Discovered

I had a weekend completely to myself.  On Friday afternoon, B called to say he would be going out of town for the weekend to visit some family.  Bummed out, I wondered “What am I going to do with all this time alone?”  I started thinking of ways to entertain myself, and stressing out about being in our house alone.  We live in a neighborhood that’s beautiful, but to be honest, quite freaky at night.  There aren’t a lot of street lights, and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop in your neighbor’s house.  I tend to close all the blinds and turn on all the lights when I’m there alone, and well, it’s a little more than unsettling.

But I found that when left to my own devices for 2 nights and 2 days, I’m actually quite happy.  Oh, of course I missed B.  That’s a given.  But it was good to stay quiet, not talking very much, and spend time with my dogs and cats in peace and quiet.  I watched movies.  I sang to the radio.  I cleaned the house.  I did all the laundry I could find then put it all away (which, let’s be honest, is about as rare as me working out, haha).  I cooked meals for myself, with only my needs in mind.  I curled up on the couch with my blanket and a book and read until it was finished.  I snuggled and played with my puppy.  I took B’s dog for a long walk.  I slept in and went to bed late.  I layed in the middle of the bed.  I checked the mail and sorted all of the paperwork that was waiting to be filed.  I gave myself a pedicure.  I curled my hair and put on makeup for no real reason.  I gave myself a facial and shaved my legs.  I did all this for me.  And you know what?

It felt fantastic.

Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely glad to have B come home…and those shaved legs were useful for the fun we had on Sunday evening. And though it might seem small to others, to me, it was a huge success.  Normally I’m so stressed out worrying about things that could happen to me when I’m alone (break-in, rape, torture, you know) that I forget to enjoy the quiet.  (Anxiety much?)  But this time, I took time to stop and smell the roses.  Metaphorically speaking.

I kinda can’t wait until this happens again!

Your questions, My answers

I hope everyone’s weekend was as fantastic as mine.  I didn’t see any friends, which might make you ask “then why was it so fantastic?”  Well…sometimes I need a break from life, from reality, from expectations.  So this weekend, I spent all my time with B.  We did some shopping, ran a lot of errands, took our kitty to the vet for a checkup, and cleaned our house.  I listened to music, caught up on my DVR, and took naps.  It was wonderfully non-expectational (yeah yeah, I just made up a word). 

Thanks to everyone who sent in a question!  Without further ado:

 Chele asked:

“When and what are the 3 greatest memories you treasure?”

In 25 years, a girl makes and retains a lot of memories.  It’s hard it pin it down to three great ones, but I’ll give it a shot.

When I was 8 years old, and my mom was dying in the hospital, my whole life was turned upside down.  Everything was changing and nothing made sense.  During one particular tough day, my siblings and I were with a nurse, who was explaining to us the state of our mom’s medical condition.  The prognosis was bad — she was in a coma and they didn’t know how long she’d be in it, or if she’d even come out of it.  Somehow, I managed to escape the gaze of 4 sets of eyes and wander off alone to my mom’s room.  When I walked in, she was sitting straight up in bed, awake.  I was holding my Barbie doll by the hair, and she was laughing.  I crossed the floor to the side of her bed and asked her why she was awake.  She was supposed to be “sleeping.” I don’t remember what she said back to me.  I only remember that the nurse and my siblings came rushing in to the room, stunned to see her awake and talking to me.  I felt like a superhero that day — like maybe I was able to make her wake up.

The last time I saw my father was on a Monday.  I had just one week until my final semester in college started.  I was standing on the edge of so much change, some expected, some totally unexpected.  It was just 4 days before he would die; just one day before he would have a major stroke.  But for that one day, life would be normal.  I drove from B’s house to my dad’s, armed with supplies for an oil change on my car.  That day, my dad showed me how to change the oil in my car, so that I could remind B “in case he doesn’t remember what I told him,” my dad said.  My stepmother and stepsister weren’t there, so we spent the day just hanging out.  He had a roast in the oven, and I made some mashed potatoes to go with it.  We sat in chairs side by side, eating dinner and watching some tv together.  He asked me questions about B, how things in life were, and how I felt about almost being done with school.  When I was leaving that evening, a neighbor was walking around our street, so she came to chat.  She asked me “You’re just about done with school aren’t you?”  My dad wrapped his arm around me and pulled me in close and said “Just one more semester left, and she’s been on the Dean’s List the whole time.  She has no idea how proud I am of her.”  We hugged before I got into my car, and I could smell the engine oil on my dad’s clothes.  To this day, whenever I get around that smell, it makes me think of my dad.

