Not a right.
Ok, this topic has long been taunting me to write about. I can truthfully say wearing spandex has definitely gone out of my fashion habits. It's just an "um, no" moment. At my weight and my body type, I've got as much business wearing spandex as Michael Jordan has playing baseball. It can be done, but why would you when you know it's not for you or where your talents lie?
Here we go. All over UNLV I've come across one very stomach turning conclusion... people have no idea what they look like from the outside. I've seen countless girls walking around on campus in spandex leggings with mukluk boots. Ok, first, we live in the desert. WTF are they doing in mukluks? This is not Seattle or Portland or (God forbid) Montreal. The other type of boot I'm seeing in record number is the knee high leather boot with either a stiletto heel or flat. Ok, the flats I can deal with, but WTF (again) are they doing walking mile upon mile across campus in stilettos? I know it's some sort of fashion thing, but really, why kill your back, shorten the tendons in your legs or do other physical damage to yourself by wearing a shoe meant for going out? I'm sorry but university study is not a fashion event. You're going to school to learn, not walk around in prostitute pumps. Alas, there they are.
What makes it far, far worse is that the girls in the spandex and prostitute pumps do not have near the bodies to be pulling it off. Case in point, I saw a girl, heaver than I am, walking in front of me on the way to class in spandex pants with a butt that looked like cottage cheese. Oy veh! Really? I would have keeled over dead before stepping out of my apartment looking like that. I shuddered inside as I walked past her thinking to myself, "WTF were you thinking? The number on your scale should have given you a clue."
Now I'll admit, I'm not the world's greatest fashionista. I'm not. I'm very much the denim and tennis shoe type. I'm very organic yet stylish. But these girls walking around in spandex and not remembering the great line, "Spandex is a privilege, not a right," should be taken multiple pictures of and shown what they really look like. It's the ruler across the knuckles going, "NO!"
This brings us to my daily trip to my mailbox where I found a new Victoria's Secret catalog. In it were the new bathing suits for summer. I looked at some of them absolutely aghast, particularly one model who was wearing a set of bottoms that, had she not waxed, would have shown her patch. I pity the poor airbrush artist that had to work on that photo because it was downright scary how low those bottoms went. Hip hugger? No, not even close, it was more like a "patch hugger." Then it occurred to me, there are girls out there looking at that catalog right now and buying those bathing suits. They also happen to be girls without the common sense to invoke the "privilege/right" mindset. It's frightening to think about because they are going to be committing fashion faux pas so hard that it's going to stop being funny because we'll all be looking at them going, "WTF were you thinking?" A cottage cheese backside in a "patch hugger." Ok, are you nauseous yet? I am.
Oh yes, those girls are going to be lining up spending their money on a bathing suit they have no business wearing. I'm sorry but a muffin top in a patch hugger is just a "NO" to me. This is why all of my clothing doesn't show a single detail I do not want seen. I can cleavage out the wazoo, ain't nothing wrong with my top, but let me tell you, I'd rather wear a moo-moo or something crafted by a tent maker than even begin to show a dimple in my backside. Yet, there they are, walking by the hundreds...I'm not kidding, HUNDREDS across campus with not a clue that they're committing a crime against my eyes that no amount of eye-bleach can cure. Damn it...Spandex is a privilege girls! Get it through your heads!
You know, I just had a funny thought. Let's get Steve Jobs on the phone and tell him he needs to develop a new product. iBleach. It's for all of us who have seen things we could have gone the rest of our life without.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Post-Oscar
Ok, say it, go ahead say it out loud..."Sheri, you were right." Yes, I know. James Franco is now dubbed "Styrofoam Man" because he looked stoned and was about as exciting as watching paint dry. Anne Hathaway however, was really the host, the producers of the show just forgot to tell us that she was the host and James Franco was to be the token male host for the evening, in essence being her straight man so she could get the laughs. Well done Anne! She was bright, bubbly, glamorous, funny as all get out and overall she knocked it out of the park. For the record I'll say this:
Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences:
James Franco was a disaster at this year's Oscars. Not only did he seem shady and shifty, he also made watching the telecast boring. Anne Hathaway however, did an outstanding job, so I only have seven words to share with you for the 84th presentation of your awards...
Bring Anne Hathaway back again next year.
p.s. And pair her with Hugh Jackman.
Now on to the great and not so great moments:
Dear Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences:
James Franco was a disaster at this year's Oscars. Not only did he seem shady and shifty, he also made watching the telecast boring. Anne Hathaway however, did an outstanding job, so I only have seven words to share with you for the 84th presentation of your awards...
Bring Anne Hathaway back again next year.
p.s. And pair her with Hugh Jackman.
Now on to the great and not so great moments:
- Someone please call Melissa Leo and remind her that ABC (the network that broadcast the Oscars) is owned by Disney. Disney is so anti-F-bomb that Melissa Leo has lost any chance of EVER being in a Disney produced film.
- Did you notice the Union jabs? Ah yes, the Wisconsin Teachers Union was cheering their head off every time someone thanked their union.
- Nice work by the documentary winner in his role as Captain Obvious: taking time in his acceptance speech to note the fact that not one single bank CEO, responsible for the financial woes we're experiencing, is in jail.
- Did you notice the very subtle music cues? They made it soft enough so that the folks running over time would have a nice send off along with Melissa Leo off to the side yelling, "Get the F off the stage!"
- What was with the choice of James Franco's grey tux shirt? Was it me or did he look dirty, like he was stuck in the crevasse that was 128 Hours?
- Note to the producers: Never put a female host in an electric blue dress. That really hurt my eyes along with the fact that Anne looked like she put in a call to The Blue Man Group to borrow some of their latex.
- Colin Firth. Cardboard. Colin Firth. Cardboard. You decide.
- "Triangle of Man-Love." Oh, that's just waiting to become a catch phrase, right next to Queen Latifah's "lady-wood."
- The Bob Hope hologram. Well done. See, even if you're dead it doesn't give the great Oscar hosts an out for at least hosting a little bit. Just ask Billy Crystal.
- Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law. Was it me or were they subliminally promoting Sherlock Holmes II?
- Related to #10: Did you happen to see Robert Downey Jr.'s face when Iron Man 2 lost for visual effects? Ok, dude, it was against Inception, you were expecting something else?
- The look on Christopher Nolan's face when his original screenplay lost. Oooh, he was piiiiiiissed.
- The flashbacks of a pregnant Catherine Zeta Jones whipping out the zinger about pregnancy when she won for "Chicago" when Natalie Portman was accepting her Oscar for Black Swan.
- Sandra Bullock's delivery of the line to Jeff Bridges, "Dude! Dude! You won last year, how about spacing it out." I could hear Flynn's retort from Tron: Legacy, "You're really messing with my Zen, man."
