writing a damn song about it instead of moving on or into therapy for it like the rest of us. And she can’t catch you, she is changing numbers (and locks I bet) and sending her BFFFE’s to collect her things (NOT leaving shit behind a la T-Swift).

The rest is just about Mr. Goyte whining about how he is just “somebody” she “used to know.” I refuse to post anymore of those lyrics because as I read them, I want to put him down like Old Yeller. I mean, the whole song is one by “Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!! *sob* *cry* WHHyyyyyyyyyy!!!!” 

So, If you like this song (in any way BESIDES a break-up guide of how not to behave and/or write a break-up song) you can Go Fuck Yourself.

Un-Seasoned Starbucks Patrons aka Why the Flat White annoys the fuck out of me.

Pumpkin Spice Latte’s are addicting, I know. But that is so last season. We’ve all moved on. But, seasonal Starbucks Patrons (SP’s from here on out) don’t know that – or do, and either way it is irritating. And now let’s all pretend we do not know what a Flat White is…

Starbucks and their seasonal delights are the epicenter of Suburbia. The Mecca for Hipsters, Homeless and the Caffeine addicted (Hi, I am Anastasia Elizabeth and I am addicted to caffeine). This does pose a problem for those of us well versed in the Starbuck-ian culture, custom and language.

I’m in line, and I hear you struggle with the menu. ‘I’ll have a… umm… large? Care-a-mel… latte? With an extra shot? Of ex-press-oh?’ at this I tap my foot and lock my hand on my hip. I am irritated. You struggle—like it’s a foreign language. You fumble for your gift card/debit card/ exact change. I cringe. I want you out of my fucking way, so I can fucking order like the expert that I am. You leave the queue, with your stroller/laptopbag/massivefuckingpurse. I announce (so you hear) “Iced Grande 4-pump Caramel Non-Fat extra Ice Latte in a Venti cup” a semi-complicated favorite of mine. I imagine you look back in awe. I also imagine the barista is thankful for my fluency. I pay—with my card via my phone (iPhone, there is a Starbucks app after all—get a clue). And move on. Please, fortheloveofgod, move the fuck on.

Whilst waiting for my beverage. You drive me further to the brink of insanity. You SP’s mill about, all thinking your drink is next. It. Is. Not. Drinks are created in the order they are made. Unless you do something like a hot or cold House Blend (decaf is for pussies), you fucking N00b. You wait, I claim a coveted table/bar spot near an outlet do plug in my laptop and write things like this (yes about you). All the while, you wait. I divide and conquer.  This is where it gets dicey. I mean, you might have an army with you—your Stroller Brigade, Book Club, Study Group—and I am alone. But again, I have claimed a spot—and you have not.

Now, the baristas as in the zen trance of creating drinks with beatific smiles and the cashier is politely ushering us along—you along, I’ve long since claimed my territory. You get frustrated. Your child is running amuck—putting coffee stirrers up it’s nose and claiming to be a walrus, running around dying and vying for strangers attention—since your focus is on your poorly ordered beverage. Your study group is milling about trying to subtly re-arrange the furniture to accommodate them—you know this is what STUDY ROOMS on campus are for (as are campus café’s).  I assume Book Clubs do not meet at night—you all have families to attend to. I can see you eyeing me—I have no beverage. Yet, I have a spot. You will attempt to ask me to leave/move. I will not. I will politely tell you “I’m on a deadline” in the tone of Fuck You; or if I have my headphones, ignore you—I’m not listening to music yet, it is a prop. I only leave my spot if the call my drink—or my name. Anastasia Elizabeth. You will see me rise, obtain my beverage and saunter back to my prime real estate.

You will marvel. You will cringe. You will be amazed how I knew my beverage was ready after such a “complicated” order. I know, I’m amazing. 

Please Edit Your Hate Mail and Break-up Letters

I love a good break up letter. I really do. I love the way it lends itself to "honoring" the time the 2 people had. together. The way it seems to say "I've moved on" even though generally that person is obviously more sad or angry then the pen and paper let on.

Then, my idea changed. My friend sent me this break up letter she was recently "gifted". Now, I have removed the names, because-- well, that is the polite thing to do. Right? I just want to say, seriously.... fuck this guy. No one say anything like this to my BEST FUCKING FRIEND and gets to digitally live to see the next day. I have sat on this, and meditated on how to handle this outburst-- after tweeting you into submission (was it as good for you as it was for me)?--- * side note, if you wanna see the take down, check out my twitter https://twitter.com/AnastasiaElzbth

Here is the email:

After all things considered, Karma will get you. There are no demons for you to blame. It is you. In a conscious mind making conscious decisions to destroy. I don't care, as if I have never
Met you. I threw away all canvases and memory of you. I am moving back east on Tuesday to never return to this shit show, ass backwards greed infected city where those of you have no boundaries of pain and suffering, coddled by your Hollywood parents. Nobody fucking cares about your pain...we all have pain, most have suffered much more than you. You were given the world and you were to naive in your forties to even understand it. You have a soul a sad soul, a soul in which those who attempt to love you eventually are overthrown by your compulsive lies and need to gain acceptance. Your not
Crazy, in fact your not even above average on the intelligence meter. You may be slightly dumb. Numb to reality. All in all fuck off. Go to a miserable place and end it. For you will burn in the end. Karma has it out for you... No luck wished, no fucks given, your a sorry child in a woman's body who will one day return to this planet as a peasant, hopefully to learn the error of humans. No daddy to use as a scapegoat. You carve your destiny and your destiny smells like the same shit your apartment smells like. Cleanup, grow up, wash your house, kill your pride. You are the great American, the selfish, greedy, spoiled, material , bullshit that represents everything I hate about this country. Good luck with your fucked sense of self...

Wilt slow and alone

My edits-comments-concerns are in RED. Here is the email:

