Thanks to Amy for the challenge...
Dear Teen Me,
You. Are. Fabulous.
I am proud of you. You are wonderful and friendly; you do not distinguish between the jock and the geek. In fact, you know that you will get more satisfaction out of dating the geek. You are smart, and your grades reflect that. You are fun, and your friendships reflect that. You are brave, and your theatre work reflects that. I would change nothing about you.
Remember that you are loved. Though you may sometimes not understand the ways your parents show their love, it is pure. One day, you will have a daughter, and you will know there is nothing sweeter or stronger than a parent’s love for their child.
Don’t let anyone tell you that you are a disappointment. Every experience you have will lead you to the person you are meant to be. Failing is a big part of that. Don’t be afraid; rather, don’t let your fear stop you from doing something risky. This will result in you moving far away and meeting your soulmate; this will result in you knowing the best love there is.
Fall in love. Yes, it hurts. Yes, you will have your heart broken. 4 times, as a matter of fact. This only makes the REAL THING that much sweeter. This also may result in you finding the job you are meant to have.
Don’t throw away your poetry. It may not be great, but Older You will miss having that glimpse into your mind. And, honestly, it is pretty good.
Pink is your power color. Yes, you look good in red; however, there is hardly anything you can’t have when you are wearing pink. It matches your aura.
I am not going to warn you against anything. I am not going to tell you what decisions not to make. You must make your mistakes to become the woman you are meant to be. I will only tell you that you will be happy. And remember - no matter what happens, the pendulum always swings back.
Oh, yeah, don’t throw away your chunky black loafers. They are back in this season and I can’t find a pair anywhere.
Love,
The Amazing Person You Will Become
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Bad Blogger! Bad! No, No, No!
I have only posted once this week.
Oops. Sorry, guys!!
I have been crazy busy, I have been unfocused, I am trying to get everything done for a wedding 3,000 miles away and realizing that there is not much I can do. And Violet has (another) ear infection.
So...thank you, Rima, for making me a Nice Matters blogger. It really means so much to me, I teared up a little when I read your blog. I promise to pass it on soon.
And Jennie, I will answer your questions soon as well. And they are gonna ROCK SO HARD your eyes will melt.
I will be back and Fabulous again as soon as I can hear something other than the BUZZ of un-focus-ey-ness inside my head.
Ciao! (she said in a completely tacky and pretentious way.)
Don't hate my mama cause she forgets to post! Look at how cute I am! Doesn't she deserve some slack since she makes such gorgeous kids?!?Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Prada, Prada, My Kingdom for Some Prada...
When I worked for the Box Store, I wore whatever I wanted. It was usually a form of khakis and a t-shirt. The only stipulation was that I couldn’t wear jeans; this, of course, meant that I only wanted to wear jeans and I was unsatisfied.
When I worked for the movie store chain, we had to wear red shirts and khakis. While it was nice to know what you were going to be wearing every day, and it cut out a large amount of prep time, all I wanted was to choose my own clothes and I was unsatisfied.
When I work as an admin, I wear dress trousers and simple shirts. I mostly wear ballet flats or brown sandals. I try to spice it up a bit with some crazy jewelry, but since my hair has gone metallic blonde, I keep it rather simple. Cardigans, camisoles, buttons, and cuffed pants are the bulk of my work wardrobe; I cannot wear jeans every day, and I am unsatisfied.
I find myself wishing for a job at Old Navy, where you are expected to wear jeans. Or even a place where I have to wear polos with logos on them. Of course, my fantasy is to stay home with Violet and wear designer sweatsuits everyday…
Perhaps I will never be satisfied with the clothing choices I am expected to make. I have heard from somewhere that the grass is always greener on the other side; I suppose the clothes are always better over there as well.
Someday, though…someday, I will wake up and grab whatever speaks to me before heading off to work.
Is it sad that my career ambitions pivot on clothing?
When I worked for the movie store chain, we had to wear red shirts and khakis. While it was nice to know what you were going to be wearing every day, and it cut out a large amount of prep time, all I wanted was to choose my own clothes and I was unsatisfied.
When I work as an admin, I wear dress trousers and simple shirts. I mostly wear ballet flats or brown sandals. I try to spice it up a bit with some crazy jewelry, but since my hair has gone metallic blonde, I keep it rather simple. Cardigans, camisoles, buttons, and cuffed pants are the bulk of my work wardrobe; I cannot wear jeans every day, and I am unsatisfied.
I find myself wishing for a job at Old Navy, where you are expected to wear jeans. Or even a place where I have to wear polos with logos on them. Of course, my fantasy is to stay home with Violet and wear designer sweatsuits everyday…
Perhaps I will never be satisfied with the clothing choices I am expected to make. I have heard from somewhere that the grass is always greener on the other side; I suppose the clothes are always better over there as well.
Someday, though…someday, I will wake up and grab whatever speaks to me before heading off to work.
Is it sad that my career ambitions pivot on clothing?
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Ssshhh...
Thanks to Miss for the challenge...
I am a pretty open person. I have talked about my weight, my depression, my lovah, my baby. What haven’t I talked about?
Me Before Baby.
My secret?