- Kirk Douglas. Kirk Douglas. Kirk Douglas. Hysfrigginsterical. "Where were you when I was making pictures?" His stalling before announcing the winners was awesome! He's what 94 years old and he was bar none the best part of the whole show? This is why he is a legend.
- Cate Blanchett, what was that dress about? Yellow and Lavender? Eeek. Loved her hair though.
- The stop moment for Lena Horne during In Memoriam. Necessary? Unnecessary? You decide.
- Christian Bale admitting he's got a bad temper.
- Oscars for Alice in Wonderland. You know that had to make me happy.
- That it ended seven minutes after it was supposed to. Check the internet tomorrow, it might be a record for the shortest Oscar telecast.
Ok, so I covered 20 points right off the top of my head. Not bad. But, as the stars head for the Governor's Ball, the Vanity Fair party and all of the rest of the fantastic Oscar parties, it's time for me to head back to the books, write my Timeline paper for Personal Growth, read a chapter out of my Global Media book and hit the sack, hey, 5 a.m. comes early for those of us not lucky enough to be rich and famous.
But, it was nice to have a bit of glitz and glamor for the evening, wasn't it?
I have to come back to this one more time because it's grating on my nerves. Yay Anne! Good for her. She hosted a great show. The whole thing with her and Jackman was hysterical. I just wish they'd not paired James Franco with her. Was it me or did he look like he could have cared less to be there, so he tried to self-medicate with a half-ton of marijuana? I'm serious, he looked stoned! But what made it worse was them making him up like Marilyn Monroe. Drag queens all over the country went, "Um, no." It's like Anne said during the telecast, "Drink at home folks!"
It's Oscar Night
Ok, my last few posts have been pathetic. I'll admit it. A guy stands me up and I jump off the deep end. Yes, I do see my own flaws clearly in the mirror. But, the first step in correcting faults is to accept their existence and move forward from there. So, there goes me being pathetic, ok, thanks, bye.
Let's get back to what I love, the movies. There's no better way to celebrate a love of movies than to break out the popcorn, a good bottle of wine and delve into the glamor that is Hollywood. It's Oscar Night! Woot!
How am I spending Oscar Night? Well, since the red carpet starts in only a few short hours, I'm going to get dolled up and start preparing one of my famous "living room picnics."
The Living Room Picnic.
It's been a tradition in my family for years. What you do is go into your kitchen and find every single finger food there is to munch on. From chips and dip to sliced tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella, prosciutto-wrapped melon, cold cuts, crackers and Brie, whatever your tastes, it all gets laid out. It takes a good couple of hours to get everything ready for the evening, but with a clean living room, pristine vacuumed floors and everything dusted to perfection, all you need to do is light a few candles and set up your picnic just the way you'd like. It's a buffet that you just pick at during the marathon telecast that is events like the Super Bowl or The Oscars. So, break out your table cloth, throw it over your coffee table, break out the little serving dishes for your favorite condiments and prepare yourself for a grand gnoshfest. It's a couch-potato's dream. The best thing about a living room picnic? The leftovers. You get to eat like a king or queen for a week from all the stuff that's left over.
The Red Carpet.
At 3 p.m. Pacific time, the Red Carpet footage starts rolling on channels like E! Entertainment Television. What's nice is that the cut-out from my kitchen sink that looks into my living room will make it easy to prepare food while I'm watching the interviews and seeing the fashions that the stars are wearing. It's fun to watch folks, who have been getting primped and preened since the early morning hours, walk as finished products down the Red Carpet. Is it me or is it just fun to give the "nod" or "shake" of the head to gowns and tuxedos that weren't well done? Think about it though, what they wear and how they look will dictate to millions how they want to look. Me? Nah, not so much. I just watch to see what they're wearing to just admire the work of countless stylists and how they market the "brand" that is the star they've worked on all day.
The Telecast.
At 5 p.m. Pacific time, the telecast starts. This is the part where I'm going to be curled up with my fleece blanket on my couch, school books in my lap, reading during the commercials (and taking notes on the well done ads).
In total, 24 categories are being honored tonight, from Best Picture all the way down to sound mixing and visual effects. It's what the academy voters think should be recognized as the best in last year's films. I have to say one thing, let's give props to the writers, without their imagination (or lack thereof considering all of the reboots and remakes we're having to endure) we wouldn't have movies without the writers. Now, if we could only inspire them to be ORIGINAL in their work. Gratefully, there are five pictures that were classified as "original" for this year's awards. The list includes a movie I've never even heard of, Another Year. I'm contemplating that possibly, given the reboot/remake factor, they really had to scrape the barrel to find anything.
This year, we're assaulted in the Best Picture category with 10 different movies. Of all the movies on the list, I've only seen two, Inception and Toy Story 3. The rest of the list, outside of The Kings Speech, is filled with movies I could care less about seeing. My big film of the year, Tron: Legacy isn't the type of material the awards shows like to covet, so the majority of Oscar's list for Best Picture is all 'meh' to me. But TEN films in the Best Picture category? Come on. That's too many. I know they're taking a page out of my rulebook which says we have to make sure everyone knows the nutritional value they give us, but come on, ten is too many. They need to scale it back to only five again.
The other part of the whole Oscar hoorah is one that brings me the most dismay, the choice of this year's host, James Franco. Ok, he's not even remotely sniffing at my hotties list and according to some of the articles I've read, we're all O.D.'ing on James Franco. His film, 128 Hours, is on the Best Picture list. From his appearance in Eat, Pray, Love to his (what I know him best from) work in the Spider Man films, to me, he's just a giant 'meh' too. I mean, what happened to Billy Crystal? HE was an Oscar host! Jackman flopped, but still, he was good eye-candy. James Franco? He always seems to have the consistency of styrofoam to me, so I'm just hoping he does well and proves me wrong. The saving grace and silver lining of the whole thing is that they've paired him with Anne Hathaway. For all Anne's quirky awkwardness combined with glamorous exterior, I think she'll save the whole evening. Good luck Anne!
All that taken into consideration, it's going to be a long night. Last night on ABC News they had a little story about how acceptance speeches are 45 seconds long and how some stars don't like to take the hint that they've gone too long by ignoring the music. For those folks, I think they should bring the Vaudeville hooks back...you know those really long hooks that grab people around the waist and forcibly remove them from the stage? Yeah, 45 seconds is enough to say thank you to everyone. If you're speechless, then just grab Oscar by the neck, hug him tightly, get out the words "Thank You" and move on. There are 24 awards to get through in roughly three and a half hours, doing the math, that's eight awards per hour with the stage show and commercials thrown in.
