Hello, Goodbye.

I've given up social networking for one month. Find out why & for daily updates go to http://blondenation.wordpress.com

Extreme Dating (future X-Games sport?)

Since I've been in California, I've come across a plethora of differences between the East Coast and the West Coast. Here's a tasty sampling:

-When you go to a bar in the Northeast, you will always hear Jay-Z. In LA, "California Love" by Tupac or anything by Dr. Dre will vibe through the crowd and get an entire room of people repping the Westside and dancing.

-Whereas there are countless Italian restaurants (authentic and delicious) in the tri-state area, Southern California is littered with the best Mexican you will ever taste.

-Punk kids vs. Bros

-SUVs for practicality vs. convertibles for everyday sunshine (or Prii for green-ness)

-Toll roads (get out your your EZ-Pass please!) vs. freeways

-Humidity vs. dry heat

-Knowing everyone vs. meeting new people every day

-The idea of living to work vs. working so you can live

Trust me, there are plenty more (feel free to leave some comments and add to the list)! But when the day is done, the difference is very clear: here on the West coast, we live a laid-back, casual life. East coasters find pleasure in extreme intensity in every facet of their lives, it seems. Intense work habits, intense talking mannerisms, intense rage...Or at least that's been my experience.

And so, over a cold beer tonight was born the realization of extreme dating. This is another little East Coast v. West Coast observation.

I've found dating in LA to be so much more of a game; a topic that somehow keeps re-emerging in conversation with friends this past week. I've been observing recently that courtship here in LA is strategic in the sense that there are certain roles everyone plays into, and you follow these superficial yet fairly-effective rules: pick your scene for the night, get ready, get on the list (if you need to), valet & get your scope on. It's formulaic but it's fun. People are much more approachable here; fellas want to put their best foot forward and conversations generally coast from "where are you from" to what it's like there to "what do you do" to "what do you WANT to do" to telling each other entertaining stories regarding some experience you both had in life ("OMG SO weird!")...it's pretty basic. Guys will always ask for your number, email, twitter account OR maybe even facebook you on the spot from their iPhone. You will most often hear back from them if they actually are single (married men who take off their rings when they go out or are "separated"- what a drag). You might snag a date if you're interested. You text here and there leading up to the date, go out, probably get drunk, go dancing, maybe have casual sex (no judgement!). This seems to be pretty basic, I think.

The aura of this dating roundabout is just so casual though. It was so fun when I first got here and five guys a night would talk to me and ask for my number or just be fun and interesting - I always felt like I had to battle guys back East, but more on that later. This casual meeting makes for casual dates and casual dating - it's all so laid back. No instant labels. No incessent texting. No real pressure, actually. It's fair to assume that the other person might be dating a few other people. It's just kind of...well, again, casual! But then I started to wonder if anyone in this city was ever serious...

I've casually dated around since I've gotten here a bit, and it most certainly has been a grand time. I've gone on the best dates of my life here! Dates here are all about doing things and going places and have a greater sense of adventure than perhaps that of the East Coast. I mean, it's not their fault; we have nice weather all year-round which is conducive to a lot of "doing."

So the other end of the spectrum would be where you would find East Coast dating styles. The whole experience is just much more intense. First, just simply meeting a dude is a whole different experience. New game, new rules. I find that the guys base their initial pick-up on cynicism or making fun of the girl in some way. I can't tell you how many times I've had a conversation started with me by a dude who is making fun of a piece of jewelry I'm wearing or the drink I'm drinking. If I've got a Hoegaarden, then New Castle is "soooo much better." Maybe I'm wearing a chunky bracelet, I'll get a "wow, did you steal that from a hobo?"

Aside from the fact that it's flat out rude, or that dumb guys sometimes have to act like they're not interested because they think that's how you'll know they aren't interested (for a great commentary on this, check out http://cateblack.blogspot.com/2010/02/happy-valentines-day.html), it's just a more intense experience. It's like guys want to grill you up front; if they mock you it's because they're trying to get to know you I suppose. If they're interested then you'll perhaps go on a date, but instead of the do-something-fabulous date, I feel as if it's more geared to getting to know one another more quickly - dinner dates versus "doing dates." Lots of one-on-one time. It's just more direct. You get the point.