May 7, 2005.  It was the day I graduated from college.  The previous four months had been really stressful, having lost my father, and with him, any semblance of a normal family.  We were all spread out, and none of us were speaking to my brother.  But for that one day, me and my sisters came together with my niece, my brother-in-law, my friends, and the family of my best friend to celebrate the fact that I was graduating Magna Cum Laude.  Even though I was sad that my mom and dad weren’t there to see me, I felt so accomplished.  I felt like I’d reached the biggest milestone of my life, and I had done it all for myself.  By myself.  And when I crossed that stage and walked straight into B’s arms, I knew that I could breathe a sigh of relief.  The worst was over.

Hazel asked:

“What has kept your 9 year relationship with B so strong?”

I wish I had some sort of relationship secret to divulge to you, but I don’t.  I have often asked myself this question.  I’ve wondered “How has this even happened?  What have we done right, or wrong, to make this work?”  But when it comes down to it, once you see past the happiness and the obstacles crossed, it all comes down to passion, in my opinion.  B and I are very attracted to each other, both physically and emotionally.  We value the same things in life.  We have the same general goals for ourselves and for our relationship.  We’re best friends, and I think that is what keeps us together.  Even at our worst, during our hardest arguments, we are still crazy about each other.  And that is what keeps us coming back for more.

Alexandra asked:

“What is your favorite thing about B?”

He has the best sense of humor.  No matter what is going on, he always knows the best way to get a laugh out of me.  It’s great to have him around when you’re having a hard day!

“What would you do with your life if money wasn’t an issue?”

Aside from giving to charity as much as I could, I would travel.  There are so many things in this world that I have yet to experience, yet to see.  I couldn’t pick a single place to go because there are too many to name. 

“What is your favorite trait about yourself?”

It’s always really hard to come up with something that I love about myself.  I am my own worst critic.  There are many things about myself that I would improve if given the opportunity, but one thing that I would not is my resilience.  Honestly, I’m probably one of the most resilient people on the planet.  I’ve been through a lot, both good and bad, in my 25 years of living.  So much, in fact, that a lot of people have asked me “How do you do it?”  There is no magic trick to surviving tragedy.  But I have one hell of an ability to get out of bed every day and just keep going. 

Larissa asked:

“What inspires creativity in your life?”

I’m about to up the “cheese factor” big time, but here goes… Nature.  When I’m feeling particularly stagnant and “blah”, I go for a walk.  Put in a little bit of iTunes and take my emotions for a good, long walk.  I sit by the lake and think.  I get it all out of my head and my heart.  I cry if I need to cry.  Then, once I’ve let everything go, I get it out on paper.  I have a journal for these moments, and once I’ve gotten back to my house, I’ll write it out or type it down into my laptop.  Sometimes, just sitting back and seeing The Bigger Picture (Nature) makes me realize that I’m not alone in this world — that other people are going through things at the same time as me.  Also, that there are so many bigger things in this world than what I might be feeling at that very moment.  It’s really humbling.

Miss A asked:

“Why do you blog?”

I blog because it’s good for me.  I blog because it’s good for my relationship with B.  Now that I have an outlet of complaining or venting, I take less agitation home to him.  I blog because I knew that I would meet people who feel the same way as I do about life.  I blog because it makes me feel better when I can just type.it.all.out.  I know that I might be judged for it, but it stings less when it comes from strangers than when it comes from B, my family, or friends. 

Damsel asked:

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I have sucked at these predictions in the past!  Five years ago when I was 20, I thought that by now I’d be married, have a baby, and have a lot more money.  I was just SURE that at 25, I’d have it all figured out.  But now, at 25, I’m still figuring things out.  I’m not married yet.  I’m not even engaged.  And a baby right now seems like WAY TOO MUCH responsibility for me.  But you know, I think that by 30, I’ll be a lot closer to who I want to be.  I will for sure be married (please, God let’s hope so) with at least one baby.  As far as my job, I’ve come to realize that it’s not really all that important to me.  I’m not a “career woman” and I don’t think I’ll ever feel that way.  Sure, I work full-time, but it’s not what I live for.  I hope that by the time I’m 30, I’ll have moved to a city that I love, that I’ll have forgiven everyone who has wronged me so that I can move on, that I’ll have figured out the perfect balance between spending and saving, etc.  And I hope to be a great mom to my child.

Lisa asked:

“What skill are you reluctant to brag about?”

