Friday, October 4, 2013
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Yes, it's been close to a year since I've last written. I could explain where I've been, what I've been doing, but it would be a novel. It goes something like this: Work, work some more, spend a little time with the husband, work, sleep a little, wake up in the middle of the night thinking about work, trying to find time (but nearly not enough) to call Veronica, work again. I'm tired 95% of the time and unfortunately haven't found a way to fit blogging into my schedule and it wouldn't feel right writing an entry that I only put a little bit of myself into.
Tonight I was feeling a little down and didn't want to call and wake up Veronica and then I remembered this blog and that it would be a great place to turn to.
I hate being away from my hometown for the holidays.
When I first moved out here 10 years ago, it was for college and I was able to spend every holiday back home. I would be there for 3 or 4 weeks and it was lovely. The comfort in being back in the room that I grew up in, the smell of the hand soap that I keep in my bathroom there, driving around the streets and seeing how much things have changed and in other places, how much they stayed the same. I loved it. The hard part was being away from the boy, but seeing my mom, brother, Veronica and other family made it all worth it. Then I graduated from college and grad school and got married and things changed.
This is going to be my 3rd Christmas away from home. I should start by saying that my husband, whose family is local, always says that we should go to my hometown for Christmas. However, New Years is a BIG holiday in my family and is the day that my Mom really wants me home and with our work schedules being hectic and only having so many vacation days, Christmas never really fits in to our trip itinerary. So we stay here.
The weird thing is that my family never did much for Christmas. My mom always works on Christmas day. We would have a tree, though it only went up because I put it up. And we wouldn't get together with lots of people but rather have a small, simple dinner consisting of lasagna or homemade pizza. It almost felt like any other day and for years I was disappointed that my family didn't do something more. And now, I realize that it was our way of celebrating and it breaks my heart that I'm not a part of it anymore. I hate putting my family's presents in boxes to ship across the country. I hate the feeling of distance when I make my phone call to them to wish them a Merry Christmas. I hate that it feels like this gets harder year after year.
I love that my husband and I are our own little family and I'm learning to realize the importance of tradition and embracing what we do to celebrate. This weekend we put up our Christmas tree, stockings, and lights outside the house and it made me smile. Last year we went ice skating on Christmas Eve and talked about going again this year. And we decided to make my family's lasagna that I ate for so many Christmases in the past. It's exciting. But I know that my eyes will still well up with tears as I think about my family back home and I'll feel guilty for not being there.
I don't know if it will ever get easier. And maybe that's ok.
I'd love to learn how to cope. Any advice?
And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I will find the time to blog.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Also? I hate people who think I want to read their views on entertainment and fashion and awards shows. That's what Perez Hilton and Joan Rivers are for.
I do love when people talk about recipes though because who doesn't want to know how to cook better and see what real people think. I love you Rachel Ray but those meals are not 30 minutes and we all don't have a fully stocked kitchen with every food and utensil ever made. Also I like seeing how real people substitute weird ingredients.
I hate how red wine can stain lips.
I hate when jeans lose their shape after a wear and I consistently have to rewash my fav pairs.
I hate losing pens, when I run out of contact solution right before bed, dropping my toothbrush and having to get a new one in a less pretty color, overcooked steak, when it's to hot to sleep, when I really miss someone, hypochondriacs, and when drive thru's get my order wrong.
Also I hate when I'm so cold my nose/hands/feet gets cold and how long laundry takes in fancy washers and dryers even though it's well worth it.
ohh....I don't hate my new tattoos.
Monday, February 21, 2011
I hate that I haven’t had the motivation or energy to blog lately. I’ve never been one for apologizing when it comes to blogging...but my, how I’ve missed it. And how I’ve missed all of you. Thank you for sticking around – I adore all of you.
Where have I been? I was off having a pity party. And I hate having a pity party.
I understand that sometimes it’s totally necessary. There are times when I curl in bed watching game shows/so much HGTV that I want to remodel my entire house/Nicolas Sparks movies guaranteed to make me cry while eating cold pizza in my pajamas. Sometimes there’s nothing better.
But I hate when the pity party doesn’t end.
The last few months have been pretty challenging for this girl. I’m someone who is very good at hiding her emotions (a trait that I both love and hate) and I was holding stuff in for a long time. I figured that I was just feeling a little down, but it was ok. Sometime around November, I burst. I was an emotional wreck and I found myself crying every day. It was ugly. And not that “ugly pretty” that Tyra talks about on Top Model. Just ugly. So I decided that I needed to take a break, step back and figure out what was going on which sounds easy but is tough. Sometimes you find stuff about yourself that you don’t want to admit which is scary, but it’s important.
I don’t believe in resolutions but early this year I decided that 2011 was going to be a hell of a lot better than 2010. This meant that I was going to have to kick my ass in gear and get back to looking at myself in the mirror and recognizing the girl who was staring back at me. It also meant that I had to stop keeping it all inside and be willing to say “I’m not ok.” It has been a work in progress, but I’m feeling better.