But speaking of time! Oooh! It's 2:50! I better get going!
So whether you're doing a Living Room Picnic or sitting at a swanky restaurant (swoon...Spago Oscar Parties...*faint*), enjoy Oscar's big night.
Let's get back to what I love, the movies. There's no better way to celebrate a love of movies than to break out the popcorn, a good bottle of wine and delve into the glamor that is Hollywood. It's Oscar Night! Woot!
How am I spending Oscar Night? Well, since the red carpet starts in only a few short hours, I'm going to get dolled up and start preparing one of my famous "living room picnics."
The Living Room Picnic.
It's been a tradition in my family for years. What you do is go into your kitchen and find every single finger food there is to munch on. From chips and dip to sliced tomatoes with buffalo mozzarella, prosciutto-wrapped melon, cold cuts, crackers and Brie, whatever your tastes, it all gets laid out. It takes a good couple of hours to get everything ready for the evening, but with a clean living room, pristine vacuumed floors and everything dusted to perfection, all you need to do is light a few candles and set up your picnic just the way you'd like. It's a buffet that you just pick at during the marathon telecast that is events like the Super Bowl or The Oscars. So, break out your table cloth, throw it over your coffee table, break out the little serving dishes for your favorite condiments and prepare yourself for a grand gnoshfest. It's a couch-potato's dream. The best thing about a living room picnic? The leftovers. You get to eat like a king or queen for a week from all the stuff that's left over.
The Red Carpet.
At 3 p.m. Pacific time, the Red Carpet footage starts rolling on channels like E! Entertainment Television. What's nice is that the cut-out from my kitchen sink that looks into my living room will make it easy to prepare food while I'm watching the interviews and seeing the fashions that the stars are wearing. It's fun to watch folks, who have been getting primped and preened since the early morning hours, walk as finished products down the Red Carpet. Is it me or is it just fun to give the "nod" or "shake" of the head to gowns and tuxedos that weren't well done? Think about it though, what they wear and how they look will dictate to millions how they want to look. Me? Nah, not so much. I just watch to see what they're wearing to just admire the work of countless stylists and how they market the "brand" that is the star they've worked on all day.
The Telecast.
At 5 p.m. Pacific time, the telecast starts. This is the part where I'm going to be curled up with my fleece blanket on my couch, school books in my lap, reading during the commercials (and taking notes on the well done ads).
In total, 24 categories are being honored tonight, from Best Picture all the way down to sound mixing and visual effects. It's what the academy voters think should be recognized as the best in last year's films. I have to say one thing, let's give props to the writers, without their imagination (or lack thereof considering all of the reboots and remakes we're having to endure) we wouldn't have movies without the writers. Now, if we could only inspire them to be ORIGINAL in their work. Gratefully, there are five pictures that were classified as "original" for this year's awards. The list includes a movie I've never even heard of, Another Year. I'm contemplating that possibly, given the reboot/remake factor, they really had to scrape the barrel to find anything.
This year, we're assaulted in the Best Picture category with 10 different movies. Of all the movies on the list, I've only seen two, Inception and Toy Story 3. The rest of the list, outside of The Kings Speech, is filled with movies I could care less about seeing. My big film of the year, Tron: Legacy isn't the type of material the awards shows like to covet, so the majority of Oscar's list for Best Picture is all 'meh' to me. But TEN films in the Best Picture category? Come on. That's too many. I know they're taking a page out of my rulebook which says we have to make sure everyone knows the nutritional value they give us, but come on, ten is too many. They need to scale it back to only five again.
The other part of the whole Oscar hoorah is one that brings me the most dismay, the choice of this year's host, James Franco. Ok, he's not even remotely sniffing at my hotties list and according to some of the articles I've read, we're all O.D.'ing on James Franco. His film, 128 Hours, is on the Best Picture list. From his appearance in Eat, Pray, Love to his (what I know him best from) work in the Spider Man films, to me, he's just a giant 'meh' too. I mean, what happened to Billy Crystal? HE was an Oscar host! Jackman flopped, but still, he was good eye-candy. James Franco? He always seems to have the consistency of styrofoam to me, so I'm just hoping he does well and proves me wrong. The saving grace and silver lining of the whole thing is that they've paired him with Anne Hathaway. For all Anne's quirky awkwardness combined with glamorous exterior, I think she'll save the whole evening. Good luck Anne!
All that taken into consideration, it's going to be a long night. Last night on ABC News they had a little story about how acceptance speeches are 45 seconds long and how some stars don't like to take the hint that they've gone too long by ignoring the music. For those folks, I think they should bring the Vaudeville hooks back...you know those really long hooks that grab people around the waist and forcibly remove them from the stage? Yeah, 45 seconds is enough to say thank you to everyone. If you're speechless, then just grab Oscar by the neck, hug him tightly, get out the words "Thank You" and move on. There are 24 awards to get through in roughly three and a half hours, doing the math, that's eight awards per hour with the stage show and commercials thrown in.
But speaking of time! Oooh! It's 2:50! I better get going!
So whether you're doing a Living Room Picnic or sitting at a swanky restaurant (swoon...Spago Oscar Parties...*faint*), enjoy Oscar's big night.
Friday, February 25, 2011
The State of Love and Trust
I've not written in a while. After the Strep Throat/Flu combo I had, I just didn't have the energy to put what I was going through into a form for human consumption. I don't know, lately, I've just become apathetic. Have you ever had one of those moments where everything seems so blah that things aren't even worth doing or observing? That's where I'm at.
School this semester is just one long grind and I'm to the point where I just feel like I'm going through the motions. It's not that the professors are bad or the content isn't learnable, it's just blah. It's really nothing to get overly excited about.
Last night, I went to bed at 10:30. Me? In bed by 10:30? Come on, that's not even close to right, it was my "Friday" but, even with an invite to go out to ladies night with Haley, I was just worn out.
I got stood up on Wednesday night. I was supposed to have a Skype date with KP but he never showed. What makes it so horrible is that I did my hair, fixed my face and got all dolled up for it only to sit and wait for two hours for someone who never showed. It was decimating. I should have known better, but still, I guess when you get your hopes up and they get dashed, it's only natural that you'd feel disappointed and hurt.
After I shut down my computer, I laid down on my couch and looked up at my mantle where my "Love" poster sits. I looked at it and started to cry. It was then that I realized that maybe I'm not supposed to have love this time around on the planet. I thought about it in a very rational sense, considering that my entire life has been marked by a series of failures in the love department.
