Like a Kindergartner Allowed to Dress Herself.

I have recently begun a collection of Man Repelling clothes.

See: the Man Repeller website.

Okay, let's not kid ourselves - I've been dressing a la Man Repell for a long time now. While I like to consider my style.... errr.... 'esoteric' if you will, the reality is, well - that I revel in the fact that most things I wear make my friends say things to the effect of, 'Well, yeah, You can pull that off...' Whether or not I'm actually pulling them off... Well, lets just say, My fingers are crossed. 
Between my seventy necklaces, bracelets and rings, as well as my 'its so ugly it's awesome' mantra of buying clothes (see: recently purchased 'skeleton torso' sweater vest, leather shorts, sheer paisley print shirt dress maxi and/or cut-out tan oxfords) I definitely dress to the beat of my own drum. Thank God.
You know its funny, so does my mom. And I remember being young and just wishing she would 'dress like all the other moms'! Oh the irony.... (Actually, speaking of ironic, now that I think about it, the title of this post is how I often describe my 'style' and it is how my mother would describe her own style as I was growing up.) But... My clothes are Me. (I think we all feel this way. Or at least, we should.)
And if Me is a black & white stripe maxi dress and men's denim shirt one day and a back cashmere sweater, lace bloomers, and equestrian boots the next, so be it. But I have recently come to the conclusion that my man repellent clothes & my 'Rebel Ballerin'a style have melded into a new aesthetic for Winter Dress... And, if I had to describe it (or wanted to, which is what I'm doing, now isn't it...?) I would sum it up with the vague & inarticulate description of:

Renegade corps dancer meets gypsy Ralph Lauren?*  

*See:

denim + leather

crochet + ikat

corduroy + cashmere

ugly + awesome

I've thrown a lil' pre-K Americana into my Rebel Ballerina.

That last one is justcuz that's my favorite song right now.

Deep Roots & Moto Boots.

Cold, staring at the florescent lights above me, counting the panels on the ceiling, and apprehensively waiting for the doctor to quite literally strike a nerve, I felt very very far away.
And, I was.

You see, Excedrin and I had spent the better part of last week fighting off headaches and toothaches, waiting for the pain to 'just go away'... And when I woke up Friday morning, the morning I was supposed to leave for the desert to help out at the other store for a couple days, I had a very noticeable swollen area on my cheek, and it become evident that this pain was not, in fact, just going to go away. Now, dentists are not my forte, if you will - I have put off dentists for almost as long as I've been in Southern California - but this pain, and this inflammation was something that could not be ignored. Gross, I know, but it's the truth. 

My Littlest Sister once comforted me, after a tearful phone conversation about my teeth & their notsogreat condition, by reminding me that we all (or at least my little sisters and I) have a tendency to compare ourselves to those around us, and she pointed out,

You know, you can't see the dental records & and the bank accounts of every stranger who walks by. You can't compare yourself to others blindly, because there is so much you don't know.

My sister is so wise. And right.
So, Friday morning after a panicked Google search of 'toothache+swollen face', I found a dentist in my tiny town who had great reviews on Yelp from people in very similar situations as mine, and made an appointment for Monday. I then hopped in the car, drove the two hours to the desert and arrived at the shop - in moto boots & a mini skirt. When I arrived in the cloudless desert I was a little cloudy and very puffy, but I was ready to work. One of the women who I work with, a French woman with a surfer's soul, was shocked that I was actually quite dressed up - and I explained that I was dressed as such to overcompensate for the fact that I was in a terrible amount of pain, and explained to her the situation.
In her French accent she lovingly chastised,

You cannot ignore this! You cannot wait to Monday! You need to be at the dentist now! Now!

It was one of those moments where I felt so small, so childish.
I felt like,

Shopgirl's Little Sister Complex?
Mmmm hmmmm.

'Oh great, three weeks away from the store & I've already fallen apart & turned into a child again.' 

The kind of child that when left to her own devices, eats sugar cereal for dinner and doesn't go to bed until way past her bedtime.
Who doesn't go to the dentist 'cuz I justdon'twanna! 
I walked into my store, and the Shopgirls that have become my family - my boss & her sister, their parents who love me, and even my by-phone coworkers; and yes, I walk in in trouble & my Shopgirl Big Sisters whirl into action.
In fact, they're the only family I feel like the Littlest Sister of. Within twenty minutes of my arrival, she had found a dentist that could see me immediately, and would be open to a payment plan, and Off! I went, without a choice.
For a fucking emergency root canal. 
But even with my Shopgirl Family watching out for me, taking care of me, being there for me, I couldn't help but feel, while sitting in that dentist's chair for four hours, staring at the ceiling, so so far away, and so so Alone.
In so so many ways.
Physically, I was alone at the dentist, over two hours away from my house, my Kat Moss.
From Apartment F.*

*More on that later.