Lisa knows how to ask the tough questions!  Yet again, I’m not exactly my own biggest supporter or cheerleader, so this is hard.  I can’t sing.  I can’t play any musical instruments.  I can’t draw or paint.  It’s hard for me to answer this question because I’m thinking okay, well what constitutes a skill?  Does it have to produce a tangible result?  I know that Lisa’s probably thinking “of course not!  Just go with it!”  The only thing that’s coming to mind is my Bullshit Detector.  I’ve got an uncanny ability to size people up in a few quick seconds and grade them based on my own (high) standards.  I’d say about 95% of the time I’m right.  The other 5% of the time, people are able to surprise the hell out of me. 

Ash asked:

“What do you do for a living? What is your dream job?”

I’m actually not allowed to discuss what I do for a living.  It’s in my contract — if I should publish anything (anonymous or not), I can’t divulge who my employer is.  What I’m allowed to say is that I work in the communications/media field.  I’m an assistant to someone high-up.  I’m not paid nearly enough for what I do, and it’s frustrating. But when it comes to my dream job, I think this is about as close as it gets.  I’ve always said I wanted as little responsibility as possible because let’s face it, I’m not an over-achiever.  I will do what’s asked of me, and I’ll do it well and ahead of schedule.  But I do not live to work.  No sir, I live to play!  But my boss is nice, the company is well-known, and it has great benefits.

Maxie asked:

“If you could be someone else for one day, who would it be?”

I can think of quite a few.  I’d love to be a Hollywood starlet, with a Black American Express card and endless time to shop and lunch and party.  I’d enjoy being a humanitarian aid worker, going home at night feeling accomplished and exhausted from helping others.  I’d have fun being a woman from high society in New York City.  But I would most love to spend a day in a man’s shoes.  Why?  Because I’d get to see how their brain works, what’s important to them, and what they really think about women.  It would probably disgust me when it was all said and done, but at least I’d be closer to having men figured out than….well, other men.

Q & A

Updated: I had planned on answering the questions today, but alas, work has been crazy busy (as has my life, gah!) and I haven’t had a chance.  Besides, I’d imagined to get way more questions than I received.  Thanks to those of you who sent them in!  Those who haven’t, Hello, I can see you on my blog stats DUH, send in a question!  People come up with some great ones, so I know you can do it too!  In the meantime, have a great weekend everyone!  I have to get back to work — it never stops — but I look forward to updating on Monday! :) 

Good morning, Internets.

I struggle with this blog sometimes.  It’s hard to know the difference between too much and too little.  I desperately need to be forthright and honest about who I am and what I want out of life.  But sometimes it feels like a sham.  Am I really brave to put it all out there when I’m too scared to show my face?  To give you my real name?  A glimpse into my world by pictures would allow you to see my hair color, my smile, my eyes.  It would allow you to see just how adorable my pets are, as well as how sexy B is.  (He is damn sexy, I am not afraid to say.)

But until I get the balls to put it all out there, I thought I’d allow you guys to ask me questions, and I will answer them honestly and uncensored.

I know lots more people read my blog than comment, so please, come out of the woodwork and ask me all the things you’ve been dying to know.  Aside from giving you vital information (such as name, phone number, physical address), I’m going to say it’s a free-for-all. 

I’m interested to see what everyone wants to know.  And I promise I’ll update tomorrow with all the answers to your burning questions.

Peace out, girl scouts (haha),

CP xoxo

25

Yesterday was my 25th birthday.

My birthdays have never been the stuff of dreams, if we’re being totally honest here.  Something always seems to go wrong.  Growing up, my father forgot my 18th birthday.  Once, I had a mandatory cheerleading practice to attend, as my birthday fell on the night before a major competition, and my parents asked me to skip it.  As captain, I couldn’t.  When I returned home late that night, there was a cake on the counter with a note that said “happy birthday.”  My parents had gone to bed, angry at me.  Children tend to remember things like that.

On my 16th birthday, just days after B and I started dating, he ignored me.  My feelings were hurt, and a week later, I learned it was because he was nervous and felt bad about not getting me a birthday present.  On my 22nd birthday, he couldn’t be there because our long-distance relationship made birthdays in the middle of the week inconvenient.  Last year, on my 24th birthday, everything was going amazing until someone started an argument at my party and my friend stormed out, leaving us not speaking to each other for three months.

Situations such as these can easily cause one to dread such an event.  Turning 25 was also not exactly something to look forward to. 

Yesterday started off badly.  First, B woke me up to say goodbye before he left for work.  I had off, it being President’s Day and all.  He hurriedly kissed me on the forehead, but did not utter “Happy Birthday.”  I stared at him, quite visibly confused. 