Thursday on our "walk to the cars" after class, I described the whole thing to Haley. I told her about the wreckage that is the sum total of my love life. I pondered the situation even going so far as to think that maybe the one guy for me died in some car crash or that maybe I'm the leftover of my generation, as in the fates paired everyone up and I was the leftover. It's possible. It was then that Haley told me about her grandmother who has lived the last 50 years on her own and is happy as a clam. Haley described it as her grandmother "doesn't have anything to worry about, she doesn't have to deal with anyone else and she's happy with that." It gave me hope. Maybe if I become independently wealthy and not worry about my heart, loving myself enough that I won't want anyone else to do that, everything will work out.
But all that really didn't put to rest the fact that Wednesday night, curled up and crying on my couch was the first time I'd felt alone since the ex left. I'm always staying busy, but in that moment, curled up looking at that poster on my mantle, I really realized that I'm alone. I have my friends, which are great, and who I love dearly, but I guess there's something very vacuous about knowing that there isn't some guy out there who thinks I'm the most precious thing in the world; who thinks I'm beautiful or worth spending time with. It sucks when I'm a world class romantic with no one to share it with. I'm not really having problems with my self-worth, I know I'm worth a lot, it's just right now that I'm seeing what it's like with no one here.
Haley really did try to give me a silver lining for the whole situation, saying that I had it good, I could walk around my house naked (which I don't do), and do everything and anything I wanted, such as declaring my own bed time, playing music as loud as I want, and a list of things I do already. She was being the message Chance used to be for me, which was to enjoy what I have. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy what I have and I'm very grateful for it. I'm grateful for all my friends and for Nan and Carl. They're all great. But, it's the one missing piece of the puzzle that's got me down today.
I have been going to bed alone for the last 20 months and I'm fine with it. I don't get freaked out or anything because I'm alone. I have no issue with being alone in general, and I prefer it that way, but I really don't dig on the sensation of being unloved. That's my thing right there, being unloved. It pisses me off because I know I'm worth being loved. Yeah, I'm hell on feet sometimes, but gods, everyone deserves to be loved, don't they?
Meh, to hell with it. I've survived this long, doesn't mean I can't go longer. If I die alone then that's how it was meant to be and there is nothing I can do to change it. You can't force things that aren't there or aren't supposed to be there in the first place. Reality Check: I'm alone. It's cool. It means I don't have to accommodate someone else or tread delicately for fear I may hurt their feelings. I guess a lot of people would love to have that kind of freedom, wouldn't they?
But, let's cheer it up a bit. I went through Time Magazine's Top 25 movie soundtracks...it was a lot of fun to see what tunes made their way into the consciousness of the world. What I found surprising is that most of the films were rather nostalgic. The entire list was a lamentation of things we loved and lost, from The Big Chill to the counter-culture view of Easy Rider and went to my favorite movie from the 90's Singles. They even had a few 80's classics in there, like Sixteen Candles. It reminded me of my fascination with Roxy Music back in the day. I always did love the new wave edge of things because they didn't prescribe to the norm. I've always hated the establishment and trends and while I watch the girls walking the miles of the UNLV campus in stiletto boots, I look down at my ratty pair of Brooks running shoes or Doc Martens and smile.
However, as much as I like to laugh at the very image conscious, I've taken a step in that direction, stopping in at the local beauty supply store and picking up a set of hot rollers and a new curling iron. I have to say, I do look vaguely rockin' with bilious curls which fall after an hour. LOL. Meh, I look good for me. If no one else sees it, it's their loss. But pair those curls up with a pair of Cherry Red Doc Martens, some black liquid liner and some hippy chic from Lucky and you've got a unique original. That's me, a blend of hippy, goth and grunge. How fun.
Ok, song of the day, let's go back to the 90's, my favorite song from the Singles Soundtrack, Pearl Jam's "State of Love and Trust."
School this semester is just one long grind and I'm to the point where I just feel like I'm going through the motions. It's not that the professors are bad or the content isn't learnable, it's just blah. It's really nothing to get overly excited about.
Last night, I went to bed at 10:30. Me? In bed by 10:30? Come on, that's not even close to right, it was my "Friday" but, even with an invite to go out to ladies night with Haley, I was just worn out.
I got stood up on Wednesday night. I was supposed to have a Skype date with KP but he never showed. What makes it so horrible is that I did my hair, fixed my face and got all dolled up for it only to sit and wait for two hours for someone who never showed. It was decimating. I should have known better, but still, I guess when you get your hopes up and they get dashed, it's only natural that you'd feel disappointed and hurt.
After I shut down my computer, I laid down on my couch and looked up at my mantle where my "Love" poster sits. I looked at it and started to cry. It was then that I realized that maybe I'm not supposed to have love this time around on the planet. I thought about it in a very rational sense, considering that my entire life has been marked by a series of failures in the love department.
Thursday on our "walk to the cars" after class, I described the whole thing to Haley. I told her about the wreckage that is the sum total of my love life. I pondered the situation even going so far as to think that maybe the one guy for me died in some car crash or that maybe I'm the leftover of my generation, as in the fates paired everyone up and I was the leftover. It's possible. It was then that Haley told me about her grandmother who has lived the last 50 years on her own and is happy as a clam. Haley described it as her grandmother "doesn't have anything to worry about, she doesn't have to deal with anyone else and she's happy with that." It gave me hope. Maybe if I become independently wealthy and not worry about my heart, loving myself enough that I won't want anyone else to do that, everything will work out.
But all that really didn't put to rest the fact that Wednesday night, curled up and crying on my couch was the first time I'd felt alone since the ex left. I'm always staying busy, but in that moment, curled up looking at that poster on my mantle, I really realized that I'm alone. I have my friends, which are great, and who I love dearly, but I guess there's something very vacuous about knowing that there isn't some guy out there who thinks I'm the most precious thing in the world; who thinks I'm beautiful or worth spending time with. It sucks when I'm a world class romantic with no one to share it with. I'm not really having problems with my self-worth, I know I'm worth a lot, it's just right now that I'm seeing what it's like with no one here.
Haley really did try to give me a silver lining for the whole situation, saying that I had it good, I could walk around my house naked (which I don't do), and do everything and anything I wanted, such as declaring my own bed time, playing music as loud as I want, and a list of things I do already. She was being the message Chance used to be for me, which was to enjoy what I have. Don't get me wrong, I do enjoy what I have and I'm very grateful for it. I'm grateful for all my friends and for Nan and Carl. They're all great. But, it's the one missing piece of the puzzle that's got me down today.
I have been going to bed alone for the last 20 months and I'm fine with it. I don't get freaked out or anything because I'm alone. I have no issue with being alone in general, and I prefer it that way, but I really don't dig on the sensation of being unloved. That's my thing right there, being unloved. It pisses me off because I know I'm worth being loved. Yeah, I'm hell on feet sometimes, but gods, everyone deserves to be loved, don't they?
