Cracked open my journal this morning. Saw what I wrote last night. It’s interesting, to say the least…
I’d like to preface the following by stating what will become very obvious: I was inebriated.
August 22, 2011
It’s 9:30 p.m. Monday. Feeling really good.
My head feels heavy & light at the same time.
Frankly, I am delighted that I can even write or that I even thought of the word “delight.”
I really am awesome.
Today was a good day.
…the hell? It’s just so…I don’t know. What the hell is going on? I don’t think I can ever listen to this song again without thinking of an older lady using power tools and swaying her ass back and forth as she seductively licks her lips. At least the video is highlighting an important issue: the Equal PayDay movement, a campaign to bring attention to the unequal wage differences between men and woman. I can definitely root for that. I’m just not sure anyone who watches this video actually pays attention to the supporting copy. Frankly, I was flabbergasted at the sight of shaking booties and boobies.
However, despite the initial reaction, this needs to be said: I do love that most of these ladies look pretty damn awesome for their age. Botox and plastic surgery be damned. I’d love to look like some of them when I’m in my 60s. I’m talking to you, Nancy and Clara.
Yesterday was my 32nd birthday. Yes, it was 32 years ago today that I made my presence into the world, a crying, pink and, according to all my aunts, ugly baby. I’m one year away from my Jesus year, folks!
It’s not as bad as I anticipated it to be. I expected to wake up this morning feeling anxious about the fact that I’m now firmly rooted in my 30s, but surprisingly I woke up feeling good and devoid of any negative thoughts in regards to my aging. Maybe this is what it means to “grow up.” [Let’s all meet back here in 8 years when I turn 40 and see if I still feel that way…]
Maybe I don’t feel so bad about it because for the last few months when people ask me how old I am I’ve been saying I’m 32…so by this point it doesn’t really feel like I’m one year older than I was yesterday. Could it be that I’m the only woman who intentionally ages herself?
To honor this monumental milestone I decided to do a little bit of accounting for this past year. I figure birthdays are the most appropriate time for people to reflect on themselves and their progress as human beings, so here we go!
Hands down, the best event of the last year has been the birth of my nephew, Themis, in March. What a great way to experience unconditional love. There have been times when I’ve looked at him and teared up from the wonder of it all. It’s true what they say: once there is a baby in your life, you can’t really remember your life without one. I love him and adore him.
I was relieved this year by the confirmation of my feelings for having children of my own. Since age 15 I’ve suspected that I do not want to have children. I say “suspected” because when you’re 15, 18, 20, even 25, you don’t really know what the hell you want. You can claim one thing but you will eventually contradict yourself, guaranteed. Change, particularly at these ages, is the only constant. With Themi’s arrival in my life, this suspicion was solidified. I am ecstatic in the role of the ever-loving aunt, and this role, I have found, fulfills me wholly and completely. So, big thanks to Themi for making me realize this. WOOT-WOOT!
It took me a while (like, my entire life it seems), but this year I learned the importance of exercise. This is the magic elixir, people. It is the only thing I have found that makes me feel A-W-E-S-O-M-E. Aside from the benefits to your health and looks (my ass has lifted a couple of inches, I kid you not,) exercise keeps me mentally sane. It’s become a fulfilling habit, one from which I reap both mental and physical results (HELLOOOOOOO, BICEPS AND SANITY!)
My most recent “Why-did-I-wait-so-long?” discovery has been yoga and meditation. I’ve gotten in the habit of waking up at 6 a.m. for a quick yoga/meditation session in the mornings, and it feels even better than exercise. It centers me, calms me down, and makes me connect with a spiritual side of me that I’ve never really explored (or refused to explore.) It has brought forth a desire to find true, substantial happiness in my life – a happiness that is not dependent on material things. It centers me enough to be able to flow through the bad days without letting myself get caught up in the negativity – a vast improvement from my pre-yoga self. I find myself more tolerant of people, more willing to let their foibles pass (word-up to George Harrison for that particular phrasing) and live each moment in the mindset that “in the grand scheme of things, this is insignificant.” It hasn’t succeeded in decreasing the amount of swearing I do while driving, but hey, I’m a work in progress. OOOHHHMMM.