But then, it seems, things become even more intense while dating. I feel like people are on a fast-track to get to the point - either it's gonna work out for a long run or it won't. Fights are earlier on. I think there's a greater possessiveness that exists amongst couples. People don't date around - multiple people at once - the same way it's a norm here. There's always a general level of expectation from both girls AND guys. And if it's not gonna work out, then onto the next. Giddy-up!

Being someone who comes from this East coast style, the west coast dating realm has certainly surprised me. So I suppose the question is now: Which style of dating is better? The extreme intensity of the East coast world or the casual, laid-back LA dating scene?

Both have horrible flaws. One the one hand, I frequently meet guys who are SUPER hot, charming and 35 or older. They're total and self-proclaimed bachelors! It's like the George Clooneys of the world are all flocking to Los Angeles. And they'll stay that way for as long as they want because they're the fun, wealthy good looking guys that will only get hotter with age, you know? This isn't a bad thing if you're looking for a good time, but if you are hoping to one day have something deeper than that, well, don't count on this population of men to be calling you just so he can come over and snuggle on the couch when it's raining. And it's not just the Cloonians, it's representative of the majority of the people dating in LA, both women and men. Looking for a good time with someone they enjoy - light, casual. It's essentially reflecting the attitude or aura of the city on a whole. You might find love and I'm sure many do - but it never seems to be the initial goal.

As far as the East coasters go, well, the downside is that intensity can be forceful, and forced can fail. I know for a fact (at least for myself) that love arrives when you least expect it. So rushing through the process or starting it off with that negative attitude that I so often find in East coast dudes is not the right approach. Over-commitment too soon is like sentencing yourself to relationship hell. I know people who are in true love will probably disagree, but even if you are, isn't it fun to keep things at a slower pace to keep it in check? What's the rush? Savor the courtship (assuming there is some). Daydream about the other person. I don't know why but I guess I just feel like the East coast style is so aggressive, so fast, so pushy. It makes me uncomfortable.

So there you have it. My preference is the LA scene because it's more fun. I like to think that dating should be fun and exciting. I want to date around and learn what I like and don't like. I love doing new things with new people and well, this is the place to be for that. It is frustrating sometimes because this town is a town of do-ers and move-ers: everyone is actively trying to get to somewhere and so if you don't fit into that, well, you might be eliminated. But on the other hand, it's a wonderful thing to date people who are aspiring for great things that they are passionate about.

I think I'll take my chances, double down, and believe that I'll find someone fun to be passionate about and with...

the trickle-down effect

In the time spanning my most recent post, (not the test one, obviously) I've come a long way. Somewhat reluctantly. But I've come a ways.

Last I left my dear audience of about two, I was coming undone over a relationship that had ended. I was writing through my broken heart which unfortunately, still aches, as I wondered what the next step for me would be. Getting dumped came at a strange time for me; I felt like I was at a momentary apex, but I was starting to fe like my chest was beginning to fall inwards from that exquisite, drawn-in breath.

I was having a life-high. Everything was grand. The best life had been, actually. Great location, good job, meeting interesting new people every day, fantastic boyfriend and all other relationships doing extremely well. I felt proud of all that I had achieved and felt like I deserved them. I've always been a hard worker, but more recently become a chance-taker. I'm extraordinarily proud of myself for the gambling I've done based on what my heart has suggested I do. This most recent, best version of me was yielding amazing wealth in every facet of my life.

And so came this blow that was the last knockout of the match. I had gone a couple rounds of getting knocked down - feeling truly depressed again, feeling increasingly unsatisfied in my relationship, feeling unfufilled in my job with little-to-no extracurricular activities keeping me busy - and that was the final right hook. I needed to collapse for a bit while and let my head spin while the ref counted to ten. I was, and still slightly am, out for the count.