“What’s wrong?  Bad dream, baby?” he asked.

I just shook my head and went back to sleep.  Is it possible my boyfriend forgot my birthday?!

I slept until 8:30 and got up to make some breakfast for myself.  Our dog had gone through the trash in the middle of the night, dragging it into the dining room, hallway, and living room.  Muttering obscenities below my breath, I thought to myself It’s already starting.  The shithole that is my birthday.  Go figure.  I decided to make the most of my day off and get some cleaning and laundry done.  When I attempted to start a load of laundry, I noticed that B had left his laundry from the night before in both the washer AND dryer.  Now, this would normally not be a huge deal, and under normal circumstances, I would just be kind and finish it for him.  But the night before this, the following conversation took place:

“Honey, when you do your laundry today, please make sure to start it early so that I can have the washer and dryer free tomorrow to wash my clothes and all the linens.  It’s going to take me a while,” I asked of him.

“Sure, no problem, babe.”

Only, he waited until the last minute to start his laundry on Sunday and he had run out of time.  Halfway-damp clothes were wrinkling in the dryer while completely wet clothes were growing mildew in the washer.  Frustrated, I threw my hands in the air and cursed his laziness.  Empowered by anger (at turning 25?  at my boyfriend forgetting my birthday? whatever.) I pulled his clothes out of the washer and left them in a damp heap on the floor.  Then I pulled his clothes out of the dryer and place them in a semi-damp heap on the floor next to the wet clothes.  Then I proceeded to start my laundry.  I thought to myself I’ll teach you to take me for granted, motherfucker.

At around 10 a.m., happily ensconced between two massive pillows, a pile of blankets, and my dog, my cell phone rang.  My first official Happy Birthday phone call!  It was bff.  We talked for about 25 minutes, then I proceeded to catch up on some sweet dvr’d television, enjoying my breakfast.  As the day proceeded, and I made not one, but two calls to B, I determined that he had, in fact, forgotten about my birthday.  And so had everyone else it seemed.  Aside from my family and two friends, I had not received any “happy birthday” phone calls or text messages.

Growing despondent, I felt like a child, pouting and sad.  So I decided to really amp up the “sad pathetic child” factor and put on some depressing music.  In the next couple of hours, I managed to wash all the dishes, do most of my laundry, clean up the house, and organize my closet.  I checked my cell phone probably hundreds of times, but it was quiet.  By the time B got home from work (with an ice cream cake - wait, he must have remembered sometime during the day), I was sitting in my comfy chair with a book, reading. 

“What’s wrong, doll?  You look so down,” he said.

“It’s… umm…  It’s my birthday,” I mustered.

“I know it is.  I brought you an ice cream cake!”

He eventually managed to make me laugh by reenacting one of our favorite scenes from the stand-up comedy we’d watched the night before.  But I couldn’t shake the feeling of being totally forgotten and looked over.

There were some close friends I expected to hear from that did not contact me.  Did they forget?  Two in particular left me messages on my MySpace account.  I’m sorry, but when did Facebook and MySpace become the appropriate venue for apologizing, congratulating, and wishing someone a happy birthday?  What ever happened to a phone call, or hell, even a text message?

I’m one year older, but perhaps not any wiser than I was this time last year.  I feel like a spoiled brat who is pouting that no one came to her slumber party.  I know B felt awful because for the rest of the night he tried to make me laugh and forget about it.  I even saw him checking my phone, then his phone immediately after.  I think he was even curious as to what happened to all of our friends.  I decided not to say anything to anyone about it, but really, I just needed to get it off my chest.

It sucks to be forgotten about.

But to change the tone of this entry, a list:

In 25 years, I have:

*owned three cars and wrecked two (but not by my own fault)

*lived in two states

*attended 3 elementary schools, one middle school, one high school, and one university

*kissed 9 boys

*slept with 1 boy

*been in the in-crowd, booted out of it, then said fuck it all together

*lived in 7 cities

*been to Ocean City, MD more times than I can count

*traveled to California, North Carolina, Florida, and New Jersey

*never traveled outside of the country

*graduated with honors from two schools

*broken 3 cell phones by throwing them

*owned approximately 12 cell phones, including the very old Motorola that weighed about 5 pounds

*been in love once

*fallen out of love once

*had my heart stolen once, by someone I least expected

*lived in 4 apartments, and bought my own house

*owned 8 dogs and 6 cats

*discovered I will never be patient, and that I will always trust people until they give me a reason not to

*learned a lot about who I want to be, but not enough about who I truly am

I’m 25.  Holy shit.

