Oh look! A second blog today! I must be....
Bored out of my mind. That's what I am. And I've been shopping. Victoria's Secret, if you must know. I had a coupon that expired on December 19, 2010, and if I didn't use it today, I'd forget about it. But as I was searching for the perfect piece to waste my $10 off on, (I finally picked a blue lace turtleneck sweater, not that you needed to know) I was wondering why it was that I felt myself wishing all the pieces that I was filing through were in my closet. Why do I not usually buy things like that? Am I really perfectly satisfied to wear the same thing every day, jeans and a t-shirt, maybe a sweater?
Why is it that those adorable little knitted stockings make my skin crawl? Why is it that I want that skirt more than I think I've ever wanted anything? Why do I want to look like her.....this is ridiculous. I know the sermons, I know what I'm supposed to believe. We're not supposed to want to look like those girls in those magazines. They are a supreme ideal that no one can be held to, materialistic vapid bitches upon which we've built an empire of silicone and falseness.
But there is one glaringly important problem with that idea.
They're so damn pretty! What crime is there in wanting to look pretty? My idea of pretty. Who cares if it's been poisoned by their idea of pretty? It's aesthetically pleasing while speaking to me on a sensual, instinctive level that my rational brain can only feebly attempt to interpret.
For years, I've dressed the same way. Jeans, sweaters, t-shirts. Boring. Any day is the same as the next. Nothing to differentiate me from the rest of the people in the world. I'm a creative person. Why is it that I feel like I have to limit my creativity in my clothing? Why is it that I feel I have to be lazy and boring? Why is it that with each well-worn t-shirt with the witty saying I feel I can hide myself, content to be something mediocre that can blend into the background? It's going to be over. No more of the same nonsense. I'm a talented, creative individual. The world must see this. I'm worth being seen.
So I've decided that I want to dress more like the people that I've been drooling over for the past several hours. When I leave for Christmas break, I will pack up a large portion of my clothes. Then I will bring back the small portion of my clothes that I will deem acceptable. Then I will be forced to dress nicely. I won't have any other choice. It seems like a fool-proof plan to me. No more novelty t-shirts. No more Jeans.
This is going to be damn hard. Worth it? Undecided. I'll let you know.
*On the bright side, this has been my first blog not about my love life. Plus? I think so*
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Mistakes and Nostalgia
Once again, I seem to have spoken too soon. Reading my last blog brings forth a taste of misjudgment my mouth that I only wish upon each politician on Capitol Hill. I'll have you know that I did not intend for this blog to be a pathetic documentation of my even more pathetic person life, but such things cannot be avoided.
I have once again rendered a personal relationship with someone to nothing more than some "crappy sex" and someone to give me sweet little kisses. I say crappy sex because of an episode of Bones I watched yesterday.
"Here we are, all of us, basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some they just give up hope because in their mind they're thinking "Oh there's nobody out there for me," but all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while... every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark, and yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first, but making love... making love... that's when two people become one."
Perhaps it's the romantic in me, but I absolutely love that. Damnit, he's right and damnit, I'm going to keep looking. But the fact remains that I sure as hell haven't found it yet. And it's certainly not lovely army boy, who is adorable, but musn't be allowed to believe that I'm that person for him.
So think of this as a retraction. An elimination of the stupid conclusions I jumped to in my previous post. I hate it when I put the well-painted cart before the aged horse.
I have once again rendered a personal relationship with someone to nothing more than some "crappy sex" and someone to give me sweet little kisses. I say crappy sex because of an episode of Bones I watched yesterday.
"Here we are, all of us, basically alone, separate creatures, just circling each other, all searching for that slightest hint of a real connection. Some look in the wrong places, some they just give up hope because in their mind they're thinking "Oh there's nobody out there for me," but all of us, we keep trying over and over again. Why? Because every once in a while... every once in a while, two people meet and there's that spark, and yes, Bones, he's handsome and she's beautiful and maybe that's all they see at first, but making love... making love... that's when two people become one."