After all things considered, Karma will get you (Strong opening sentiment, I also appreciate the capitalization, because Karma is a name-- most likely one of the Dominas you used. Excuse me, I mean Mistress Karma). There are no demons for you to blame (This weakens your previous statement I mean, going from Karma to demons and blame-- going from egalitarian faith to the constraints of conformist religion-- bad move "artist"). It is you. In a conscious mind making conscious decisions to destroy (Repetitive, I mean, most decisions are consciously made-- and some decisions do destroy. Again, if you are aware of the choice made-- one is aware of the consequences. However, you didn't think about this when you were WALKING/BIKING to your local S&M dungeon  Or think that in doing so, you would destroy your own relationship with someone). I don't care, as if I have never met you. (I don't care, as if never-- that is a double negative, sir, and it does imply that you do care. And it is bothering the fuck out of you. I am sure you and Mistress Karma will work this out, no doubt). I threw away all canvases and memory of you (Alright, big boy. No you did not. Did your alter ego post that picture on instagram? Did you steal another canvas-- maybe-- that shit is expensive-- and Domina's are not Sugar Mama's. ALSO, one cannot actually throw out memories-- unless you can based on that new movie where they give you new memories...). I am moving back east on Tuesday (insert victory party) to never return to this shit show, ass backwards greed infected city (Oh, hunny-- did you forget you wandered into Los Angeles?? The city that thrives on creative, driven, money making minds? Are you sad you "zine" sucks-- and is a SAD substitute for soft core porn? Or is it that you realized your work was nothing here...) where those of you have no boundaries of pain and suffering (No use crying over RT'd tweets-- ALSO you are one to fucking talk about "boundaries, pain and suffering"-- you paid to have all of that. Pain and Suffering is what you are into-- I thought I was giving you what you wanted, free of charge, long-distance), coddled by your Hollywood parents (careful who you talk about-- the walls and cities have eyes and ears) . Nobody fucking cares about your pain (that we do not PAY to have inflicted on us)...we all have pain, most have suffered much more than you . You were given the world and you were to (too) naive in your forties to even understand it (Not sharing intimate pain with you does not imply naivete, it implies a lack of trust-- and rightfully so). You have a soul a sad soul, a soul in which those who attempt to love you eventually are overthrown by your compulsive lies and need to gain acceptance (I am her best fucking friend you fucking asshole. I love her beyond your fucking scope of understanding you self-indulgent pseudo-intellectual malcontent fucking "artist"). Your (You're) not Crazy (you're too stupid for this to be intentional), in fact your not even above average on the intelligence meter (this is a self-important way to call someone stupid... gawd you are long winded). You may be slightly dumb. Numb to reality. All in all fuck off (All in all, fuck off-- take your own advice, seriously dude, I am bored to death reading this swill... this is the closest you will get to being published and I regret posting this twice). Go to a miserable place and end it (End what? You have poor sentence structure. Is this a 'World War Z' reference?). For you will burn in the end (Seriously?? Oh. My. Gawd. CONFORMIST). Karma has it out for you... No luck wished, no fucks given, your a sorry child in a woman's body who will one day return to this planet as a peasant (Please, pick a religious theme and stick with it, I mean it. I cannot take the Karma, Reincarnation, Fire and Brimstone mix), hopefully to learn the error of humans (You are implying she is, not human? Above human? Above you! Over you!). No daddy to use as a scapegoat (Be careful sir, no one likes name calling). You carve your destiny and your destiny smells like the same shit your apartment smells like. Cleanup, grow up, wash your house, kill your pride . You are the great American, the selfish, greedy, spoiled, material , bullshit that represents everything I hate about this country (move to fucking Canada then. Seriously, you are already in Social Siberia). Good luck with your fucked sense of self (Thank gawd, this is the end of the GD email. You are the one with the fucked sense of self-- paying for BDSM, stealing art supplies, stealing ideas-- all the while believing you are in the "right". You are the one who didn't play by the rules, and you are the one paying the price. BDSM-- not the norm, BTW. It must suck to be such an outsider, who landed himself there on his own terms-- yet wants others to work out his pain for him, indulge is "creative" side-- while he Starves, is Celibate and has no Dreams)...

People know better than to cross me-- and you sir, did it. While I would love to read your replies, and hear your insight... I don't give a fuck. As an actual artist, I welcome your reaction. In fact, I want one. So I can frame it, and point to it.

Things I Wont Do

I went on a "date"...

Correction, I was promised a date and was conned into watching the first hour (minute? half hour?) of Inception, then was invited to give that guy a... BJ.

Seriously?!

You think some movie, like that, is going to get me in the mood to do YOU that kind of favor?

Where do guys get off thinking these things.

Obviously, I am not seeing this guy again.

So male readers, take note: Buy a girl a drink (a meal? dessert? something!) before asking for such insane favors, in bizarre settings.

It blows my mind.

pun intended.

Bitter. I Am Fucking Bitter.

OK. Once again, I total neglect my following.

I apologize.

But this time... THIS time, it is because I was coming to terms with my feelings before committing them to html.

And what feelings is that?

BITTER.

This overwhelming pissed-off-ness about shit so far beyond my control. And not only that, that sneaking suspension that I haven't learned a gawddammed thing from past relationships.

I was involved with a guy... in a limited capacity, from June till October. It is only 4 months. But that 4 months was filled with a daily barrage of texts, picture messages and peppered with calls. Then, it just stopped.

Normally, I'd let it go. Just write it off as someone missing out on my awesomeness.

BUT no. NOT THIS TIME.

Over the course of 4 months, I developed feelings for this person... a growing infatuation. It was made clear to me, by him, that his feelings were similar.

And then... October hit, and all his communication halted.

I figured it was because we both have been insanely busy with our jobs, I also figured it could have been something like else.

As it turns out, part of it was work, another was a family affair, the over-whelming part: "It is hard to let myself get close to someone who is 7 hours away"

I just want to say:

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??! You knew this when we met.

You knew this the entire time you were talking to me?

Why are you surprised? Why are you backing out?!!

YOU’VE GOTTA BE FUCKING JOKING.

Now that I have that out of my system.

I have been holding that in for weeks.

I can’t bring myself to talk to him again. I can stare at my phone all I want and try to will it to show a message… but it wont work. So, I don’t bother trying to talk to him.

I mean, his kiss-off… honestly, made me feel like shit. And that like I am too “inconvenient” (my word, not his).

What really gets me, is… what level of damage prompts a guy to say that shit? I mean, I appreciate the honesty…. It doesn’t mean I like it.

This also, puts into perspective what level of bullshit that dude has been put through.

Part of me thought this was an ideal situation, we have the same job (he’s been doing it longer—and is better at it), we work for the same company (not at my branch, I’m not that kind of girl). I really thought that since we had that in common (and how we met) that this would be pretty ideal. I mean, who else will understand the insane hours and stresses that come with retail at the holidays???

But. I was wrong.

Those factors don’t matter. Nor does the fact that we had a budding relationship.

Which brings me to the point, of how I am bitter:

I am fucking over going through the ringer because of boys bullshit. Don’t get me wrong.

I get it.

Bitch broke your heart. Bitch took 4 years of your life and walked the fuck out on you.

DO NOT make me suffer for her bullshit.

I get it. Really.

We all have our baggage. We all have our issues. I know I have dated guys who are real pieces of work, who have without a doubt left their own mark on me.

Do I take those issues out on a good guy? Never intentionally. But occasionally I have when a red flag goes up. So, I am not faultless.

I just…. I thought things were different this time… and I was wrong. And that sucks.

Sucks for him, because I am FUCKING awesome.

Infatuation Situation

I always find my self getting infatuated with the most inappropriate boys.

I keep finding these candidates and throwing my hat in the ring for them... only to find they have other interests, or one way tickets to other countries.

How many times can this actually happen to a girl?

I mean, maybe... I don't know. I feel very.... Jane Austen.

I mean she nailed it with the line:

"I'm 27 years old. I've no money and no prospects.

I'm already a burden to my parents."

I mean, that is me... currently.

I am 27. I have little-- or no money (depending on the month). And yes, no prospects.

