Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008
Oh, the agony! Waiting for this server to be fixed is like waiting for someone to punch me in the face, almost. I just can’t bear it! I have so many things to document, so many things to spill out of my tiny little head that I can hardly stand it! Lover has been harassing them all day, leaving semi-threatening messages on their voicemail & in their email’s inbox. He says that if by the tomorrow the blasted thing isn’t fixed, then we’re going to break it off with them & find somewhere else to give us decent hosting. I have to say that I am very proud of Lover, for sticking it to them. Usually, he is so nonchalant & kind towards people who spit on him (figuratively speaking) & it boils me because I’ll be the first one to start screaming, yelling, kicking, doing whatever I can to make sure that some sort of justice is served; I hate it when someone gets the last word before I do. Hopefully, with my husband’s obvious desperation to get it fixed, they’ll take heed. & thankfully, I don’t have to step in for double teaming.
I’ve been itching, just dying to write. As I am desperately praying that our server people decide to get a grip soon, I thought I would take a chance & feature my most favorite hat. As wintery as it is, I adore it & it’s perfect for those not-so-cute hair days I’ve been having lately. This photograph was snapped in the midst of me power cleaning our apartment, which is the reason I look so grubby & homeless. Oh, how I love this hat. I wear it anywhere, all the time. Even if it is 80 degrees out, I will sport this hat like it is going out of style. Actually… it just might be out of style, which is even better for me. How daring would it be to wear a short tube dress & some boots with this hat? I’m going to see for myself one day.
I found this hat in Target last winter, in the men’s section to be exact. They did have women’s hats similar to this at The Gap (which is where my white t-shirt just so happens to be from, coincidentally) but I felt like this hat was less frou-frou & more serious. More my style; I’m not much of a pompom, fluff-fluff kind of girl.
& I love how androgynous it makes me look.
Wednesday, April 23rd, 2008
These last few days have been some of the longest. All because of my diary being down. I’m not even sure if it’s really fixed; it seems to work only when it feels like working. I’ve been itching to write since it’s been broken, but now I’m not sure what I wanted to write about! I feel like my yearning shut up the moment it started working. It’s like this one time where I was craving a cigarette for weeks, months it seemed. I couldn’t stop wanting one & I was beginning to feel pretty restless about it. Finally, Lover brought one home to me, tired of hearing me whine about my withdraws. The moment it was put into my hands… I didn’t want to smoke it anymore. The cigarette stayed on our desktop for a few weeks, before Lover warned me that it was going to grow stale if I didn’t smoke it soon. The cigarette was finally rid of one night; not because I wanted to smoke it (I couldn’t feel up to smoking it even if I tried) but because Lover was dying to. I went outside with him, watching him smoke it, taking a few short drags of it. It was then I decided that I didn’t want to smoke at all. Ever. All of this is particularly confusing because I have never been a smoker.
I am so distracted by our Database Server not working (that’s what’s the trouble, I hear) that although I have the hankering to write something, anything, to make up for all the days I’ve been deprived, I can’t find the words.
Not wanting to waste anymore time for fear that the server might breakdown again (its bipolar tendencies are driving me to want to breakup with the database all together) here was an outfit I wore yesterday, upon seeing my Therapist. I thought it was going to be weather appropriate, but it turned out that it was 80 degrees out, so I was roasting a bit. It was worth it, nonetheless.
Sweater from Wet Seal a long time ago; shirt is vintage from my father’s closet. This was his P.E. garb in high school; skirt by Alice Temperley from Target; the stockings from the 99 cent store, I think; boots from Payless years ago; Om necklace from Lover.
When I can find absolution in my Database Server, my next entry will not be so sporadic.
Sunday, April 20th, 2008
boyfriend sweater is from forever21; colorful top & undershirt is from Target; denim shorts (which were previously skinny jeans, but I altered them) are from Wet Seal; tights are from 99 cent store, I think; red shoes are thrifted & necklace is my original.