I felt so helpless, and my real family was even farther away. And for the most part, wasn't even aware that I was sitting in the dentist's chair. You know, I had the same sensation that I had when I was in Eighth Grade, puking my guts out in the Principal's Office, and I realized that at 13, I had never thrown up without my mom there to hold my hair back. I'd never been sick without my Mommie. And here, nearing 30, I'd never been to the dentist, let alone to have something like a root canal done, alone. Without my mom or dad, without my Ex's mom or dad. (Because of proximity, I'd leaned his family physically and mentally for so long in lieu of my own parents, that I'd never felt far away from Family when we were together.)
Now don't get me wrong, my Shopgirl family was less than five minutes away, & worried about me, and I could have stayed at their parent's house and been lovingly taken care of for the night to recuperate, but I still just. wanted. to. go. home.
To My Apartment.
And even then, I wished my own parents weren't so far away from there.
After about four hours, with a wonderful dentist in the desert, and a root canal that technically speaking isn't even finished; I was emotionally shaken. Now, if my sprained ankle showed me anything - it's that emotionally speaking, I don't deal with pain well. Especially when feeling helpless and far away from a comforting embrace. And though I was shaken, I pulled myself up by my moto boot-straps, went and filled my prescriptions, and headed Home. 
Home, to a Boyfriend waiting for me.
Home to his comforting embrace.

Yes, I would like fries with that.

You know, when I stepped out of that dentist's office - after paying for nearly a third of the procedure upfront myself - I didn't feel so much like a helpless child. Granted, I was pretty hopped up on pain killers, but I felt a little more like a grown up and less like a kid left to her own devices. And like my sprained ankle, this whole damn thing also showed me that my family - biological or otherwise - well, it's roots are deep; my Tiny Town & my friends within it, or my Shop that is no longer, these are my roots now too.

And with roots like these,
I'll never really be Alone.
No matter how alone I may feel in the moment.

And, I'm not a helpless child, no.
I just sometimes need a little bit of a push.
I'm a grown up that occasionally needs reminding of How to be a grown up.

A grown up who immediately found the nearest Wendy's drive thru and ordered a chocolate Frosty. Because that's what you do after the dentist.
Right?
Right.

Angel Hairs.

I think I am going to start rocking headbands.
That is all.

Home Dum Dum Dum.

Helena Christensen's 

Louis Vuitton's Family Home

Erin Wasson's 'Closet'

Love.

Add caption? Add: ME.

Yes. Please.

I'm bored. (I know, I know, smart people don't get bored.)
But I am. Bored. Capital B. (Can you tell, this is my third blogpost today) Bored at home.
Without a lunch date. And I've already gotten coffee twice today. And went to Buffalo Exchange yesterday, though I have no business shopping. Though, I may go back & get this rib cage knit vest I saw...
I made a bracelet.
And... Sent out a follow up email and have also received a very Mary Poppins-esque 'the position has been filled' email.
I'd like to hit my head against Erin Wasson's closet wall rightaboutnow. 
I need a hobby.

Oh, though - Look what I found! Amazing!!! And also, This! 

At First Glance.

This looks like my Mother.

'Satisfactory' Is Just Excellent For Now.

Most Days.

It's funny, living in Southern California - The cold air doesn't hit until near the end of January, and February is usually the month of 'forgotten cold'. And as February nears, I'm still, though I hate to admit it, seeing Apt F - both in private & as of this past weekend, in public again too. I guess you could say that the cold air of Winter begs for the warmth & comfort of body heat. Aw, who am I kidding, it's like 70 degrees out. I am still refusing to talk about 'What We Are' with him - though I may be I am sidestepping that conversation - I cannot deny the fact that we are still, again, Something.

And out of no where,
I got some Satisfaction.

Something with more boundaries yes, and no, we are nothing 'official', but we are Something.

Something more than neighbors. 

Something more than friends. 

Something more than just someone to keep one another warm.
Something that I find surprisingly Satisfying.

And though I get defensive when Goldi asks, morning after morning, whether or not he was here with me in my Tiny Room with a Kitchen Attached, the answer is usually, 'Yes.' 