The one where I say “granny panties”

To borrow a phrase from Mike, I got nothin’. 

Would it be silly of me to wish or pray for some drama in my life?  Maybe not to me personally, but to someone around me, someone in my circle?  Nothing uber interesting is going on in my life, which means that I’ve got nothing to blog about.

I know, so sue me.

I’m not trying to say that my life is perfect or everything is perfect, but things are pretty darn good right now.  Everything with B is moving along peacefully.  All my friendships (minus the one that is still kind of awkward) are in a good place.  My job is great (well, minus the fact that my boss is seriously testing every nerve and the little amount of patience I do have).  I have enough money to pay my bills, etc. 

Everyone prays for no drama.  People don’t like it, and I get it.  It’s not fun when it’s something devastating (like a breakup).  But without a little drama or spice in our lives, every day becomes the same as the one before it, and so on and so forth.

And yadda yadda yadda.

(Ed. note:  Did you guys love that episode of Seinfield as much as I did?)

I can’t really complain about anything.  Sure, there are things in life that don’t make any sense to me.  Sure, there are people who bug the living crap out of me, but not enough to get me down.

See, this is what happens when you get your wish for peace and stability.  Life becomes a monotonous routine of sleep, work, eat, rinse and repeat. 

A little bit of drama never hurt anyone!

I apologize for the absolute LACK of blog-worthy material.  I feel the need to shake things up, get a little crazy, remind myself that I’m in my 20s and not my 40s.  Do you girls ever feel like you’re living a lifestyle that is much older and less spontaneous than the one you should have?  I totally do.

Gone are the days of back-to-back tequila shots, too-tight clothes, excessive cleavage, dancing on bar tops, and dramatic relationships.  Now I’m the picture of responsibility.  I go to bed early, wake up early, eat right, go to work, pay my bills, and keep the drinking to a minimum.

Okay, weekend resolution:  even if it’s something small, something that my past-self wouldn’t have blinked an eye at, I’ve gotta shake things up.  No wait, maybe that’s exactly what my soon-to-be-25 self needs:  to do something that my past-self would have been shocked at - an act that would cause my past-self to congratulate my present-self and buy her a shot.  Or two.

Or else, turning 25 is right around the corner, and from there it’s all downhill to granny panties and walkers.

Seriously.

WTF Wednesday

Seriously, what the fuck is going on with the universe lately?

As I drove to work today, thinking about the death of Heath Ledger (Ed. note:  I will miss that sexy-ass accent of his, yesindeed) I couldn’t help but just feel ridiculously angry and freaked out by things.

So guess what?  I’m gonna start a new tradition here at ChasingParadise.  From now on, every Wednesday will feature a list of things that are either pissing me off or confusing me.  Take your pick.  Sometimes it will probably be a little bit of both.

1.  Heath Ledger, dead at 28.  Seriously, I doubt it was an overdose.  He just seemed to be really genuine, down-to-Earth, and humble.  His poor daughter.  And if it’s got something to do with the pneumonia they say he’d been suffering from as of late, then WTF?  People can die at 28 years old from pneumonia?!  I think that’s bothering me the most is that I grew up having a huge celeb crush on him and he’s so close to my age and HELLO SCARY.  And sad.

2.  Driving to work this morning there was a girl in front of me in the fast lane going 70.  In a 65.  She was chatting on her cell phone, precariously balancing her steering wheel somewhere other than her hands because her other hand (the one not holding her phone) was applying eye makeup.  I mean I guess I can give her points for not driving fast WHILE doing all of this, still…  Do you have a brain?  I glared at her as I passed her.  IN THE RIGHT LANE.

3.  Guys.  Boys.  Whatever you prefer to call them.  A friend of mine had been seeing this guy recently, and he seemed decent enough.  Attractive, well-educated, and so on.  After weeks of non-stop hanging out, he just all of a sudden decides to stop returning her calls and texts.  Then, out of nowhere, just as she was judging herself, questioning everything she’d ever said and done near him, he comes out of the blue with an email apologizing, saying he is freaked out and can’t do this anymore.  That she’s the nicest girl he’s ever met but he is an asshole and he can’t see her like that.  I mean, okay thanks for admitting that you’re an asshole, but you’re forgetting one thing.  You’re also 26 year’s old.  YOU’RE AN ADULT.  So act like one and stop treating my friends with utter disrespect, you piece of shit.