The weather is fluctuating the same way my mind flutters; it just can’t decide what it wants to do! Today it was overcast & windy, but not so cold that I needed a scarf, thank goodness. & as cute as this outfit is, my Sunday evening didn’t go as planned. I ended up wandering aimlessly in Ross, which was horrendous; not just because it was terribly crowded (it seems like everybody has the same idea to dawdle around Ross on a Sunday) but because I saw the most charming things on the shelves & had to hold myself back from buying them. One item in particular was a pair of Michael Kors flats; they looked like something a foxy grandma would wear to a doctor’s appointment. I had to have them. It had nothing to do with the label (although, I do think Michael Kors is an great designer) but everything to do with the concept. & imagine… Michael Kors shoes — brand new, no scuffs on the soles — in a distinguished brown color for (deep sigh) $29.99. These shoes must retail for at least $200… maybe. Oh, just thinking about the steal I walked away from irks me to the core. But, I am trying [rather unsuccessfully & impatiently] to save money only for the things that are needed, like gas, groceries & toiletries. & while my brain was trying to argue with my conscience about how these shoes NEED ME, my conscience stayed strong & said, “No, Ev’Yan… not today.” Sigh. Agonizing.
I found myself purchasing 3 beautifully smelling candles, instead (one of which is called “apricot tea,” imagine that); this wasn’t something that was necessarily needed, but more so than those darling little shoes. My evening has been nothing more or less than uneventful. Although, one of the highlights of today was a grilled cheese from Inn & Out, with a side of fries. This amazing little pleasure makes me happy I am a vegetarian.
Friday, April 18th, 2008
I finally got a grip & decided to start using my tripod, which I had completely forgotten about & now makes my photographing much easier. Although… I am still trying to get used to taking my own picture. Unfortunately, I failed to find a better “backdrop” to my photos. In the first picture, you can see that Lover’s obsessional video game in the background.
In this outfit today, I didn’t even try. No use, particularly when you’re just going grocery shopping. Not that I don’t feel like you should always look your best, no matter where you go; truthfully, I just didn’t feel like making a big production today. I suppose I was a bit lazy, picking comfort over pleasure. I was a wrinkly mess, too, being that I loathe ironing more than I can muster &… I just didn’t feel like it ironing.
t-shirt from Hanes; khaki short from Ross, I think (again, this piece is so old that I can’t remember where I got it from. Matter of fact, I think I got these shorts in the 8th grade, amazingly enough); scarf from H&M; bag from Wet Seal ions ago; shoes from DSW, the same ones I’ve been wearing for a few weeks in a row.
Monumentally, I changed my purse today, from a slouchy green messenger bag to a brown “brief case” professional looking purse. I haven’t worn an actual purse in at least a year. I find messenger bags to be more fitting for a girl like me. But, for some reason I was drawn to this bag again. It’s so spacious, which means I can carry everything inside of it. & I love any excuse to stuff my bag full of nonsensical, yet overly prepared, things. Here; I’ll show you.
In my purse (messenger bag, also) you can usually find:
- 2 candy canes, which were neglected to be eaten during the holidays because they were ornaments on the tree.
- a granola bar, just in case I get hungry.
- my glasses case, which I use every once in a while to read, drive & look serious.
- above the case is a black compact, which I never use, unless I have something in my eye.
- a pen.
- a book of checks.
- Neiman Marcus mints.
- hand sanitizer, for the germ infested world.
- wallet.
- spearmint chapstick (my favorite flavor) which is on top of my receipt from Target.
- a lighter — just in case.
- iPod headphones.
- remote for the alarm of my car, which broke off my keychain & I am too lazy to actually get it fixed.
- Art Center College of Design’s night classes brochure; the thought of me going to tis school is inconceivable (it’s very expensive) but it gives me something to read.
- my keys, which is next to 2 quarters.
- playing cards, when Lover & I want to play Chinese Poker.
- Stride gum in spearmint flavor.
- “Eat Pray Love” that my iPod (also known as iEscape) is resting on. I think a grocery list is sticking out of the book, as well.
- &… my birth control pills.
This habit of keeping everything in my purse bothers everyone, particularly Lover, who, if I ask him to look for something in my purse, grunts & complains that I keep too much “shit” in it. My purse it better known to him as a Bottomless Pit. But one day, when we are stranded somewhere, with no cellphone reception or gas & we’re trapped, & we’ll have to succumb to sleeping in our car (for whatever reason) he’ll thank me that I brought all of these things; not just food, but entertainment, portable fire & hand sanitizer.
