Denial

I started this post last fall and then I got a tragic unexpected call that my sister passed away. I needed time to mourn and process. Also being recently told of my own health issues I wondered about my own immortality. I didn't have any health  care at the time and was now dealing with high blood pressure. And before I could get my bearings I lost my beloved Uncle to cancer. Knowing in the back of my mind this could be the out come as he fought his second diagnosis, still shocking and heart wrenching in the end. It felt as if the family members who were the integral glue that help connect the family together are gone.

I now feel like I'm back to my normal or my new normal and now want to tackle my own health issues and life imbalances
Now I'm back at it again and ready to talk about what I wanted to months ago, my own health issues and demons about health. This will probably be broken up to smaller chunks to make it easier to digest. Maybe  a 3 parter  or 4. There is so much to talk about now. Maybe even chime in every now and again about my progress or non progress and setbacks. Don't worry this is about me being an artist working in the service industry managing my art life, friends and non existent love life. As I started this and restarted this post I have learned something, had some challenges incorporated those challenges and think I have it down only to start all over again.

Let's start with ignoring obvious signs my health might've be in danger. More like denial, oh no the reading is wrong. I do get very stressed when driving. I didn't get enough sleep or I skipped breakfast. It can't be, I practically exercise every day. Denial is  the beanie chair tool of feelings. To be in denial allows you to never change it blinds you from learning or discovering. It can keep you comfortable to not challenge yourself. I denied it. Made  fun of it, but it was always there in the corner of my mind. I'm learning my lesson. Because when you deny something you only make it worse. I could no longer ignore the state of my health. For the past ten years off and on I've been meaning to lose the extra weight and eat better. And for awhile I would but then I  give into temptation and laziness and get into a fast food habit or I love my sweets too much, I can't do this. And why does everything taste better fried? I should go do the run I said I would today but I want to mind numbingly look through Facebook or I'm going to start that next project I've been thinking about, after I mind numbingly look through Facebook and finishing up my project is far more important than a  thirty minute run or going to bed on time for work tomorrow.

As much as I enjoy being active. It's keeping my commitment that's the hardest. I've never after a workout thought I wish I didn't do that. The trouble is getting myself to start the workout. It's true I hate to admit but I like to be lazy, I like my food and I'm addicted to the Internet. The bigger contradiction is being active is something I enjoy and I tend to gravitate to healthier food when I have a choice. How does someone like me get out of shape? Started with depression and then bad habits I didn't break one out of the depression. The really bad one is sleep. I'm either never getting enough or I get to much. Truth, I'm in a rut I never got out of and I am a bit of a lazy bone and self centered. Trust me it all adds up. No matter the love of exhaustion and exhilaration after the end of a good work out. I like pushing myself, I want to feel the burn, I love the soreness the next day.  I love everyday progress I see when I challenge myself. I also will get only 3 hours of rest the night before work and want to take a nap that instead turns into 4 hours of sleep. And as long as I get to dance, do pilates, yoga and surprise running I don't have trouble starting I also like to sit on my ass and eat the food I love so after the new new and freshness wears off it's hard for me to keep the routine going. But like most people wanting to lose weight I still have this lingering mentality that I can do this for three months get myself where I want to be and then have all the Oreos I want after. Nope that's not how it works. I know this I've actually been working on this part for the last year. Hey, for 12 months in a row I went on a run. The food part is the hardest.

Now I know the question you might want to ask. What has changed now that you want to blog about your quest to find health and a happy weight? Well I may chime in from time to time about the realities of becoming a healthier fitter me. But no worries this still is about me working two jobs at two different museums while being a super talented artist who doesn't make any money at. What has changed that I'm taking my health seriously and want to make a true change, High blood pressure. It's like serious you don't mess around with that. Especially since my numbers are that off a 60 year old and I'm not even 40 yet. It's not the machine giving an inaccurate reading. It's not because I didn't get enough sleep last night. It's me it's my body telling me it can't take what I'm doing to it anymore. So no more denial the numbers don't lie. I also don't want to be a hypocrite either. I don't know how much is hereditary and I'm sure I'm going to need medication. But if there are all these other solutions to lower my blood pressure without medication then I'm going to do that too. I don't want take a drug all my life that has side effects just so I can eat sweet and sour chicken and drink coffee all day. I want to make the right food decision and be more active, because those were my habits. That was me too. And I I can flip the switch and be this I can flip the switch and be better. It's so much more exhausting saying I'll try again tomorrow. I have become complacent in my bad habits. Through depression I found solace in fast food and staying up late. I need to break those habits.Now my body is suffering for those choices and I don't want to take a magical pill so I can stay complacent in my bad choices. I want to do what I use to do and if that fails to lower my blood pressure then by all means I'll take that pill.  So here is where it starts, let's see how it goes. . .