Well... None that I am aware of (or want, stalkers do not count).

So what is a girl to do?

Well.. This girl is going to do what she has been doing, which is focus on work.

I mean, I have put more focus on my job in the last 8 months than I have, possibly, ever. And in doing so I have found more success than ever. Which, how does one not enjoy success at work?

But, you know what... I want someone to celebrate my successes with me.

I want someone to get stoked that I bonus'd last quarter. I want someone to get jazzed that I am in charge of one of the premier North Texas TOMS events.

But not only that... I want someone to collapse into when the days or rough. I want someone to take my mind off work on my days off.

I can line out wants and needs all day long. I can make it cut and dry.... But in the end of it, it is just my one sided view of it.

It is a vision that is still missing the other person.

I guess, in a way I deserve it, I go around attaching meaning to kisses and conversations. Some, that it turns out mean the same thing (or anything) to the other party.

Just, a moment.

We walked in, close behind one another.

We were headed in the same direction. Walking with the same purpose.

The doors open, we all pass through.

Head right for the bar.

Deep in the crowd, pushing forward.

Edging others out for drinks.

Our fingers lace through each other's.

Small circles traced on the back's of hands.

Tightly knit, hands release and graduate to the small's of our backs.

Pull each other close.

Not for warmth. Not for comfort.

Just so. Just because.

Bold moves for shy ones such as us.

We think we know what we're up to.

Eyes catch. Smiles flash.

The lights flash. The crowd ebbs and swells.

Eyes ahead.

A friendly squeeze. A knowing glance.

Eyes lock.

A slow lean in.

The choreographed tilt of heads necks.

A breath, a pause, a A breath.

A kiss.

The crowds stops swirling.

The need for drinks subsides.

And all there is....

is a kiss.

Stolen Moments

So my wish came true... I got to sit by the guy I like.

Funny how passengers on the plane shifted themselves for us, so we could sit together. Maybe it was the way we kept eyeing each other and texting (pre-take off) or maybe it was the fact no one wanted to sit by either of us (him with the beard and me with the tattoos). Either way... I got what I wanted and have the BEST 4 hour flight I have ever had.

What made it sooooo amazing (besides his very presence next to me).... the stolen moments that no one saw.

Once we were buckled in, next to each other, we settled in. Fighting for the arm rest, mostly, I am sure just so we could touch. Our knees touching underneath our jeans (probably just because of the sheer lack of space). Our heads bent towards one another, deep in conversation-- probably driving all the other passengers nuts with our constant chatter. I didn't care, I wanted to hear what he had to say. And, he was genuinely interested in what I had to say (when does that ever happen?).

We shared his ipod, and his headphones... heads tilted in, eyes down on the ipod screen. Bonding over shared love for certain bands and agreeing to disagree on others. Every once and a while, I'd look up and him, and he would look down at me. Our eyes meet and then we'd both smile and go back to looking at the screen.

It was comfortable. In such a good way. The way, that I like to think, many couples strive for-- not the he and I are a couple. Let me make that clear. That conversation has not been had-- and I don't want to have it yet. I just want to enjoy all these little moments I had with him.

That way I can run it on loop, set to music, like a movie montage.

During the event this past weekend, we had a few more moments....

Finding each other between classes (yes, class-- it was a corporate event and we were forced to learn). Talking together, bodies turned in and heads close together (clearly focused and interested in one another). Sitting together at meals (yes-- again, corporate event). Sitting together on the bus (how else do you transport that many people), our hands finding each other.

I am sure you want to vomit now... with this talk of Junior High sweethearts.

But, it's true. All of it. I am not even embellishing. And I am a writer, I am entitled and expected to do so.

All I know now, is that I want more....

A lot more.

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones can break some bones....

But in other cases, they can build civilizations.

I am at the airport, once again, jetting off to the west coast. This time is for work, not so much play. I'm sitting here, clicking away, getting ready the peace and quite of the plane. OH and the forced separation from the connected world (I refuse to pay for internet in-flight, ever again-- that's why I carry a stash of books and mags with me).

But I sit here mulling over hurtful words said to me a few days ago.

I should let them go, I mean, it was just a text message from an angry ex. But in all honesty, it pissed me off.

It has taken YEARS for me to learn to step up and stand up to the men in my life. And when I do, I get so verbally smacked it makes me question why do it in the first place.

Well... I do know why I do it. Because I know I deserve better... Ok, not 'deserve' but... Need. Yes, I need better than what they have given.

I do it because I am tired of being walked on. You can claim me to be a lot of things in a relationship, but un-supportive, un-forgiving and evil are not any of them.

That's why a stupid text pissed me off.

I am sure that makes me quite childish.

I mean, a) a text and b) from someone so far away.

I really should let it go.

So again, here I am in the airport.

People watching and blogging due to total lack of other amusements.

All the while my thoughts leaning towards the man I have been talking to.

I keep wondering if he is on my flight, which, I actually know he is. Then I wonder if we will sit together. Because, I really want to. Only, let's face facts, some airlines assign seats (I am using that airline). However, fate/kismet/cosmic alignment have brought us together on the same flight... soooo..... I am going to put faith in the stars and say we will be sitting in close proximity to one another.

But back to the message of sticks and stones.

I will forever be amazed by another's ability to build you up and tear you down. I mean, it has been said that there is a fine line between love and hate and both require a passion.

I guess my testament is that it is much much more terrifying to be involved in those fires than it is to just read about them.

And I will firmly believe that indifference is cruelest thing one can do to another (after an emotional affair). I mean, to remain in love with someone is one thing. To hate someone is another. But to find that place of cold-seemingly-heartless indifference is brutal. That implies that you have erased someone from your life and that all you have left is a selective memory, name, and maybe a trinket or two.

But then, in doing the latter of the 3... you have created what appears to be clear foundation to begin anew.

And who doesn't want a fresh start? Who wants to continue living on and battling the ghosts of ex's past?

ME.

The entire time I have been single I have battled my own ghosts. And I am done. I have had it. I am ready for something new.

Something fresh I can build or help build from the ground up.

Hunting.

The trill of the hunt is what drives us. Right?

I mean, boys want girls that they can't have or doesn't want them right now... and well, we women love being the object of affection/attention.

But, I think it boils down more to what exactly we are hunting for. I mean clearly some are on a mission just for sex, a good time, a good night or a good partner.

To be honest (which is all I do here), I want to find all of that-- in one person. Which, I realize is a fucking stretch. But why?

Why is it so much to ask that someone be good (low end spectrum of tolerance) at sex, a good time, a good sleeping partner (actual sleeping) and a generally good person to be in a relationship with... I feel like I am reaching for the stars with that.

I think I have a certain amount of naivete on my side-- despite all the shit that I have been through relationship wise. I think that comes from good (subjective term) relationship models (everyone on my mother's side is married, together and seemingly happy), and an un-healthy diet of classic literature where everything is redeemable/fixable/un-regrettable and obstacle free.

