Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt 4.

I fake orgasms.

Not usually, but sometimes.

I know, I'm a bad feminist, and if we weren't getting married I guess you could accuse me of ruining DBo for all other women.

The thing is, sometimes I'm not in the mood and he needs a win.

The Elephant in the Room

2 weeks ago, I got engaged.

The Ring.

It was totally unexpected – as in, I thought he was joking when he pulled the ring out of his pocket - and I’ve been on somewhat of an emotional roller-coaster since. I am completely honored (and surprised) that DBo wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and I know that I’m casting my lot with a really great guy. And I love him.


Some days, I feel completely giddy and stare adoringly at my ring, but then some days I feel unsure, and confused. I question the timing, I question his motives. Some days I look at California Brides, and tear up while listening to our favorite band. Some days I can barely get the word “engaged” out of my mouth. It’s hard to admit, but I don’t know how I feel about being “a married woman.” I love DBo, and I want to be with him forever, but joining the demographic that keeps RomComs profitable is a bitter pill to swallow.


I fear that the window of “you can live your life however you want, and be who you want to be” is closing. My fate is being written. No longer will I be an adventurous, turbulent, never-satisfied seeker. I will be settled - or so I will be viewed. I worry about being seen as just a half. I am scared of losing my choices. I worry about getting old. I fear losing the thrill of loneliness. Of self-reliance. I’m concerned that this time in my life will never live up to the hype.


My biggest fear is of becoming one of “those girls.” The girls who I mock. The girls who just want to have babies and families and who don’t have internal dialogues about pursuing the opportunities of life. When you get married, you have forfeited the right to decide one day that you want to be someone completely different. When you’re married, above all, your loyalty is to each other, and while that’s an amazing thing, what if suddenly find yourself staying at that job, because it’s close to your house and his work? Suddenly you find yourself maintaining the same tired group of friends, because it’s couples you both know? Suddenly wanting babies because that's what people do?


Today I am looking at my ring, and I love it, and I am so happy to be marrying someone as loving and honest and supportive and smart as DBo. Today's a good day. Maybe I just still need some time to wrap my head around the rest.

It's Too Damn Early For This Shit

The above clip bothers me for SEVERAL reasons - some of which are my own quirks (i.e. I am principally opposed to the long standing tradition of dudes asking fathers for their daughter's hand in marriage) but some of which are valid gripes.

For example, in what era do 30 year old women live at home, move directly from their father's house to their husband's house, and have a curfew of any kind? Is it really still "normal" that a woman's living arrangements are dictated by which man is overseeing her well-being? And if we were really going to chastise this woman for being out late, was it absolutely essential to the plot that Dad was the one doing the chastising? Does Mom play some kind of role in all of this, or is the whole marriage situation truly just a transfer between Dad and Todd?

The tribe of married women over at The Nest found this commercial absolutely adorable, and didn't understand the obvious issues with it. I guess that means our culture is still full of people who drive big trucks, keep their American flag next to their Bible on the nightstand, and think that Daddies are responsible for their Little Baby Girls until their Little Baby Girls find a husband and become his problem.

Maybe this upsets me more than normal because I just got engaged and am still struggling with the societal implications of being a "married woman," but at the very least I had hoped we were past the point as a society where patriarchy is endearing enough to sell coffee.

I did some research, and discovered that Folgers has been making sexist commercials for decades. In the one below, the husband actually shakes his finger in his wife's face for sucking at her wifely coffee-making duties (as opposed to thanking her for the effort, or just making his own damn coffee!) What's even more ridiculous is that the nice man at the drug store has to illustrate what a mountain looks like, otherwise the concept of mountain grown coffee would have gone right over her pretty little crappy-coffee-making head.




And if that wasn't obnoxious enough, here's another example. If this is where Folgers began, I guess I shoulda just been glad that Dad could make his own coffee while negotiating the details of his daughter's future.

That Je Ne Sais Quoi

Richard Branson is a hero of mine.




If you need more evidence than the hotness of his sexual exploits, his company produced this - the best airline safety announcement video in existence.



The exasperated bull gets me every time.

Richard Branson has everything I want - he's got swagger, money, opportunities for travel, a kick-ass accent, friends in high places, unparalleled business savvy, and complete and total freedom. He's a living example of someone who's got "the right stuff."