Don’t I make myself sound like the perfect little hippie child? I think I’m going to be the first person ever to make herself gag. That being said, there are a couple of things that I need to work on.
-I need to learn to control my patience with people; particularly those pests in my life that seem to be exist only to test my limits. Right now my plan of attack is to essentially ignoring the person when they endlessly complain and generally grate on my nerves. If I’m nodding my head and agreeing with you, but my eyes have a faraway look, then yes, I am ignoring you to save us both from an angry, venomous explosion aimed at your general stupidity.
-When I’m talking to a person and I want to give them advice, I need to learn to do so in a nice way, and not like a stern lecturer. As the saying goes, “You catch more flies with honey than with vinegar,” and I need to fully embrace that. If a friend can’t really grasp the concept of my advice, I get frustrated and thus louder and dictatorial with my speech. I’m telling the person what they need to do. I point fingers at them. I turn into kind of a bitch – a bitch whose intentions are good, but a bitch nonetheless. Not a good way to go, do we all agree? I need to be gentler with people.
-Other realizations, and I’m going to speed through these because I’m noticing this blog post has entered the rambling category: my listening skills could use some improvement; and I need to work on my obsession with keeping my house spotlessly clean (I could do much more enjoyable things than scrubbing my bathroom floor). Lastly, I need to stop looking at my face and only noticing the small, yet persistent signs of aging: the deeper lines around the eyes, the skin around my neck which seems to get just a little more lax as time goes by (I cringed when I typed that, for reals); and the fact that when I make an expression, hold it for a second and release it, it takes a few seconds for the expression lines to disappear from my face. Ah, the joys of aging…
This past Sunday I made the decision to temporarily de-activate my Facebook account, just for a few days. It was a personal litmus test, to see if I could go about my day without obsessing about a virtual application that has seemingly taken over what little social life I have. Often times I found myself grabbing my laptop and logging in simply to see what was “going on” on Facebook, only to find myself still “online” four hours later. The problem is once you’re logged in, the warm laptop buzzing away in your lap as you lay on the couch in the early afternoon, it’s easy to meander over to other websites, click links, watch videos……..and the next thing my entire afternoon is wasted. Can we say addicted, much?
John Lennon once said “Time you enjoy wasting was not wasted,” which is a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with. However, more often than not I was bored with surfing the Net. Facebook would rope me in and I would aimlessly meander from site to site, hoping to find something interesting to capture my attention. I would not define that as time wasted that I enjoyed.
It was a gradual decision to de-activate Facebook. First I cleaned out my “friends” with whom I have no real semblance of a friendship – acquaintances with which I exchange a hello every now and then. Or people who know me via other family members. I don’t really know them as people – I just recognize their faces. There were teenage girls that played basketball with my sister on the local team, for example. A hello in person seemed like it was enough – having them as Facebook friends didn’t really add any quality to my life. Did I really need to know whether they were single, in a relationship, sad, or happy? I wasn’t really interested in their love proclamations either. I grew out of my teens long ago, and would never want to re-visit those years. Bogging down my day with the inane, self-obsessed thoughts of teen girls was making me roll my eyes to the point where I’d be on the floor looking for them because they dropped out of my head. No thank you. NEXT!
My clean-up then moved on to people who I knew socially in another life, who were nice enough people but the only reason I kept them on as friends was for the trolling satisfaction of keeping up to date with their life without really caring about it. They’re not my friends. I don’t really know them and I don’t hang out with them. See ya later! My Facebook list is now composed of actual friends and people I like and appreciate; and most importantly, people with whom I can’t feasibly keep regular face-to-face or phone contact with – for this sliver of people’s lives Facebook is a good tool to stay in touch.
