Comfortable Shoes--- Books Not Boys

Lying in bed not able to fall asleep is a dangerous thing for me. My head is spinning like a roulette table. Where the ball lands nobody knows and only trouble will ensue. I need to just learn to grab a book and read a few pages instead of my phone. It only leads to stalking lost loves and old crushes.

Which then leads me to accidentally sending a video  chat request a 2: 30 am. How come there isn't a in case you're stalking an old crush disable all chat capabilities settings for when your phone slips out of your hand and you won't push a chat button by mistake, Goggle? My lighting speed reactions couldn't stop this snafu. Because now all of a sudden my phone is no longer super sensitive to my touch. No matter how I panickly hit the red cancel button for this request the phone just isn't going to respond. Also, just so you know hitting the back button in this instance doesn't cancel it either, as I cleverly thought would rectify the situation. So there I am almost  3 am thinking damn I just got caught and now try sleeping on that. Constantly thinking what if I set his phone off. Maybe he doesn't have goggle hangouts open on his phone. So maybe, it was sent to his email, no harm right? Ok I'll just send something in the morning apologizing, to stop him from thinking I'm so far deranged and crazy, and can't leave him alone that I think a 2 am video chat request is acceptable.

After my eyelids have finally grown heavy and I'm starting my new day I send an email explaining my unintentional late night actions. 'Click,  and just like me as I hit send, what if he never got any notice at all because he doesn't use hangouts on any of his devices and I just told on myself. Then I start romanticizing. What if, my snafu was a blessing in disguise and now he knows I'm available and maybe still interested and he's single and to make a grand gesture he's going to just show up wherever I am to confess how much he's a jack ass for not noticing how perfect a mate I would be and have a ring. 'Snap Snap!' Andria, one life is not like a romcom , two, you don't like surprises, and three, you already know you are going to die alone and penniless.  Though there is hope maybe not penniless if I just leave them boys alone.

Late Bloomers are Always in a Pickle

It's like a 10 years non existence of nothing. However yet I still find myself pining after you and contemplating if there is actually something there. As much as I don't want to, as much as I know it's not worth it, as much as I know it be better for me if I just forget you, as much as I tell myself to just stop, I don't. I will waver back and forth and you always win. I guess the heart is a persnickety creature. Or is it, that stupid 90's thing of wanting closure. Because sometimes it feels it was all in my head or was there some flirting in the beginning, then as always my timing is off and even though I might have been somewhat obsessively pushy. I always feel if all else fails be obsessively pushy, that'll seal the deal, not. It's not entirely my fault, with all do respect he was a such an ass about it. Shouldn't that be enough to forget it and move on, why am I trying to hold on to nothing, get back nothing., going back and forth of wanting to knee him in the teeth to then forgive and let be. Now four years later I'm chasing him down at shows. Cause of course he would be in band and be a drummer. What am I thinking? It is possible I just like hating myself feeling like some deranged groupie. Which by the way, no matter how I'll try to explain or get my point across I'll be that crazy girl. My first show in a while I couldn't say anything. I did want to enjoy myself, I thought being silent and adverting eyes was the best way to come off as cold and dead inside. When I left there alone, thinking I blew it.. I shouldn't have been a bitch. See what happens when a I'm bitch, I feel guilty it about always, later. And of course because I blew it last time, I don't even get a second time to at least try to mend things at the next show.

 Here I am with no closure and no way of making amends to the past. I could get another chance but lets face it, I had my second chance and there's no getting it back. I could wait around for another, but what for, I'm only the one who puts out the effort, who puts myself out on the line for what? Another humiliation. The easiest way to work a guy out of my system, kiss him, fuck him, be absolutely disgusted by him. So how do you work yourself out from under a man and move on, when you never where exactly underneath him. Hmmm, and its not like I'm not eyeing other people, but I seem to be in this vortex where I can't get a date, let alone a boyfriend to save my life. A welcomed distraction of my time would be nice and yes I have my art and maybe my I'm going to die an old maid so why even bother, but that boy sure is cute isn't getting me anywhere, maybe something that's a more proactive pursuit. I could also look at my possibilities which is another drummer, which come on have I not learned my lesson already or the guy I occasionally fuck. Which NO, I should never, why ruin a good thing just to get over some other guy. I have picked up every known craft a spinster could have(and by every known, I mean sewing and knitting), unless I want to start making things out of cat hair, something has got to change. So as you can see I do have my pickle in quite the jam. Either I become my next work in progress. Or have this slight obsession of trying to mend something that is beyond repair. Lets not talk about how dangerously close I am to emailing him again which is kinda how I found myself in this mess to begin with. OK, so obsessing about me it is.