Thursday, April 17th, 2008
I read this article yesterday afternoon, called The Wife’s Bill of Rights. I found it amusing & I sent it to Lover via instant message for him to read at work. I sent it partially to give him a good laugh & then partially to do a little “hint-hinting” just in case there was something, anything, that he was possibly confused about. Fortunately for me, Lover is very in the know about women (he has 4 sisters, after all) & he reads me very well, considering how hard I try to make it difficult for him & how much I try to convince him & myself that I am a mystery. This reigns true for some — maybe even many — but for my husband, he knows me very, very well. I am still coming to terms with this, for I haven’t decided if this is a good thing or a bad thing just yet.
I picked up Lover from work that evening & he told me he enjoyed the article, but he was disgusted with the way they portrayed men in The Husband’s Bill of Rights. I hadn’t seen it, so later that night I took a gander at it myself. I, too, was appalled at the list. I couldn’t even bring myself to read the actual explanations of the amendments; I simply read the titles & that was enough to leave me irking for the rest of the night. I am sure there are men out there who fit that criteria (I dated a few in the past), but not all men are like that. They can’t be. If they are, then I refuse to believe it! Even in the wife’s list, I felt like most of them were fairly accurate in reference to myself, but I will not try to convince myself that all women are like that. They can’t be! Everyone is different. & I considered it sheer coincidence that most of those “amendments” looked a bit like me. Not completely, but just slightly. I started to wonder why is it that there are labels on men & women? Why is it that men are portrayed as Barbarians, who fart & belch & glue themselves to the television set because of The Game being on? Who drink beer & swoon over big boobed blondes in Porn? Books, magazines, movies, television shows, commercials; all of these things make men out to be these horrible, burly, annoying monsters. Rulers of the world who are all things masculine & scream, “real men don’t cry.” Again, there are some men out there who are like this… but anyone who believes that the majority of men possess these traits must be brainwashed.
In the midst of this anger & disappointment regarding the article, I was feeling deeply grateful for scoring such a wonderful, unconventional, out-of-this-world in an alien sort of way, kind of a husband. When I first met Lover, I kept waiting for him to transform into that shameful list of amendments mentioned above (I tend to call those kinds of men “Cocks” in a derogatory way.) & when he didn’t I thought that he had to have been Gay. Yes… I thought he was Gay. How else could it have been explained? He was so calm & caring & gentle. He was very compassionate & sensitive, yet strong & intelligent (matter of fact, he still is all of those things & then some). I was in disbelief, as though I stumbled across a new model of the latest technology; They actually make them like this now?! By George, this is genius! Amazing! I exaggerate not; ask my husband if you don’t believe me. There have been many times — & there are many more to come, I’m sure — where I would ask him what planet he is from, or if he’s telling me everything about his past; could he have been abducted by aliens? Maybe he was raised by a group of spiritual Monks in solitude & silence. Maybe he is a recovering amnesiac & is developing a new life after a traumatic fall, thus the reason he is so peaceful & open-hearted. This is not to say that he doesn’t burp, belch & act like a caveman at times. He has this way about him, of course, but he is still a Man, after all! But… in the way that the amendment list described men — as brash, insensitive, one dimensional, rough & tough, heartless, self-reliant, despicable, “it’s my way, or the highway, baby!” kind of… jerks — Lover does not fit the criteria. It’s good… & it’s thought-provoking.
I have schemed, I have pressed, I have made assumptions & I have bothered the hell out of Lover to make me understand why he is the way he is & how! All he can muster, while trying not to blush, is “I am just me. I always have been.” Even the way he says that sentence… it’s so smooth, so natural. He is so very thoughtful & intuitive. He reminds me so much of Christian in Moulin Rouge. Or… Matthew in Wicker Park. He finds beauty in everything around him.