4.  Last night I saw on the news a piece about Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama fighting with each other during a Democratic debate.  I got so angry.  They’re on the same side — against Bush and his policies.  So why are they fighting with each other?  Is it too much to ask for them to be civilized and play fair and be happy for the other, whichever person gets nominated?  I guess the closer it gets to the election, the nastier it’s going to become.  It’s upsetting.

I guess it’s not bad that I can only come up with four things that have pissed me off in the last 12 hours or so. 

What is pissing you off today?

20SB Debate 3 - Lottery Winner- Secret or Not?

This fortnight’s debate poses this question to myself and fellow 20-something bloggers:

 ”If you won the lottery, would you keep it a secret?”

First of all, let me just be honest and say that I think playing the lottery is a waste of money.  However, I have bought a few tickets before, back when I turned 18.  Why?

Well, I was not a smoker.  In fact, I was dead set against smoking.  So turning 18 didn’t provide the same high for me as for my smoking friends, who were finally able to run to the local convenience store and buy a pack of ciggarettes instead of stealing them or bumming them off of their older (and likely more prone to cancer) friends.  Getting a tattoo seemed way too permanent.  (Ed. note: also, way too likely to piss my father off and cause him to be “disappointed” in me (ie:  the worst thing EVER!) and not speak to me for a few days.)  So buying lottery tickets was my method of choice to feel like an “adult” a few days after my 18th birthday.

Now B, on the other hand, believes that if you play the lottery consistently enough, odds are that eventually you’ll win.  Maybe not millions or anything, but at least a few hundred dollars or so.  B buys lottery tickets every once in a while, usually just the symptom of a random hair up his ass.  But one day, we were sitting in his car scratching away at a few lottery tickets when, wouldn’t you know it?  The motherfucker won $50.

We spent the $50 on going out for steaks that night. 

But I digress…

If I won the lottery, I would most certainly NOT be able to keep it a secret.  Whenever something good happens to me, I get the unmistakable and unavoidable urge to tell someone about it - B, my sisters, my friends.  It always happens.

I wouldn’t go blabbing to everyone, of course.  But I would, no doubt, blog about it (hehe). 

I’d have to tell someone.  Mostly due to the fact that I would be buying things for people.

 Now, if we’re talking MILLIONS here (which I hope we are, duh), then I would be paying off my sister’s mortgage.  Buying my other sister her own house.  Paying the rest of my niece’s college tuition.  Buying B and I a brand new house, two brand new cars, the whole works.

Then I’d pay for us all to go on a fantastic vacation somewhere, naturally.

I’d use the money to help better the lives of the people I love, as well as the lives of those who are less fortunate than I.  I’d donate a significant chunk of money to the Susan G. Komen charity for breast cancer, definitely.  I’d also invest a good sized portion of it into some sure-to-skyrocket stock.  Then I’d do silly things, like buy everyone in my office Starbucks coffee and sweet treats when they’d least expect it.  I would stop over where the homeless guy makes his shelter across from our office and provide him with a $100 gift card to the mexican restaurant he stands outside of all day. 

All of these things would be unbelievably hard to rationalize without bringing up the whole winning lottery ticket thing.  Some people say that lottery winners are cursed.  I guess I’d just have to cross my fingers.

Other 20SB’s opinions:

Electic Closet

The Ink

Donna

Clueless Cat

Come out, come out…

…wherever you are.

It’s National Delurking Week.  This excites me because, as I’ve been blogging for last 6 weeks or so, my stats have been rising every day.  This is wonderful.  However, I know that there are many people out there reading who haven’t yet left a comment to say hello.

Say hi.  Tell me where you’re from.  Let me know what brought you here to Chasing Paradise.  Vent.  Some people tell me I’m great at listening to their problems.  Free therapy, eh? 

A question to motivate you:

If you could use a crystal ball to see into your future, would you?  Would you rather know how it all ends up, or experience it day to day never knowing the ending?

Leave a comment and link up your blog, if you have one.  I promise to check it out and return the favor.

TGIF!

20SB Debate # 2: New Year’s Resolutions

 Ahhh…thank God for something to post about.  I went to the dentist this morning to have a cavity filled and an old filling replaced.  Needless to say, one whole side of my face is still mostly numb and I actually caught myself DROOLING at my desk.  Gross.  So yeah, the whole idea of having to come up with something to blog about was too much.  Thank God for 20SB debates! 

This fortnight’s debate is: 

It’s time for new years resolutions. What is one thing about yourself that you are definitely NOT changing?