Measurement Of Beauty

On the rare occasion that I visit my twitter page, I see this tweet posted in my stream linking interesting facts about Marilyn Monroe. I wanted to read the article and maybe learn something new about Ms. Monroe that I hadn't before. I bookmarked it for a later read. It turned out that the main part of the article was about her weight and that the most interesting unknown facts, for me at least, where the bottom bulletin points. At first I brushed the article off a bit peeved. Then the article really got to me. Does there really need to be another article stating that in fact Marilyn was very petite according to her measurements and dress size, despite rumors being of a much larger size. I won't mention the measurement and guessed dress size. I won't play into numbers game, I don't find it necessary, as I find them to be irreverent to what I want to talk about.

I was disappointed that yet again a common misconception about a past starlet would be her weight. Disappointed even more that one of my favorite burlesque stars would be the one to tweet about said confirmation, that in fact Marilyn did have a body unattainable by most humans. I guess I can't be totally shocked as when she was in town, they're weren't any black burlesque dancers in the show. Correction she didn't have any in her last strip strip hooray but the current tour there was one.That is however a topic for another day. I don't want to talk about why she would post about this article, but about what this article is quietly saying and what she is quietly agreeing to consciously and unconsciously.

I will start by saying beauty has nothing to do with a waistline. It comes in all colors, shapes and sizes. It is not only appearance but character and how you carry yourself. You will never see a now you know article on the size of Cary Grant's pants. You will never here another male actor exclaim "As handsome as Grant was I would kill myself if I was ever his size". So let me plunge that knife slowly for you Ms. Elizabeth Hurley because according to the article you are a bit gorda in the waistline. If we were to take what Elizabeth Hurley said about Marilyn's body and that she in fact did say those words and since the article then goes to compare Marilyn's body to yours and since besides height you're basically the same and since you think being that size is so unforgivable. Yes, please kill yourself. We are then to believe that despite being adored by millions still and having a presence on camera that no other actress has been able to duplicate, we must have her beauty measured and pinned down to a dress size, holding to the ideal of certain measurements is the definition of beauty. And if you can't obtain it then you are not beautiful.

I found this quote from Marilyn. Who says "Big breast, big ass, big deal. Can't I be anything else? Gee, how long can you be sexy?".  Why is it that girls feel pressured to be pretty, sexy, or desirable? To obtain the unattainable? Because society burdens them to do so. Other than this article there are countless magazine's, online catalogs, and media, that have gone beyond air brushing into digitally altering bodies to resemble some type of subhuman of beauty that even the model isn't able to achieve without the help of a computer.

So we should be outraged that we are marketed to always have flawless skin, to never age, and be allowed to have a size 2 body six weeks after giving birth. We should be outraged that we are mostly shown as an object to have, that it's usually sex as a way to get noticed. To be outraged that to be shown as a woman of power comes with being stigmatized. Instead we should demand more real beauty be shown, If we demanded more real varying representation of women are shown, if we demanded that we not always be shown overly sexual and more than just body. Then maybe our girls won't be overly concerned about their waist lines, if there breast size is big enough. Maybe they wouldn't be concerned about if they are sexy enough for a boy. If we demanded to be seen more equal among men, then we can be more outraged of the selling of girls around the world. We would be more outraged of our girls being denied an education in other countries. Then we could be more outraged of the raping  and domestic violence against our sisters who never get their justice. 