In some ways, he's a motivator, in other ways, he makes me doubt that the success I want to achieve in my own lifetime is even possible, because it seems that people who achieve what he's achieved show their signs of greatness from birth. The guy established his first successful business at 16, took constant big risks at every opportunity, failed in ways that didn't make an impact, and succeeded in ways that did. There was never a time in his life when he WASN'T the face of "Go Big or Go Home." If you believe that Branson's brand of success is one part intelligence and ability, and 5 parts guts, luck, and who you know, it's a little harder to believe that a pretty average 25 year old marketer chick could aspire to reach those heights.

I often find myself cruising through life, not taking too many risks, challenging the status-quo in ways that don't ruffle anyone's feathers TOO much, and I wonder if there's something else I should be doing to position myself in a place to take that big leap. And then I wonder - if I have to think this hard about it, maybe it's just not in the cards for me. The only way I can quell the anxiety of these thoughts is to try harder, to move up, to increase my reach - sometimes I wonder if that's what this whole European tour is about. Feeling like I've got what it takes if I can just find the right place, and be there waiting at the right time.

I Have Finally Classified My Political Leanings - Time for a Beer

I would call myself fairly politically independent. Yes, I caught Obama-mania and yes I loathe Limbaugh, Beck, Hannity, born-agains, and corporate greed along with the rest of fake America, but I also am of the opinion that Ayn Rand is a brilliant thinker, that Conservatives are generally better with money, and that government-run health care could be kinda scary. In that spirit, I watch the Daily Show every morning so I can maintain a level headed cynicism of government, and start the day snarky.

If you don't watch The Daily Show, you should. Jon Stewart is a God. A hot God. I would love to have a conversation with him some day. All we'd do is talk . . . I swear.

This morning I was drinking my coffee, zoning out in front of the tv, and I made a conscious decision to join the Stewart School of Politics. This School is neither liberal nor conservative (at least, not openly) and it embraces rational and analytical thought above all, promising no loyalty to any party. In today's political atmosphere, people are often so polarized that it's impossible to have a non-heated and rational discussion anymore - even with the people you generally agree with. In contrast, Stewart is almost always maddeningly level, promoting logical ideas from either side, and shitting on the hypocrisy of both as well. He considers McCain, Huckabee, and others, as friends and worthy thought-partners in some respects, and his ability to see past party lines allows him encourage bipartisan discussion and (hopefully) understanding.

Below, Stewart mocks Keith Olbermann - a man who, in the fall of 2008 was a political hero of mine, but who has lately seemed just as loony as the crazies on the other side. Olbermann has provided me with the perfect chance to apply the Stewart School of Thought - although he is in the right camp, I can't support someone who spouts off in this manner. Stick to the facts, Sir.

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Special Comment - Keith Olbermann's Name-Calling
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Crisis

Open Letter to an Ex

You’re probably surprised to be getting a letter from me. So, let me start by saying - I feel like there was never be a good time to write/send this, or any logical reason why it would be worth it to do so. However, sending this letter has been on my mind from time to time over the last year or so, and some things have happened in my life recently that made me realize ‘it’s now or never.’ So, here goes.

First of all, I wanted to say that I feel like such a moron every time I picture our last interaction in my mind (what I remember of it anyway.) I don’t want to imagine what sort of impression that left on you, that I had become just another crazy drunk girl. I guess I was for a couple of years, so, there’s that. But, I would hate it if you thought that was the forever me. I think at the time I was just still angry about all the ups and downs and impossibilities of knowing you, and, a daily diet of booze makes anyone a little bit emotional.So, sorry for that. I hope you understand where I was coming from.

I also wanted to say that I think it’s sad that our paths have diverged so completely and possibly irrevocably, but I understand why they did, and to be honest, I don’t think I would change it if I could. But I think it makes everything that transpired weigh a little more tragically in my head. That is one of those problems that has no solution, unfortunately.

Most importantly, I want you to know that when I look back on our whole fiasco/saga, I am painfully aware that it’s both the most impactful experience I’ve had in my life up till now as well as the experience I least understand, had the least amount of control over, and feel the least settled about. Perhaps one is a function of the other, but either way, I don’t like the distantly sad, confused, unsettled feeling I have whenever a song, dream, movie, reference, etc, brings something from that time to the front of my mind. What to do about any of that, I have no idea.