Eventually I made the decision to go for temporary de-activation – my motivation was to allow myself to get back in touch with myself. (How new-age does that sound? I’m not a hippie, I swear.) But that is the truth. I spent countless hours in a virtual world without giving enough attention to my actual life and it caused me to feel anxious and frazzled. I felt that I needed something more – spiritually, physically, and emotionally.
The honest truth is that I didn’t really miss Facebook much. And I was able to do much more enjoyable things with my time: I took some awesome afternoon naps. I went to the gym. I went out to coffee with my family. I read a book (which I hadn’t done in what seemed like the longest time…I was too busy browsing the Internet.) I did yoga. I meditated. Because I focused on doing things that were good for my mental health, coincidentally I smoked less weed, too. Taking a break from social technology, it seems, did me good. Moving forward I’m going to try to use it in a more conscious way, although saying that feels like an oxymoron. Social networking doesn’t breed consciousness, but it’s up to us to use it in a way that enriches our lives rather than bog it down with frivolous information. (Aaaaaaand that is your life lesson for the day, people. You’re welcome.)
The de-activation lasted three days. Apparently I was missed. And let’s face it; these conversational gems can only happen in the social networking world.
I'm taking suggestions on what my answer should be to all of them.
I was really excited recently to finally watch the movie Bridesmaids, starring SNL alum Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph, among others. Since the movie didn’t get a theater release here in Greece, I had to wait and wait and wait until I could find a torrentz download. I’m kinda glad I didn’t have to go to the theater to watch it because I would have requested a refund.
(Side note: am I doing to get in trouble for admitting that I illegally download movies from the Internet? I sure hope not.)
The movie was really disappointing, and not nearly as funny as all the reviews implied it would be. I thought I was going to watch a movie about women going wild in the ultimate night of bachelorette debauchery – I wanted to see antics that would rival the male counterparts of Hangover (and since Bridesmaids was promoted as the female Hangover I think my expectations were not far out of line.)
Instead, Bridesmaids is bogged down by the far-too-exploited storyline that seems to infiltrate every female movie these days: women competing with one another. In this case, women competing for the love of the bride.
(SPOILER ALERT)
This is the basic storyline: Bride ignores BFF for glitzy new friend. New Friend sticks her foot in everything. BFF is butt-hurt. BFF fights with Bride. BFF fights with New Friend. BFF and Bride eventually make up. Wedding goes off without a hitch. It was exhausting to watch grown women act like teenagers. Considering that this movie was written by women I wanted to see the adventures of empowered chicks grab life by the balls and go all out. It seems that in Hollywood all women ever want to do is compete with one another over every little thing, and when they can’t get their way they’ll sit and pout and lament the sad state of their life. WAH-WAH.
Melissa McCarthy should have been the star of the Bridesmaids.
The biggest mistake the writers made was not utilizing the excellent comedic talent that was available to them – Wendi McLendon-Covey and Melissa McCarthy (left) were both very underutilized, shining in only a few scenes but offering the biggest laughs in the movie (especially McCarthy, who I’m predicting will have a fruitful career in comedy.) Jon Hamm was also excellent in his role as an a-hole friend with benefits…if Bridesmaids had taken the story to the actual bachelorette party, Hamm would have made a great male stripper. The man knows how to express his body and his face.
In the end, Bridesmaids is strictly a DVD rental or illegal download movie. Which, I think, are the only ways to watch it at this point as it is already out of the theaters (I think?) Timing is not really my thing.
Currently I find myself wrapped in a complete obsession with George Harrison. He’s always been my favorite Beatle, but this renewed obsession with his music makes me think I may need some help soon.
I’m talking about listening to his songs while I’m cleaning and I find myself moved to the point of tears.
How I love you, G.
I would have totally been an apple scruff if I had lived in the 60s.
I stopped by the nursery today to buy some plants and saw my friend Lalou, who coincidentally works there. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and she looked at me and said: “You look SO good, what are you doing? You’re GLOWING!!!”
My answer: “Well, the glow ain’t from sex, so it must be the gym.”
GROAN. Must I always be the weirdo that takes it to the next, unnecessary level?
Expat Uncensored 