In the several weeks since I 'ended' things, and after an extremely honest & candid conversation about exactly why (certain decisions he was making, little or no personal space, lack of courtship, timing yaddayaddayadda) my neighbor hasn't had a single asshole episode, he has kept his distance and given me my much needed personal space, and we are of no certain title, no 'Boyfriend' or 'Girlfriend' - and I am content with this set up, for now. He is more than someone to keep me warm, he is kind and he, as he put it in our first real conversation after the initial break up, through his tears,

...Loves me too the fuck much just to let me out of his life.

And who am I to argue with that?
So, though I am unemployed, some days bored to tears while sending off resumes to thispersonthatpersonandtheother, I look forward to five o'clock most days, when his light blue Forerunner pulls into the parking lot, he pops his head in my window to say hello & then takes off for his evening jog. I am content that most nights, but not all, he comes down and we watch our shows, after feeding ourselves, and fall asleep together. And those - some but not all - mornings where wake up together.

So yet again, Apartment F has become my Not Boyfriend Boyfriend. 

This time though, I find him less puffy, less moochy and a hell of a lot more of a Gentleman. I would actually say, that our break up had made room for a much healthier relationship between the two of us. (Though, I will admit, I do suspect that he never told anyone that we had 'broken up'.)

And when I showed him the mock up for my Birthday invite, when he got to the part where it read,

No Boys Allowed.

He was genuinely sad, but I think he understood. Anyhow, hell, that's months from now.
(Though, regardless as to where I am, or where We are, there'll still be no boys allowed.)

Blue. Boo! Not Today, Too.

Okay, so yesterday, after a raucous & whirlwind (and 1/2 wonderful & 1/2 notsomuch) weekend I woke up to the rain. And to - well, a rainy day where I wasn't motivated to do anything productive other than a couple drop off's for my store. The pitter patter of the rain made me feel a littlebit pitiful, a little Blue, but today! Today is different! I hadn't even gotten out of bed at this time yesterday; but today, today I have already sent out follow up emails, paid a bill (on time!) and checked all of my inspiration blogs. 

But... Today! Today I'm going to get shit done. 

I've already left a message for my girlfriend who I (selfishly) flaked on this weekend and am waiting for a call back, when she's ready, so I can apologize to something other than her voice mail. I finally checked the twenty or so dresses that Bijou sent me as inspiration for my birthday (OMG she's gooooooood) and am going to hop in the shower & will actually blow dry my hair and put on something other than Rebel Yell sweatpants & Uggs for the day. I have made a list of to-do's, gotten cash out so that I actually do laundry and am trekking over to Buffalo Exchange just Because.

I will not let a day of the Blues get me again; instead I choose to be inspired. 

Choose to be proactive. And positive.

I choose to be inspired by Blues.

And yes, this probably means that for the umteenth time in the past month I'll be wearing my Current/Elliot denim shirt. It is blue, after all.

Sometimes Even Baby Has To Sit In The Corner.

What kind of Fish am I, you ask?
Well, sometimes I am a Selfish, that's for sure.

It's one of my biggest downfalls, I admit. Sometimes I am prone to the most self absorbed acts, I cannot deny it. And later, when I take stock of my behavior, I am appalled by how little I considered everyone else's feelings. Whether it be keeping Apartment F around for my own personal comfort while not allowing any talk of between us of what's going on, or being cranky & unenthusiastic, or simply putting myself first when I should, in fact, be caring about how my actions will make other people - people who are good friends to me, who love me - feel.
I can be very selfish.
I need to stop.

'Sit here & think about what you've done.'

Because in the past (and the present, too) my selfishness has lead to hurt feelings.
Lead to friendships ruined.
And, I can't say I blame them. Even worse is when my selfishness turns to cowardice - When I owe someone an apology and I then get too afraid to buck up and just simply fucking apologize. I'm still like a bratty kid sometimes, stomping her feet and wanting her way, arms crossed and being little miss bossy pants. I get so wrapped up in my own shit that I forget that it's not always about me. Or my life. Or my whatever.
The catty thirteen year old comes out, in awful combination with the selfish five year old in me, and when all is said and done, I realize that: Sometimes, even at 30, I deserve a Time Out. 
This is one of those times.
I fucked up.

Taking Stock. (Or, the Beanstalk that Grew Into Oblivion.)

I came to a huge realization in these past few weeks:

I'm totally oblivious.

Nobutseriously, I am.

huuuuuuuuuuhhhhh?????