Truthfully, I didn’t mean to turn this entry into a swoon session regarding my husband. I really wanted to rant & rave about these stupid generalizations that are made about men (& women!) & maybe start a rally or a movement, or something, on how we should all stop this madness! But my Lover has complete hold over me, even when he is not here. He distracts me in this way, unintentionally (although, when he is trying to distract me intentionally, he fails). He holds me in the palms of my hands, shapes & sculpts me in whichever way he wants… & I let him, because I love the idea of him making me a better woman for him & for the world. There is no one I admire more than my husband. His charisma is something that can only be described in inarticulate fractions of words… what I mean by this is that he has this “je ne sais quoi” (I don’t know what) about him. & it is so severe, so mind-boggling that you cannot even try to elaborate it with words.
He is the only one on Earth, other than my Mother, that has this beauty about him.
(NOTE: I would love to hear opinions about this, if you have them. I want to know what you think about the generalizations that society makes about men, women & even children! I find it hard to believe that I am the only one outraged by it…)
Wednesday, April 16th, 2008
I was in a horrible funk all day yesterday. Poor Lover had to endure my moping & feeling sorry for myself most of the day. I was just so bothered by the fact that I feel so lost in my efforts to find a job. Truthfully, I am making no efforts at all & that is the real problem. How can I expect to be successful in my job hunt if I don’t really want a job in the first place? It’s like me trying to go to the store to purchase ingredients for a Mushroom Supreme Casserole, when I loathe mushrooms. How pointless. I feel like it’s an oxymoron; a conflict of interest; a contradiction. Hence, the reason I am so muddled & confused; furthermore, the reason I was in such a terrible mood all day yesterday. I still feel this heavy weight of Unemployment resting on my shoulders, but I’ve been so distracted today that I haven’t had much time to dwell on my loserness.
This morning, I turned into Happy Houswife Ev’Yan & made banana bread, which is Lover’s favorite. I haven’t made banana bread in a very long while; I used to make it all the time when I lived with my parents. Back then, I was a Housewife in Training, nearing my prestigious graduation to becoming official Housewife status. (All of that was said in joking, but seriously, my mother began our — my sister & myself — Housewife Training at the tender age of 6; we were cooking, cleaning, sewing, pulling weeds, grooming ourselves, writing lovely cards to our father, the number one man in our lives at the time, & all of that jazz at a very young age. I distinctly remember cooking my mother breakfast for mother’s day. Pancakes from scratch, eggs, sausage & orange juice. For 6 & 4 years old, that is an astonishing feat. I suppose my mother wanted to make sure that her girls would turn out “alright”; not like some women who don’t know how to boil water without googling it. No offense to them, of course.)
So my adventures in the kitchen started early this morning, beginning my banana bread making extravaganza, sans apron & cheerful song. I thought about incorporating these necessary traits of Housewify-ness into my baking adventure, but I was still groggy from having just woken up.
There is the recipe, which is covered in some sort of mystery gunk. (I can’t seem to cook without making a serious mess.) The oven was already preheated to 350 degrees Fahrenheit, thanks to Southern California’s bipolar behaviour when it comes to the weather — it was freezing in the house this morning upon waking up, so I turned on the “heater.” Hard to believe that this past weekend it was close to 100 degrees; dreadful weather.
I combined the ingredients together, substituting eggs for applesauce. I’ve never done this with bread — just pancakes, which usually turn out very fluffy — but I figured it was worth a shot. Live life on the edge, that’s what I always say! & replacing eggs with applesauce is the closest thing to Daredevil there is.
It looks completely grotesque (& smells awfully weird) before baking it & it’s hard to believe that gunky mush turns into delicious tasting bread. I poured it into a loaf pan & put it in the oven. Then, I took a step back & looked at the disaster I had made in the kitchen.
This picture really does no justice to the chaotic mess I made this morning. Nevertheless, an hour later my bread was ready to be taken out of the oven to cool.
And there is the end result (as well a very clean little kitchen). All of that work for that tiny little loaf of bread. I had a taste of it this afternoon with my lunch & regretfully, I think the applesauce contributed to its squishy texture. It is very moist & I knew it would turn out this way because of my using applesauce which is mainly composed of water, but I refused to go to the wretched store to pick up a carton of eggs that would just go bad in the refrigerator anyway because we never eat eggs; not just because we’re vegetarian, but because I, personally, despise eggs. The bread itself doesn’t taste bad; it just has the consistency of a very gooey brownie. I cannot cut this bread without squishing it down to about an inch. Sigh. Live & learn, I suppose.