It’s really interesting to me now-a-days to think about how different I am from the days when you knew me. I think I’m a lot better, which I suppose is an unexpected benefit of maturity.

I remember you saying once that you thought I made all my decisions with my heart, and now I don’t think that many of my friends would say that about me. I sort of wish I had had the opportunity for you to know me as an adult because I think I finally started coming out the other end of the most difficult years of my life, and I am embarrassed frankly, that the last impression I made on someone who was so important to me at one time, was such a disaster.

I wonder if we’d even get along, if we’d even have similar world views today, or if all the commonalities are really gone. I think they might be.

I guess I don’t really know what sort of response I want from you. I’m not even necessarily looking for one. I just felt like, if I was going to tell you all of this I better just do it, so I could stop contemplating doing it and get on with my life. I got engaged last week, so I am ready to be done with you forever.

I’m sure you’ve been able to analyze everything in your head and draw some conclusion that brought closure to the whole thing, and I say, that must be nice. I just hope you know that17-23 were the most difficult, crazy years of my life, I’m sorry for most of our interactions during that time, and that, maybe in another life there will be a chance to work all the past shit out. That would be awesome.

Anyway, I hope this doesn’t seem too out of the blue. Hope all is well.

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt 3.

I steal creamer at work.

C'MON! Look how much of it there is!



Ok, that one on the upper left is salad dressing . . . . but with just enough morning delirium in my system, I could mistake it for creamer.



And who the fuck is Mason??? I didn't think we had anyone working here by that name.



There's no way Tony drinks that much Coffeemate! Surely he wants to share . . .

Sitting on Faces, Babies, and Doorknobs

So I was reading my best friend's blog and I thought I would look around to see who else is posting to Blogger. I clicked "next blog," and found this.

And this.

And this.

In fact, in over 30 blogs browsed, only 9 were not a personal account of someone's kinky sexual exploration. (And those 9 were almost exclusively about babies, but more on that later.)

The fact that so many people are blogging about sex - and fisting/spanking/donkey sex at that - leads me to think that there must be an awful lot of sexually repressed and unfulfilled people out there.

There's also a lot of people who are into some weeeeird shit.

Sexual fulfillment is so important, but its more than just the frequency with which you fuck. Sometimes it's less about the orgasm, and more about what you get out of it, whether it's an exhibitionist thrill, an intense emotional connection, or a pass from doing the dishes. With all the shit out there that tells you what you want, there is a lot of pressure to stick to the script. But it seems that the people who claim sex is as simple as putting a dick-in-a-box are the ones who come out years later with a fetish for doorknobs, a collection of men's thongs, or whatever this is. So it's probably better to be honest from the beginning about what you want (MUCH easier said than done.)

Side note - does anyone else find it odd that Fox is covering the Tiger Woods debacle as news when there are earthquakes in Haiti to worry about?

In the name of full disclosure, I should admit that I've got sort of a weird relationship with sex myself. Growing up in a religious household with a super overprotective mother, sex was the one thing that was off limits, no matter how broke or horny I got. I knew I would smoke some day, I knew I might try drugs, but I was NOT going to have sex. Ha.

In hindsight, I hope my parents can see that the whole "abstinence thing" never works out well, especially for curious girls with a rebellious side. I mean, I'm no donkey-girl, but I still feel like I have my own shit to sort out in the sex department. I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather be spilling my secrets to someone I can trust, rather than sharing my shit online. But who am I to judge? They're just looking for a way to fill the hole. That's what she said.

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt 2.

I am a willing accomplice to my boyfriend's thievery of intellectual property. We have have about 500 gigs of free entertainment in our possession.

Please don't tell the authorities.

My Dad - The Badass.

The stud on the right is my dad. Circa the late 1970's, he traveled across the United States with his Buddy Pat via motorcycle. This picture is the epitome of freedom, and pretty much sums up everything I want to be.

Here's the Thing . . .

It's been weighing on my mind lately what I should do with my life. Up until a certain time in our lives, we don't control the steering wheel. Yes, we choose our classes in high school, choose friends out of our hometown groups and associations, and have some say regarding the college or vocation we go into, but there is a lot of hand holding (at least for us lucky ones) from teachers, counselors, parents, along the way. Once you graduate college/enter the real world, are financially stable, and have tied up the loose ends from childhood, you take a second to stare down the horizon, and realize that there are no more flashing lights directing you where to go. You have complete freedom to realize your dreams, pursue your goals, fall in love with whomever and whatever you want.