Did you ever put puzzles together as a child? I loved puzzles and they were always a family activity for myself and my siblings. We would go to the Jersey Shore on vacation for a week, and to prevent us from watching TV, my mom would buy us 100-piece puzzles at the five and dime (yes, they still have one in Ocean City, NJ) to pass the down time and to bond, I suppose. I loved them. They were beautiful and lovely, these individual, intricately cut pieces, coming together to form a picturesque scene that really didn't matter. And then, when we were all done standing over this puzzle on whatever table it was on with our hands on our hips for an awkward amount of time, one of us would look at the other and give the signal of destruction. I swear to God, I can still see us in slow-motion, all running toward that puzzle at the same time, wanting to rip it apart, only to rebuild the next one. We would make sure not ONE piece was left hooked to it's neighbor. I think that's about how I felt this past week. Like a hundred pieces randomly scattered about with only the box to hold me. And the pretty cover with what it's supposed to look like on the front.

And so since Saturday, I've let myself feel whatever it is that I needed to feel. Exposed, sad, angry, enraged, confused, broken. I didn't bother trying to pick up all the pieces because I just knew that if I tried to put it all back together too soon, it just would become frustrating. I've learned in the past and I suppose that I'm remembering it all again in the present that sometimes things must come undone in order for there to be a reconstruction. I forgot this about myself - that after the greatest fall comes my greatest strength.

It's scary feeling like things are falling through your fingers and that you might not actually be able to control everything in your life. But sometimes instead of scrambling, just ride it out. You have to let go every once in a while.

I did this. I was originally going to give myself a month to feel whatever I needed to and act out in any way I needed to in order to get it out of my system, but I've found after one week that I'm not sure I truly need all that time. In this past seven days, I've cried for everything, drank too much, screamed in my car, flipped people off, smoked too many cigarettes, been a bitch, etc. This week seemed to have tired me out though, and here I am on day seven, coming to a point of reconciliation. I'm starting to get over my breakup as well as some of the other things that were overwhelming my mind. Part of that was out of my control - the guy never contacted me at all which made for a strange cut; strange in that my mind deserved to not me tormented by a teaser of any sort, which was something that equally tormented my heart. Ironically enough, I had actually given him the link to my blog about a week before he broke up with me so he could hear my writing. I suppose if you're finally getting around to reading this, well, I'm not sure who should feel more embarrassed.

I know I feel better when I say cynical things out loud and then seconds later realize I don't believe it.

I had a discussion this week that accidentally put some things in perspective for me. It was a discussion meant for my own personal well-being in that I was trying to find more information about doing a PhD in American Studies. My mentor, a former professor of mine and an amazingly gifted individual, Dr. Michael Aaron Rockland, had set aside some time for us to talk about his experiences in getting his higher education. We began with a Q&A format: I asked about how he chose his school, how he paid for the program, the question of whether or not to get an MA first, the financial gamble in the academic career realm and also the possibility of getting a PhD in History or English to broaden my career opportunities. I was feeling frustrated because I didn't want to be logical about something I'm so passionate about. Then the conversation made a turn. He said to me, "Beth, look. I can tell you all your options, I can give you all the information head-on, but I don't want to be the one discouraging something that you love. If you know that this is what you want, follow your heart."

He went on to tell me about how every decision he has ever made that has brought him great wealth in life has been because he did exactly what his heart told him to do. I felt electric. For a long time in my life I felt like I did what I thought was "right" instead of trusting my gut. But those times where I listened to what my very inner core was telling me, I shone brighter than I ever had before. I listened to his incredible stories of passion about being drafted into the military and being a cultural attache and spending time with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his experiences becoming a dean at Rutgers, founding the American Studies Department, his marriage choices, his children, his authorship, his 28 rejections before having his first book published which then went on to become a New York Time's "Notable Books" - the man used his internal compass to find his direction and has flourished. In a world where everyone tells you to look both ways before crossing, sometimes you just have to trust your instincts and leap.

This lit a fire in my heart, in my mind.

