I am in my late 20s but never had much stomach for the girl magazines. Cosmo, Elle, Marie Claire, etc. have been present in my life primarily to keep me from having panic attacks on airplanes. As I've said before, I am a low-maintenance girl. When it comes to such magazines, I know I can't afford the clothes in them, I know I won't spend hours of my life on eye makeup, and I know much better resources for sex advice. So they don't do much for me.
I do not, however, know the meaning of life or what it's like to be a grown-up. Therefore, I did something to assist me in that knowledge . . . I got a subscription to Oprah magazine.
Don't knock it till you've read it. It's great.
I found the below quote in this month's issue:
"I must learn to love the fool in me--the one who feels too much, talks too much, takes too many chances, wins sometimes and loses often, lacks self-control, loves and hates, hurts and gets hurt, promises and breaks promises, laughs, and cries. It alone protects me against that utterly self-controlled, masterful tyrant whom I also harbor and who would rob me of human aliveness, humility, and dignity but for my fool." ~ Theodore I. Rubin, MD
Now that is brilliant.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Number One with a Bullet
My whole upper body hurts. I have a wound on my chest and a bruise on my waist. My arms and neck have red marks spattered over them. My right cheek aches when I touch it and my hand is scraped up.
But you should see what I did to him . . .
Hahaha!!! Just kidding.
Never mind what I'd like to do to a few men I know . . .
I am truly blessed in my work in that every once in a while, I get to go to the firing range to play. Sure, it takes a lot of concentration, focus, and even a little pain, but damn! is it fun. Being out in the fresh air, burning up ammo, and blowing targets to bits (and getting paid for it!) is really as good as it gets. You get beat up (the slight injuries above are the result of hot brass, holster wear, and 13 rounds from a shotgun), but it's so worth it for the sheer release, and how utterly spent you feel afterwards.
Kind of like other activities . . . ;)
Going back into the office today was a complete buzzkill after playing Annie Oakley for 3 days. Some crappy stuff happened and I ended up needing a really good run when I got home. So I literally pounded the pavement, pretty much tearing apart what was left of my body. I won't lie - there is a lot of internal pain and turmoil going on right now, and the only way to subdue it is through physical pain . . . it's funny how exercise and the phenomenon known as "cutting" serve the same purpose, yet exercise is much more socially acceptable. How many exercise nuts are really just crazy people torturing their bodies so they don't have to deal with the torturing of their souls?
Wow, was that deep.
I desperately need the sleep I am not getting right now. Tomorrow will be a loooong day. Here's hoping my weekend lives up to the hype . . . and that this funk I'm in passes . . . and that my smartass ways don't get me into trouble!
But you should see what I did to him . . .
Hahaha!!! Just kidding.
Never mind what I'd like to do to a few men I know . . .
I am truly blessed in my work in that every once in a while, I get to go to the firing range to play. Sure, it takes a lot of concentration, focus, and even a little pain, but damn! is it fun. Being out in the fresh air, burning up ammo, and blowing targets to bits (and getting paid for it!) is really as good as it gets. You get beat up (the slight injuries above are the result of hot brass, holster wear, and 13 rounds from a shotgun), but it's so worth it for the sheer release, and how utterly spent you feel afterwards.
Kind of like other activities . . . ;)
Going back into the office today was a complete buzzkill after playing Annie Oakley for 3 days. Some crappy stuff happened and I ended up needing a really good run when I got home. So I literally pounded the pavement, pretty much tearing apart what was left of my body. I won't lie - there is a lot of internal pain and turmoil going on right now, and the only way to subdue it is through physical pain . . . it's funny how exercise and the phenomenon known as "cutting" serve the same purpose, yet exercise is much more socially acceptable. How many exercise nuts are really just crazy people torturing their bodies so they don't have to deal with the torturing of their souls?
Wow, was that deep.
I desperately need the sleep I am not getting right now. Tomorrow will be a loooong day. Here's hoping my weekend lives up to the hype . . . and that this funk I'm in passes . . . and that my smartass ways don't get me into trouble!
Sunday, September 9, 2007
The World is Still Turning
Since my last post (12 days ago - seems like forever), I have hosted the parents for a weekend, battled a cold, been flatly stood up, counseled a friend about what could be the end of her engagement, taken a boat ride around DC, danced till my feet could hardly function, hosted a baby shower, and planned for the Vegas trip. And I thought I'd be bored to tears with no overtime at work last week.