The rest of the day — before plopping my Housewife booty on this rickety computer chair — consisted of picking up my prescription, buying my Aunt a “get well soon” card, taking Sofie for a walk, making lunch & getting the mail. What joy; what fun. I know my sarcasm in this manner is not really fair; I truly am trying to look on the bright side of things, but it’s so hard. I even found myself wishing that I were back at that wretched Salon I worked for. Actually, I went to sleep with it on my mind. That night, I had this dream that I called my old manager, begging & pleading with her to take me back because I miss simple interaction with people. I woke up feeling ashamed for stooping so low as to even dream about going back to that job. Although, I still think it would be better than sitting on my boney ass, waiting for the mail to arrive because that is the highlight of my day. Pathetic! I’m sure REAL housewives have more fun than I do.
In conclusion, here was my outfit for the day:
Now… this is the main reason I am feeling extra-specially Stepford Wifey today. This dress, this outfit I am wearing right now, is something I am trying to still grow fond of. I do not feel sexy in this dress. I do not feel like a femme fatal; I feel terribly dowdy, like I am either 11 years old, or I am a pregnant, conservative Christian. (I am not knocking either; I was 11 years old once AND was raised Christian.) The one thing I do like about this dress is the deep pockets. So convenient for a girl like me, who carries tons of useless shit in her purse & loses her keys, cellphone & ipod in it daily. But taking away the awesome pockets, you have one dowdy, doody, jumper dress… (I wouldn’t mind opinions of this dress before I decide to mercy it to the thrift store.)
The dress is from some store in my old hometown, years ago; the t-shirt & black sweater are from Target; the jewelry is miscellaneous: the oldest bracelet I have on is 10 years old, which are the purple prayer beads; the black one with the big green bead is Lover’s (I wear this much more than he does); the silver modern charm bracelet was a gift from a relative; & the multibeaded one is actually a necklace I made, but I wrapped it around my tiny little wrists to wear as bracelet.
Monday, April 14th, 2008
In spite of my very melancholy post — not to mention mood — I was able to effortlessly pick out an outfit that suited my liking. It was dreadfully hot today; not as hot as this past weekend, but definitely hot. The scarf was just light enough to keep the wind from whipping at my neck while driving with the windows rolled down.
The “tunic-esque” shirt & undershirt (tank-top with a built in bra, my absolute favorite thing to wear!) are from Target; the jean shorts are from… I don’t remember. The scarf is actually a sarong that my sister didn’t want, so I adopted it & made it into a scarf. & the shoes, are from Ross.
[Take note of the neon-orange nailpolish on my toenails. Classy, indeed. Lover says that they make him want to say "BAM!!!" because they're so in your face. I just laugh because that's the whole point. It's the perfect idea; tired of raunchy guys checking you out? Maybe they stare directly at your breasts or your derri�re; dread standing in line at the grocery store because that seems to be the number one spot for a man to go, "Nice melons" or something ridiculous like that? I know I do. Well... paint your toenails a neon, in-your-face, "makes me wanna squint my eyes" kind of color! I guarantee you they will be so distracted at the semi-obnoxious reflection that they will forget what nonsense they were about to say, where they are... maybe even who they are! It is worth a shot, at least until I get some mace.]
Monday, April 14th, 2008
Today I went back to my old diary to take a peek at things “back in the day.” I usually enjoy doing this, for it sends me into a whirlwind of emotions. But, I couldn’t bring myself to read through the pages & pages of this diary. It’s not a very old diary; based on a year of writing sporadically. But, this ended up being my toughest year (2007). Re-reading everything I went through, all the doubts & fears & anxieties, were not good for me; not today, at least. I wouldn’t mind just deleting it all together; matter of fact, I just might do that. I have never been one to regret the past, but being able to actually go back to it, word for word, is overwhelming & scary. It just stirs up emotions that I put to rest. I don’t like that. It leaves a “yuck” feeling in the pit of my stomach.