Meh, to hell with it. I've survived this long, doesn't mean I can't go longer. If I die alone then that's how it was meant to be and there is nothing I can do to change it. You can't force things that aren't there or aren't supposed to be there in the first place. Reality Check: I'm alone. It's cool. It means I don't have to accommodate someone else or tread delicately for fear I may hurt their feelings. I guess a lot of people would love to have that kind of freedom, wouldn't they?
But, let's cheer it up a bit. I went through Time Magazine's Top 25 movie soundtracks...it was a lot of fun to see what tunes made their way into the consciousness of the world. What I found surprising is that most of the films were rather nostalgic. The entire list was a lamentation of things we loved and lost, from The Big Chill to the counter-culture view of Easy Rider and went to my favorite movie from the 90's Singles. They even had a few 80's classics in there, like Sixteen Candles. It reminded me of my fascination with Roxy Music back in the day. I always did love the new wave edge of things because they didn't prescribe to the norm. I've always hated the establishment and trends and while I watch the girls walking the miles of the UNLV campus in stiletto boots, I look down at my ratty pair of Brooks running shoes or Doc Martens and smile.
However, as much as I like to laugh at the very image conscious, I've taken a step in that direction, stopping in at the local beauty supply store and picking up a set of hot rollers and a new curling iron. I have to say, I do look vaguely rockin' with bilious curls which fall after an hour. LOL. Meh, I look good for me. If no one else sees it, it's their loss. But pair those curls up with a pair of Cherry Red Doc Martens, some black liquid liner and some hippy chic from Lucky and you've got a unique original. That's me, a blend of hippy, goth and grunge. How fun.
Ok, song of the day, let's go back to the 90's, my favorite song from the Singles Soundtrack, Pearl Jam's "State of Love and Trust."
Friday, February 18, 2011
Being Catchy.
Where do catch phrases come from? I have no idea, but someone out there one day started saying "TMI," and it stuck. Now people are screaming out "TMI" on everything from sitcoms to t-shirts. Everywhere in pop-culture, when you're being told more than you want to know, it quickly falls under the TMI rule. Wonder who started it?
I use quirky phrases. Lots of times I've seen people just burst into laughter and ask me where I get the funny things that come out of my mouth. I don't know really, all I know is that I can't help it. It's just who I am and sometimes those quirky phrases stick. Everyone knows that I'm basically a student of the world. I pick up things here and there and I usually don't think about their origins much, I just use it and it sticks.
Back in the days of There.com, a friend of mine and I sat down one evening and were considering the state of the Uru Community in There and after much deliberation, given that we were a diaspora (a dispersion of a people from their original homeland, most often used to describe Jewish communities), we started to use yiddish slang for a number of reasons. The Uru Community in There were some of the hardest working folks around. We ran the university, we had some of the greatest creatives who made everything from 3D models to unique clothing designs. Uruites were behind the Neighborhoods Committee who decided on community based awards for the best decorated 'hoods and they were actually the ones who really pushed to take Port-a-zone communities and turn them into large neighborhoods with individual lots. We sat on almost every single Members Advisory Board in the history of There.com. I even pulled a 6-month term on the MAB myself.
I use quirky phrases. Lots of times I've seen people just burst into laughter and ask me where I get the funny things that come out of my mouth. I don't know really, all I know is that I can't help it. It's just who I am and sometimes those quirky phrases stick. Everyone knows that I'm basically a student of the world. I pick up things here and there and I usually don't think about their origins much, I just use it and it sticks.
Back in the days of There.com, a friend of mine and I sat down one evening and were considering the state of the Uru Community in There and after much deliberation, given that we were a diaspora (a dispersion of a people from their original homeland, most often used to describe Jewish communities), we started to use yiddish slang for a number of reasons. The Uru Community in There were some of the hardest working folks around. We ran the university, we had some of the greatest creatives who made everything from 3D models to unique clothing designs. Uruites were behind the Neighborhoods Committee who decided on community based awards for the best decorated 'hoods and they were actually the ones who really pushed to take Port-a-zone communities and turn them into large neighborhoods with individual lots. We sat on almost every single Members Advisory Board in the history of There.com. I even pulled a 6-month term on the MAB myself.
Much less to say, we Uruites kicked butt. We were community builders - and since our home had been taken away - we found somewhere else to live. It wasn't without it's drama or complications. Many an Uru-Therian can tell you stories of discrimination, griefing and other horrid atrocities visited upon them. The first Uruites to hit the Therian shores didn't have an easy time of it to say the least. But as we're survivors of the first order, we made it work and the stories of triumph soon followed. So, long story short, my pal and I started throwing around some yiddish words and phrases, "oy veh" being our favorite.
By the time I started playing in WoW, "oy veh" had become a part of my vocabulary. It just feels good to say because you're not really cussing, you're not being offensive and it's better than "Oh my God." Some people don't dig on blasphemers, I get it, so "oy veh" stuck. Trust me, when those big, burly men I was playing the video game with were throwing things around that you felt the need to use eye bleach to get rid of the visual they were giving you, "oy veh" sufficed nicely and shut them up quickly because they knew when they heard me say it or saw it in type, they knew they had gone too far.
Also in WoW, there are always tons of nice little patches of fire, or my personal nemesis, the ever-present "void zones" that someone always seems to step, or in worst case, stand in. Now, some people call those patches "bad." They refer to it by saying "don't stand in bad." Other people just call it by it's most common name, "shit." As in, "don't stand in the shit on the ground." It makes sense, after all, who wants to step or stand in shit? It's crude I know, but funny. So, instead of calling it "bad" or "shit," I call it "schmutz," meaning "dirt" or "filth."
I've used the phrase, "Don't stand in the schmutz" for about two years now and boy, has it stuck! It has the "sh" sound at the beginning, but it's not crass. I didn't realize I had coined a catch phrase until a few weeks ago when my new raid leader, Chris, popped up in vent in a very southern drawl and said, "Don't stand in the schmutz." I started laughing hysterically. When I started playing almost 4 years ago, no one would ever imagine to call the spots of fire or void zones on the ground "schmutz," but now they do. KP uses it, every single guildie of mine, when they see stuff on the ground that can hurt them, all pop up and say, "Don't stand in the schmutz!" I've coined a catch phrase. LOL.
But my all time favorite catch phrase I use is "Hugs to you." It's a phrase I picked up off of my Auntie June and I'm grateful to her every day for teaching it to me. It was always so sweet when we used to goof around in Uru or There.com or any online world I've been around June, she always says, "Hugs to you," which I think is one of the sweetest expressions, it simply says that you deserve a hug and if she was there to hug you, she would. So, I snapped it up and began to use it.