I do have a six pack 

According To Herself - I

I've always liked dancers. I enjoy dancing. It's no wonder that I have a few as friends.  See there were a few well known ballet dancers who hung out in the same circles that I did. Fate eventually happened and I became so much a part of their world. They enjoyed my company I enjoyed theirs. I never felt like I didn't belong. They weren't my friend because they pitied me. They genuinely thought me as one of them. For me that meant everything. I considered myself a pretend dancer. I mean no one has ever paid to see me dance.

I didn't mind being a spectator of their love they were such the amazing couple and to be their friend to be able to see that love up close, I felt special. I also was able to find a ballet guy of my own. A bit goofy but wonderful in his own way. Someone greatly athletic and talented be into me, who knew? So as couples we did lots of things together. There was no mistake who the shining couple was. They were the Angelina and Brad Pitt couple of ballet. It came to a surprise when she came to one day saying she hasn't talked to him in weeks or seen him for days. She thinks it might be over, but wished he would talk to her. How could this happen to them, not her. Not my best friends.

I said I would find out for her. If there was any help to mend the relationship or if it's ended I'd let her know. I was suppose to meet him for this night of stuff only we would enjoy it was our night to get way from our loving half with stuff planned in prior weeks. He's a bit of an old ball like me. It was a good way to these things and not be alone. After getting the news from her l thought he might have changed his mind about wanting to hang with me.  I texted something like I guess with the certain circumstances our night out together is off. He replied of course we are still going to do it. It's going to be the best night ever.

We started the night at the spot it would end, exploring the city's dark and twisted places  only we of our crowd could delight in. Wild strange parties with weird fantastic people. Dancing under crazy fluorescent lights. I even think there was karaoke sung by people wearing fur animal costumes in a bar that mimicked the cosmos. It was a night I wouldn't forget. I have to say that I love everyone dearly in the ballet circle I became a part of. But how I'm feeling about him tonight is different. It never crossed my mind to think of him this way. He has always been with her, happy with her. I shake the feelings aside. However I had to ask why before we continued tonight he quickly said that it is over between them. He said that she can't let go and tries to avoid her because she doesn't want it to be over. He grabs my hand. Come on! It's on to the next place. Did I just see that. Is he feeling this too. But he feels comfortable about it. Has he been feeling this way before. Am I just now seeing it? Is my imagination wanting it to be true?

The night is mid way and my boyfriend pops up to see how things are going.  Goofier than ever to the point of irritation. Is it that I always find him this annoying. I try to brush it off. I kiss him goodbye. He's perfect he's mine.

The night is winding down for the big finish. I'm finally able to catch my breath. But before the closing ceremony starts he wants to take me out to the beach side that the bar has. It's suppose to be the best view of the coast ever. Once we push through the crowd and reach the patio and look out the glass, the perfect moment he was trying to set dies. He forgot there has been an unusual surge of water and there is no way we can walk out to the beach side and enjoy the view. Not without certain risk of death. We go back in, surprised to see her we dart off before she can see us. I don't know how to act because I keep getting these feelings coming out nowhere about him and as the night has progressed I think he cares for me to, but is it the same as I feel? I don't know. Seeing her only adds guilt. I am her friend also after all. He pulls me away to hide.  He heads us to the girls bathroom. I tell him no he can't, it will be awkward. Here? No one will notice, no one will care. Fine, he grabs a wig off someone. Now I can. Where in the bathroom for a while the girls adore him and have a little fun. I tell him this is silly we're going to miss the last bit of the night. We don't want to miss the big ceremony. We head out, she is still there and truly enjoying herself, thinking only of herself. I can see the jealousy in him as he watches her. It makes me feel weak. I let him go to stand by her. The enjoyment she was having quickly washes away. They have a talk. I watch the ceremony half heartily. The conversation ends. I sense she is feeling sad. I walk up to her and give her a hug from behind. I feel her fall into my hug and pull away at the same time. I know that she cares for our friendship, but I do not know if she will be the same friend as before. I think about my boyfriend and then I think about him. I watch him as he dances something inside me intensifies. I join him, not knowing what decision I'll make.