As wonderful as it is to see how far I’ve come, it’s amazing to me — in a gross way — to see how bad things got for me. In my confidence, in my ways of thinking, in the way I put things together, the way I would assume things. I was a completely different person then. It wasn’t until going on [& here is where I let out a very big sigh] antidepressants that I started feeling like that dead weight was starting to go far away. It is still very hard for me to admit to myself that I am being medicated all the time; this is actually something I wasn’t really ready to write about. At least until I figured out where I stood with it. But, unfortunately, my nosiness when it comes to my past writings has led me to take that wretched walk down memory lane. I was reminded of just how anxious I was. It seemed like I questioned everything, thus turning me into this timid little thing. Originally, I had named my diary “timid wallflower/vainglorious kitten” because I was terribly timid & introverted, while sometimes displaying very outgoing & daring traits every so often, startling me & the people around me. I felt like I was 2 people. Or… like I was completely covered in this gunk called Anxiety/Depression & the real me — the happy-go-lucky, the faithful, the kind & giving, the loving, the beautiful me — was trying desperately to fight it off, leaving me only a few moments where I could gasp for air. This is exactly how it was. I was fighting for air.
Upon making the decision to go on medication, I was completely, 100% against it. I felt like by taking medication I was going to turn into a “med junkie” thinking that popping pills would stall the problem, because it was much more difficult trying to make the effort to fix my problems which too more time & more courage. I endured many, many emotional breakdowns. Many panic/anxiety attacks (to this day, I can’t tell the difference between one or the other). I dealt with bouts of depression & sorrow, feeling like I was literally dying slowly & I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt doomed; as though all the bad things in the world were going to happen to me: death, food poisoning, car crashes, plane crashes, starvation, bankruptcy, mental instability to the extent that I would be put in an asylum; so on, so forth. Anything dreadful that could possibly ever happen to any human being, I imagined would happen to me… & soon. I even felt like I was creating my own personal backwards eating disorder in the midst of all this anxiety & being afraid. I lived my life vicariously through fear & loathing; really, I did. It was a horribly dark time for me. I never thought that things could ever get so bad & I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I have never had anything traumatic happen in my life (disregarding horrific heartbreaks & an inevitable divorce from my parents because those are both just part of life). It’s as though the walls starting closing in right as all these changes began happening in my life… & it just progressed from there. I felt like I was having an quarter life crisis.
I had a very scary breakdown once at my mother’s new apartment. I was in the safest place in the world (in my mother’s presence) with all of my family around me, Lover there as well, & shaking uncontrollably, as though a bomb were about to go off in the house that only I knew about & it was going to kill everyone inside; I was just waiting for the explosion. I was so nervous & scared of absolutely nothing that I couldn’t enjoy myself… I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t converse with my family. I felt very, very sick. I felt like I was dying. It was the biggest anxiety episode I’ve ever had; & the last one, at that. I ended up leaving my mother’s house early the next morning. I drove home, crying the whole way, feeling like such a mess & such a disappointment. I called my therapist, who I had been seeing for a few months before all of this medicine talk, & made an emergency session that night. Within the next few weeks, I was speaking to a psychiatrist about everything I had been going through over the last few years. He prescribed Prozac. I took that for 3 months, dealing with complications with the medication the whole time, thus leading me to switch to Zoloft which I have been taking ever since. & I have never felt so normal in my life.
Writing all of that was like an out of body experience. Those memories feel so very far away that I had trouble wrapping my own thoughts around that actually being me. I am so grateful that I had the wisdom (not to mention the courage) to make the decision to go on antidepressants. It was & is by far the greatest choice I have made in bettering myself. I do not regret it, but I am still having trouble coping with the general idea of being medicated. For my pride’s sake.
This entry was so hard for me to talk about; it left a very bad taste in my mouth. I just finished deleting my old diary, permanently deleting my past from sight. Hopefully that by acknowledging its existence here, as well as banishing the physical memories of what transpired, I can begin to fully look ahead to the future while enjoying these present moments.
Again, I let out another deep, long, much needed sigh… of relief.