We spoke further and he said two more things that stuck to me. The first being that no matter what, you should always be yourself across the board. If you do what you love, you will succeed the most in that. Additionally, if you allow yourself to do what you love, your professional life as well as your personal life will be one. Having fluidity between these two, I feel, is admirable and something I desperately dream of having in my life. I think about those I look up to most in life, and in every single instance, they are folks that are and do exactly as they are. My mom, for example, is that kind of person. She is a neonatal nurse, is such a caretaker to her children and all those around her, is a rock of a woman-mother figure, is a pro-life activist as well as a devout Catholic. I may not necessarily agree with her points of view, but by God, that woman is a beacon of light to all those who surround her. She upholds her sense of self regardless of what others around her may think. I want to be an academic and a purveyor and diffuser of knowledge. I dream of teaching others as well as being someone who learns from all of my experiences. I know I will be this person and I like to think I'm already in the making...

The second thing that Dr. Rockland said to me was that he has no regrets in life. I too feel this exact sentiment and it's been my mantra for quite some time now. I have had a truly dark and difficult personal past and I know that regardless of every bad or good decision I've ever made, each of those choices has shaped me into who I am today. I like who I am and I respect all of the bad and the good, and thus I regret nothing. I can honestly and openly speak on each one of my life-instances and feel like I could offer some piece of knowledge to someone through these experiences. I have nothing to be ashamed of and I am very proud of that.

And so this conversation of false reality and truth and hopes and dreams and finally, excitement, has led me to believe that I, in fact, have perhaps fallen down and can not-so-simply regroup. I will be okay. I've done this before under a different facade and I will once again prevail a stronger gal than I was in the first place. I always have been happiest and reaped the greatest wealth from following my heart.

And so this week of self-reflection and analyzing has taught me many things I would like to work on, but also that it is definitely okay to feel, to be, and to grow. There needs to be a balance in life between control and focus amongst the desire to just "go with the flow."

I've lived and loved and worked hard and fallen and come back again. And I will once more.

test

what the fuck is going on with my fonts? html is rejecting me

Hello, Monday

Monday. Usually a day of refreshing back-to-work energy for me. Most people loathe Monday; I embrace it. It’s the beginning of a new week. New activities on the horizon. Usually.

Today is not one of those Mondays for me. Today I woke up feeling groggy and sick. I didn’t sleep well – I kept waking up over and over only to remember that this past weekend was not, in fact, a dream at all. Sleep was my only hope for my mind to shut up. And even then, bad thoughts swam in my REM cycle.

I lost something Saturday. I lost a guy, a relationship. Okay, so I didn’t misplace it – I was relieved of girlfriend duty (thank you friend for telling me to stop saying “dumped”). I had certain expectations of what I wanted, things I thought to be fairly reasonable: more time, more attention. I was angry at not getting these things I had once had earlier on in the relationship and resentful that it was diminishing before my eyes. I suppose I was, in essence, just gripping sand. I didn’t understand why I was losing ground and I guess I still don’t understand, really.

I feel mad, I feel sad, I feel confused and hurt. My heart feels heavy and my stomach sick. My ego is bruised. I’m completely and utterly humiliated. I feel like a complete idiot and that pisses me off, for lack of a more eloquent way to say it.

I always thought it was a strange thing that people would try to argue with their now-former significant other as to why they shouldn’t be dumped. I mean, seriously, you can’t really argue your way into making that person feel a certain way toward you – that is desperate, pathetic and sad. Although, now being the person relieved of duty (I’ve only ever been on the other side), I can understand the irrational distress of wanting reasons why, wanting to know what I could have done for things to be better. I got the bullshit list of “I’m trying to make you feel better about the fact that I’m dumping you” reasons, which only made me feel smaller. I guess there’s no nice way to do it, but I didn’t get a last anything. I’ve never had such a clean cut and although I’m not one for a drawn-out anything, I find myself pathetically hoping that when my phone dings, it’s him. I disgust myself with these embarrassingly hopeless thoughts.