Please don't get me misunderstood there is nothing wrong with a girl being pretty or wanting to beautiful or being sexual. To putting on a lipstick and wearing a dress. It is ok doing what makes you feel confident, beautiful, and strong, but do know that just because you don't have a waist line like Jennifer Aniston you are any less beautiful. If you don't have a waif like body like Kate Moss or full figure like Sofia Vergara, marvel at the fact that your body allows you to climb stairs everyday, or you can run 5 miles, that you are able to write, knit, create music, or change a tire. All I'm saying is there are countless and boundless ways to measure beauty. And unlike this article it has to do less with numbers or what you find in a fashion magazine. There is more to being a pretty face. There are so much more things that matter then the size of you're waist. Marilyn realized that and so should you.

“To all the girls that think you’re fat because you’re not a size zero, you’re the beautiful one, its society who’s ugly.”

Marilyn Monroe

Common misconception about Marilyn Monroe: http://t.co/K40DL0Erp8
— Dita Von Teese (@DitaVonTeese) December 27, 2013

OK so now I can get off my soap box for now and will continue with my regular programming.

Love Blah

The past-time of looking up ex's and stalking them on social media was talked about at work. Though at the moment it seemed painfully clear, just don't. I was smart enough to bite my tongue remembering, it isn't an easy temptation to avoid. Secretly I held my head high and thought to myself, thank God I don't have an ex I feel compelled to stalk on the internet. Mostly because for years no one has wanted me or as of late I have been compelled to live a spinsters life. Then I get home and think to myself , who, who from my dating past would I want to look up? Oh stop living in denial, just three weeks ago you were looking up J for an email address and a few days ago I wanted to know how Loser B turned out. But I have been a very good little girl and it's been years since I've looked up E, which had in the past become a borderline obsession, but what about Bastard the third? I have mildly stalked, nothing over the top though. Phew, I'm normal and no longer need to dwell on the subject.

And like a true insomniac moments after my head hitting the pillow in protest to sleep. I pop up grab my kindle and feverishly I start looking up J and then I move onto E and no need to look up B as days ago I found, he actually got his shit together. He is now responsible for a tiny human and learned how to run a comb through his hair, Oh! and is that button up collard shirt underneath a sweater? Cheers mate, can't be mad at ya. At the end of my "research" the closure I was so seeking and needing, I finally got. It would be unorthodox to use people smart, people search, intelius... etc to get rid of you're issues. It probably isn't for everyone, but it's a lot cheaper than a therapist. I have finally exorcised the boyfriends of Andria's past. You know the nagging part of me that thought every waking day they thought about me and the missed opportunity of ever having a girl like me. Well turns out I am as forgettable as I seem and there's a reason why things don't work out. Lesson learned never chase anything that was never meant to be. Never dream a failed never to exists love will magically come to be. That shit only exist in movies.

During my research I found out whatever they wanted from a significant other they wouldn't find in me. I'm not the white picket fence child bearing type. I like my freedom, my whelm to do whatever I want. To not express concern to things I don't care about or to fell the need to have all of my waking days filled with only one certain person. I want to go out and party with just my friends or meet new people and not have to answer to someone. To sleep past noon. I like to be concerned about what im wearing. To spend my money irresponsibly on skinny jeans, not ill-fitted mom jeans. Hey, if that's you're cup of tea that's you're cup tea and congrats in finding it. I am a irresponsible responsible adult and I don't find myself changing that anytime soon. As I have found what I actually want to do and get from my life I have come to realize what I want from a boyfriend isn't from the past, thank god! In my heart of hearts I will believe there is someone in the future for me, as peculiar and particular as I am eventually I will be with the one I'm suppose to be with, possibly...maybe

This is my issh

How does one share their personal life. I think it's worth mentioning in this blog, it is practically about my life. Why not share my abilities at missing signals, misinterpeting signals that were never there and always late realizing that there were signals? So here is a brief history of my non - existent love life.

The difficulties with men started probably in elementry school  with a boy, color scented markers, and a flying paper airplane, but who has that kind of time to go back that far. Lets leave that to a pyschiatrist. The past decade, lets start there. It makes for sweet short story of complications and the major slump I can't seem to get myself out of.

