Please stop liking unavailable guys. You are not quite ready for the intensity of a long-term truly committed relationship even though you think you are. I know you want to be, but right now just isn’t the time for it. You are fully capable of liking someone to the fullest of your capability so that’s why it’s dangerous for you to like the wrong guy. He may seem like the perfect guy for you, but he is not really if he’s unavailable. Liking him will only put you in an emotional attachment state you can’t get out of for an unknown length of time because you are the kind of girl who loves to a fault. You would give 110% of yourself into the relationship no matter who he turned out to be and that’s just not fair to yourself if you are putting in effort when the guy is unavailable. I know you don’t do that on purpose, but it happens as soon as you get into a state of emotional attachment. It’s like you meet one and as soon as you start talking to him he casts a spell on you. You end up continuing these talks until you can’t break the spell. This goes on until one day he breaks you. Even then the spell isn’t broken, just you are and you leave the pieces for me to put back together again. I know you need me, so I’m just asking you to stay away from the unavailable ones. I promise one day when you meet the right one for you, everything will come effortlessly. You will put in the effort and it will be reciprocated. He won’t leave you and he’ll be faithful to you. He won’t take you for granted and he’ll give you 110% back. Until then, don’t get emotionally involved. At all. Don’t beat faster when he’s around. Don’t get excited when he starts conversations with you. Don’t look into his eyes while talking to him and sense a connection when all he’s doing is talking to you. Don’t make me have fake conversations with him when he’s not around. In fact, don’t make me think about him when he’s not around. I know I say these things to you and you are only half listening. But that is why you have me here – to help you get through this mess you can only explain in a Rolling Stones song.
What a week. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know if I should start. It has been one of those weeks that was like a traffic jam and Groundhog Day all rolled into one. When you get stuck in a traffic jam and the highway turns into a parking lot, all you can do is watch the lanes next to you to see if any of them are going faster than yours. Then you try to squeeze into one of those lanes and go along that lane for as long as the road allows before merging onto the lane you have to merge onto. You keep doing this until you reach the end of the traffic jam and can go as freaky fast as you normally can on the highway again. Sounds simple, right? It basically is, but if you were sitting in my passenger seat, you would be impatiently waiting for me to change lanes until we were both heating up and can’t breathe. I drive Lara Jean Covey style and sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had a Peter Kavinsky in my life to improve my driving game or drive me to places I’m too scared to drive to myself or understands that I don’t like driving in the snow or on icy roads. I really do. Traffic jams give you no choice but to wait it out or figure out how to slowly get to where you want to go. If you want to move along, it is up to you to move into the moving lane.
When you get stuck inside Groundhog Day, you just drive yourself crazy trying to get out, but realize you can’t. You try anyway, try to reason with the people around you, but they still see things the way they do and you still see things the way you do and that’s that. You tell yourself to let it go and magically, you feel okay again. Until you hit another confrontation and your world seems to turn upside down for a minute and you ride that Möbius strip again. Sometimes, just sometimes, I want to pull a Kelsey and Liza moment and go inside a soundproof wine vault and scream my head off until I feel better again before entering back into the world.
This is the kind of end to April I have had. Happy May Day.
I have three Tommy Hilfiger items. One is a pair of jeans that is a collab with Gigi Hadid. I splurged on these back when I was working my old job when I wasn’t even sure I could afford them. I got them because her commercial made it look like a lot of fun could be had while wearing them. I knew that’s how all commercials make their products look, but I wanted these jeans anyway simply because they remind me of the kind the girls wore on “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.” I haven’t had any magical sister-bonding experiences since wearing them, but I’ve gotten several compliments, so I guess that’s good. While getting them I promised myself I wouldn’t splurge on jeans this expensive anytime soon again. It’s been four years now and I’ve kept my word to myself.
Another is a baseball shirt that I got in high school because I always remembered that the prettiest most popular girl in my middle school would wear Tommy Hilfiger and I always wanted to own at least one Tommy Hilfiger item because of her. I didn’t wear it for long before I ended up getting two holes on one of the arms of the shirt during 10th grade chem lab when my lab partner accidentally spilled HCl on it and the acid ate through that part of the shirt. I don’t like to admit it, but I think I still hold onto the shirt as a clothing scar or something. It’s like I want people to see me wearing it at work or whatever and ask me about those holes so they can find out I still fit into clothes I wore at 15 years old and I survived HCl eating away my shirt.