You also have the freedom to do nothing. To be alone. To wander aimlessly. To fail.

One of the biggest realizations I've made so far in life is that freedom is scary. Maybe not for some people, guided by convention and the "shoulds" and "should nots" of life, but for people like me who see a truly blank slate, the only thing keeping you from failure or propelling you to success is you. It's exhilarating to be sure, but it's scary as hell.

I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but it's interesting to me that one of the things I crave most is what causes me the most anxiety on a day-to-day basis. If the dark underbelly of freedom and independence is fear, I'll still take it, but sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one who gets it, and who is scared to death about which way to go.

More thoughts on this to come.

A Photo Essay - Why Dogs are Better Than People

Versus









The choice is simple.

FaceBook - Helping Us Bridge the Generational Divide

A lot of people bitch about their parents/teachers/pastors/bosses being on facebook, but one thing I really appreciate about this trend is that I have had the opportunity to get to know some really cool older women who I would never have had the time, reason, or ability to reconnect with if I was living in the days of face-to-face contact, telephones, and letters.

One of my favorite people I have gotten back in touch with is my high school English teacher, Mrs. H. (shown below - she was kind enough to post this AMAZING pic on her facebook page.)



We sort of had a rivalry back in the day because I was a naive Christian Conservative, and she was an outspoken unrepentant liberal.

One time, she asked me during a fire drill if she was going to hell. Not knowing what to say, I explained that "If you believe the Bible, Jesus is the only way to heaven." (Laughably, at the time I thought this was a VERY diplomatic way to handle the situation.) She of course pressed the issue, saying "then you think I am going to hell!?" And I said again, "I don't know, I'm not here to judge, but the Bible says you need Jesus to go to heaven."

The next day, I found out that the sole topic of discussion in her other classes was my outlandish accusation that "Mrs H was going to hell."

I think she was mad about it even days later, because as part of a vocab lesson, Mrs. H taught 2nd Period that I was the definition of the word "Verbose."

In spite of her ability to talk some shit, or perhaps because of it, Mrs. H became one of my favorite teachers - she was funny and smart, she spoke openly about the time she hit on Michael Richards at a ski resort in front of her husband, and, as I said before, she could talk shit like a pro.

We reconnected over the last couple of months online, and she was very pleased to see that I had "come over to the dark side." If she and I were the same age, and had gone to the same high school, or lived in the same town, we'd probably be the best of friends. But we live hours apart and have at least 10 years between us - if this was still the 90's, I don't think I would have gotten this opportunity to be her friend.

As it is, I've loved having a chance to get to know Mrs. H as a real person. We even ganged up on some Conservative douche bag recently who hijacked a thread to claim that the gays are "the vanguard of accepting all sorts of dubious and harmful behavior" and that there would be "no equality if it weren't for the guiding principals of Christianity." It was nice to have a teacher on my side in that argument, although, it's futile to try and change a religious fanatic (but that's another blog post.)

Bad Things I Do That Cause Me No Guilt Pt. 1

I have a confession to make.

I have no dishwasher.

Yes it's true - I am poor.

To make up for this disturbing fact, I frequently come to work with my dirty dishes from the day before to load in the office dishwasher. The following day, I return and claim my dishes (which are somehow always neatly stacked in the cupboard.)

The fact that they are always put away in the same spot makes me wonder if someone knows what's up.

I should feel bad, but I don't. As I said, I have no dishwasher.

On Aging, Maturity, and the Complexity of DVDs

So it's 6am, and I am trying to understand the complex relationship between self-perception, reality, and time.

Although my brain has been convinced that it's 33 since I was 10 years old, and the voice in my head hasn't changed much since puberty, I can consistently look back and see that my actions belied the maturity I thought I possessed. It leads me to speculate - if I was wrong about myself at 10, wrong about myself at 15, wrong about myself at 20, what reassurances can my 25 year old self have that I am not making an ass of myself on a daily basis? That my thoughts are actually reasonable and sound?

And that is what maturity is, I imagine. That day when the thoughts in your head mesh with reality as you imagine them to do. You hit the magical age when everything falls into place.