A thing to know about me I like to feel guarded at all times. I never fully let my true emotions show. You should always just bury certain feelings really deep down under the surface. And you stuff it down deep hoping he'll make the first move. When that doesn't happen you  reveal those feelings at the most critical of times so that you look like a complete crazy stalking fool. I can't seem to bring my tortured feelings up for a guy unless he finally moves thousands of miles away or he has given up and moved on to find him a normal girl. On a night many years ago, after not being able to sleep I muster up a sleep deprived courage to send one gruesome pathetic email to... let's call him Dr. C. I knew after hitting send the feelings wouldn't be mutual. I think it was about expelling the truth so that I could move on. I could have cared less what his feelings were. I did it I can move on. So I thought then I get the responding email. The only clear part is he had a girlfriend at the time.

So that's that, we're just friends, cool? right? However my little brain can't leave it at that. It was how it was said and the winking smiley face. My little brain eventually managed to move on or can I say back to his friend a former bandmate and that turned about to be a crackhouse mess of a decision. In the end he put it like this " I have two jobs and a girlfriend I barely even have time for my friends." Bam, not even considered a friend. In hindsight I might have been a bit of a phone stalkerish and didn't handle the non friend gesture politely. I did however try to see if maybe we could mend and truly be friends and as of that how things are now is all on him. It seems that is impossible gesture for him to even respond to leaving me slightly angry with bitter resentment and I might have carried that hatred and resentment of him (Mr. Prick) on Dr C who didn't do anything to deserve that. Currently I hate on Mr Prick mostly ignore Dr. C and on ocasion I get it on with ever faithful Loyal D. For the most part everything is perfect, except that I'm bored. It's not happily ever after or perfect, but it works. Sure I would like a boyfriend. I don't make a great of girlfriend. Then Dr. C goes and do this:

Made me smile...hope all is
attached :
 

 What? no why? he still has the framed anatomy page I gave him from years ago. What does this mean, yes he recently graduated and maybe it's a hey thanks for the encouragement I did it, but when in our brief history has he ever sent a quick message on his on recognizance? Never.. ok maybe one time a Birthday e-card, so it could probably mean nothing. It's usually me that initates the contact and half the time I don't get a response. And of course there was a winky face making it's appearance in the subject line. If it's strictly platonic keep the winky faces at a minum of none. Because otherwise you're flirting or you'll become that creepy old guy that winks at every girl. Weeks later I've decided it meant nothing. However fool me once yada yada. I'm not falling for it anymore. Love ya, wish him the best, but a girls gotta move on. This year I won't be a spaz and try not to fall into my ruiner of love ways. I could even not be guarded and be true with my feelings with friends, family and loved ones. Maybe I really do want a real true actual boyfriend , well see how it goes.

Class Act

You're taking a leisurely walk or sitting at your desk and then...YOU run your hand through your hair feeling something funny and that's odd, you don't remember putting a bobby pin in your hair. Now this foreign object is in your hand and you can't make out what it is. So now it's this panic of mystery and uncertainity. What is this in my hair, is it a leaf, a dried piece of flower, a seed of some kind or worse.....the dead carcass of a bug or worse a live carcass of a bug, maybe bird shit? Now depending on the situation and may be able to quickly discard it on the sly hoping no one sees you ditch something after running your fingers through your hair and be on your merrily way, maybe run you fingers through again just to make sure there isn't anymore. But then you might think to yourself  as you get rid of it, did anyone see it in my hair? How long has it been  in my hair? Is there more than one? Did they start multiplying? And if someone saw something in my hair, why didn't they say anything preventing further colonization in you hair.  Cause if they seen it do they just think that you never wash your hair allowing unimaginable things to grow in it. Now if you're are not situation number one. You might want to take a look before you toss it. You might take a quick look to make sure no one has saw you discover something in you're that shouldn't be there. But do you dare after the freak out, to look at it, to actually find out what it is. What if it is a bug, a living bug in you're hair all day, with maybe others that you haven't discovered yet, creating a family and putting up real estate. So you look and squint and then finally release your breath, ohh it's just a balled up little dried leaf. And this is what happened from my walk to my car from work.

Drummmers

You know that part when the drums go bam bam bam bam bam with tic-tic-tic-tic and it's hard and short and intense. Just makes me want to just take my panties off. And that is why it's never safe for me to be around drummers. Never.. safe.  Here's a Two Door Cinema Club song to express that drum beat I'm talking about.