A lot has changed – I started a new job. I went back to hobbies that I used to love. I’ve made more time for my husband and best friend who keep me grounded and are nothing but positive and I’ve avoided those things and people that are negative. Life is definitely not perfect. I’m not feeling 100% all the time, but the perfectionist in me is slowly coming to terms with that being normal. The roller coaster isn’t over, but I’m glad I made it down the first big drop.
I’m excited to be back and share my hateful rants with you. Trust me – I’ve had a lot that I wanted to document here. Like how I hate when I went to a new stylist and she showed up an hour late with a latte in her hand and no apology. Or how I hate when my new dishwasher broke and I realized how ridiculously fast we go through dishes and I was left drinking water out of my nice wine glasses (yes, I know this is was laziness – but it doesn’t mean I can’t hate it).
Finally, thank you all for your blogs. Even though I wasn’t updating, I kept up with them and they helped me a lot. You’re all fabulous.
Monday, January 3, 2011
I hate figuring out where I'm going to put my next tattoo. I originally wanted "patience" on my wrist but not in black which I absolutely hate and think is super tacky. I know that many people have those tattoos and I'm sorry but I just think they look silly. I wanted to do it in the ultra violet white light but it still is untested and not 100% so I don't want to take any risks. A friend is a tattoo artist and he suggested simply tattooing what I want it a shade darker than my skin tone which I think would work. I'm funny about my tattoos because I don't like them to be seen if you look at me. I have one on my back to the left which the guy I'm seeing loves and so do most people but unless I'm in a bathing suit or my birthday suit, you don't really see it. The same for the one on my front. Whats weird is I want to get "patience is the companion of wisdom" but either on the inside of my arm, what? or somewhere on my back. I hate deciding on tattoos.
I also hate sneezing when I drive. I feel like I've said that before but it's really true. Also I hate dry contacts, dry skin, and running out of shampoo. My mom is a doll and bought me Purology shampoo and conditioner for xmas so I am fully stocked with amazing product which really makes a huge difference. Shout out to my boss who recommended it!
I hate when he leaves. I never get to see him enough and I hate seeing him walk down the stairs, out of my building with his scent still on my skin. I hate having to hide things when all I want to do is talk about how I feel when he kisses me or holds my hands or just smiles at me. I know I need patience but it's definitely hard at times. I haven't felt this way in so long and it feels so good to be excited to see his name on my phone.
I also hate flight delays, bad parkers, people who leave bad tips, and drama queens.
I am loving my new laptop and having internet back.
Monday, November 15, 2010
While I'm a girl who loves a flip-flop, I tend to rock heels almost every day. I think my years of ballet got me used to walking on my toes and I'm sure my feet will hate me in 20 years. I fully understand that heels can be difficult to walk in. I've been known to give friends lessons on how to walk in them and I would never even suggest that a girl has to wear them. And on those occasions when girls tend to wear them (weddings, out dancing, etc.) and they're not used to it, I totally feel their pain and will gladly throw off my shoes and dance barefoot with them.
But I have one request: if you can't walk in 5 inch platform stilettos, please do not wear them to the mall on a crowded day, particularly in the food court where the floor is slippery and people are walking around with food on trays. Watching you stumble makes me worried. I won't be able to get around you and the 10 shopping bags you're holding. In the process of trying not to fall over, you'll step on me and it will hurt - a lot. No one likes a bruised foot. Instead, rock those shoes in the comfort of your own home. You'll get the hang of it soon enough. And trust me - your feet, and my feet, will thank you.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
An ex bf a few years ago was a pretty crazy guy but I did love his mother. When we broke up, there was an apartment we shared a lease on for about 3 months. He was supposed to move everything out but the day before the lease was up he had done nothing. So his mother and I went and packed up the apartment. We talked about life, the failed relationship, and love. When we packed up the box I knew this was the final conversation. With a hug and a goodbye it was over. Could I have kept talking to her? Of course and she would have gladly done it but I knew that it would bother my ex and it was his life.
When you get broken up with, you don't really want constant reminders of the person who hurt you, even if you think you do. The ex wants to move on and it's hard to do with the other person still there. You feel bad in any position, whether you do the breaking up or get broken up with. Sometimes the bad you feel is really just sad or the bad is mad. Either way, somethings you just have to let go. Sometimes you have to throw out all the ticket stubs, the tshirt you slept in and just make a fresh start.
I made my fresh start this week by letting go via facebook which is stupid but helpful. I took off the ex, most of his friends who I know but am not close with, and his family (even his sister who I love but it just didn't feel right). I just felt it was time to move on. I am not going to pretend that things are good because they're not. But I am not going to dwell. Life keeps moving and I am going to keep growing and learning.
At the end of every breakup, there's always the thought of how sad things are to end but as I look at my life right now, all I see are beginnings. As Ecclesiastes and The Byrds reminds me...
To Everything (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, under Heaven
A time of love, a time of hate
A time of war, a time of peace
A time you may embrace, a time to refrain from embracing