But after everything I have been through in my relationships, I don't want to settle for a man (yes, MAN-- not a boy, not a dude). I mean, I've come close to settling. Trust me.

Due to the extreme amount of lying/fronting/faking (the faking on my part) I have actually become A LOT better at spotting them.

Now, here I could go through the various list of cads I have dated... and full on disclose their lying/fronting/faking deeds. But I wont.

In stead, I will say what I did.

I've:

- faked being cool with disinterest in me.

- faked being cool with driving half-way around the world multiple times for multiple dudes.

- fronted that the relationship wasn't a sham.

- fronted that things were ok when they were falling apart.

- fronted that no one else knew what was going one.

- fronted that I had no clue what was going on, when I had a clue, the truth and the proof.

See.. I can see that we are all guilty of it. Only... I didn't pretend to be someone I'm not, I didn't lie to cover up what I was doing.

And maybe I am trying clean the slate, a little, since I found a new guy that I am really into. And, I am not fronting with this guy. I am totally me. 100% me. even more so than with every other guy. I don't edit myself at all with him. I misspell things, say the wrong thing, and speak without thinking. And, he admits to liking me for it. Which I still find shocking, but exciting.

I mean he appreciates my thoughtful phrasings, gets my jokes and gets the stuff that I am into. Maybe he is too good to be true... Maybe it is all just a sham to get into my pants. But it is a sham I am buying into.

And there was some conversational overlap with MKSA.

Which. THAT is... an accident. I was talking to both of them. However, I was dating neither of them. And I know that seems a bit, shady. But MKSA ha his shot, 2. actually... And as much as I adore(d) him. He fronted this time around, and lost me. Do not front. It is not worth it.

And well, this new one (without a moniker still) is someone I have cultivated a friendship with. We are actual friends. Only recently, to me, has there been the development of something more. I am not sure how much more, but I am not ready to lose sleep over that yet. But I like the prospect of something actually new, something history-free and for someone to learn/get to know me for me (the version apparently no ex could with).

Now, I realize I am probably sounding bitter... And maybe I am, a little. But I am a grown woman how knows that happily ever after is a long sought after myth, so I take it with a grain of salt.

But all myths started with some basis of truth. Right?

It is inTENTS, really.

I've been busy.

I working really hard, then got on a plane to California (instead of to Boston).

And since i've been in California it has been a whirlwind of activity leading up to my birthday, the 13th.

And yesterday was full on Recovery Day, lots of eating, sleeping and some hair of the dog for good measure.

But don't think I have been neglecting my duties as a blogger and observational humorist. I have been keeping tabs on those things with my tiny notebook and thoughtful notes.

Run down of notes:

AIRPORT

I wrote this little piece about how nice it is to forced to separate yourself from your stuff and all connections to the world outside of the airport (Southwest does not offer wifi). But then I got distracted by DJ MarcRonsonWannabe (for all I know, it could have been him... but I doubt it was). BUT this guy DJ MRW, had case after case (3 actually) with him as carry-ons (how he got 3 and I only got my backpack is still a mystery. Anyways, he just makes himself at home... as we all did, there were only 65 or so people on the flight, so we ALL had a section of seats to ourselves. Which, I can now confirm is the best way to spend a flight, alone, not talking to anyone stretched out across 3 seats like a fucking princess.

But DJMRW keeps looking over at me the entire flight. Not in a checking me out or finding me odd and worth of such observation, but more just... keeping an eye on me.

Which, I found irritating. I was only sitting there, listening to my ipod, reading my fashion magazines. Not Earth shattering shit. In fact, quite normal, borderline shit.

So yeah, I was un-nerved by his "fascination" or irritation with my behavior.

But I let it go, I mean.... it's not like he was ACTUALLY Marc Ronson, right.

NIGHT ONE

The boys in the 'hood.

The neighborhood I am staying in is so lovely.

I mean the people, the food, everything. It is just perfect.

So I went out with my friend to a BBQ. The guys there, mostly in a band called the MO-AGS. Were exceptionally sweet, friendly and hospitable, until I was offered a jello shot that tasted like pure lighter fluid. But that is not their fault. It was the very loud girl who made said shots, it was her fault.

Sadly, I suffered from a case of too much too fast, the flight the drinking, the not eating... caught up with me and I was a bit of a mess.... not a vomming, stumbling mess but a tired, untalkitive freaking out mess.

NIGHT TWO

We headed over to La Poubelle.

This great cozy bar/restaurant.

We met up with a few of her friends for a pre-birthday celebration for me.

It was all fun and games and drinks, until a boy in the group crossed a line. He pulled a little Mean Girls move that landed him in Social Siberia with my friend. But seeing how she is of the forgiving kind... she didn't totally out him there.

She and I were heading back to her house after a serious bout of Martini-itus. Mine being of the Suped-up Cosmo variety and hers of Supa-dirty variety.

As we head back we invite the MGB (Mean Girls boy) back up.

Now before the porno music starts rolling in your head, it is not like that. I am not like that. She is not like that; WE are not like that.

However, we were all very very drunk.

MGB decided to sit a little close, to me. And got too snuggle-y, with me.

MGB got thrown out on his ass.

My friend and I hold no animosity toward one another. And we both have total respect for eachother and eachothers choice of boys.

That being said, MGB making such an error in judgment... well... got him kicked out.

And as he was being kicked out, the defensive innocence on his face (well practiced, possibly, he is an actor). As he repeatedly told my friend "Wait" "Listen" "But I love you" she repeatedly told him "Stop" "Shut up" "No" and "Just leave".

There is a chance this was all a huge drunken misunderstanding by all of us. But regardless... if you are hooking up with my BFFFE and then turn your attentions to me... expect to be thrown out. Seriously.

*note since then the issue has been cleared up

NIGHT THREE

We stayed in.

We watched a ton of TV and cooked and ate.

It was nice. I love playing catch up.

Plus, we needed the night off to prepare for my Birthday.

MY BIRTHDAY

We were up early (because we were not sleeping off some booze). We spent the day shopping and cruising Los Feliz (the Happy). I picked up some great jewelry, vintage tees, and books as a birthday present to myself. I got a GORGEOUS cake (white cake with lemon custard and raspberry filling). Had a champagne filled lunch. Came home. and Got ready to go out.

We landed ourselves at La Poubelle, with drinks flowing and friends showing up.

I met some people, though I can't really recall the names. I was on a lemon-drop high.

But the people I met... wow.

The ladies were lovely. The bartenders fantastic, plying me with lemon drops and chocolate cake shots.

The dudes... there was IINU (Interested IN u) the guy who kept asking me so many questions about myself, it felt like a Proust survey. I don't doubt he was interested. But there was such a level of intensity to his pressings that I found it... alarming in my drunken state. I hope I came across as polite. I know I gave him the address for this blog... I hope he enjoyed it.

