Cosmopolitan and the single lady*repost for Bella*
Current mood: awake
Category: Parties and Nightlife
I received the 40th anniversary edition of Cosmopolitan magazine today...and I realized that it is the same sex advice I started reading years ago.......but what struck me as strange, is that it seems like women are pushed by the media and these magazines to cater to "What Men Really Want"......I always thought that was good sex and a woman who can cook (I've mastered the first.....still working on the second).....
So I wonder, why are we bending over backwards to keep them around??? Are we really not worth anything anymore? We are no longer respected or treated like princesses.....we are treated like the Coors Light twins...fun to look at and fantasize about.....and if a guy is lucky maybe he'll score......?
I went to a bar last night where a man thought it appropriate to grab my ass to move me so he could get by. He got my attention, but not in the way he wanted....
When did you fuckers start thinking that women are just your tools.....you can grab us and grind on us and hit on us when you feel like it??? Did you ever think that aside from the skansters that we didn't come out to get laid??? Note to yourselves.......we don't want to dance with your desperate ass! If we didn't look at you and smile, it pretty much means we aren't interested. Lately it seems we don't even have to be interested...you just come on over with your cheesy ass lines.
So in response to my reading and my shitty bar experience, I'd like to set some things straight:
We are tired, but of your shitty lines, not from running through your head all day.
Your friend doesn't like me- you do- grow a set and ask me out yourself!
I don't come here often, but if I did, what the hell would it matter? Are you going to stalk me now?
I am doing great..........asking me how I am doing doesn't get anything but an answer....
Standing in my way when I am trying to get by is not going to get you a breast rub on your back..............I'm just going to push you away......
and last but not least.....coming up behind me to dance uninvited is just proving that YOU CAN'T DANCE!!!!!!!! GIVE IT UP!!!!!
I guess this is why I am not often out and about or single.......grrrrrrrrrrrrrrhhhh
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Niceties
I thought I made that word up, but Webster claims it's been used in real sentences before. Anyway...
I wonder why it is that I (and I would agree that the majority of society) practice niceties with people we really don't like. At work, I am nice simply because I like my job. That is not to say that I am a softie or that I don't stand up for myself, but it is to say that I refrain from saying the words that run through my head because "The Office" is a TV show, not a way to keep your job. So instead of telling Joe Accountant that I freaking hate ( I would drop the F-bomb because I hate it that much but I am trying still to steer clear of it ) when he uses the acronym BAJE (pronounced badg-ee) instead of saying book journal entry. I also refrain from telling some of the less couth at the office that bringing in microwavable fish is pretty gross and keep smiling. But these niceties serve a purpose--to keep my job.
But how about those people (and I don't mean the random jackass on the subway--see some of my previous blogs) in our lives that we just don't care for. I can think of a few people I know that I would put in the acquaintance category that I am nice to yet I really don't like. And I even go as far as to say pleasant things and compliments. Why do I do this? Is it because I'd rather not deal with saying "I could really care less if I ever see you again?". Is it to keep the social circle a more pleasant haven?
I thought a little about this (oh what a Saturday night!) and I've come to the conclusion that I just have never been asked. You see, I turn these people down every time they ask to do something (although I do use nice excuses). So long as it doesn't come down to being ask frankly "do you like me?" or "why don't we ever do anything together?". I suppose then I should have to tell the truth, wouldn't you say?
I wonder, does being nice make me a liar? Or am I simply attempting to make the world a more pleasant place by only being a bitch in my head?
Oh well, just another saucy Saturday night anecdote...
I wonder why it is that I (and I would agree that the majority of society) practice niceties with people we really don't like. At work, I am nice simply because I like my job. That is not to say that I am a softie or that I don't stand up for myself, but it is to say that I refrain from saying the words that run through my head because "The Office" is a TV show, not a way to keep your job. So instead of telling Joe Accountant that I freaking hate ( I would drop the F-bomb because I hate it that much but I am trying still to steer clear of it ) when he uses the acronym BAJE (pronounced badg-ee) instead of saying book journal entry. I also refrain from telling some of the less couth at the office that bringing in microwavable fish is pretty gross and keep smiling. But these niceties serve a purpose--to keep my job.