By the time I started playing in WoW, "oy veh" had become a part of my vocabulary. It just feels good to say because you're not really cussing, you're not being offensive and it's better than "Oh my God." Some people don't dig on blasphemers, I get it, so "oy veh" stuck. Trust me, when those big, burly men I was playing the video game with were throwing things around that you felt the need to use eye bleach to get rid of the visual they were giving you, "oy veh" sufficed nicely and shut them up quickly because they knew when they heard me say it or saw it in type, they knew they had gone too far.
Also in WoW, there are always tons of nice little patches of fire, or my personal nemesis, the ever-present "void zones" that someone always seems to step, or in worst case, stand in. Now, some people call those patches "bad." They refer to it by saying "don't stand in bad." Other people just call it by it's most common name, "shit." As in, "don't stand in the shit on the ground." It makes sense, after all, who wants to step or stand in shit? It's crude I know, but funny. So, instead of calling it "bad" or "shit," I call it "schmutz," meaning "dirt" or "filth."
I've used the phrase, "Don't stand in the schmutz" for about two years now and boy, has it stuck! It has the "sh" sound at the beginning, but it's not crass. I didn't realize I had coined a catch phrase until a few weeks ago when my new raid leader, Chris, popped up in vent in a very southern drawl and said, "Don't stand in the schmutz." I started laughing hysterically. When I started playing almost 4 years ago, no one would ever imagine to call the spots of fire or void zones on the ground "schmutz," but now they do. KP uses it, every single guildie of mine, when they see stuff on the ground that can hurt them, all pop up and say, "Don't stand in the schmutz!" I've coined a catch phrase. LOL.
But my all time favorite catch phrase I use is "Hugs to you." It's a phrase I picked up off of my Auntie June and I'm grateful to her every day for teaching it to me. It was always so sweet when we used to goof around in Uru or There.com or any online world I've been around June, she always says, "Hugs to you," which I think is one of the sweetest expressions, it simply says that you deserve a hug and if she was there to hug you, she would. So, I snapped it up and began to use it.
Everyone in my guilds, old and new, and all of my friends have always seen at one time or another the warm, sweet phrase, "Hugs to you." It's just a sweet thing to say to people you care about. It's warm and welcoming, and as my friend Janet once told me, "Greet everyone you meet with a smile on your face and love in your heart." "Hugs to you" does just that.
Last night, I got a whisper from one of my old guildmates. I'm not going to mention names, so don't ask. I visited with him for a good little while, we caught up, I told him about what was going on with me, he told me what was going on with him and we had one of our old-style sit-downs that we used to do fairly frequently. After all, everyone, at one time or another, always comes to see Mama Rel, and I guess he just figured it was time he came to have a visit with me. I don't mind one bit. He was a welcome sight.
You have to understand, this is not the type of person you would call "touchy-feely," to call him "overly warm" would be a stretch. When I met him, I was greeted with apathy. You could tell he was around to get things done then get out as soon as he could. Not what I would call a socialite in the least, but after a while, I wear most people down into being sweet. And, after a particularly grueling raid back in the days of Trial of the Crusader, when he didn't even acknowledge my existence as a person, he earned one of my famous nicknames and oh did it stick. What's worse is that the nickname I came up with for him was not the least bit masculine...that completely macho guy had his nickname derived from the Cruise Director on "The Love Boat" because he was buzzing around telling everyone where to go and what to do. But back then, everyone knew if you were anyone to me, you got a nickname. For example, my favorite druid of all time I used to call "The Great One" because he was so amazing to me. He was the healing druid equivalent of Gretzky, and he is a sweetheart of a man. A warrior tank I used to play with a lot got the nickname of "The Sultan of Sword and Board" sort of like "The Sultan of Swat" that they used to call Babe Ruth. Another pal got the nickname "Hotline" because he was able to handle any crisis you could throw his way. It was fun for me to come up with such creative names for them. What's even better is that they knew they wouldn't get one unless I truly thought the world of them, so that uber-masculine guy took that feminine nickname without even flinching, even answering to it when I'd call him by it in guild chat. But if someone else other than me dared to call him "Julie" they wouldn't live to see the next sunrise.
So last night, we sat and visited for a good two hours, and you know what, he was so warm and so sweet, I can't even begin to believe it's the same guy who wouldn't even acknowledge my presence without a sneer some two years ago.
When we finished up our conversation, I realized something. When people value you for who you are and respect you as a person, you start hearing your words come from their mouths. They like you enough to use your little catch phrases. I somehow wonder if it's a sign of respect and maybe it's a sign that says you've made an impact on their life.
Funny thing was, I just fell into a pile of mush with a huge "awwww" and a hand covering my heart when that macho guy, who has the crassest, toughest exterior I've ever seen, wrapped up our conversation with the simple phrase...
Hugs to you.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentines Day alone with the flu.
Now, I think this should rate high on the suck-o-meter. Sick and on top of that, it's the most romantic day of the year with the added fact that the one guy in the universe that I want to be here is 2500 miles away. Gods, this sucks.
Ok, so instead of being my own guest of honor at my own personal pity party, I've decided to make the day as fun as possible. I woke up a bit ago, still feeling like roadkill, the truck that has mowed me down every morning for the last four days has decided to effectively put it in reverse and back up over me. Yeah, this flu crap is getting tiresome...
But, I'm not going to let my spirits get beat down. Ok, fine, it's Valentine's Day. The card destined for KP left the house on the 8th, so I know that it's there on time and he'll have it today. At least he feels loved, so we can check that off the list. Why he doesn't get off of his butt and reciprocate is a mystery to me, but let's face facts, he's just probably not that into me or is incredibly guarded. Either way, I know I did my part and I'm good with that.
I have to go to the doctor in a little bit, so while I'm out, I'm going to try to quickly, and with as least human contact as possible, get some supplies for the next couple of days. I'm out of juice and anything that remotely could be described as food. I need to do some minor grocery shopping or I'm not eating for the next couple of days. It's gotta get done. I'm alone, I like it that way for the most part (unless it's times like these where I really could use the help).
However, when it comes to dinner for tonight, I think I'm going to order myself some take-out. I've been dying to get my chops on a nice fat steak along with a baked potato with all the trimmings. So, I'm going to make it my mission to find a nice little restaurant that does that as carry-out, bring it home, cuddle up under my blankets with plenty of fluids and chow down. There is no reason in the world I can't have a good meal on a day like today.
