12|30|2009
My personal, non-negotiable rules for a smashing 2010:
- rule #1: Completely eradicate high-fructose corn syrup, MSG, & anything partially hydrogenated from your diet.
- rule #2: Figure out what to do with Ask Apricot to expand it more; otherwise… destroy it. [Please take a moment to read my very heartfelt post at Ask Apricot, & tell me how to keep it going.]
- rule #3: Do Wii Fit workouts regularly; otherwise… go on hikes with Jonathan once a week.
- rule #4: See your local blogger friends more often, & not just for special occasions.
- rule #5: Appreciate wine. Learn to accept the fact that wine is NOT your forté, in taste & in preference.
- rule #6: Have more sex.
- rule #7: Seek photography as more than a fuck-around hobby. Perhaps take a class at the college.
- rule #8: Read more books, watch less news.
- rule #9: Master the art (& elegance) of wearing red lipstick on a weekly basis.
- rule #10: Get a real job (find a real purpose); otherwise… stop brooding about being a housewife.
- rule #11: Shave your head, & broadcast it on this blog.***
- rule #12: Get two more tattoos; one in dedication to your mother & the other to your sister.
- rule #13: Shop at thrift stores for clothes more than you buy at major retail stores.
- rule #14: Be more patient & understanding with Jonathan; stop trying to change him, & appreciate him.
- rule #15: Take more vacations. Go on a road-trip.
- rule #16: Spend less time caring [see: obsessing] about what you’re wearing daily.
*** Maybe.
————
Typically, my new year’s festivities are quiet & comfortable (although I truly wish I could go to a real New Year’s Eve party & celebrate rambunctiously). Jonathan & I will no doubt be donning our pajamas for most of the day, watching movies, playing video games, & lousing about the house, while snacking too much. As the hours slowly creep toward midnight, we’ll do our damnedest to try to stay awake. There will be no hats, no horns, no confetti, & no firecrackers, because we procrastinated & they’re all sold out by now. But we’ll shout a celebratory “WOO!” at the top of our lungs outside our windows, & perhaps improvise by banging pots & pans together. & then… we’ll retire to bed to sleep off the excitement.
The next day — January 1st — will be spent stranded at home, because the dreaded, obnoxious Rose Parade will be taking place for six hours a few blocks away from our apartment. The roads will be closed off, traffic will be backed up, & there will be a clusterfuck of people on every street corner… all because they want to sit in the cold to see 30 ft. piñatas drive past them at 2mph. (Some have even started to camp out on the sidewalks to get the perfect seats.) I’d rather die than be caught up in that mess, so I’ll stay indoors, watch a bit of the parade on television (only to see if anything exciting happens, like a float crumbles to the ground mid-flight, or catches fire), & then thank the stars I am away from all the ruckus.
(Am I the only one who thinks parades are über lame? They absolutely bore me to tears. Or maybe I’m just a grouch.)
With every start of the new year, I go into cleaning hyperdrive. I think it’s bad luck to start the new year with the previous years’ dirt. So I’ll be doing laundry, washing the bed linens, washing my hair, dusting, cleaning out my closet, taking a bath, shaving my legs, taking off old nail polish, etc. Not even Sofie is safe from this superstition. She will be getting a bath, as well. This blog might even undergo some changes, however small.
happy new year to you; here’s hoping for a smashing 2010.
12|18|2009
cape dress, Cali; tights, Target; vintage shoes, from Alicia; cardigan, Ruche.com
I’ve come to the conclusion that people care more about what I write than what I wear. I say this because of the obvious observation: I get much more comments on my written posts than my fashion ones (& I am very, very grateful for that). & while I could easily become flustered at that idea — & I almost always do — I stop & ask myself this question: Would you rather have it the other way around? That people have more to say about your outfits (materialism, vanity, gluttony) than heartfelt compositions?
& the answer is almost always No.
