Archive for August, 2005

Read Me Seymour, Read Me

August 31, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia. ~E.L. Doctorow

Earlier this week, while in the throws of moving hell, a friend asked if I was going to write about moving.
“Probably not”
“It’s just so comical”
“You think it’s comical?”
“Yes it’s funny. You don’t write for us you write for other people. It’s comical”

I wasn’t sure whether to take this as an insult or to shrug it off. I thought about it and realized how correct she was. Lizzie touched on this earlier, which got me contemplating the idea of blogging even more, and why I really do it. I’m not very narcissistic and public speaking scares the shit out of me. A public speaking professor when critiquing a speech of mine, once said that I had a very strong presence and therefore compelling people to want to listen to me; which only made me more freaked out.
Although I want to be a politician, I become uncomfortable talking about myself to people I don’t know very well, therefore I come off socially awkward and unapproachable. In reality I’ve become standoffish and possibly bitchy due to elementary school. I’ll write more about it later, but I was often sent in the hall for talking too much and from second grade through seventh grade, I was labeled the annoying girl who talked too much.

I’m turned off by narcissism, especially those that are loud and/or obnoxiously self absorbed and narcissistic. Call me crazy, but no one wants to hear you talk about you for hours. Blogging is an act of self absorption I suppose, but it’s also a rather anonymous activity and no one is ever forced to read about it, unlike being forced to actively listen to someone drone on about themselves.

Honestly I don’t blog just to see what I have to write and then read it over and over again. I blog because I kept hearing “when I was out of college I didn’t have a job for 5 years and had to work at Burger King” stories. I wanted to share this splendid first year out of school with others, with hopes of making them think that maybe it won’t be that bad. I enjoy it because it’s a fun and humorous way to “meet” other people and see what they have to say about anything and everything, it’s like a whole new world has opened up. And I will readily admit that I check out who has been reading and where they’re from, because I’m curious and I just really want to see how unpopular I am.

Regardless, I do get bored with myself and I’m sure my readers (all five of them) get bored with me as well, so I’m always open to suggestions of other fun and exciting things to write about and I LOVE comments and knowing what others have to say.

Boys and Babies

August 30, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

Learn to… be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not. ~Henri Frederic Amiel

“Oh my god, did I tell you about the dream I had?”
“What dream?”
“You had moved to the West Coast and you were coming back to DC to visit me. Before you left you called me and said that Julie had told you that I had a secret for you. You then called me and I said that you would see it when you arrived. When you got here (hesitation and downtrodden look on face), you saw me and I was pregnant. And to make it worse, I was living with some man and we weren’t even going to get married”

Wait no; not a dream, a nightmare. I have no inkling of maternal instincts whatsoever. I babysit solely for the monetary gains and I do adore Sammy and Rebecca, but that doesn’t mean I want to take them home with me.

Being told repeatedly that when I get older I’ll change my mind and want to marry and have children, is irritating and it only makes me hold my stance even more. Besides, this isn’t about you, it’s about me. It’s me not wanting to give in to some supposed pre-conceived notion that all women want to get married and have babies, that’s bull shit.

I have no ill will towards the opposite sex or babies. Babies are cute and cuddly, and as all of my friends know I will buy the little tyke cashmere from Ralph Lauren and take it on trips, but then I get to give it back. My mother confessed to me last summer that she never wanted to have children. “Seeing women in the park with children, was the most awful thing. This is why we only went to the park after 5:30pm, when normal people went”; i.e. normal childless people in business suits and Coach bags.

My parents separated when I was four after marrying due to my impending arrival and I’d rather not be put in that position. So it’s an unfounded fear, I know, and I’m only 21 and things may or may not end up this way; the point is that I don’t want to be in a position where I am forced to go through something like that alone. Mind you this entire idea has been fermenting for years but then I read about the unfortunate fate of a woman whose husband became unattracted to her after witnessing the birth of their first child. I realized that I’ve been on to something.

Compromise and change are good and I am open to both, but as of right now I feel that it’s not in the cards; and I shouldn’t be lambasted for not wanting to conform to society’s thoughts on what women should want.

Although, should an attractive educated man with a sense of humor come my way though, with an adorable baby, I’d be more than accomadating. See? Compromise.

Speaking of Boredom

August 29, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity. ~Dorothy Parker

True story; last week while watching Sweet Home Alabama-pathetic in itself, but not the point of this story-I actually teared up when a promo for The O.C. came on. I kid you not, that Peter Gallagher does something to me, maybe it’s the eyebrows. Regardless, in addition to my penchant and weakness for diet code red, take five bars, pizza, Law andOrder, and Congress; I can now add all things Orange County. The movie, the show, I even have a slight problem with starting a conversation with”That Talan is a fuck head, cute, but an ass”. Yup, I watch Laguna Beach too.