Perhaps it's the romantic in me, but I absolutely love that. Damnit, he's right and damnit, I'm going to keep looking. But the fact remains that I sure as hell haven't found it yet. And it's certainly not lovely army boy, who is adorable, but musn't be allowed to believe that I'm that person for him.
So think of this as a retraction. An elimination of the stupid conclusions I jumped to in my previous post. I hate it when I put the well-painted cart before the aged horse.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Pirate Code and a Man Named Jack
Hello my darlings. You've missed me, haven't you? I know it's December now, but my life has reached something of a happy plateau. Heaven forbid that I actually be happy for an extended period of time. Never fail, I must question it.
So perhaps my happiness has ridden in on the wings of an army man who's only real wish is to leave for Afghanistan and do what he thinks is good there. Yes, loves, I've picked myself a die-hard patriotic, red-blooded American boy. He even loves Jesus and everything. (I think)
I will admit, I may have begun dating him on false pretenses. If not began dating, then at the very least established a viable means of communications with under false pretenses. I was angry with his roommate and added him on facebook as a back door/revenge. The backfire came when he turned out to be adorable and funny and a whole slew of things that my vaguely vulnerable self was neither prepared nor looking for.
Admittedly, our relationship is causing the strife in his roommate's life that I do so enjoy, but collateral damage is going to be an issue where I wasn't counting on it. (Oh don't you even judge me, people. If you forget where you are, you'd best look back up at the url on your screen and the title of this blog) I wasn't counting on me as collateral damage. I knew that if I chased him for pure revenge, poor army boy would get caught in the crossfire of my petty payback and at that point, I knew he was too sweet for that. So as soon as I realized my intentions were honorable, I chased to my heart's content.
I was not counting myself as collateral damage.
Now I'm sitting in a precarious position, him planning on leaving in March and me.....not leaving in March. Especially not leaving for a decidedly third-world country that has limited communication ability outside the military and a very high chance of dying. Well, if not very high then at least an obvious chance of dying.
If I had known his roommate was my type, I never would've considered it. Musician, straight shooting, a friendly vice or two, and goofy as hell. If only he weren't so damn kissable and.......(kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable.......please excuse me as I hang my head in shame for knowing those lyrics.)
Not a thing in common my ass.
So perhaps my happiness has ridden in on the wings of an army man who's only real wish is to leave for Afghanistan and do what he thinks is good there. Yes, loves, I've picked myself a die-hard patriotic, red-blooded American boy. He even loves Jesus and everything. (I think)
I will admit, I may have begun dating him on false pretenses. If not began dating, then at the very least established a viable means of communications with under false pretenses. I was angry with his roommate and added him on facebook as a back door/revenge. The backfire came when he turned out to be adorable and funny and a whole slew of things that my vaguely vulnerable self was neither prepared nor looking for.
Admittedly, our relationship is causing the strife in his roommate's life that I do so enjoy, but collateral damage is going to be an issue where I wasn't counting on it. (Oh don't you even judge me, people. If you forget where you are, you'd best look back up at the url on your screen and the title of this blog) I wasn't counting on me as collateral damage. I knew that if I chased him for pure revenge, poor army boy would get caught in the crossfire of my petty payback and at that point, I knew he was too sweet for that. So as soon as I realized my intentions were honorable, I chased to my heart's content.
I was not counting myself as collateral damage.
Now I'm sitting in a precarious position, him planning on leaving in March and me.....not leaving in March. Especially not leaving for a decidedly third-world country that has limited communication ability outside the military and a very high chance of dying. Well, if not very high then at least an obvious chance of dying.
If I had known his roommate was my type, I never would've considered it. Musician, straight shooting, a friendly vice or two, and goofy as hell. If only he weren't so damn kissable and.......(kissable, huggable, lovable, unbelievable.......please excuse me as I hang my head in shame for knowing those lyrics.)
Not a thing in common my ass.
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