In the past year, as I slowly have moved from one side of the spectrum of Oh My God, Pay Attention To Me to Just Being Me In The World, I have become totally oblivious to others around me. Not my girlfriends, not to my very familiar market checkers, not my clients or to the occasional eye candy that may pass by, but, other than the familiar, I am totally oblivious to how others take me in - the strangers, the girls who covet my shoes in the bathroom (or don't, I guess, as I am not really paying attention) or to the men who sneak a second look at me as I pass by in a crowded restaurant. Either I am totally oblivious or this doesn't happen at all. And, to be honest, after nearly twelve years of being Me in semi-adulthood, I am fairly certain that it does. Or at least I hope so. But still, I've apparently stopped noticing.

Everything & everyone else is a blur.

I was taking stock of the currant state of my life the other day - after a great night out with Goldi, Beauty, our sweet Fourth Addition & our Australian Sugar Mama, after where the world was just us - a night where the five of us were the only ones in a crowded restaurant (well other than the waitstaff, which treated us with such attentiveness, that at one point Goldi leaned to me & double checked to make sure that we were not, in fact, famous) - and I realized that - in between dinners with friends, redecorating Goldi's apartment, the job hunt, the two day trips I have been taking out to the desert for work, birthday plans for a date nearly two months away (March 31st! Mark your calendars!), the million faux errands that I run now that I am not working, being comfy at home, or perusing the bookstore or Buffalo Exchange - I rarely every notice anyone noticing me. I've become so consumed with my Lovely Little Life, filled with many many amazing friends, that I have come to maneuver through my world in a state of total oblivion.
Whereas before - in my insecure youth, or when I was with my Ex & subconsciously felt under appreciated, or after we broke up when I was dealing with major self worth issues due to the breakup - I was constantly aware of a wandering eye; reveling in the extra helpfulness of a Starbucks barista or the flirtatious nature of a specific bartender, I am no longer even paying attention.
But I guess, if you really break down the above paragraph cell by cell & inch by inch, what it really means that my oblivious maneuvering throughout my world represents one HUGE change in me: I'm not horrifyingly insecure anymore. Now, that's not to say I don't have my moments; but its no longer what defines Me. And it did for a long long time, with out me even realizing it. I mean, yeah, I'm insecure about my teeth when meeting new people (as they're the only part of me I'd consider blonde). I'm super nervous going into interviews. I feel funny & self conscious  when my heels feel too high. I still check OkCupid daily, but not in the way where I'm desperately searching for a date, let alone another Aussie. Nor am I the girl who walks into the bar and picks out the hottest guy she can find and decided that even for a moment, I will make them mine. I mean, I rarely even walk into bars anymore.

What?! You don't think
Lace Bloomers are the new Levi's?

What I have come to realize is that at my core, I'm not that girl whose insecurity seeps out of her pores like wine the morning after a night of one too many. Not anymore, at least. In my head, I'm just the girl (woman?) who dresses a little funny - my summer uniform of shorts and ankle boots and far too many necklaces has evolved into knee high boots, leggings, lace shorts and so many shirts layered over each other that I feel as though I have come to resemble Joey in that episode of Friends where for some reason he puts on all of his winter jackets at once. And I'm sure other women look me up and and down and think, 'What the hell is she wearing?' But to be honest, I rarely notice. I'm too busy scoring a dead on Winter Kate burnout velvet & fringe dress for $13while texting Bijou about wall installations to even look up. I actually hadn't even considered that I get the Up & Down from other women until Apartment F commented on it. And even after he said it, I gave the honest rebuttal of something to the effect of, 'They're probably thinking 'What the hell is she wearing?'' (He responded with a 'Noooooooooooo, I don't think that is the case'.) But on a larger scale, for myself, is the fact that I am no longer desperately scanning the room for whose eyes I draw attention from when I walk in.
I simply just walk into rooms now.
Like a normal person.
Like a confident girl who is there to do other things than inflate her own (deflated) ego.
I saw a girl tonight, at the hockey game I went to with my Boss & Soul-Sister of a Client, give me the Up & Down. And it was the first time I'd actually noticed someone do it in as long as I can remember. And she was probably thinking, 'What the Hell is that girl wearing?!?' (And yes, I was wearing black knee high equestrian boots, black leggings, black lace bloomers, a long sleeve black tee with a with a grey cashmere sweatshirt over it with an open denim shirt over that, and far too many necklaces. And yes, I liked my outfit, and yes, I dress funny.) But it was funny to me that I actually stood still long enough to notice it happen. (I was waiting for my girlfriend to come out of the bathroom.)
But what really magnified exactly how oblivious I have become was a brief conversation I had in the 'smokers lounge' outside the hockey game. I had mentioned that in college I had been a 'total Mary Kate Olson wannabe' and my Boss smiled knowingly and said that she could see that. (One could make the argument I still am.) My Boss was then remembered that she had stumbled across photos of me at an event from about four years ago after going through our work computer. And how shocked she was at how I looked. With more curves back then, and a decidedly more conservative style to boot, she couldn't get over how different I looked at the start of my shopgirl career. This difference is not something I am oblivious to, I knew the exact photos she was talking about. She was trying to put her finger on the difference, and after a couple seconds, she finally she said,

Aha! I know what it is! You're sexy now. You have a sexiness about you you didn't have before. And you don't even know it.