I never really believed in New Year’s Resolutions.  I’ve resolved to lose weight, be less angry, even use profanity less.  They all failed.  I was good at it for the first two months or so, but eventually I wore out and gave up.  According to Dr. Phil, the problem is that I’m not following the right path for resolutions.  New Year’s Resolutions should be specific, measurable goals that you will be held accountable for.  I never dared to set a specific amount of weight I wanted to lose for fear that I’d never hit the 10 or 15 pound mark and then I would feel like a total failure.  How exactly do you measure how angry you are or how often you become angry?  And finally, the only person who held me accountable for my profanity use was myself, and occasionally the random stranger who would scoff in my general direction when they overheard me swearing like a sailor.

So really, what’s the point? 

B asked me yesterday what my New Year’s Resolution was, and upon hearing me laugh and say “Ha, nothing!” he just looked bewildered.  He had a multitude of resolutions:  eat more salads (good idea), less fast food (GREAT idea), work out 5 times a week (okay, really, stop showing off!), wake up earlier and go to bed earlier (who is he kidding?).  I stood in the kitchen, shoulders slumped as always, and responded tentatively with “I don’t know, slouch less?”

He just laughed at me and responded, “Babe, you’re hopeless.”

Yeah, so maybe I am hopeless.  Really, my opinion of New Year’s Resolutions amounts to this:  Who ever really succeeds?  I mean, who else besides the random person who goes on Dr. Phil with the goal to lose 210 pounds (did anyone see that recent episode?  was it yesterday?) ever really succeeds?  And then, it’s only because Dr. Phil is gonna “give it to her straight” and even tape her picture up at the local McDonald’s with a note to NOT SELL HER ANY FAST FOOD.  So really, don’t even get me started.  We’re all set up to fail.  So this debate is something I can do.

There are plenty of things I’d like to change.  I hate my nose.  HATE.  I’ve wanted a nose job since I was 13.  The only thing that holds me back is the amount of money it will cost me (definitely don’t have that!) and the pain I will face (seriously, I’m the biggest wimp EVER).  I have zero patience for people who are late.  I have zero patience for people who don’t tell the truth.  Those things, I’m afraid, aren’t going to change.  I wish I was either shorter or taller, but not this awkward middle height.  Sadly, I was born of “average” height with an ugly nose and zero patience.

Wow, maybe I should resolve to be nicer to myself, no?

The truth is, I have a bit of an attitude problem.  It’s not necessarily a bad thing.  When I say attitude, I don’t mean shitty for no reason or snobbish.  No, it’s more like, if I’ve got something to say, I’m going to say it.  Granted, I still take people’s feelings into consideration, but only if they’re someone WORTH considering.  Examples:  a friend.  a family member.  Non-Examples:  a stranger.  a friend of a friend of a friend.  You get the picture.  Some people call me a Bitch.  I capitalize it because really, it’s not that bad of a thing.  If being a Bitch means that I’m someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for herself or someone she loves, then so be it.  If being a Bitch means I’m a woman who won’t settle for being dicked over, fabulous.  I’d rather be a Bitch than be some girl who whines when she is disrespected, or worse CRIES, then does nothing about it.

Being a Bitch has it’s good points.

Being a Bitch has gotten me into trouble sometimes.  Once, I was asked to leave a bar by a bouncer on a power trip.  However, the reason was that he was making rude comments to a girlfriend of mine, and I called him out.  Then there was B’s birthday, where his friend basically told him off, told him to choose between his relationship with me and his friendship with him, and I went the hell off.  I turned into Whitney Houston that night, all “Hell to the NO!” and basically told him where he could go.  Sometimes people look at me like I’m crazy, but you know what?  When I see a woman who is being disrespected by anyone, be it man or woman, whatever, and I witness her do nothing about it, I look at HER like she’s crazy.  Especially if she starts talking about women’s rights and how we shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this in this day and age.  Girl, you’re right.  But you’ve got one problem…  Who does you think is responsible for making sure we WOMEN are treated with respect?  Everyone else?  Nope, think again.  You’re responsible for that yourself.

So yeah, I’ve got a little bit of an attitude problem.  I could stand to tone it down a notch.  It riles me up when I’ve had a little bit of liquor (mostly vodka) to drink, and sometimes I need to take a chill pill.  But I’ll tell you what… let some random guy grab my ass at the bar.  He might not get his fingers back.  Let some guy in a power position treat me like shit (ahem, last boss).  He’s going to get some feistiness right back in his direction.

That is definitely one thing about me that I’m not changing.

The nose, however…  That’s still up for debate.