Two Door Cinema Club
Sleep Alone

Comfortable Shoes--July 25

You Know --
You know when, you break up with a guy and you're all devasted and don't understand why? But hoping to still be friends and you end up never seeing each other again despite your best efforts. Finally having months or years apart you reach that moment of clarity and you say to yourself what ya know he was a dick. Had me thinking it was me?! Damn shame I wasted all that time on a prick thinking he was worth something.  Now is there anyway to share this clarity with said dick without appearing bitter?

Comfortable Shoes-- July 19

So you are probably wondering why call my blog dairy Comfortable Shoes. Well after years of receptionist to desk job to salon receptionist to desk job to salon receptionist. Floating in a ebb of mindless unappreciated work. I grew found of heels and in a sitting all damn day positions heels are perfect. Heels made me feel beautiful, heels got me attention. Now I'm not going to say that all heels are comfortable, some more than others yes. However  comfortable shoes come in array of different flavors and what can be deemed as comfortable can actually be uncomfortable. Like my currently worn 15 dollar ballet flats from Target. They look comfortable but that's about it because Target doesn't know what a size 10 ballet flat is and so I have once again had to get a size 10 because the size 11 barely stays on my fit, but none the lesson learned no more buying ballet flats from Target not matter how adorable.

As I was saying, heels became my go to girls and when I finally got the dream job I've always wanted,  well wait... partial dream job of working at an art museum I quickly learned the definition of comfortable shoe for this job and heels was not one of them at least not for standing up  7 hours a day on white oak floors and Italian marble. No shoe will ever be comfortable for that but I learned to have to beauty over function.

But it also works as a metaphor always grasping for that comfortable shoe and not quite getting it. So in the end I grab a shoe hoping it will be the comfort I seek for 7 hours of hard floors and most of the time they just don't live up to the hype. I mean I even bought crocs  ballet flats. Me wearing crocs? granted they don't look like Crocs but yeah crocs??? All I know is I miss my heels.

Comfortable Shoes-- June 10th

What do you do when a man offers you his credit card to purchase his tickets and as you swipe and hand him his receipt to sign,  this gentlemen ask, did you swipe it? And you reply yes. He then asks again no, did you swipe IT?  a emphasis on it with a double raised eyebrow and a wink. What would you're response be? I know it can't be a loud yell of Guard repeatedly till they whisked him away. Nor would it be to tell him to wash his mouth out with soap and act like a civilized man. Maybe you can get away with a confused look . But mostly you simply grin and pretend that he didn't mean what he just said or that you never quite catch that last part and tell him to enjoy his visit. You then proceed to count down the minutes till you can get home under a steaming hot shower to wash the old dirty man away.

Comfortable Shoes-June 3rd

I don't make a great girlfriend. I'm glad that I finally realize this cause I don't have to try to be in or get stuck in  a relationship with pre-conceived notions like; not being allowed to have sex with other people. However does anyone have the answer for being able to having a friend you like having sex with but just keep it that way, a friendship with sex? Oh heavenly father let me find the way.

Comfortable Shoes- May 21st

Never considered myself to be a too tall gal. But maybe tall enough that the short guys look me over and walk on. To never be hit on at all, makes this short guy geek well, feel very small. However I adore short handsome men. Their like bite size single serving delicacies. Until I really got to think about. As I all maul things over while checking out this beautiful short guy over the counter. Up and down and all around I noticed that this bite size delicacy had  tiny man hands. And  as I look at his tiny, man, hands and then mine and his tiny hands and back to mine. I realized I couldn't do it with a man who's hands are tinier than mine and with this I know I ain't missing on anything.

Comfortable Shoes

This is my life as a 30 something trying to find her place in the world. Which translates to I move from job to job not finding a career. And never having time to make money off bring an artist. To scared to step it up in my jobs and afraid to start something on my own. How does one move on in the world with out owning responsibility. You can't, so I'm stuck in limbo until I get over my fears and try harder. So this is a diary loosely based on my life, sometimes exaggerated, sometimes wishful thinking. Written in dialogue and in statements or scenarios. Hope its not to confusing and that you laugh and at times think.