My Soul Sister of a Client agreed. And I - well, I was dumbfounded. I don't feel seeeexxxxxy. I thought I just wore more jewelry now. I mean, I don't dress sexy (see: above mention of many layers). I even said so. But from what I gather, they weren't talking about that palpable, overt sexiness. She was talking about a sort of sexiness that comes without trying to be sexy, I assume. (Hope?)
The kind of sexiness that comes with Utter Oblivion.
And more importantly, with Quiet Confidence.
And I am oblivious to it. But I am secure with myself, lace bloomers and all.

And, all this time, I thought that
I was a plant killer.

You see, after taking stock, I realized that that is what I have grown into.
I was at lunch with my Malibu Bad Ass today and we were talking about how all of our friends have grown up so much this past year; how in our own ways, each and every one of us has grown as a person like beanstalks. Like fucking Beanstalks. Up, above and beyond what we had ever thought possible in a year. In what feels like overnight.
How she who was once known for her partying is now known for her stability. How she who was known for complacency is now known for her ambition. How she who was known for her insecurity is now known for her self assurance. How she who could not check the mail now does it daily. And as for these changes, we were oblivious to them as they were happening but hell, here we are.
Whether we are aware of it, or totally oblivious, here we are.
As unbelievable as a Magical Beanstalk, it's true; I finally, finally, feel like a Grown Up. 
I'm a Grown Up.
I did it.*

*No, F that. We did it.

Playing Dress Up.

Even though it's a couple months away, birthday plans are in motion. Venue set, invites designed, guest list in the works. I'm going to be thirty.
And my plan for that is to make it as inexpensive for all my nearest and dearest to celebrate with me in style. To help me bid adieu to my Twenties.
Now, the most important part: What the heck am I going to wear?!?
It has to fabulous, chic, different, yaddayaddayadda all in one!

I'm going to be brainstorming until the last minute, I'm sure, but here's the first dress that has caught my eye. Or is it too ironic to wear a baby doll dress to my thirtieth birthday?
Ironic?
Or Rebellious?!?


So I am cruising Spanish Moss, Planet Blue, and Shopbop for ideas - but! If anyone has any awesome secret shopping websites they check, please leave them in the comments. I always love new websites to peruse; especially now, with all this time on my hands.


Sidenote: I have an interview today. Wish me luck!

All Booked Up.

Goldi & I have been reading The Hunger Games trilogy. The type of reading where you stay in bed all day, totally consumed by a story. No, it's not War & Peace, buts its damn entertaining, letmetellyou. She'll be passing the second book off to the Doctor, and we'll soon be starting the third and final installment.
So, I guess, in a way - I got that book club I've been dying for, after all.
Also, for those of you who have been following from the beginning - I saw Goldi's Lawyer at a restaurant in Orange County yesterday! He looked kind of fat and pretty puffy and had a very not cute date with him. (I'm being totally objective, I swear!)
Now, I am going to hop in the shower & get dressed. It's a Saturn/Goldi day - I'm taking today as holiday just like everyone else! Back to the grind tomorrow; interviews, resumes, call backs & follow ups.
But for now, I just need some getting dressed inspiration.

Toy Boat. Toy Boat. Toy Boat.

change:

v. Make or become different.

Change.
Change.
Change.

You know when you say a word over and over and over again, it loses it's meaning and just becomes an odd formation of sounds - of vowels and consonants, of air going in through your mouth and air coming out. It changes. It becomes different.

Change
Chaaange.
Chhaaynjuh.

I keep getting asked,

When do you think it will hit you?

When will all this change hit me? Well, probably never. Because even though I am fully aware of my life in upheaval, of the massive changes going on around me in my life, the reality is, for me at least, whatever's happening in the Moment, whatever my Reality is, its the norm.
So it's never going to Bam! hit me just like that.
What is is.