The third is a black hoodie that I got at a Tommy Hilfiger outlet store. It keeps me warm in the winter, but whenever someone looks at it they think I paid full price for it. Nope. I just wanted something that would keep me warm in the winter. El fin.
Vaccine hunters are my heroes. It is worth it to go to San Diego just to see how ReBru Spirits functions. No one from Honduras should have to feel unsafe on their way to the United States. You know what? No one should have to ever feel unsafe anywhere or anytime.
BIBIBOP Asian Grill is coming to town and I feel like a child on Christmas morning. McKeever’s Market & Eatery is a place to forage and I want to try it out sometime. I’ve heard some good things about First Watch and I’m staring at all the ways avocado can be used in breakfast and lunch.
No cavities today and I’m so relieved. Toothaches are the actual worst, like Gen according to Lara Jean’s best friend. I think I’ll call them Genaches from now on. Or maybe Russian airstrikes. I can’t decide.
Friday, June 8, 2018 – I texted you that it was such a fun night to let you know you were right about how to do fun nights when someone is a grandma like me. You didn’t respond to that text because you didn’t like the idea of me going to a bar scene without you and the potential for me to go all crazy party girl for one late night or meeting some other guy who’s a lot more funnier and charming than you. Don’t even front with that. What didn’t make sense to me is you and I weren’t even an item back then. (Not that we are now either.) Yet it hurt not to get a text back from you. It was as if you were already forcing your standards of how a perfect girlfriend should behave on me before we were anything to be labeled. I don’t even know what to label us now, but I do know now that we aren’t even an “us.” What I’m questioning is if we ever were an “us.” Especially since the beginning we have ever known each other you have treated me like I’m already “yours,” even though we have never talked about it. Wednesday Tuesday Friday. You would neither confirm nor deny any of this. I know you well enough now that your best would be to just leave me guessing because you’re not man enough to face your insecurities and move the F on and grow the F up.
That night I learned I didn’t belong amongst a group of unsober girls, I can put myself in situations where I know nobody and still have a fantastic time, I can be flexible and change my mind about a specific drink I want to try so I can try one drink collectively with a few girls who want to try the same drink, and while every other girl was talking about leaving her man at home to go out with the girls, I wanted to be one of those girls who could say stuff like that. Well, after getting to know the limited you that you ended up allowing me to know, I can say I no longer want the same things I did that night. Except I do, with someone else. Someone else who I know is worthy of my time and affection. A man who is actually a man, not a boy inside a man’s body. A man who is a leader and not afraid to take charge. A man who is confident, but not cocky. A man who communicates well, especially who is not afraid to be vulnerable with me and will let me baby him from time to time. A man who calls me “babe” and actually means it. A man who actually puts God first in all aspects of his life, not just says he does, and leads me to do the same. Who that is will be for me to know and you to not find out.
Well, I’m starting the New Year with a broken heart. And my cat died exactly a year ago tomorrow. Happy New Year to me. I don’t feel sorry for myself, but I am sad. I’ve had my heart broken more times than I can count. Actually, that’s not true. I bet if I really sat down to think about it, I could count all the times I’ve had my heart broken, but I’m not going to because that’ll just make me extra sad. I don’t think I can take any more sadness. I’m writing this because this is my therapy. This time around I’ve been organizing my CDs while listening to them. They are old songs, of course, and I find that if I do my own private karaoke session with them while dancing with my old moves I learned from dance teachers in my past, I feel a lot better. I guess that would be my vocal physical therapy. Does that kind of therapy exist for real? I guess I could Google it, but I’m not. Or maybe I could be the first to bring it about! Either way, it’s helping me. I’ve also been watching a lot of music videos. I don’t know why that helps. I guess it has something to do with combining a mini movie mixed with music, two of my favorite things in the world, that makes it so therapeutic. Maybe every movie needs to be just 3 minutes long. Hopefully movies can still be made this year. If not, at least animated films should still be able to be made. It makes me think about how art and music and movies and novels exist because life is hard. (A good man is so hard to find, but a hard man is so good to find.) Duh. Everyone knows that. And all those things are a way for all of us to escape from life. Whether it’s bills or taxes or a broken heart or a broken car or a broken house or losing a loved one to cancer or worrying about a loved one in prison who is a lot more susceptible to getting the virus or black lives matter or the election or academic future or employment future or mental challenges or physical disabilities or losing a pet or all of the above, we all want to escape from it all from time to time. We all want to be loved. We all want to be understood. It’s just sometimes easier to find that love and understanding from the therapy we use to escape.