I think my pregnant friend has the right idea - she is unexpectedly expecting but the baby's father is totally out of the picture. This may sound like a bad idea to some . . . but I think it might be the ideal situation: taking a big life step forward but no man around to somehow screw it up. Because I'm beginning to think that men are good for nothing except procreation and disappointment.
That being said, I am not a quitter and I don't believe in going down without a fight. As I've written here before, I find no shame in something not working out when I've fought like hell and given it my best shot. But I must be frank - the latest "prospect" has me at wits' end and I am ready to be done with him, good or bad. I am not a high-maintenance girl (and yes, that has been affirmed by ex-whatevers past so I believe it is true). I pride myself on not being needy and enjoying the fabulous "my own thing" I've got going. Relationships aren't the special feature in the cinema of my life. They are the candy or popcorn: completely unnecessary, but hey, it makes the show a little more enjoyable.
But when a guy goes out of his way to tell you he's interested in you, and you reciprocate, then he can't back that statement up with any action whatsoever, you begin to wonder WTF is up. And that's where I am right now. I don't need constant phone calls, showering with presents, or anything that might cramp my style. But I do need something. A little sign, a few words, something to show me that my interest in him is not a waste of my time.
Or at least a little honesty, difficult as it is, that he is no longer interested.
I'm just confused. I am still interested, I want to know whether or not he still is, and if he still is, can we alter our "thing" so that I don't feel like I'm bothering him when I reach out. Is that really so hard???
That's all I've got on that topic.
On another . . . it's been a year since the only real love I've had in the last 4 years crushed my heart prior to moving overseas. Since then we have exchanged sterile conversation about 10 times, with the mention of anything significant at a whopping twice. Sometimes I think he will end up as my "one that got away." Time will tell, I guess. In the meantime, the sun still rises everyday and I carry on, even though I think of him more often than I'll ever admit. And I wonder if he ever thinks of me. I learned a lot from the death (murder? agonizingly slow dismemberment?) of that relationship, and while I fiercely want to believe I've changed for the better, I wonder if he believes the same or just resents me for being young and afraid.
Comfort with the unknown is a luxury of the apathetic. Not exactly my style. But since the world hasn't ended yet, I have to believe that the answers are out there somewhere, and it's just a matter of time and patience until I finally find them.
Shocking, isn't it. I always thought I was a pessimist.
I think my pregnant friend has the right idea - she is unexpectedly expecting but the baby's father is totally out of the picture. This may sound like a bad idea to some . . . but I think it might be the ideal situation: taking a big life step forward but no man around to somehow screw it up. Because I'm beginning to think that men are good for nothing except procreation and disappointment.
That being said, I am not a quitter and I don't believe in going down without a fight. As I've written here before, I find no shame in something not working out when I've fought like hell and given it my best shot. But I must be frank - the latest "prospect" has me at wits' end and I am ready to be done with him, good or bad. I am not a high-maintenance girl (and yes, that has been affirmed by ex-whatevers past so I believe it is true). I pride myself on not being needy and enjoying the fabulous "my own thing" I've got going. Relationships aren't the special feature in the cinema of my life. They are the candy or popcorn: completely unnecessary, but hey, it makes the show a little more enjoyable.
But when a guy goes out of his way to tell you he's interested in you, and you reciprocate, then he can't back that statement up with any action whatsoever, you begin to wonder WTF is up. And that's where I am right now. I don't need constant phone calls, showering with presents, or anything that might cramp my style. But I do need something. A little sign, a few words, something to show me that my interest in him is not a waste of my time.
Or at least a little honesty, difficult as it is, that he is no longer interested.
I'm just confused. I am still interested, I want to know whether or not he still is, and if he still is, can we alter our "thing" so that I don't feel like I'm bothering him when I reach out. Is that really so hard???
That's all I've got on that topic.
On another . . . it's been a year since the only real love I've had in the last 4 years crushed my heart prior to moving overseas. Since then we have exchanged sterile conversation about 10 times, with the mention of anything significant at a whopping twice. Sometimes I think he will end up as my "one that got away." Time will tell, I guess. In the meantime, the sun still rises everyday and I carry on, even though I think of him more often than I'll ever admit. And I wonder if he ever thinks of me. I learned a lot from the death (murder? agonizingly slow dismemberment?) of that relationship, and while I fiercely want to believe I've changed for the better, I wonder if he believes the same or just resents me for being young and afraid.
Comfort with the unknown is a luxury of the apathetic. Not exactly my style. But since the world hasn't ended yet, I have to believe that the answers are out there somewhere, and it's just a matter of time and patience until I finally find them.
Shocking, isn't it. I always thought I was a pessimist.
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