Is.
Is.
Iszzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

So I'm out looking for a job. I have been working less. And finding ways to still feel the I am a productive Adult. And oddly, now I feel like I have even less time on my hands - haven't had time to blog, to veg, to relax. I've been literally forcing myself to be proactive, to do multiple things to catapult myself forward on a daily basis. 'Forcing' isn't the right word; in fact, it's come quite naturally. I am in 'survival' mode - but not in a frenzied, anxious way. In a centered & calm way. I am less stressed than I have been in months, I am content with my life.
I have realized that I am a very different person than I was even when I started this little project.
I am changed. I have made myself different.

And today.

I closed my store. My boss and I packed it up, darkened the windows, and walked away.

And it was hard, and it was a loss, and maybe no, it hasn't 'hit me' yet - It hasn't hit me that my little shop I loved so much isn't sitting there, somewhere overlooking the Pacific, full of clothes and waiting for me to come open it's doors in the morning. But it won't hit me because now the idea that my store isn't there is my reality. That change happened and now I'm on to the next thing.
There is no shop.
Everything is so different now.

The thing that has hit me is the idea that this whole time of change is in fact: My New Norm
.
These bits and peices, these changes, they became Me.
Me and my life and my Normal.
Having no store is on par with moving out of my old house.
Or being single after the Ex.
Or the life after the Classy Pact.
Or being the girl who got the Dutchman to come back.
Or the lists of 'things to do' in my planner.
Or having seen my neighbor with tears streaming down his cheeks.
These were all my normal within mere days. Sometimes seconds.
Oh good Lord, I now know the true meaning of,

 'the more things change the more things stay the same'.

Never the same from day to day.
Crazy idea, this 'Change' thang.

And, you know I broke up with Apartment F. And admittedly, I was off and running the first week without him, but somehow he and I have fallen into a Friendship again. A friendship that sometimes involves kissing. And sometimes involves crying. Okay, last Sunday he cried. Cried a lot.

He burst into tears when I told him the exact phrase he uttered that made me end our relationship (and is one that is not worth repeating).

Cried as he told me that I am the best part of his life, and he cannot bear to lose me, even if it means just being friends.

Cried as he told me that he wants to Change.

Wants to be different; asked if he changed & if he was different could we try again?
I said no.

He asked to stay the night a few nights ago. We had made dinner together and ate it together on the floor, side by side, while we watched TV and he wanted to stay. I allowed it, but warned him that if he snored, I was kicking him out. And I was serious. And he seriously snores. Loudly.

OhgoodLorddoesthatmansnore.
But when he slept beside me that night as I furiously read the second installment of The Hunger Games (oh my God, you have to read it) - CanIJustTellYou, that man did not make a sound. He slept silently, not a peep, honk or sigh out of him. And it blew my mind, the idea that - psychologically and mentally he still wants to be with me, and that he loves me enough to not be anything more than friends who occassionally kiss but usually do not - even on a physiological level, his body does too. His sleeping mind and his physical body stopped him from snoring so he would be allowed to sleep next to me. Changed himsef to be next to me.

And no, don't worry - this isn't some forshadowing or hint at us getting back together, but I do need him right now. And he needs me. That hasn't changed. Only the extent and level to which we are accountable to one another has changed. and for the time being, that is working.

I've apparently now ascribe
to the 'Man Repellent' theory of
Getting Dressed in the Morning.

I have also been sort of actively online dating again. So, that should be interesting. I am currently emailing back and forth with a thirty three year old Medical somethingorother rep who is the first person - this go around - who I was interested in enough to email first. (At 3am, after a 16 hour workday. Ha!) And, no, I do not know what will happen between Apartment F & I when I actually begin dating again, or how our dynamic will change. And, no, I'm not too excited to find out. But find out we will. The funniest thing is about this whole past month of change and all that is the fact that, for the first time in - well, as long as I can remember - I don't have a roaming eye. I'm not walking through the world going, 'Oooooh... Who is he? I will make him want meeeeeeeeeeee!' I have so much on my plate right now, that when I am out with my friends, I am with them, and I can't be bothered to find someone to set my sights on. Add to that, I don't go to bar-bars anymore (unless I'm with my friends, and they are my focus), so I'm not meeting guys out and about either. And honestly, as Goldi will tell you, the need for attentions over being attentive to mis amigas was one of the most annoying things about me for a long time. I'm actually very content with me, my friends and my new norm. And, online dating is different (Oh, the good ol' 'Sexy Facebook') because it's just that - something I can do from the comfort of my alone time, in bed, in between sending resumes and status updates.

Everything is changing.
Everything is different.
Nothing will ever be the same.

But in reality, that is the truth of every day.
Of every hour.
Of every moment.

What is, is.
But only in this instant.
And, I think I am okay with that.

So... Yeah, there you have it - The Rambling Woman strikes again.
I practically had to catch myself up on my own life. (Deeeeeep, man.)