There was AM (Actor Man) a guy who was pretty much in love with my friend. Which I adore watching. I love to watch them fawn all over her and then fall powerless to her feminine wiles. It is fascinating. I understand it though, the dark hair (long and healthy), great skin (olive complected and blemish free) and startling green eyes, it is a tough package to disagree with. Unless you are just not into attractive women. There was YM (yoga man), the friend to AM who was into me. YM was attractive, tall enough, tan enough... with the body of an yogi. However, him telling me how he lives in a tent, in topanga canyon... kinda put me off. Also a desire to live in a yurt. And how he just got back from a week long intensive yoga retreat in Joshua Tree was off putting as well.

*I never thought I would have to make living in an actual dwelling a requirement to date me... but yeah. I do now.

So now you're caught up.

Between the boys and the booze... and a total recovery day yesterday.....

And now today, with everything fun and new still waiting to happen.....

The Most Selfish Thing I've Ever Done

Well... Once again I have been neglectful.

Somehow, my life keeps getting in the way of my writing. I mean, I should be out living... or else I wont have anything to write about.

I had a melt down yesterday.
A total full on shit-losing affair about my trip.

I backed out.
I changed my trip... 2 days before hand.

I had been planning to MKSA. In Boston.
MKSA got himself into trouble... I won't detail it (it is none of your business) but suffice to say, homeboy is without a car and a place to live.
NOT COOL.
You cannot make such errors in judgment when you have someone coming halfway across the country to see your ass and see you for 10days. You. Just. Can't.
So. I thought I could be cool with it, be all hippie and bohemian about not having a place to stay at nailed down.
I couldn't.
I thought I could deal with the fact that he hadn't really talked to me for like 2 weeks (only once to say he was in trouble and another to say I should calm the fuck down).
NOPE.
All of this, plays into yesterdays meltdown.

It hit me yesterday that he hasn't grown up or changed (much).
I just... I couldn't deal.
I mean, I knew I had built him up in my mind. I knew I had built the trip up in my mind.
I was also pretty convinced nothing would live up to the image I had developed in my head.

So... I changed my flight today.
I am going elsewhere to see my BFFFE.

Maybe this makes me a bitch.
Maybe this is the most "selfish" thing I have ever done.
But you know what....
This is my time. My money. My vacation.
I want to be HAPPY. I want to spend it with people who I know LOVE me, regardless of anything. I want to have fun. I want to... I want it to be a vacation.
I work way too much and way too hard to be worried on my vacation about where I am staying.

I reserve the right to do what I want to do.
If you make stupid decisions, and expect to be rewarded with my presence... you are seriously delusional.
Plus, no "guest" wants to have to drop 600+ dollars on places to stay when that was not part of the plan... at all when the plan was made.

So, I got a new plan.
A better plan.
A GUARANTEED good time  :)

I realize the illusions of romance I had were.... just that. Illusions.
I wanted to see something in someone soooo bad.
I was in a lonely place, still wounded from a shitty breakup. I wanted something comfortable and familiar. I wanted something that couldn't hurt me.
It is really hard to hurt someone from 1000's of miles away.
I bought into it.
I turned a blind eye.
And I got disappointed.

Correction... I was almost disappointed.
I acted, and got the fuck out.

Drought

With Tax-Free weekend behind me, I am out of retail hell until November.

But between now and then I have a few work things to do (evaluations and homework for a company meeting/retreat) BUT more importantly I have a vacation that is happening in 16 days.

I am working really hard to NOT check out.

But... It might happen.

Last entry I covered my hilarious and irrational travel fears... well... now, there is has been an added one. Things have happened and I will have to get a hotel room for like 10 days. Which, is really, all well and good. I love hotels (when they don't suck or are dirty or they forget to change my sheets and give me towels).

However, booking one from a zillion miles away is proving both problematic and not budget friendly. I had budgeted for a FEW nights stay, not my entire stay.

AND seeing how it is my vacation I am thinking about winging it.

Yeah, winging it.

I normally plan an entire trip out. Down to the last details.

Well. Not this time.

Let's pretend I am not totally terrified of sharing my personal info over the webs.... And even if that is my reason for doing it... So be it.

I feel like I need that type of adventure again.

I need a little unpredictable.

Because, seriously, things are majorly predictable around here. Boringly predictable.

LAME.

So how does this tie back to relationships/help etc.

Well...

MKSA and I were pretty good about solving our problems together. So, I am sure we will be able to figure things out.

But more importantly, no one wants to be in a boring/predictable relationship.

I am not dismissing the benefits of stable, balanced and a certain amount of predictable that come with the life of a long term relationship. If every Thursday night is Chinese take out and movie night... then that's your thing.

I just need more variety than that. At least rotate the take out. I much prefer pizza to Chinese.

Same goes with in the bedroom.

You need A LITTLE spice in there.

I am not going to quantify what or how much spice is needed. But lights off, under the covers, missionary all the time wont cut it... FOR ANYONE.

I am not saying you need to go full on BDSM in there... so you know what I mean.

I've always seen boring and routine in relationships as fuel for the breakup fire.

I managed to keep my mouth shut about partners lack of prowess in the bedroom... to them. In the heat of many a fight I didn't throw out their literal "short-cummings." I kept it, knowing all the little white lies we girls tell in the dark of the boudoir were for his ego, and for my secret knowing for the lack of fireworks the next girl will see.

And again, I could blast a few of those non-dutiful dudes here.

But I wont.

I much more enjoy the squirming I know they are doing wondering "Is it me? Was it the guy before me? Couldn't be me..."

Boys forget we sometimes lie for sport.

Not HUGE lies (like a pregnancy scare-- that's just fucked up) but little ones... like about size, shape, ability and how you are the best we've ever had blah blah blah how much we enjoyed your foot fetish blah blah blah.

When really... we don't like it, you're not good at it and it creeps us out.

Let's Not... And Say We Did

I've been thinking about writing, only because the act of actually writing seems so.... difficult.

I can't make myself pick a topic and commit to writing about it.

Changing that now.

I will write about my looming (yeah) trip to see MKSA.

Suddenly, it has now dawned on me that my trip is in 21 days (holy crap) and I will flying across the country near the 10 year memorial (anniversary?) of NINE-ELEVEN (dundundun). Either I am a total genius (lighting never strikes the same place twice) or a total idiot (because, um, yeah... totally a national tragedy).

This is also bringing on a fresh bout of 'fear' of airport security.

I am convinced that I will strip-searched, in public... or worse, private. SO, you can bet your ass I am taking minimal stuff with you and it will be expertly packed to avoid this potential situation. Now, you are probably rolling your eyes and saying AE, you don't look like a terrorist. WELL, dear readers, YOU are right. I am not. But apparently 6 year-olds and grandmas do not pass the test, ergo, I assume that my tattoos and piercings SKYROCKET me to the top of the ol' watch list.

I am probably being a bit dramatic... A lot dramatic.

But moving on.

Aside from normal paranoia about missing connecting flights, delays, and lost baggage... I should be fine.

But wait....

THERE IS MORE (isn't there always?)