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.

Don't Call It Insomnia

Insomnia, that one word you can use and get sympathy for being up late last night. Night owl on the other hand, not as much. I am a night owl. I will own it with every fiber of my being. I will never get sympathy or empathy for my infliction, unless maybe among other nite owls. I was once ashamed even tried to claim insomnia. Reading up on symptoms, thinking this and this is true for me, so it must be . But to be honest with myself and others, simply put when I finally make myself go to bed and once all snuggled in I quickly fall fast asleep.  There are rare times I legitimately can claim insomnia, where I'm tossing and turning about with no success of sleep. And even then I claim being a nite owl without abandon. I'm still jealous of those who can go to bed at a decent time and wake up in the morning refreshed, doe eyed and ready for that worm. Don't worry I don't want your worm or to be an early bird. But a consistent daily 8 hours of sleep I long for. To be able to crawl out of my bed before noon on my days off and actually get in more hours of being productive before bedtime.

Now being an nite owl doesn't necessarily mean you're irresponsible and can't be bothered to put yourself to bed on a schedule.  However I also cant say there isn't a lack of self discipline involved. But we all are not running around at night causing chaos. Sometimes its about exploring and curiosity of what happens when most are asleep. Other times its harder to shut down when there is much going on in our brains  and we crave/need to figure it out to before going to bed or else we'll lose it forever. Just one more splash of paint, what if I move it over here or change that. 30 more minutes on this piece and then I can go to bed. Ok 1:30 am I'll got to bed and I can at least get 5 hours of sleep before I have to wake up.

Now are all night owls creative? Yes, and I do mean all not some, or most, or few, but ALL. Can you be creative and not a nite owl, yes. But be a nite owl and not a creative, surely not. Take a listen. Creative as an adjective. Having or showing an ability to make new things or think of new ideas. Using the ability to make or think of new things : involving the process by which new ideas, stories, etc., are created. Done in an unusual and often dishonest way. I don't know if I agree with the  last definition. I mean often... OFTEN dishonest way. Really Webster's you're going to throw some shade like that. Maybe we are out at night creating chaos. For me, to be clear being creative isn't just artists, designers or makers, but scientist, mathematicians, engineers. Being a nite owl is constantly being flooded with ideas always wanting to be be stimulated to get new ideas. So with this constant creative brain always going with the natural chaos of the way of the world during the day. Constantly interrupted of our thoughts to daily task that is required of us. Cause hey, no one is going to pay me so I can sit around and figure out how I can display my cinemagraphs in a frame. We actually have to making a living somehow and that usually is by working for someone else. Which leaves what we truly want to do at night. At night I am left to the quiet of my thoughts. I am able to create without interruption.

 And who then wants to go to bed when you're in a mist of a creative breakthrough?

Comfortable Shoes-- Murder and the Gecko

I committed murder, well more like an accomplice. What's worse is there's no way knowing if the little guy is actually dead. Which is more disturbing than the act of murder.  It started one innocentwhen I was readying myself for a shower  and turning on the water. I noticed unusual movement at the back of the tub. Not being able to actually see I grab my glasses and look again hoping its a bug I could easily manage to dispose of. It turns out to be a tiny little gecko. What the fuck? How do I get rid of this guy while in nothing but a towel. Cause everyone knows you are more vunerable when you're naked. I thought I could force the bugger back down the drain using the showerhead  hose. I could only manage to get the guy swirling in a whirlpool around the drain. Thinking he has drowned I would change the water pressure to finish him off, he scurry to dryer land and security causing me to restart the death ride by whirlpool. Never being successful of getting him down the drain I gave up. I just wanted to go to bed, though desperately needing a bath of some kind, I agree upon some kind of quasi sponge bath. Always keeping a watchful eye on the tub. Hoping he'll get a clue and go back  where he came from. I go to bed hoping to not see him again.

My dreams not coming true. I try a killer for hire, grabbing my cat I try to get her to notice the tasty morsel of fun in the tub. Without success, I free her from  her binding contract and get ready for work. Hoping this mofo well be gone so I can have a proper shower tonight is all I think about all day at work. Leaving the shower curtain pried open if PJ decides to finish him. Thinking maybe maybe I'll get a broom and sweep him out the tub if he's still there. Instead of death by drowning or cat.