Then, after eating, I plan to have a schmaltz-fest. Eat Pray Love, Lover Come Back, and some other romantic movies are ready to be queued up on the DVD player. My bed is covered in romance novels. Now, tell me I'm not smart...instead of having a guy around here that could screw something up or have me marvel at his manly nature of having only enough blood in his body to supply one of his two heads, be forgetful or miss the boat entirely on the whole romance aspect of the day, I'm opting for the chiseled bodies and romantic leanings of the romance novel hero. Hey, it's better than the real thing by a long shot and I can't give them my horrid flu. Besides, romance novel heroes don't burp, fart or leave a mess. They come in, sweep you off your feet, then when the adventure is over you put them back up on the shelf until they're needed again. As Madeline Kahn said in the movie Clue, "...like Kleenex, soft, strong and disposable." Which given the fact that I'm sneezing my head off, yeah, having a disposable guy for the day is just what I need, they don't make faces or look at you aghast that you're sick and look like roadkill.
Sick or not, I'm keeping my sense of humor because at this point, it's all I have. But, I keep reminding myself of some simple facts, I'm getting through this alone. No safety net, no helper, just getting through the bad to get to the good. I'm keeping my optimism because on days like these when the body aches, the nose feels like it's packed with cotton balls and is spewing all sorts of nasty crud, and the lungs are screaming out from coughing, that I'm forcing myself to remember what it feels like to be well and have tons of energy. I can do this, it's just that days like this suck, but they serve as a reminder to be grateful for what I have.
So, I'm going to supply myself with a romantic evening filled with things I enjoy. I've got a Mounds candy bar which I've been saving in my freezer for just the right occasion, I'm going to grab myself some popsicles to soothe my sore throat, I'm going to grab myself a steak, buy myself some flowers, some Puffs tissue with lotion (because my nose is awful raw) and remember that my happiness depends on no one else but myself.
Yeah, having a certain Hawaiian around here would be a brilliant bonus, but since he's not knocking on my door, I'll make due with what I have. Besides, being independent is sexy, right?
Ok, so instead of being my own guest of honor at my own personal pity party, I've decided to make the day as fun as possible. I woke up a bit ago, still feeling like roadkill, the truck that has mowed me down every morning for the last four days has decided to effectively put it in reverse and back up over me. Yeah, this flu crap is getting tiresome...
But, I'm not going to let my spirits get beat down. Ok, fine, it's Valentine's Day. The card destined for KP left the house on the 8th, so I know that it's there on time and he'll have it today. At least he feels loved, so we can check that off the list. Why he doesn't get off of his butt and reciprocate is a mystery to me, but let's face facts, he's just probably not that into me or is incredibly guarded. Either way, I know I did my part and I'm good with that.
I have to go to the doctor in a little bit, so while I'm out, I'm going to try to quickly, and with as least human contact as possible, get some supplies for the next couple of days. I'm out of juice and anything that remotely could be described as food. I need to do some minor grocery shopping or I'm not eating for the next couple of days. It's gotta get done. I'm alone, I like it that way for the most part (unless it's times like these where I really could use the help).
However, when it comes to dinner for tonight, I think I'm going to order myself some take-out. I've been dying to get my chops on a nice fat steak along with a baked potato with all the trimmings. So, I'm going to make it my mission to find a nice little restaurant that does that as carry-out, bring it home, cuddle up under my blankets with plenty of fluids and chow down. There is no reason in the world I can't have a good meal on a day like today.
Then, after eating, I plan to have a schmaltz-fest. Eat Pray Love, Lover Come Back, and some other romantic movies are ready to be queued up on the DVD player. My bed is covered in romance novels. Now, tell me I'm not smart...instead of having a guy around here that could screw something up or have me marvel at his manly nature of having only enough blood in his body to supply one of his two heads, be forgetful or miss the boat entirely on the whole romance aspect of the day, I'm opting for the chiseled bodies and romantic leanings of the romance novel hero. Hey, it's better than the real thing by a long shot and I can't give them my horrid flu. Besides, romance novel heroes don't burp, fart or leave a mess. They come in, sweep you off your feet, then when the adventure is over you put them back up on the shelf until they're needed again. As Madeline Kahn said in the movie Clue, "...like Kleenex, soft, strong and disposable." Which given the fact that I'm sneezing my head off, yeah, having a disposable guy for the day is just what I need, they don't make faces or look at you aghast that you're sick and look like roadkill.
Sick or not, I'm keeping my sense of humor because at this point, it's all I have. But, I keep reminding myself of some simple facts, I'm getting through this alone. No safety net, no helper, just getting through the bad to get to the good. I'm keeping my optimism because on days like these when the body aches, the nose feels like it's packed with cotton balls and is spewing all sorts of nasty crud, and the lungs are screaming out from coughing, that I'm forcing myself to remember what it feels like to be well and have tons of energy. I can do this, it's just that days like this suck, but they serve as a reminder to be grateful for what I have.
So, I'm going to supply myself with a romantic evening filled with things I enjoy. I've got a Mounds candy bar which I've been saving in my freezer for just the right occasion, I'm going to grab myself some popsicles to soothe my sore throat, I'm going to grab myself a steak, buy myself some flowers, some Puffs tissue with lotion (because my nose is awful raw) and remember that my happiness depends on no one else but myself.
Yeah, having a certain Hawaiian around here would be a brilliant bonus, but since he's not knocking on my door, I'll make due with what I have. Besides, being independent is sexy, right?
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Having the flu sucks.
Yes, I have the flu. They tell you, "get your flu shot," but for me the sheer paranoia of going through the flu because of the inoculation is enough to keep me away from them. I haven't had the flu in years...the last time I was this sick was probably 5 or 6 years ago...maybe more. Outside of an occasional cold or 24 hour bug, I've not had the full blown flu in a long time.
Yes, I'm sniffling, aching, coughing and just being all-around disgusting. It all started on Thursday. I got through the school week all in one piece, I was feeling good until Thursday night when I started having this annoying cough. I just kept coughing. I knew it wasn't a good sign.
Then it occurred to me...there was a girl who walked into my Monday Global Media class coughing her head off. She was one row up from me. So, guess who gave me the creeping crud? Some girl who didn't have the common sense to stay home when she's sick. Am I mad? YES. When Doc Fish saw her coughing her head off, he threw her very gently out of class, but not until her bug came to visit me.
I spent Friday flat on my back. I went through three sweat-soaked t-shirts. I was hot, then cold, then hot again, then cold. Then came the sneezing and the blocked up nose. I'm not happy. Then aches. More aches. More ibuprofen went down with more liquids. I went from awake to asleep, then I'd wake up again, take a drink, watch a bit of TV then pass back out again.