Sidenote: After thinking about this post, and thoroughly hating it, I realized I could have summed the whole goddamn thing up in like two sentences:
'The store closed & I'm looking for a job. In the meantime - though most of my free time is spent with my friends, I'm still spending time with Apartment F while throwing feelers out into the dating world.' 

And you know when all these changes'll hit me? When it feels like I'm hitting my head against a wall. Or kicking dead horse. Which, you know, whether it be dating or job hunting, will happen. Yet even then - that frustration will, in that moment - be the Norm.

The Plus Side.

Today at the bank:

So many things going on.

Teller: How's your day going?

Me: Oh you know, it's Tuesday.

Teller (deadpan): Miss, it's.... Well, it's Wednesday.

I literally have forgotten what season it is, let alone day at this point. I have so much on my plate right now - I even bought a planner.

More posts to come, I swear, once I feel like I'm being proactive and not procrastinating getting my life together. 'Unemployed' is interesting, I'm on Day 2 of it. Have an interview scheduled for next week. Have updates on Apt F, yes we're stilll broken up but attempting to be Apartment Friends. (Though, Goldi does not approve.) Birthday plans have started to take shape for the last weekend in March (mark your calendars!). Dipping my toes back into the dating scene, but no actual dates yet.

Everything is in transition.
Going going going going.
But going going going good.
And, most importantly...
I'm positive.
I'm happy.

Rarrr.

Can it be Spring yet?
Then we're just thatmuchcloser to Summer.

Sparked. (Or, At Least, What Lit the Fire Under My Ass.)

No longer back up against a wall.
I faced it head on.

So Apt F & I are no longer playing House (er... 'Apartment', I guess). And although several factors went into my decision to wake him up at 11:30 at night, rip off the proverbial bandaid & tell him I'm sorry, I'm done, there is one specific event that sparked it. And it wasn't his actions, it wasn't anything he could help. You see, when over the Christmas Break & I had been thisclose to breaking it off, I - out of spite, I admit - reactivated my online dating profile. I didn't email anyone, or respond to any emails, but there it sat - activated for about a week.
When I finally checked my messages, I had one that really - well, it really got to me. It gave me chills. I read it and reread it and then I just... Well, read it.

Jan 1, 2011 – 11:17am

Good morning. And I must say Happy New Year as well. It's a good day. The sun shines. The birds chirp. Some good music in the background. Perfection. I hope your night was amazing last night. I actually went to a great wine bar near me that you probably would have salivated for. My friend knows one of the bartenders and we escaped with food and a plethora great wines for a mear $35. TOTAL, not individually. And to incite your taste buds, they had the most intense grilled cheese with tomato confit. It was topped with the most intense cheese and then they bake it!!! Like whoa. I had to tell you about that... Because I think I may be dreaming about it for awhile.

Anyways long story longer, I have to say I came to realize this girl and I actually are pretty damn similar. I don't know if that is a good thing or not, but it was enough to make me want to write to you. I was hit with a crux of emotions viewing your profile. Some inspiration, excitement, determination, motivation and maybe a tad bit envious with jealousy. All that from a quick profile from Bay area transplant whose quirks seem to outmatch even me. Footnotes: See jealousy. See duel.

There is something more in you, not just because she has a pair of the deepest eyes this side of Venus and smile that parts her cheeks like Moses did the red sea. It's something bigger. I liked recognizing that immediately. It's easy to see, if you care to look. And I feel the need to explore the goodness. Open up some of those doors to your mind. Do you ever get that feeling? Where you open up one little door. You walk in like it's nobody's business except your own. And maybe you aren't suppose to be there, but you are. No one else is there and it wasn't locked, but you like what you see, gander around at another door and are like fuck it, let's do this... I like your doors. I want to open up another one of yours, or a thousand. I felt like I wanted to know your love, your loss and your light. I want to know the secrets. I want to know what is happening inside that pretty head with that somewhat sneaky smile. I want to know what it takes to make you smile. And not just a regular run-of-the-mill smile. No, no, no! One that illuminates your entire existence. One that makes the world better.

Alright Miss Venti Iced Coffee Girl in the Volvo... Probably FAR too intense for this site and an introductory email. But like I said, I felt inspired by you... I had a hunch. You're good enough to be worth the time. I'd love to hear back from this cute volvo driving girl. Maybe we can grab some wine, cupcakes or tacos some time... I'm hoping all three to be honest.

Take care and Happy New Year (again)

There's the Spark.
Maybe not with this particular guy, but that - in a single email - reminded me that I can,
and will, have the Spark.