But how about those people (and I don't mean the random jackass on the subway--see some of my previous blogs) in our lives that we just don't care for. I can think of a few people I know that I would put in the acquaintance category that I am nice to yet I really don't like. And I even go as far as to say pleasant things and compliments. Why do I do this? Is it because I'd rather not deal with saying "I could really care less if I ever see you again?". Is it to keep the social circle a more pleasant haven?
I thought a little about this (oh what a Saturday night!) and I've come to the conclusion that I just have never been asked. You see, I turn these people down every time they ask to do something (although I do use nice excuses). So long as it doesn't come down to being ask frankly "do you like me?" or "why don't we ever do anything together?". I suppose then I should have to tell the truth, wouldn't you say?
I wonder, does being nice make me a liar? Or am I simply attempting to make the world a more pleasant place by only being a bitch in my head?
Oh well, just another saucy Saturday night anecdote...
Friday, February 6, 2009
Confessions at 4227 Maryland
It's good to be back at the place that I don't not live.
The past two years have been a wild road; in fact the roughest terrain I've ridden since the years between 15 and 17. Ironically the same period, just ten years ago. In the past two years, I've hardly come up with a word to write, much less a blog. I couldn't quite materialize my thoughts because I didn't have any. Frankly, I had tapped out my emotions and was following the curves of the road without reading the warning signs or stopping for those bright red octagons. The scenery was changing so fast I didn't have time to think between the peaks & the valleys, just to wave as they passed me by. Funny thing about driving: you rarely get to take in the scenery when you're focused on where you're going.
The Windansea blogs were written at a high point in my life, where every day was work hard, play hard with little in between. I had compartments of my life & acted according to my setting. I was Samantha in life and Miranda at work. I'd almost say I had split personalities, except that I simply function with little boxes in my life. And then there were antibiotics. And a baby. And a death. And two moves. And puppy love. And a hurt. And a rude awakening. And then home, again.
I have always been told despite growing up on rural route, USA, that I was a California girl at heart. Perhaps it was my early declaration of lament for shoes and socks, or reluctance to be seen with any device that communicates time of day (aka as a watch in some circles). It might have been because even in the dead of winter I would curl up with a blanket next to the sliding glass doors of our balcony, where the sun would shine in, and take a catnap. I am sure the correlation had nothing to do with the blonde hair or miniskirts.
Regardless of the California-girl qualities I possessed, I had lived in California for a year in the early nineties, and never let the sun-infused vitamin D fade from my memory. I guess the fourth time is a charm, as this is my fourth return to California. It's as if it calls me home from wherever I think has greener grass at the time.
I never actually intended to leave any of those times. In 1990, I was 9 and I had no choice. In 2002, I left to finish something I started, or essentially get the closure I expected. In 2007, I was pregnant, and my support network left, so I followed it. In 2009, I am willing to go all in & say that unless I make it to Austin someday, I am likely home.
My new shanty on Maryland Street will not be my home forever, but I can say with some confidence that in 2009, I am home, but not just in California. Somewhere between marriage & college graduation I split my time between the aspects of myself that accentuated only my strengths & weaknesses, with no room for vulnerability. I only allowed myself to be what I knew needed to change or what I knew was the best of me. In my journey through the most influential years of my life, I am now looking forward to the years where I can be vulnerable again.
I will write with uncertainty & explore my thoughts before I open or close my mind.
I will play piano with patience & emotion because I love it.
I will speak freely to God as though I am the pre-Israel Jacob (and he may break my hip).
I will dance to the Wiggles with Kieren and laugh at how silly we look. Or better yet, that we don't mind how silly we look.
I will cry when the news reports that a child died for no apparent reason, because I can express emotion without having to justify it.
I will sponsor a child in the Dominican Republic & give more than I take because I know it always comes back.
I will split the shirt off my back so neither of us is fully exposed.
I will put my heart back on my sleeve, with superglue.