Then, in the middle of all of this, my two partners for my Global Media project send me all sorts of info for our project. Since I'm the creative, we decided last Wednesday I get to design the PowerPoint presentation. I looked at the Blackberry that held the e-mails and said, "It can wait," and passed back out again.
Saturday was just so much fun!!!! (Ok, I'm being sarcastic.) I woke up feeling like a truck had hit me, but since the girls had gone through so much trouble to get their research over to me, I sat enclosed in blankets with floor heater on and glass of juice creating our PowerPoint presentation. Want to see what our backdrop looks like?
Yeah, I found a photo I had taken of some Mayan ruins on my honeymoon almost 10 years ago and gave the photo some magic with Photoshop. Looks pretty cool, huh?
*Aaaaachoooo* Excuse me, I had to sneeze again.
Where was I? Oh, the backdrop. I just gave it a little zing and placed it, then just hammered through my research, then added their research to it, looking at the clock and knowing I had to get it done so that way I could curl back up with more Ibuprofen and blankets.
After I was done, I e-mailed it to my partners with a note that said, "I'm down and I'm not going to be in class until I'm at least 90% and contagion-free." At that, I fell back onto the couch with my pillow and blankets to watch some TV and eat some dinner.
Then I called KP. If there was any guy who could bring levity to my day, it was him. We talked for a bit, then I passed out again.
This morning I got up and felt like a truck had hit me. I took my thyroid meds and laid back down to wait for it to absorb. After that, I made myself some lunch, cleaned my kitchen and turned on the TV.
Now, being sick, you sleep and watch TV a lot. You do, that's the nature of the beast when you're sick. I have to say, this is the sickest I've been by myself. The last time I was this sick, the ex was here to take care of me. No no, it's much harder to be sick when you're alone. I grew up in a house that when you were sick, you stayed down. Mom was always on the scene with food, liquids, medicines, you name it. The ex wasn't the best in the world at taking care of me when I was sick. He always made me get up and come to the table to eat dinner. How I grew up is that you were brought dinner and ate laying down, then the plate was taken away, you took meds and then you went back to sleep or watched more TV until you passed back out.
Being sick while living alone sucks so huge. I'm having to get up, aches and all, and do everything. I'm tired and I'm stuffy and coughing. I don't want to get up, but I have to so I eat and do everything I need to do to take care of myself. This sucks. I'm spoiled...I know it, but it's always so much better when you have someone to take care of you when you feel like roadkill.
But what's worse, is that Friday and Saturday are always great TV days. Tons of great movies, good shows, all around good entertainment to get the mind off the aches and pains. Sundays suck as a TV day. The movie channels have nothing but crappy movies, so I flipped the channels to find "Ace of Cakes" and "Cupcake Wars" on the Food Network. Really? Is this what I'm reduced to? I'm sick and the best I can find is shows on baking and food? *Facepalm*
Ugh.
*aaaaachooo*
Damn.
I hate being sick. Having the flu sucks.
Yes, I'm sniffling, aching, coughing and just being all-around disgusting. It all started on Thursday. I got through the school week all in one piece, I was feeling good until Thursday night when I started having this annoying cough. I just kept coughing. I knew it wasn't a good sign.
Then it occurred to me...there was a girl who walked into my Monday Global Media class coughing her head off. She was one row up from me. So, guess who gave me the creeping crud? Some girl who didn't have the common sense to stay home when she's sick. Am I mad? YES. When Doc Fish saw her coughing her head off, he threw her very gently out of class, but not until her bug came to visit me.
I spent Friday flat on my back. I went through three sweat-soaked t-shirts. I was hot, then cold, then hot again, then cold. Then came the sneezing and the blocked up nose. I'm not happy. Then aches. More aches. More ibuprofen went down with more liquids. I went from awake to asleep, then I'd wake up again, take a drink, watch a bit of TV then pass back out again.
Then, in the middle of all of this, my two partners for my Global Media project send me all sorts of info for our project. Since I'm the creative, we decided last Wednesday I get to design the PowerPoint presentation. I looked at the Blackberry that held the e-mails and said, "It can wait," and passed back out again.
Saturday was just so much fun!!!! (Ok, I'm being sarcastic.) I woke up feeling like a truck had hit me, but since the girls had gone through so much trouble to get their research over to me, I sat enclosed in blankets with floor heater on and glass of juice creating our PowerPoint presentation. Want to see what our backdrop looks like?
Yeah, I found a photo I had taken of some Mayan ruins on my honeymoon almost 10 years ago and gave the photo some magic with Photoshop. Looks pretty cool, huh?
*Aaaaachoooo* Excuse me, I had to sneeze again.
Where was I? Oh, the backdrop. I just gave it a little zing and placed it, then just hammered through my research, then added their research to it, looking at the clock and knowing I had to get it done so that way I could curl back up with more Ibuprofen and blankets.
After I was done, I e-mailed it to my partners with a note that said, "I'm down and I'm not going to be in class until I'm at least 90% and contagion-free." At that, I fell back onto the couch with my pillow and blankets to watch some TV and eat some dinner.
Then I called KP. If there was any guy who could bring levity to my day, it was him. We talked for a bit, then I passed out again.
This morning I got up and felt like a truck had hit me. I took my thyroid meds and laid back down to wait for it to absorb. After that, I made myself some lunch, cleaned my kitchen and turned on the TV.
Now, being sick, you sleep and watch TV a lot. You do, that's the nature of the beast when you're sick. I have to say, this is the sickest I've been by myself. The last time I was this sick, the ex was here to take care of me. No no, it's much harder to be sick when you're alone. I grew up in a house that when you were sick, you stayed down. Mom was always on the scene with food, liquids, medicines, you name it. The ex wasn't the best in the world at taking care of me when I was sick. He always made me get up and come to the table to eat dinner. How I grew up is that you were brought dinner and ate laying down, then the plate was taken away, you took meds and then you went back to sleep or watched more TV until you passed back out.
Being sick while living alone sucks so huge. I'm having to get up, aches and all, and do everything. I'm tired and I'm stuffy and coughing. I don't want to get up, but I have to so I eat and do everything I need to do to take care of myself. This sucks. I'm spoiled...I know it, but it's always so much better when you have someone to take care of you when you feel like roadkill.
But what's worse, is that Friday and Saturday are always great TV days. Tons of great movies, good shows, all around good entertainment to get the mind off the aches and pains. Sundays suck as a TV day. The movie channels have nothing but crappy movies, so I flipped the channels to find "Ace of Cakes" and "Cupcake Wars" on the Food Network. Really? Is this what I'm reduced to? I'm sick and the best I can find is shows on baking and food? *Facepalm*
Ugh.
*aaaaachooo*
Damn.
I hate being sick. Having the flu sucks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)