I would not want to enter an eating contest. They don’t say “too much of a good thing is a bad thing” for nothing and an eating contest is exactly that from my stomach’s point of view. And that is also precisely why I can’t imagine being Miki Sudo or participating in the 10,000 calorie challenge. Apparently Miki Sudo broke her personal best record last month at the Nathan’s Famous Hot Dog Eating Contest by consuming 48.5 hot dogs. Meanwhile, I just found out the 10,000 calorie challenge is where someone tries to consume 10,000 calories worth of food in one day. That may sound like an epic cheat day to some, but even though I have never tried it, no way José does that sound like an epic cheat day to me.
Where does someone have the room for 48.5 hot dogs in their stomach? I’m having trouble imagining where it would all go. Your intestines would be working overtime and that would be just during the contest. After the contest is over your intestines would continue to work so bad you would feel all the pain and discomfort that comes with an overly expanded stomach. That is not something I would want to go through or feel. Call me a big baby and call me lazy or unmotivated, but I don’t believe ruining my digestive system is worth the hype of winning an eating contest as a life goal. I’d rather work hard towards something that actually matters and makes a difference in this world. I’m going to say that even if I sound self-righteous to some because I know what I really mean and if someone thinks I’m sounding self-righteous, that is their own misinterpretation and I have no control over that.
Where does someone have the capacity for all that sodium and sugar that a 10,000 calorie diet day will entail? I know people taking on the challenge were prepping their bodies for it in various ways, but still. I can’t see any health benefits from it. Call me a health freak, but I don’t see how that can be a bad thing, especially after I watched my father die of colon cancer. Trust me, when you watch a loved one go through a health crisis like that, it pretty much kills any sort of desire in your body to eat wrecklessly. It doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes opt for something that is higher in sodium or sugar than I should, but I have become a lot more health-conscious since losing my dad. I already was before he passed, but I am even more so now.
I would not want to enter an eating contest. Sorry not sorry.
What is it about matching three things in a row? The makers of Candy Crush and all games where you have to match three of the same things in a row is so addictive! Maybe I’m late to the game in discovering this, (I’m not sorry for the pun) but a few days ago I suddenly wanted to find a new game to play on my phone so I searched and I found this new one (not going to name it here to protect its identity) that is a version of the match three in a row game and wheel of fortune combined. With each solved word puzzle you get a motivational quote. It’s very girly with butterflies and flowers and rivers and water droplets and such that give an extra boost in power per move. If Oprah comes to mind, you would be correct. She invented this game and it has over 300 levels. I like the motivational quotes, but I don’t like the five life limit where you have to wait half an hour per life to earn each life back and while I wouldn’t just sit there and wait, I did find myself remembering whenever the time was up. I don’t like my brain constantly thinking of ways to crack the level I’m on as I’m trying to do something else. I don’t like my grabbing for my phone every time I’m in a waiting-for-the-next-thing-in-my-schedule situation. I don’t like staying up late playing away my five lives. I don’t like myself opting for watching the 30-second video to refill a life a lot faster. I don’t like playing the game while I’m out for a run just to try to get to the next level faster. I don’t like playing the game while I’m trying to eat lunch at the same time. I don’t like the red low charge warning percentage that keeps showing up. Most of all, I don’t like all the time I will never get back because I was busy with this game. A few nights ago before I even made it to the 40th level, I clicked on the “x” on the corner of my app and let it delete itself off my phone including all the “data” I had gotten to with all the levels of the game I had become successful at. I feel like I rebooted and I have my life back again. I whispered to myself, “Never again.” So far it is the loudest whisper ever.
It’s my birthday month. No, it doesn’t mean I celebrate myself for a whole 31 days. It just means my birthday lands on a day this month that is between 1 and 31 and can be equal to or greater than 1 or equal to or less than 31. 😉
As you can see from my photographic evidence, on my birthday this year my mom made me a birthday non-alcoholic beverage that was kind of like a virgin mojito. There is honey, mint and lemon in it and it is delicious. She also bought me a tiramisu cake. I got some ‘happy birthday’ texts/e-mails/birthday cards from a couple of friends/co-workers. Then I went out and redeemed my birthday freebies from Panera, B&B Theatres, and Sephora. Finally, I branded myself with a temporary tat just because. The free pastry I tried this year from Panera was the Bear Claw and I paired it with a caffè mocha. Both were fantastically yummy and bitter and sweet in all the right places at all the right times of consumption. No joke. I am looking forward to the day I get this combo again on a non-birthday day. I got to share my free large popcorn from B&B Theatres with my mom and she didn’t want any of the free soda, so I had a free large Dr. Pepper to myself. (In case you were wondering, I was not able to finish all of that soda.) At some point I will try my free birthday cream I got from Sephora. All in all, it was an enjoyable pandemic birthday.