However in this instance, I’m not sure that there was anything I could have done. I suppose it just wasn’t meant to be, and I just happen to feel more invested than the other party (hello, embarrassing). Of course I want to analyze and make justifications as to why I’m definitely not to blame – he was too robotic, too unemotional, too logical, too busy, too uncomfortable, too something that makes me not have to look at me. I get the sympathy lines like, “you’re too good for him,” or “he wasn’t man enough to handle how deep you run and how dynamic you are” or other crazy Beth-propaganda that just makes me feel patronized and stupid. I don’t believe those things, at least not right now while I’m feeling totally burned and insecure. None of this makes me feel better. Or makes sense to me.

I do, however, feel robbed in various ways. Robbed of my dignity in the sense that I feel as if I had been cut out in the way volleyball practice has to be cut out on Sundays to make room for some other, better activity. I cringe at that thought, which makes me feel disposable. I think, “well, if I was that disposable, then he must not have really cared at all in the first place.” This might be wrong, but it sure as hell feels pretty accurate in this key-slamming moment. Which, in turn, cues the humiliation.

I wasn’t searching for a relationship by any means. I had just come off one of the worst weeks of my life when my roommate dragged me out to some random soccer outing. I walked on that astro turf field with zero expectations resenting that I had been forced to put jeans on when all I really wanted to do was hide at home. But by the end of the night, I found myself intrigued by a guy who I was instantly attracted to for his humor, smarts, good looks and exciting attitude. And I continued with that because I thought he was fabulous. Not because it made sense, or because it was a good time to be in a relationship or that he looked good on paper. I genuinely liked him and just enjoyed being around him. And I truly thought he felt those same things about me because I thought that was why people date in the first place, right? Because they like one another? Perhaps just his feelings dwindled and mine didn’t. If that’s the case, well, I suppose I can’t be angry at that.

Whatever the case, I feel slightly in shock. I mean, things weren’t really going the way I wanted in the sense that I felt I wasn’t getting enough of his time, but I guess I just thought that it was just a hiccup and that it would be okay in the end because they way he used to look me right in the eye before he kissed me spoke louder than circumstance. I suppose I was jaded. Again, cue feeling positively stupid.

I can’t seem to shake this rug-out-from-under feeling. I wish I could just be exactly the way that I thought others should be when I broke up with them – “can’t we just be adults, agree that it didn’t work and just move on” but it’s much easier to be that way if you’re not the one being dumped. I’ve never been dumped. This is awful. I can’t even think of his face without feeling a knot in my stomach, not to mention the other physical and non-physical reminders like my toothpaste, or my socks or a sweatshirt or an entire town. It’s really goddamn annoying.

I don’t know how I’ll feel better but I will assume distraction and time will yield personal growth and realizations about what other things I want, don’t want blah blah blah blah…

Time. Time. Tick tock.

a poem that uses the word "armpit" is still art

I love Walt Whitman for a multitude of reasons. He was a dandy man, openly flamboyant in a time of rigid, puritanical American school of thought. Mr. Whitman wrote confusing cryptic poems that used words like "armpit" which was totally absurd to most. He wrote the same poem for close to twenty years but would change and build on it every time he published a new copy. The man was a little eccentric. But, he did write the following words which have totally touched me since I first read them in the basement classroom of a bland 1970s Rutgers academic building:

"I celebrate myself,
and what I assume you shall assume..."

I feel like what Whitman is saying is that you decide who you are, set the example of how you want to be treated and other will follow suit. This idea that you determine what gives you value is so vital to our everyday lives an seemingly insignificant to most, probably, but I feel as if this is something I sometimes struggle with.

Last night, over a few Miller Lites, I discussed with my dear friend the topic of personal faults. I find that mine tend to all revolve around my struggle with self-respect and being confident in my worth. More detailed issues spawn from this; I find that I fear that others won't respect my opinion and also I don't usually give myself any credit for how smart I actually am or the things I've accomplished. I tend to be in awe of others' capabilities, smarts and charm and don't see those things in myself. Now, these fears or faults or whatever you choose to call them don't run my everyday life; I don't live in fear and self-loathing, but these issues will selectively rear their little ugly heads on occasion, and when they do, I start to feel like I'm shrinking.