In that instant, I realized,

I want to feel just like that.

I want someone who makes me feel like this email from a stranger did.
Wants to open my doors, and inspires me the want to open theirs.

Sidenote: Why, oh why! does the above Grilled Cheese Lover have to be 5'7''!!???

Follow the Signs to the Pacific Coast Highway.

Funny thing... After getting off the El Camino Real last night, I was driving down PCH this morning and this was plastered over an electrical box.
It was not there yesterday, and it caught my eye:

Ha! It was quite literally, A Sign... Don'tchathink?

Option F. Not C. (Or, C Minus F Equals Free.)

Damn! I forgot an option!
Option F.

F.) Be a respectful person, be honest & break it off.

Then, politely ask them to leave.

I did not pass Go, I did not wait for a catalyst. I was honest & straightforward.
F. Yeah.

Option C & Apartment C. (Or, Why Can't Life Be Multiple Choice?)

You know what the proverbial 'They' say:

Intelligent people don't get bored.

Well, if that's the case, I must be an Idiot.

Option F?

I'm unfocused these days; everything other than this afternoon seems like years ago. It's only day three of start of the new year & I am, admittedly, quite bored with the state of affairs of my life. Once again, I feel like complacency has taken over on the relationship-front. And, although I have been actively trying to figure out the future of this year - diligently filling out applications, sending out my resume, networking as much as I can, ordering business cards in case some serious self-promotion needs to happen -  But when all is said & done at the day's end, I get in my car, drive home to my tiny room with a kitchen attached (which now has a man attached to it as well) flip on the television & turn off my brain. I miss the nights of sheer inspiration; of having something or someone amazing to write about. Whether it be a bad date, or an amazing patio conversation with a girlfriend. I mean, I could tell you about the entire day we spent over the weekend watching football with his friends or the fact that I didn't even stay up to see the ball drop on New Year's Eve - but believe me, I was as bored as you would be in me retelling it.

I looked cute on New Year's Eve - in my favorite white layered jersey dress, a denim shirt and taupe suede ankle strap pumps courtesy of my step mother; but really, I didn't care all too much.

Is there a saying about intelligence & indifference?*

*Hold on, let me google that.

Gone cold.

Nope.

There isn't, but there is some article making an analogy between emotional indifference and that water-dripped path we all make between washing our hands in public restrooms and finding the paper towels... Interesting.

But, like I do so very often... I digress.

My neighbor and I have even started fighting on occasion; it's a scary place when someone knows more about you than you've put out there in previous relationships; so as a result, he has more 'ammo' on me than I am used to - & at times, neither of us are very mature about it. And at this rate, we're certainly not going to stand the test of time.

But, if I am being honest with myself (and peripherally, you) I know where the real problem lies - and it's not entirely in the Boredom, or the Indifference, or the Test of Time.

Honestly, I want to end things with Apt F.

But I am:

A.) too cowardly to do it.
B.) feel like I don't have a 'good enough' reason to do it.
C.) waiting for a catalyst to give me a 'good enough' reason to do it.
D.) afraid of being alone after I do it.

Something I perfected in college, out of fear of well... the unknown, being an asshole, or simply just regretting the decision - was following the good ol', idiot-proof, college adage of,

 'When in doubt, go with C.'

Option C: Wait for a catalyst.*

*'C' could also stand for cowardice, Idon'tknowyoutellme.

Wait for him to fuck up just enough that I'll have nodoubtaboutit, or wait long enough for me to find a way to sabotage it - to pick a fight, or lean into a fight he's picking (See: this past Sunday.)

But there is one other problem, let's call it Option E.

And I'm not talking about, 'All of the above'. Not yet anyway.

Option E: that I am:

E.) emotionally attached to him.

The reality that I do, in fact, care for this friend. A lot. That I do take comfort in his sleeping embrace, in the eyes closed kissy face he makes as he falls asleep. That I want him to be happy; and that, other than being bored, I am happy (enough) when I am with him. That for now, I guess it is Satisfactory.



C for Ciao?



I wish it was just a simple as just ending it; but fuck, I am human.

And to err is human, right? Isn't that what They say?

The Option C isn't always the right option, but there is no pass or fail option in Life.

You don't get to the pearly gates of Heaven (orwhateveritis) and get a letter grade.

Right? Right?!

Well, I sure as Hell hope not.

Sidenotes: Couple things I do know about what I want for 2012:

To drink more water and to get fast food less.

To make more money, and to not get any parking tickets.

Also, I'm going to be thirty. This year I am going to be thirty.