I am convinced (ok, not totally, but enough to be worried) that MKSA will see me again for the first time in years (since 2007ish) and instantly regret me showing up, baggage in hand (hopefully).

He assures me this wont happen... I remember that ANYTHING is possible, even if it is not that likely. This is also, at the same time calling into question my feelings about MKSA. Yeah... all those feelings once boxed up, and put away deep deep in my heart... now, much much much closer to the surface.

Now, maybe I am worrying for no reason (likely) but regardless... I can't stop my mind from going there. I am on an SSS (Self-imposed Single Sabbatical).

So... Here I am... Wondering if I made the best decision booking this trip all those months ago.

NOW... This is where I nay-say all the thoughts I've been having. Like, how regardless of how this trip goes, I am doing something I love (traveling) and going somewhere I have never been. I see this as an adventure (of sorts): like, if this turns out to be a disaster, I'm booking myself a luxe room and renting a car and I'm going to enjoy being alone. I'll take amazing pictures, eat great food, blow all my money.... OR if it goes great, and we fall back in love and want some kind of happily ever after (can't help being the sap romantic that I am deep down under all the cynicism), well, dammit, I will have my happy ending (hahaha).

So maybe I shouldn't get so worked up. I mean, I can clearly see the two obvious ways this could go... But here is the tricky bit... What about the ending that I actually want? What about what I would like to see happen....

Ohhh, yeah....

This is why I have developed such trepidation. Because I can start to identify what I would like to have happen. And oh, sure, I am sure MKSA could weigh in on this... BUT this is about me. At least the writing.

I probably should be having this as a conversation with either my girlfriends or MKSA. I should probaly voice these 'fears' and possibly let people talk me down from the proverbial ledge that I am so delicately perched. But keeping it inside, means it isn't real. It means it is just in my head, and the little said about it will keep it as good as it is (or isn't) in my head.

It is a problem I have always had.

I am so rarely in the moment.

Even in most pictures, there is a look on my face that say whatever I am feeling is forced.

It is because I have to break it down. I have to remind myself that whatever is happening is 'fun' not 'painfully awkward' and to remove that look from my face. OR I catch myself caught up in the irritants of the memory... like I don't remember the party, but I remember some bitch ruining my shoes or spilling my drink.... I don't remember the 'fun' I was supposed to be having.

This is probably the big fear.

I literally fear that I will be so in my head analyzing the trip, and analyzing what is going on with MKSA and I that I wont enjoy the damn trip, or our time together.

(that is really sad, I am pretty sure you are about to tell me to pull my head out of my ass, get my shit together and live my life, not analyze it).

This is my attempt to remedy that. Right here. Right now.

I, AE, vow to enjoy my g.d. vacation to the fullest. Come hell, high water, or terrorist attack. I will embrace the change, challenges, good and bad that come with this trip. I will also FORCE myself to BE IN THE MOMENT for the entirety of my trip (save for travel times-- plane, train, car only).

There you have it.

In print.

For all the world to see. My promise to myself to do this trip right (and justice).

Deep down, I clearly do not want this to be a "lets not and say we did" situation. AT ALL. I feel way to strongly going in... and definitely will on the way out.

How To "Get With" Me

I don't think it is fair to make guys figure me out... I mean seriously, we as girls expect boys (the same ones that threw dirt at us and pulled our hair) to figure us out. I think I'd have an easier time collecting Dodo feathers.

So here ya go boys (I know a few of you read this) a "road map" to me.

1. DO NOT ever (ever!) whistle at me in a bookstore. Do it once, it is a little flattering but weird. Twice is both creepy and irritating. And how you didn't see me flipping you the bird with my hand just above my ass (which is probably whistling in the first place) and decided to whistle a 3rd time... you are an idiot, and ergo, not my type.

2. DO spend time with me. It is not a joke when I say I am perfectly happy with a case of beer and the Sopranos. That sounds like a good night to me. Will it do every night? No. Will it do for most, yes!

3. DO feed me. I like to eat. I like food. This is not complicated. DO NOT however, force feed me things I do not like (i.e. tomatoes) but DO get me to try new food (i.e. Sushi, Indian).

4. DO NOT see other girls while seeing me, I do not like to share.... I assume you don't either. And if you do, you're not my type.

5. DO NOT buy me useless shit. Yes, bonus gifts are nice. Esp if it is because you are super sweet like that and feel like buying me things. I truly only expect a gift on my birthday, Valentine's Day and Christmas. Handmade gifts are best, food second and everything else third. Triple word score if you can make an entire meal (aps through dessert) for me as a gift.

6. I like my alone time, give it to me.

7. I like my quiet time, give it to me.

8. Enjoy crap movies with me.

9. Take in the occasional artistic endeavor with me. Join me on a photo trip, go with me to a museum, go with me to a weird art-house movie.

10. DO NOT be generic.

So maybe this isn't detailed. Maybe it comes across as demanding... which, it might be if you are not a creative, caring, interesting and into me.

Did you really think I would tell anyone how to "get with" me?? Is that what I do here?? NO.

Why did I even attempt this?

Because I found the list of things my Ex's have called me.

And the word DEMANDING was on there. I feel this is there the same reason all guy's Ex's generally fall into the "psycho-bitch" category (when it is entirely possible that person is not a psycho, yet possibly a bitch).

I sat back and I thought "Am I demanding?"

I generalized that I could be, at times, when I feel like my needs are not being met.

I am a "totally" demanding woman in a relationship.

I am sure my no cheating on me policy lands me in that demanding category too.

But most of this is a joke.

True, I have a few demands in a relationship... But nothing that NOT EVERY SINGLE GIRL EVER HASN'T WANTED.

Quality time. Respect. Honesty. Affection. Attention. Support. To name a few.

So, I have this to say. To the boys I've dated, you wont find another who was as laidback and as "ok" with your bad behavior as I was. Which, by now, I hope you know doesn't make it right. I like knowing that some day my name will flit across your radar when you are wondering why the hell your girlfriend/wife/partner is nagging you about something and you remember... "oh yeah, she didn't nag" and you'll remember all the names you called me in the heat of youthful dramatics that come with the territory. And you'll remember that's why I've denied your facebook requests since, ignored your emails, blocked your numbers, moved away, moved on and forgot all about you.

Arms

I haven't had a spare moment to write.

Seriously, between 60 hour weeks at work and a strong desire to sleep...

Regardless, just because I haven't been writing doesn't mean I haven't been observing (which I always do... I am only missing the tiny notebook to jot said observations down a la Jane Goodall).

Observations

* you can tell a lot about a guy from his arms

* you can tell a lot about a couple by what they do with their arms

Think about it... A guy with decently toned arms either a) works out (like a normal person) b) has a job that requires heavy lifting or c) jerks off waaaaay too much.

Option A means he is a total meat head... a potentially buff even sexy meathead. Option B is most desirable, he has a job. And Option C is well... TMI

So why do arms matter?