Seven day left until Christmas. Where did the time go? I’ve actually gotten most of my Christmas shopping done, with the exception of Jonathan’s presents. I had thought I was done, until he told me I’m getting 7 presents this year; one of those being my anniversary present. Now I’m extremely worried because I’ve only gotten him 4 presents, none of those being an anniversary present. But with our account having been overdrawn this morning — which has NEVER happened before — I’m afraid that 4 gifts will just have to do, much to my dismay.
It seems like everything is hitting us all at once this month like a ton of bricks. Problems with Lola (our car), who decided to be a jerk & fail her smog test; T-Mobile bitch-slapping us with an astronomical bill (over $300); not to mention the fact that it’s bloody Christmas, & we’re naturally going to do a bit of indulging (Big Buddha, presents between the two of us & my family, holiday cards & postage, etc.).
Needless to say, I’m fucking stressed. & I hate money.
& now comes the point where, instead of stressing & beating myself up about how much I’ve spent this month, I reason:
It’s alright, love. We all make mistakes, & the account being overdrawn is not your fault. Christmas is coming (as is your 2nd wedding anniversary!), so look forward to that, rather than seething & lamenting about money. Again: everything will be okay. Just breathe & try to forgive yourself.
It seems silly, but I sometimes give myself pep-talks. & I have a feeling this particular talk will last the entire month of December.
12|11|2009
“Indifferent” would be only word I could use to accurately describe the relationship I have with my father. I truly wish I could say that I am a daddy’s girl. There was a time where I was, but that hasn’t been the case for quite some time, for he has changed in a way where he is almost unrecognizable to me. He doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does. He doesn’t know the intricate, seemingly insignificant fragments of my life, & I don’t think he cares to know. Our conversations are hardly ever deep or heartfelt because he is almost always preoccupied with the dramatic happenings in his own new life. & because of that, small talk is our only form of decent communication.
Sometimes I feel that I love my father because I have to. (He’s my father, after all.) I’ve done everything I can to try to preserve the love & respect I have for him; whatever might be left. But as I grow older & as I see things with both eyes open, I’m not so apt to lying to myself about our relationship. A small part of me is beginning to relent to the fact that the father I had 5 years ago is dead, & the one that remains today has been horrifically reinvented, with new & improved qualities; qualities I can’t support & qualities that go completely against what he instilled in me & my sister.
When I did this post about my mother, it’s was effortless. Ideas & nostalgia flowed through me as if the composition was alive & writing itself. Trying to do this post about my father, however, was like pulling teeth. As much as I would have liked to have sentences upon sentences of bliss, appreciation, & admiration, it didn’t come naturally. What came forward instead was the raw truth that I dislike my father more than I like him, that I disrespect him more than I respect him, & that I love him dearly & feel complete pity for him without a real, legitimate reason.
He is the only person on this earth that breaks my heart on a daily basis.
I doubt my father will ever read this. But if he does happen to read this, I hope that he knows that this is not a representation of suppressed emotions or at-the-moment feelings. This is what I felt yesterday, what I will feel tomorrow, & what I will feel for the rest of my life.
Obligation is the worst kind of motivation.
(continue reading…)
12|03|2009
Today… I was going to write about how inadequate / fat / small / insignificant / lost/ ridiculous I feel, & how long these feelings have been permeating through my brain (consistently for a few weeks now).
Today… I was going to write about all the things I need to do: I need to exercise; I need to eat better; I need to dress better; I need to look better; I need to feel better.
Today… I was going to whine about the diamond ring / the pair of shoes / the tube of mascara / the new car I want. I was going to mope, wallow, & pout about every little thing that makes me uncool, unpopular, unhip, unloved, & unwanted.
I was going to go on & on about those silly things, those wretched lies… until I read these words:
(continue reading…)
12|01|2009
dark blue sweater & cut-off shorts, from H&M; boots, Payless; necklace is my own creation.
you need to click these links:
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(Are you interested in guest-posting at Ask Apricot? If so, email me, telling me why you think you would make an amazing guest advice giver, & we’ll have a little chat!)
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