Being a hypersensitive person, I find that growing up I felt like I was what others told me I was - stupid, fat, ugly, weird, dorky, whatever. I thought, well, if that's what others see, then everyone must see that too, right? I accepted what others labeled me as true because I was a child and that's what you do when you're young and impressionable. I continued with that train of thinking for quite sometime. It wasn't until I came into my own more during my last years of high school and then in college that I came to respect my own opinions and ideas and looks, etc.

I learned to speak my mind and think unconventionally and be confident in that, but my fear of what I can only assume to be emotional rejection (it could be seeking approval, I'm not sure which best fits) still lingers in ways. It's like this: I can get mad and pissed off about something and I'm usually right (it sounds bad but hey, I have like a 94% success rate and being right I think, lol), but when it comes down to confrontation, I get pretty uncomfortable. No one likes confrontation unless you're say, a lawyer, I suppose. But this is fairly unhealthy thinking in the sense that I automatically become fearful of that other person rejecting me or not respecting or listening to what I'm saying. It just goes back to not having the sense of self-worth that I deserve to hold for myself.

It's kind of funny writing this out loud (I think that's the correct blogging phraseology for this) because when I re-read the last paragraph, it sounds pretty embarrassingly, honestly, and makes me feel almost defensive of my own thoughts. I want to be like, "hey, I'm better than that!" because, lets be honest, these aren't exactly the kind of traits we would want to write down on a job application...I can just picture the reaction you might get if you filled out a job questionnaire on an interview like so:

Question: What would you say are your weaknesses?
Answer: Well, sir, I find that I have a hard time always asserting my self-worth to myself.

...probably would end up with an "um, oh." and a "we will be getting back to you soon..." and you are shooed out of the office.

Although I have to say, it does makes me slightly happy because then I know I'm able to progress if I instantly know that I deserve better for myself. You can't make something better for yourself if you aren't aware of what the issue is, you know?

I'm constantly looking to try and improve myself in ways and understanding these faults or issues is the first step toward making that happen. I always try to speak up regardless of whether I feel comfortable or not simply because I know I need to do it to get used to that. And therein lies the wonderful, lovely, inspiring truth in what Whitman has to say.

I must learn to celebrate myself. The last two years of my life I've learned to do a better job of that which I'm happy about. If you don't celebrate the ins and outs of who you are - the clumsiness, the way you stutter when you're flabbergasted, the way you snore at night, the crooked middle bottom tooth that shows when you smile, your inability to be suave, your nerdiness, your over analyzation, your everything - if you don't celebrate these you run the risk of self-loathing and eternal frustration. Celebrate yourself, dammit!

And in this celebration of yourself allows other to celebrate yourself too - when you walk with your head down with the fear of others running into you, they will. When you walk down the street with your head up and your shoulders back and a smile on your face like you own the whole damn sidewalk, then you will be regarded that way.

Flaws and personal struggles are okay. They're good, they help us find out what we want to improve to make ourselves a better. You have to teach yourself that you deserve respect and love from others, all flaws included.

Love yourself, and others will follow.

Empowerment (by mistake)

Thankfully for me, few and far between are the days when I wake up and say to myself, "oh shit."

An "oh shit" morning is never a good one to have. Circumstances under which these mornings (well, or afternoons depending on what kind of sleeper you are) occur include, but are most certainly not limited to:
- one night stands
- one night stands with a person who looked way different in the dark of the bar under the influence of five Long Island Iced Teas
- drunken texting your ex-boyfriend the night before
- oversleeping an important meeting
- falling asleep at your keyboard the night before your big term paper is due
- leaving your cell phone somewhere
- looking through your phone and seeing phone numbers saved under names like "Texas Ted" or "Drunk Bitch"
- realizing that the day before was your mother/brother/sister/best friend's birthday and you never called

All of these things may or may not have happened to you and me. Something similar happened to me last night. I drank too much and was so hung over this morning that I had to call out of work. And by "happened to me" I mean I was 100% responsible for that "happening."