I come home check the tub. I don't see him.  I move the curtain no sign of him. Oh he gone he's gone! Just to make sure I ask my mom if she new how the gecko was disposed of. She doesn't know, but to make sure he doesn't come back I should place the plug over the drain so he won't make his way back. Brilliant idea.

I go to place the plug and there nestled in the grove of the drain, Mr Gecko. I thought about letting the heavy stainless steel crush him, but thought the mess it would make and how much harder it would be to easily dispose his lifeless body down the drain. This would need more consultation with my mom. I alert that the gecko is still lingering around in the tub. She enters the bathroom for further inspection. She asked if I tried hosing him down the drain. I said yes but I would get him to swirl around in the drain and not down it. She grabs the showerhead puts it on full force and the water as hot as possible. Since He's already in the drain he only has one place to go further down after a min or two removing the spraying water he finally never resurfaced. Now maybe maybe he just went safely down further in the drain. Out of personal experience it's seems really hard to drown a gecko. We might not be gecko killers. My mom to make sure hes gone tells me to go grab the oven cleaner. My question is will oven cleaner do him in or disfigure it and make it angry. I want him to leave the premises and death by oven cleaner seems like a cruel way to go. I have no reason to object and do as she said.

Now that the drain has been doused in oven cleaner I'm suppose to feel safe. He's never coming back. My showers can be blissful again. Ohh no my overly imagative weary mind is thinking about this half burnt mutant gecko now doing chin ups on a roof pipe hellbent on getting revenge. I've been remembering to cover the drain after every shower just in case he trys to make his comeback. Then one day upon close inspection. I noticed that the drain was slightly askew, could it be that Mr. Gecko was indeed not dead and ploting his revenge. Anxiously I take my shower, but then I see a wierd residue in the drain water. I think what if he's really dead and that's the gases from his decompising body in my drain. And then my last thought was, is there a liquid drano for this.

Lunch Breaks

So it's starts with a very brisk 5 minute walk for a quarter of a mile to the sandwich shop. A 6 minute wait in line and order, cause I was unfortunate and got the early lunch. Another 3 min even brisker walk back. Sit at the bench at the reflecting pools and eat sandwich for 6 minutes. One minute to clean up. 2 minutes to walk back and put up the other half of uneaten sandwich. Because you can't eat a whole sandwich in 6 minutes, it's a feat even I can't defy.  I then finally get to pee for 4 minutes and back up the stairs and at post in one minute with a minute to spare. I even managed to do all this without passing out. How is your lunch break at your day to day grind? Tell me in the comments below.

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.

People Are Strange

I usually don't talk to a lot of people at my paper pushing job. Partly because deep down inside I don't like people, partly I don't want to talk to half the people I work with, partly I could careless if I'm talking to people and having to listen to what they have to say. However I get to observe people while  at work.

And there is just this one motherfucker, that all I can say is, what is the deal, is this working for you? First I'm apparently older than this guy yet he looks way older than I am. It doesn't help either that he acts like most of my Dad's older male cousins that I remember when I was younger. I know most people don't look as young as I do for my age and even someone  younger can look older than me. I get it, it's mostly good genes. I like to think that I kind of do some work to keep myself healthy and not rapidly aging so fast. Truth is, it's easy to look young when you're not a chain smoker and can limit your alcohol intake. Yet this dude wears clothes three times his size. Which could be easy since I think he barely weighs 100 pounds and he's not even my height. Then the do rag he has to wear until he gets into work, only because it isn't permitted, otherwise I think he would wear that ridiculous thing all day 24/7. The other day I caught him wearing his pants almost by his ankles and the only reason he got away with it is because he had that long undershirt tucked in, you know so not as to disrespectfully show of his underwear to the world and then a longer shirt over that. He may not be as old as me, but he's still in his 30's. Clearly by the way he's dressed he is quite the gentleman. If that means every night at the end of the shift he tries to cut inline so that he can quickly go outside to wait for his ride to pick him up. Then yes, a gentleman indeed.

It wouldn't be surprising to know that he has mostly annoyed the women here and who only interact with for entertainment purposes or they are at that same level. And I'm really open to different styles that people express themselves with. 

I just don't understand how people get stuck and dress as the would at high school and never move on to a more sophisticated age appropriate dress. Cause there's nothing that makes you more dated and aged then to just keep on being who you are in high school. There's a part of ourselves that tend to evolve or strive for maturity as we learn life's lessons. Oh well all I can say is . . .

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.