Maybe they don't, but they do to me. I find myself much more interested in a guys arms. Sure, there is something to be said about eyes (the windows to the soul or some shit), a slow smile and good hair. But really, arms and hands are my thing.

Part of it is because at the end of a hellish day, I want a strong pair to fall into. And all too often in my past, the arms I was falling into didn't catch me, or were too feeble to catch me.

Also, arms tell a story... one mapped out by veins, bruises, scars and (hopefully) tattoos.

Same goes for hands. They tell a story. And when a guys calluses come from playing guitar (or bass, or drums or the didgeridoo), it is not enough. And what girl wants feminine girly-man hands on her... no. Not this girl.

No I want strong arms and semi-rough hands. the kind that mirror hard work.

I spend all day dressing guys (helloooo retail). And occasionally I get the pleasure of feeling an arm or touching a hand (I have touched Justin Beiber's hand, twice.). And yeah... there are a few too many girly men out there.

Emotional Real Estate

I used to think a guy saying he is "Emotionally Unavailable" was a total line... now, I don't doubt that it totally is. I also, however, actually understand that statement.

And I am not using it as a line.

I was recently asked out by a kid (I say kid because he is younger than I am, and anyone younger than me is considered a kid). And, just that look on his face as he is talking to me, and his body language... It is all screaming "I am so into you."

I hate venturing into a situation where one person is much much more into the other than the other person.

Anyway, this kid... he is all wide eye'd and eager to take me out... with all the cuteness and charm that comes with a Irish Setter Puppy (a well trained one).

And I can't help but look at him and see.... nothing.

I see nothing with him, I feel nothing for him. Nothing meaning deep feelings of attraction or whatever. I do however feel extremely flattered that he is just that into me. But that is it.

I feel like I need to make him sign a release form before going out with me.

Something to free me of any guilt/liability that may cause this youngsters heart to break.

Or at least a month to month agreement that nothing is my fault and that he has willing ventured into the arduous task of attempting to try and take me out on a date.

Yes, month to month, I haven't said yes.

It is situations like this that I realize I am not a starter kit.

I am not for the unskilled hands of hapless beginners.

I have been through some shit, and at times, it shows.

Newbs don't know what to do with that.

It's not like there is a support group for guys dating damaged goods girls (IDEA!!!).

hahaha, "Hi my name is _____, and I am dating a DGG"

Maybe, I am just worried because I am a mostly nice person (when I want to be) who doesn't like to inflict (undue) pain on anyone.

Or could it be that I am just feeling the affect of having my heart pulled from someone so far away from me that it doesn't feel real, and I am just comparing this to a random act of interest (which is better than a random act of kindness).

And who knows, maybe a date wouldn't be such a bad thing. I maintain with my circle of gf's that a "girl's gotta eat, girl's gotta drink" mentality-- I never said I was good about taking my own advice. And it could be fun, or at least interesting.

But there is a huge part of me that is saying don't waste your time. You know you don't want this. Oh and you are totally into someone else somewhere else.

So now what... I sit here, over my Ghengis Grill concoction thinking it over.

I don't have an answer.

Becuase I realize my answer depends on others.

Can I hinge my heart (again) on something I cannot tell (as of yet) is real (or not)? Can I spend time with someone only to potentially hurt them in the end?

Ugh. Such is the plight of the seemingly single gal.

I am sure the answer is much more simple than where I am looking.

Because the Devil is always in the details.

Fits and Starts and an Accidental Recipe for Success

I have a problem with follow through sometimes. I mean, I have a short list of projects to start or are half started. Like, the table I have that I want to tile the top of with a mosaic. Or the pile of prints I've done that STILL need frames...

But, readers, my lack of craftsmanship is not the topic here. The first is the "fits and starts."

I feel like I am always starting something, that eventually fizzles out and then I have to start again... Photography, an on going hobby/venture of mine. I pick up my camera for a bout a week a month now... When I used to have it glued to my hands. Have my interests changed? No. What I really feel is a lack of inspiration. I'm used to operating (and an artistic sense) from a place of pain/hurt/anger. And now... I have a lack of those things (not complaining), so how do I operate from a place of stability with no emotional extremes? Yeah, I have no idea either. I feel it actually shows in the work. I mean, the pictures I've taken have come out flat, dull and pretty uninteresting. Which is kinda how my life is right now... it really has the personality of a Malto-Meal . Before you add the peanut butter/brown sugar/etc.

Only recently have I been able to write.

And it is not filled with passion or rage or what-have-you, but rather delicate reflective observations from my vantage point.

Which, I can say, I have not had this level of clarity in my writing in a long time. So many times the writing has had an emotional edge and urgency to it. Now, not so much.

I take it back.

It did.

Until I head this song, Since You're Gone by The Pretty Reckless.

The lead songstress wails about not that you're gone her life has moved along. And all the "awesome" shit that has gone down since.

NOW.

I like to think that everyone who crosses your life path has done so for a reason... I mean there is a reason I still have the business card for Christina the Aura Reader... and haven't used it yet. I never really felt like people in your life were proverbial roadblocks to success... until now.

I mean, in the last 6-7 months I have had a LOT of success.

Quick recap.

MY SUCCESSES

1. Trip to California to see best friend
2. Interview at current company home office for major job
3. Interim promotion at work for almost 3 months (april till june)
4. Promotion at work (official)
5. Raise at work
6. Loss of 15 pounds (yay! back to college weight)
7. Loss of 2-3 pant/dress sizes (back to college size)
8. Point person for Q&A for work colleagues
9. Gaining of friends
10. Trip to see MKSA in September

Yeah... I'll agree since you've been gone my life has moved along quite nicely.

I will take a nano second to gloat.

I have no proof this amount of success is one sided. In fact, maybe his life has moved along nicely as well... maybe he has found a nice girl that meets all his needs and blah blah blah blah....

Yeah. This isn't about him.

It's about me.

NOW, maybe you're asking yourself, how you too can be this successful in your life.

The answer is I don't know.

I mean, here is what I did:

1. Have a massive heart-break
2. Partially heal
3. Go back to said heart-breaker
4. Hit emotional rock bottom
5. take a vacation and have total emotional makeover due to supportive friends
6. come back from vaca ready to take on the world
7. find out you're in charge at work (indefinitely)
8. have daily panic attacks
9. be too tired-sleep-deprived-exhausted to eat
10. do month long intensive Bikram yoga program that starts a bodily make over that instantly stopped all craving for fast food and sugar but brought cravings of water. just water.
11. Drink gallons of water daily
12. get promoted at work to where you are at stress level that eliminates sleep, and ability to eat because you don't have time or are too tired
13. wake up one day and realize all your clothes are too big

TADA!!!!

NOW... I do not recommend this method, I am not a doctor, but I am pretty sure this is NOT HEALTHY.

So yeah.

I'm happier than I have been in a long time and skinnier than I have been since... Oh, I don't know, 2007?!

So, in summation:

It doesn't matter what you do or don't start (or finish) things will eventually move in and out of the way for you to get the success you have worked your fucking ass of for.