That thought is reassuring, but only until I consider the flip side - senility. In my opinion, most people over 70 (maybe in today's world 80) are completely out of touch with reality, rigid to the point of crazy, and win the dubious "Most likely to bitch about the Jewish/black/gay family down the street" award. They are also the most likely group of people to complain the world is going to hell, vote against money for schools, and take issue with the DVD player, in spite of the fact that DVDs have been around for over a decade, and are hardly considered "new" technology or difficult to use.

Is there a window of time when you have it all figured out? When you are a reasonable, and highly functioning member of society? When you are finally considered "wise?" Someone who can confidently go forth, knowing they aren't leaving a massive trail of fucked-up behind them? Is that window smaller than we all think?




On that note, this is my favorite picture of Grandma P. - after our other elderly neighbor backed her car into the front yard. Is this the best we can hope for after a long and well lived life?

Our Nature Lies in Movement

It certainly does. At least my nature.

Even as I write this, my leg is shaking, I'm tapping the keys as I reflect upon the next word I'll put on the page, and a quarter of my brain is considering getting up to take a trip around the building to see what's going on. Call it ADD, but I prefer to say that my brain has a high-processing speed. Sometimes I feel like the rest of the world is moving way too slowly, and that my time is constantly being wasted waiting for it to catch up.

Movement is important - it's one of the things that sets us apart from the dead. But along with physical movement, I think emotional and psychological movement are important as well. I believe that ending in a different place than where you started is inherently combined with growth as a rational and enlightened being. The more you do, the more you see, the more you MOVE, the more your brain will start to make the connections necessary to grow.

With that in mind . . . I have decided to pick up and move. To Europe. To experience life for 2 months as a broke European vagabond. This will DEFINITELY force some movement on all three fronts given:

I aim to cover at least 10 different countries in 2 months (if not more)
I never do anything by myself
I am a huge control freak and experience extreme anxiety when I have no control

Here is my initially proposed route (major cities/sites along the way):

Month 1

Copenhagen

Amsterdam

London

Brussels

Berlin

Prague

Vienna

Croatia

Month 2

FLY TO Munich

Meet up with D-bo in Munich

Switzerland (Driving through the Alps)

Romantic Road, Bavaria, Rhine River Cruise

Venice

Florence

Rome

Cinque Terra

Nice

French Riviera

Barcelona

Ibiza

Paris

Is this an ambitious plan? Probably. Will I have one or several freak-outs or plan readjustments along the way? Most definitely. The necessary ambitious savings schedule I've implemented is already freaking me out.

For me, the deciding factor was Grandma P. sitting on her couch upstairs, watching "Explore Europe" dvds and talking about all the things she'll never do. And that is the most terrifying thing in the world.

I'm Baaaaaaack - and More EMO than Ever Before

So – after taking a year off of “blogging” (as if two posts from last year really count as blogging) to find my voice, I am in the same exact place I was when I began – stoned and voiceless. I have too many thoughts rushing through my head to choose a path, and an unparalleled inconsistency in my motivation. I suppose I can say I am much less stoned than I was a year ago, now that I am a contributing member of society. Other than that . . . not much has changed.

A multitude of crappy, boring writers have joined the ranks of bloggers to congest the Internet with their earnest, misspelled ramblings, so I figure I should try my hand again – at least I've got a basic understanding of grammar working in my favor.

2010 is going to be a year of discovery. I am finally 25 – an age that carries weight, respect, gravitas, etc… with absolutely no one – but I feel different than I did before. Maybe this is because my upstairs roommate is 80, but I have recently begun to notice that life is ticking by, and all that waits in the end are your own questionable odors, dead lovers and friends, orthopedic shoes, a constant need to putter aimlessly, saggy boobs, loss of social skills and street smarts – oh – and death.

Seeing the end of the road makes a person feel that they better seize the day while they fucking can.

Whatever the cause, I have recently developed a sense of urgency about figuring out the point of my existence, and I am ready to get down to business. Finding some answers, discovering what life is all about, and all that noise.

This blog is mostly for me (sorry to disappoint) but it’s also for all the people out there who realize that even if there are no answers to the questions we ask, we can’t stop asking them. For all the people who find ambiguity necessary and terrifying. For all the people who are bogged down by their constant need to make connections between the seemingly random events in life. For all the people who subscribe to the theory that if you can just experience enough, the missing puzzle piece will appear and the whole universe will make sense. For people who live for adventure, and who have a craving to know more.

This is what my ramblings are devoted to. So long for now, we’ll see where this goes.