BUT it also lead to my birthday melancholy. And I’m not talking about the virus. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. I’m not the kind of person who absolutely has to have a birthday party with all that jazz. I’m simply making some observations about birthdays. Just want to make that clear. I do have a lot to be grateful for, but I went through my annual birthday melancholy because the last couple of years it has become a barometer for who are the friends in my life who truly care about me. The measurement was who would remember my birthday on their own and simply wish me a ‘happy birthday.’ It sounds stupid, but that was the only measurement, despite the fact that I know I have friends who are just bad at remembering birthdays, but have been there for me throughout the other days of the year.
What brought this melancholy on was Facebook. There’s an option on Facebook to put your birthdate and then on your birthday you would at least get a ton of messages pouring in from your Facebook friends due to the Facebook reminder. But I’m stubborn and chose not to follow the trend and so decided not to post my birthdate on my Facebook. My thought process is I don’t want to get ‘happy birthday’ messages on Facebook as a way for people to have a cheap reminder for when it is my birthday, therefore not “counting.” So when I get a text or e-mail instead, I’ll know this friend took the time to remember my birthday on their own or maybe they wrote it down somewhere on their personal calendar or something. The point is it’s more personal this way than Facebook. I know I’ll get a lot more birthday wishes if I put it on Facebook, but when I don’t without the Facebook reminder, that’s when the sadness sets in and turns into melancholy. I know it’s silly to feel this way, but that’s how I’ve been feeling every year on my birthday now.
It’s so weird because I look back on my past birthdays and I know I’m feeling this because I used to get several texts and even birthday hangouts where a group of us girls who all had birthdays in July would go out and do something fun together to celebrate. That was in my 20s. Before that I had birthday parties and birthday dinners with my closest friends. I guess in my head I start wondering what happened to those friends and those days. So this year I wanted to take a picture of everything I got to treat myself on my birthday and I got to thinking if I lose every single friend I ever have one day, at the very least I have a way I can celebrate on my own. Because no matter what, I will always support myself to live, to keep going, to keep trying to make sense of this crazy thing we call life, whether there’s a Facebook reminder for that or not.
Lewis Carroll was the one to come up with “I believed in six impossible things before breakfast.” I’ve been thinking of this quote a lot lately because if there ever was a time to use your imagination, now would be it. While I don’t have any kids, I’m sure it’s an especially useful piece of advice if you do. When you are stuck inside your home for most of the day, one of the only things that can prevent your brain from going completely insane is using your imagination.
Maybe it doesn’t have to happen all before breakfast, but now is a good time to start imagining six impossible things every day as a brain exercise when you get bitten by the bored bug. I wonder if we all did that and had this online forum where everyone could pull together all their ideas for impossible things in one place we could solve climate change and world peace in no time. Of course this would only work for people who are still employed and have the free time to jot something down. Those who are not employed and depend on a current paycheck are going to be busy figuring out where their next paycheck is going to come from.
And not everyone takes well to books and jotting ideas down in a notebook, but I’m serious though. Nothing would be taboo. This isn’t the time to worry about taboo. Anything to help someone live his or her life better during a pandemic would be welcome. Because that’s what impossible things are. Not just unicorns and vampires and ghosts and UFOs. But ways the unemployed could get paid and local businesses could keep going without customers and without the need to open up for example. Or making 400 lasagnas to give to people who need a meal or two, like the article I read about this woman doing exactly that the other day.
In this world where we see many uninspiring things going on day by day, it is truly inspiring to read about someone willing to be the first to do something everyone else is afraid of realizing. Everyone is afraid to sacrifice for others, especially when they feel their own needs aren’t met yet. But even those who are getting their immediate needs met have trouble sacrificing for others. I don’t know what exactly that says about us as a human race, but I do know one of my six impossible things is people willing to sacrifice for others without a promise to gain anything in return. What’s your six impossible things?