That feeling is kind of diversified depending on the situation. First, there's that "HOLY SHIT" fire-under-your-booty at an ungodly hour of the morning because you realized you did something dumb or forgot something important. Secondly, there is the more subdued yet equally terrifying "ooooooooooohhh shit." In the latter, you might roll over instead of jump up, put your hand to your head, rub your eyes and feel instant nausea because you know you screwed up in some capacity.

Either way, the "oh shit" moment is something we all generally try to avoid.

Yes, I accomplished this today. Well, I supposed I accomplished it last night...regardless, I felt stupid and foolish for being irresponsible and letting myself act like an idiot when I have responsibilities to uphold. I have a job that pays me to be there and contribute and unfortunately, I did not keep up my end of the deal. I'm so careful and such a damn worry wart all of the time, and so when I do something wreckless it's my self-guilt that destroys me regardless if there are actual consequences to my actions.

Now, I won't get fired for not showing up. Honestly, there's no one that needs me directly. My work can wait till the next day to get done. There are no external punishments coming my way, which in turn, actually just makes the self-guilt worse. Now I know many are probably thinking this it dumb, that I'm making a post out of something that isn't a big deal, BUT! I'm not posting to just verbalize my insanity, I've reached a happier conclusion that makes all of my introspective madness a little less heavy.

My great friend Magdalena and I talked tonight for the first time in a while. She got engaged (!!!) and was telling me all about it, and when it was my turn to dish, I of course gave her the details on my fabulous life (the best version of myself and life ever) - the boy, the job, the adventures - but I also had to dish about the "at-this-very-moment" feeling of disappointment in myself. After all, I didn't get to where I am today by doing stupid things and being irresponsible and I LOATHE the feeling that results by doing so. She brought up an example of how this very incident repeated itself a few months back. We had gone out to dinner with a friend of hers, Joe, to sushi. Sushi was followed by Karaoke Night at the local Hulihan's (keeping it classy) where Joe proceeded to get me crazy drunk by buying drink after drink where I then decided that it would be a GREAT idea to sing "Hotel California" in front of a room of strangers (something I try to avoid). Needless to say, I didn't make it to work the next day and I had to fetch my car in the middle of the afternoon with extremely oversized sunglasses. I felt terrible, had missed a class or two that day in addition to work. It was bad.

But honestly, looking back, I realized that it was a memory, it was just something I silly I did when I was 22 and it really didn't have any larger implications. And sometimes, we just have to accept our stupid moments and embrace them as just that. Sometimes it's okay to be just flat-out dumb. Because looking back, it's alright. It didn't hurt anyone but me. It didn't teach me anything in particular except try to not do that again (I mean, if we're being honest here). Sometimes these things can be not a learning experience but instead a stepping stone, a starting point, or something like that. It reminds me that sometimes I worry too much and get stressed out about over planning and having everything turn out a certain way in my life.

I have had a terrible day brooding over this and after having this talk and following thought process I feel like I've become slightly more empowered. Magdalena said to me, "there will be plenty of things in life that will beat you up and try to take you out, so honestly, you don't have to be the one to add to that," which I thought was absolutely brilliant. I'm not saying that I shouldn't be accountable, only that sometimes you just have to let go of the stress of messing up.

It makes me feel better thinking that I should give myself a hug sometimes rather than beat myself up, you know?

Forgive my wandering thoughts here, sometimes I find a clear idea in a very non-linear way...

I leave this post feeling a little more together, with a little more direction and a tad less shamed. Sometimes I hate how over-analytical I am and how my mind is so detailed oriented and overworked with an endless flow of acute self-awareness. It's exhausting! But on the other hand, being this way allows me to gain a deeper understanding of myself and others. It's a gift in that way, this ability to dig deeper than most, because in the end, it's what allows me to have such special relationships with those I love.

Yea, I'm pretty damn special!

Cheers (apple juice),

Me