Totally motivational, right?

Back to Basics

I guess I need to re-explain myself here...

This blog, this little bit o' web-space, is about ME. There is a reason I have been calling this SELFISH HELP from the beginning. It is about me. The one place I make exclusively about me. I have had some interesting comments and emails about this site, none interesting enough to quote, but not everyone is the wordsmith that I am.

So, once again, let me re-state, THIS IS SELFISH HELP. I admit, I took a break from my emotional rehab to bitch about work and then wax poetically about MKSA. But that is not what the blog is about, and I migrated away from the original point. And for that, loyal readers, I apologize.

I will not, however, apologize for what I have written already.

I carefully (most of the time) construct every blog to be a direct reflection of my emotional state. I won't apologize for feelings I've hurt along the way, because odds are if you are a reader-- and you feel like you've had your feelings "hurt" by these words then step back and think if you hurt MY feelings somewhere down the line. Then get back to me. And if, it turns out by some freakish act of the powers that be that you haven't hurt me... then I will craft you an apology LETTER (with a stamp) so amazing that even Ms. Emily Post would be impressed.

NOW, there, that's over.

I can get back to what I wanted to say from the beginning.

Back to Basics (as the title would suggest), is exactly what I am trying to do.

I got an amazing promotion at work, so that really takes part of load of my shoulders but adds another. And I actually found something that resembles a relationship, even if it is not the most traditional.

What does that mean? Well, kiddos. It means.... yeah, I don't know, exactly. It means regular and open communication with another person (yes, a dude) with amorous tones and subtext. Something I have not had in a very long time... that wasn't with out conditions and a ton of strings attached. This, lacks obligation... rather we feel we owe it to one another (another first), and owe out of respect and mutual feeling instead of... payment? fear? commitment? or any of the zillion other reasons people will sometimes ineffectually throw themselves together.

But again, that's not basic... that's some advanced level shit.

Basics. Why is it seems the basics are so hard to master... women understand, the fundamentals of perfectly functional yet versatile wardrobe are damn near impossible to find... seriously, the little black dress, the perfect black pump, the perfect pair of non-schlumpy jeans.

I am finding the same thing true in relationships.

Maybe it is the years of disastrous relationships I have willingly (and not so willingly in some cases) have put myself through. But I know I will never be that open-hearted-hang-on-every-word in love girl that I once was. And I suppose that is something you are eventually "supposed" to grow out of. Is it wrong that I didn't want to?

Is it wrong that I really really do not care of the varying levels of hell various ex's have put me through, and I have been working really really hard to undo their work? I really don't think so.

I really think that you should not place your baggage on a new flame... But how do you not? How do you not keep your guard up and eyes peeled for all those red flags you missed before. Truthfully, before now I would have said I don't think you can. But, now, I think with enough time and healing (healing most importantly) you can. True, it wont ever be perfect. I mean, sure, bells and whistles will still go off if he doesn't come home, and certain phrases will make ice course through your veins....

That's WHY I started this blog.

I wanted to get myself back.

I had given so much away to sooooooooo many liars/cheaters/bums/losers/creeps/jerks/fuckwits. That I really didn't know what was going on with me anymore. I was a mess of manifested insecurities (some original, mostly minted from relationships past). And this last heartbreak did me in. It literally broke me (a credit I do not want to give that guy, he doesn't deserve it-- I always figured the breaking would be done by a much stronger man). But here I am, 6-7 months past that, pretty much feeling better than ever. I wont lie, and say I never think about these men (which NONE of them deserve to be called, boys possibly guys/dudes at best). I do, and never fondly.

Some people think I started this to get even with a guy.

Honestly, yeah, a tiny vengeful part of me wanted to blog him into internet oblivion (or submission). And I didn't. I instead, put myself out there knowing people could identify with me, and my side.

Because deep down (with all of these guys) once there was a time when I could say I was your friend and you were mine. But that is history. That is something we both know we won't get back. And I know I'll never know the reason why you thought

That you could hang me out to dry for everyone to see, make a fool out of me, ruin me, degrade me, screw me (or not)...Did you think that I'd really just lay down and take it? That some how no damage was inflicted?
Fuck that. I mean, really... all of these guys had me apologizing for everything, sometimes my own presence in the the fucking room. And congrats to them, for being able to get out with no damage done. And many have moved along. It just, to me seems unfair that in the long run, I am still here feeling the effects (and not in a good way).

This is where it evens out, I know (hope/pray) that they get their due. And I know it wont be by my hand.

This could have been forum for me to air out each and every single one of there secrets, lies, and misdeeds. Which, would work in favor of any new women in their lives that wanted to Google them. But I didn't.

OH sure, I used some initials... but it's not like I linked their Facebooks to the page (another move I contemplated and rejected after .238 seconds).

So word to the wise (and the not so wise) just because I play nice (nice-er) doesn't mean every girl will. And if fan clubs in your honor pop up on various social networking sites because of all the other shit you all have done to other women.... I can neither confirm nor deny that I would lobby for an admin position... possibly anonymously.

Head Space

I've been counting down the days till my vacation to see MKSA (My Knight in Shining Armor).

It is 70 days as of tomorrow.

Good news is, June flew by, bad news... 70 days seems like, oh, I don't know, a third of a year??

I mean, here it is on a Friday night and I have been powering away on work stuff (since like 830pm), because I have no life (at least not social). While everyone else I know is out doing whatever it is people do on a Friday night.

But you know, I don't care.

I mean, I do... in a way. But I don't.

There are a few people (BFFFE and MKSA) that I want to spend my limited time off with... and well, they live on opposite coasts from me and I split the difference between them.

That is why, I don't really care that I am posted up in a both at Denny's killing some scheds for work instead of going out with friends as a pre-party for the Fourth of July.

Ok... so maybe I could have used a beer to do this.

But instead I have like an hour long phone chat with MKSA.

That makes me feel better then most beers could.

That is all beside the point. Moving on.

Last post, I talked about the start of MKSA and I. I, in theory, should be telling you about the middle. But instead, I'd rather talk about the music.

I know a lot of people associate music with a memory... well, consider the discography of the middle of our relationship:

Delicious Tunes for the Middle of the Relationship

Regina Spector, Begin to Hope: "Fidelity" "Samson"

The Sounds, Dying to Say this to You

Morningwood, Morningwood: "Take Off Your Clothes"

Kings of Leon: Aha Shake Heartbreak: "Milk" "King of the Rodeo" "Taper Jean Girl"

Leona Naes: I Tried to Rock You...: "Blue Eyed Baby"

The Cars: "Just What I Needed" "Dangerous Type"

The Killers: Previous Age "Bones"

The Killers: Sam's Town "When You Were Young"

Fall Out Boy: Infinity on High "America's Suitehearts" "Sugar We're Going Down Swinging"

My music tastes have changed... a little. Heh. But ALL of these are still in my iPod on heavy rotation. And I dig it.

It gives (gave) me a chance to think about MKSA a little bit everyday.