Clueless Cat also commented on this debate.

Dear Me, Version 1999

Edited to add:  I know the others did their letters to theirselves during senior year of high school.  I didn’t.  Yeah, I buck trends like that!  Perhaps I’ll do that tomorrow, when my brain can’t come up with an idea for a post. 

Hey you.  Can I just start right off the bat by advising you to STOP BEING SO HARD ON YOURSELF?!  Life isn’t so serious at 16!  You’ll wish you could relive these days later on!

You know that girl you always give rides to?  And her younger sister?  Yeah, stop doing that!  Her parents will totally stop giving you gas money AND your “friend” will stab your back senior year and spread really bad lies about you.  She’ll pretend to be your BFF the second you get your drivers license.  Trust me, her friendship isn’t worth it.

Oh, and that boy who keeps coming back for more every few months or so?  Yeah, cut him off too.  He only wants you when he can’t have you.  He’s totally one of THOSE guys, and he’ll make you miserable for about a year or so.

Don’t stress over Precalculus so much.  You’ll get horrible grades at first, but don’t bother with that panic attack you’ll have first quarter.  Your grades will improve.  Bringing coffee to your teacher for your morning tutor sessions may help move things along quickly.

Be kind to your government teacher.  He’ll end up being there for you in one of the worst periods of your life and you’ll really need him as a friend.  Also, remember this:  he gives great advice, even if sometimes it’s not what you want to hear.

Spend more time with your dad.  When he asks you to go Christmas shopping with him and you have plans with your friends, don’t second guess your decision to bail on your friends.  You will have the best day with Daddy, and you’ll learn more about him in a few hours than you have in your whole life.  It will be one of your favorite memories with him.

Don’t pay any attention to the negative treatment you get from the evil stepmother.  In a few years time, she won’t be in your life anymore and you’ll be happier.  Until then, don’t let her get to you. 

Pay a little more attention to the quiet, dorky guy sitting behind you in Algebra class.  He has a huge crush on you and he’s a nice guy!  He might not be on your “social radar” but trust me, years from now, all the girls from your high school will see you guys together and think to themselves, “Holy shit! When did he get so HOTT?” 

And while we’re on the topic of B, appreciate him more.  The time that you snap at him in front of your friends and make him cry is something that he will never let go of.  You’ll break his heart and he’ll even break yours, but somehow you’ll pull through it.  He’ll be there for you in some really, really hard times and you’ll wonder how you ever got along without him.  You’re going to marry him, so treat him well!

Get rid of the bangs.  Seriously.  NOW.  Grow them out immediately.  You’ll thank me later!

When everyone in school jokes you for still being a virgin?  Yeah, don’t let that bother you.  They’ll call you a prude and ask you what you’re afraid of, and you’ll feel like an idiot.  But you know what happens to them?  They get cheated on.  By the same guy who goes around and around sleeping with everyone.  They’ll have sex with other people and it won’t mean anything.  You’ll lose it when you’re ready and it will be with B.  And he really will love you forever.

Don’t stress the PSAT score you get.  Seriously?  Does.not.even.matter!  And when the SATs come along, to hell with them too.  It won’t affect where you’re gonna end up later in life, anyway.

Perfect grades won’t help with your family situation.  No matter how hard you try, your parents are still going to fight.  Your dad is still going to be sick.  He’ll be really proud of you, and it will make you happy to do well, but don’t kill yourself trying.

Put away the clunky shoes.  No one likes them and years later you’ll look back at pictures and think “WTF was I thinking?”  Along with that, go ahead and get rid of the blue nail polish.  And the glitter.  That’s right, I said it.

It all comes out okay in the end.  Actually, better than okay.  Your dad and stepmother will still split up.  Your stepmother will still betray you.  Your father will still pass away too soon.  But you know what else will happen? 

You’ll graduate second in your class.  You’ll get into a college, and don’t worry, you’ll find a way to pay for it!  You’ll get even better grades there, without trying so hard, and it will truly just be for YOU to enjoy.  You’ll meet the best friends of your life.  You’ll kiss other boys.  You’ll have your heart broken, but you will rebuild it all on your own.  And you will be proud about that.  Your first job out of college will suck hard, but it’s just a stepping stone to your dream job.  You’ll find happiness.  You’ll buy a house and a miniature dachshund that is all yours.  You’ll smile.  You’ll laugh. 

You’ll survive.

So really, stop being so hard on yourself.  You’re pretty damn amazing!

Love,

You, version 2007.

 Thanks to Clink and Molly for the inspiration!