I will take risk to avoid regret.
I will not be afraid to have pizza on occasion (ok, weekly!) or a glass of wine, but will not forget to eat salad or drink water.
I will smile, because I love the way my smile makes my eyes sparkle.
I will curse when I stub my toe because it hurts, and damnit, pain is real.
I will not read another New York Times Best Seller just because it is an easy read. I might as well watch reality TV.
I will remind myself, when my son cries at 4 am, that the only gift I have in this life that I will take beyond the physical realm I currently live in, is crying at 4 am.
Most importantly, I will just be ME. Batteries not included.
The past two years have been a wild road; in fact the roughest terrain I've ridden since the years between 15 and 17. Ironically the same period, just ten years ago. In the past two years, I've hardly come up with a word to write, much less a blog. I couldn't quite materialize my thoughts because I didn't have any. Frankly, I had tapped out my emotions and was following the curves of the road without reading the warning signs or stopping for those bright red octagons. The scenery was changing so fast I didn't have time to think between the peaks & the valleys, just to wave as they passed me by. Funny thing about driving: you rarely get to take in the scenery when you're focused on where you're going.
The Windansea blogs were written at a high point in my life, where every day was work hard, play hard with little in between. I had compartments of my life & acted according to my setting. I was Samantha in life and Miranda at work. I'd almost say I had split personalities, except that I simply function with little boxes in my life. And then there were antibiotics. And a baby. And a death. And two moves. And puppy love. And a hurt. And a rude awakening. And then home, again.
I have always been told despite growing up on rural route, USA, that I was a California girl at heart. Perhaps it was my early declaration of lament for shoes and socks, or reluctance to be seen with any device that communicates time of day (aka as a watch in some circles). It might have been because even in the dead of winter I would curl up with a blanket next to the sliding glass doors of our balcony, where the sun would shine in, and take a catnap. I am sure the correlation had nothing to do with the blonde hair or miniskirts.
Regardless of the California-girl qualities I possessed, I had lived in California for a year in the early nineties, and never let the sun-infused vitamin D fade from my memory. I guess the fourth time is a charm, as this is my fourth return to California. It's as if it calls me home from wherever I think has greener grass at the time.
I never actually intended to leave any of those times. In 1990, I was 9 and I had no choice. In 2002, I left to finish something I started, or essentially get the closure I expected. In 2007, I was pregnant, and my support network left, so I followed it. In 2009, I am willing to go all in & say that unless I make it to Austin someday, I am likely home.
My new shanty on Maryland Street will not be my home forever, but I can say with some confidence that in 2009, I am home, but not just in California. Somewhere between marriage & college graduation I split my time between the aspects of myself that accentuated only my strengths & weaknesses, with no room for vulnerability. I only allowed myself to be what I knew needed to change or what I knew was the best of me. In my journey through the most influential years of my life, I am now looking forward to the years where I can be vulnerable again.
I will write with uncertainty & explore my thoughts before I open or close my mind.
I will play piano with patience & emotion because I love it.
I will speak freely to God as though I am the pre-Israel Jacob (and he may break my hip).
I will dance to the Wiggles with Kieren and laugh at how silly we look. Or better yet, that we don't mind how silly we look.
I will cry when the news reports that a child died for no apparent reason, because I can express emotion without having to justify it.
I will sponsor a child in the Dominican Republic & give more than I take because I know it always comes back.
I will split the shirt off my back so neither of us is fully exposed.
I will put my heart back on my sleeve, with superglue.
I will take risk to avoid regret.
I will not be afraid to have pizza on occasion (ok, weekly!) or a glass of wine, but will not forget to eat salad or drink water.
I will smile, because I love the way my smile makes my eyes sparkle.
I will curse when I stub my toe because it hurts, and damnit, pain is real.
I will not read another New York Times Best Seller just because it is an easy read. I might as well watch reality TV.
I will remind myself, when my son cries at 4 am, that the only gift I have in this life that I will take beyond the physical realm I currently live in, is crying at 4 am.
Most importantly, I will just be ME. Batteries not included.
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