I really do think it’s natural human condition though, to become slightly obsessed with things that would be nice to have; you know living vicariously through others. Not that this means I want to pack up and move to Newport Beach and botox myself to death, but you must admit,it is fun to watch and damn entertaining.

I have a slight problem with becoming fascinated with something,especially when I’m bored (ahem, the blogging bug that I seem to have caught). I just think “wow I never thought to do that. It might befun”. I read up on it then obsess about it for awhile; thus the reason for why I know the difference between my pitching wedge and sand wedge and why I can play every song from the Lion King on my clarinet; boredom my friends.

But then again, trying different things and becoming interested whether through boredom or not, is what makes one a well rounded person. I getbored, I try new things. That’s what makes life (and maybe me) more interesting. And fun DAMN IT!

Debbie Downer Doesn’t Give a Damn

August 27, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

If I had no sense of humor, I would long ago have committed suicide. ~Mahatma Gandhi

Under normal circumstances I would be caught dead posting on a Saturday; a) because I have a life and b) I should really be doing all the things that I don’t do during the week. Like for instance the dishes, laundry, packing because I’m apparently moving tomorrow and this apartment looks like hell. Whatever.

Lately all of my posts have been melancholy and dramatic. Sometimes I have a flare for the dramatic-it’s a scorpio tendency, but good Lord. Someone should slap me and tell me to shut up, but not quite yet, because this all is leading somewhere.

Last week I wrote a post entiled Red Diva about a certain blogger, who is the girl everyone loves to hate. I’m not retracting my hyperbolic filled post which put SK on a pedestal, because I did and still do find her somewhat inspirational, but what I will say is Oh My God. I have realized that blogging is like high school. And last I checked most of us blogging are well out of high school. SK is the popular girl and may can’t figure out why. But being popular means that there will be those that love you and those that just really don’t like you; and both groups will be vocal about it. A blog was created to parody SK’s blog called Tale of Two Sisters. It was the funniest fucking thing and now it’s being shut down. It was funny, satirical and just by reading one post after reading SK’s blog you’d realize that. I’m not going to speculate who complained etc. but get a grip. This is supposed to be fun and entertaining and without me getting into extensive First Amendment talk, we should be allowed to write what we want without fear of someone getting mad and ‘telling’. This isn’t high school and it definately isn’t third grade. And let’s be honest, if you are secure in yourself and you have a fan base and a book deal etc., then why care about what others have to say about you?

And now to other things, because I just lost 10 minutes of my life. I’ve had an epiphany. I love when I have epiphanies. I’ve been a downer because things are changing and I can’t deal and because I care about what people think about me. I worry about who is or isn’t reading my stupid blog including those that I work with (and feel free to comment on what an ass I am) and what will happen in my future and I make myself neurotic and get TMJ. I’m ridiculous. I like to write and I enjoy what I write so I want to share it. I also really want current college seniors, like those I met last night and worried if I was doing ok after college, to realize and know that by May things may feel shitty, but it will get better. An epiphany in which I’ve realized that I care too much about what others think (it happens in bursts) and that I need to get a grip and stop being a baby.

Vanilla Soy and Brie

August 25, 2005 | Filed under: La Madre

Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration. ~Charles Dickens

I come home to my refrigerator, filled with my favorite things. My brie and vanilla soy milk and my whole foods pesto and my yellowtail Shiraz. Everything here is mine and part of a life that I’ve made for myself over the past four years. A life that I just happen to love.

It’s hard to admit this and forgive me for being sappy; but my friends here are my life. They know my flaws, even the little ones. They can tell me what I do every Saturday morning and that Sundays are my time to be alone. They don’t mind that I’m neurotic, obsessive, un-assuming and sometimes slightly pretentious. I tell them where I work and they are as proud of me as my own mother. I love that.

A few weeks ago in Albany, I went to a martini bar. After three martinis I wanted a glass of red wine and was picky that the only option was merlot (I’m no sommelier but merlot is crap). I got laughed and ridiculed of course, but I can’t help if I know what I like, and what I like is my Shiraz.

When I read Washingtonian magazine, I always smile, because it’s always when I realize how much I love it here and how much of my life is here. People keep telling me that I’ll eventually get some sense and move to New York. I always think about it for a minute then realize how much I wanted to be here in DC in the first place. And that even though there was a time when I would cry and beg my parents to turn around on the way back to DC, this is my new home.

Home is where you feel most comfortable and where you can be yourself. It’s where you’re surrounded by people who know you best and will let you be you. And even though I’m writing this now, by October I’ll need to go back to Albany to see the leaves, pick apples and drink apple cider, and I’ll write about that as well.

Because thinking about it will break your heart when you’re not there; because home is wherever you feel you need to be.