I didn’t want to have kids.
I was a theatre major at the University of Alaska. I wanted to own my own theatre company someday; therefore, I put a lot of time into doing every little crappy job in every little production I could. I would spend 12-14 hour days in the Theatre, not caring, barely stopping for lunch. I loved it.
I was so happy. I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. Even if I was just scraping sticky glass off the stage, I was still there, breathing in the theatre.
I was actually a bit of a rising star, believe it or not. I got parts in some very edgy shows, I was known as a reliable stagehand, and I was rubbing elbows with most of the Higher-Ups in my theatre community.
You would have never seen me on the big screen, stage was my love, but I could have made a life out of theatre. However, this would have involved long nights, long days, little money, and living in poverty. Fun and tasteful poverty, but poverty nonetheless. I knew that if I was going to be the theatremonger I wanted to be, a child would never fit easily into that world. I was willing to make that sacrifice.
Then I got pregnant.
I left school and got a full time job. Jason and I both have been working full time (and more) since we found out we were having a baby. I provide for my child. I am our household’s primary breadwinner. I do not regret Violet; the most important, wonderful decision I ever made was to keep her. She is the best thing I have ever and will ever accomplish. Everyday, I am convinced again I made the right choice. I work hard to make sure it is remembered that is was my choice, and nothing that Jason or Violet pushed me into. They have taken nothing from me, only given me love and pure joy.
But I know that there is no job that I can ever do that will make me as happy as theatre did. Sometimes I feel I doomed to never have job satisfaction.
Violet is worth it, though.
I am a pretty open person. I have talked about my weight, my depression, my lovah, my baby. What haven’t I talked about?
Me Before Baby.
My secret?
I didn’t want to have kids.
I was a theatre major at the University of Alaska. I wanted to own my own theatre company someday; therefore, I put a lot of time into doing every little crappy job in every little production I could. I would spend 12-14 hour days in the Theatre, not caring, barely stopping for lunch. I loved it.
I was so happy. I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing. Even if I was just scraping sticky glass off the stage, I was still there, breathing in the theatre.
I was actually a bit of a rising star, believe it or not. I got parts in some very edgy shows, I was known as a reliable stagehand, and I was rubbing elbows with most of the Higher-Ups in my theatre community.
You would have never seen me on the big screen, stage was my love, but I could have made a life out of theatre. However, this would have involved long nights, long days, little money, and living in poverty. Fun and tasteful poverty, but poverty nonetheless. I knew that if I was going to be the theatremonger I wanted to be, a child would never fit easily into that world. I was willing to make that sacrifice.
Then I got pregnant.
I left school and got a full time job. Jason and I both have been working full time (and more) since we found out we were having a baby. I provide for my child. I am our household’s primary breadwinner. I do not regret Violet; the most important, wonderful decision I ever made was to keep her. She is the best thing I have ever and will ever accomplish. Everyday, I am convinced again I made the right choice. I work hard to make sure it is remembered that is was my choice, and nothing that Jason or Violet pushed me into. They have taken nothing from me, only given me love and pure joy.
But I know that there is no job that I can ever do that will make me as happy as theatre did. Sometimes I feel I doomed to never have job satisfaction.
Violet is worth it, though.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Blerg
Jason got me sick. It is a good thing we are not married yet, or this would be grounds for divorce.
Since I have nothing to say other than, "Oh, man, the smell of (insert any object in the room containing slight odor, eg: computer, shoes, my hair...) is gonna make me hurl," I will use this time to insert old pictures of the baby monkey. Enjoy!
Since I have nothing to say other than, "Oh, man, the smell of (insert any object in the room containing slight odor, eg: computer, shoes, my hair...) is gonna make me hurl," I will use this time to insert old pictures of the baby monkey. Enjoy!
"Ma, I gotsta
call my peeps!"
My angel baby
learning to crawl...
Violet learns to accessorize...
Baba (my ma)teaches Violet
the true meaning
of Christmas...
Jason's favorite picture...
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Happy
I have been reading my last few posts, and thinking maybe, JUST MAYBE, I have been being a bit dramatic.
What can I say? Sometimes Fabulous = Big Ole Drama Queen. But now I shall lighten up. For a while at least.
I went grocery shopping last night with the lovah and my little angel baby. Though some look as family grocery shopping as a Chore That Is Equal With Chinese Water Torture Only Worse Cause People Stare When Babies Scream And At Least You Are Usually Alone When Receiving CWT, we love to go shopping as a family. Violet will pick up stuff off the shelves, and Jason spends most of the time sneaking them out of the cart and putting them back. If something is on the bottom 2 shelves that we need, we let her get it for us…which usually takes about 7 tries to actually get the one we want, but she feels like she is helping.
Last night, though, she stayed in the cart because her Daddy, gem that he is, had already opened the bag of Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies. She has recently learned the signs for “more” and “please”, and since Jason cannot resist the adorability of Violet Signing and Grinning, she ate about 7 cookies while we were shopping.
Yup.
7 cookies.
She still ate dinner after that, so it can’t be that bad, right?
(I am gonna use that baby sign language thing next time I go Rebecca Needs New Pretties shopping…)
What can I say? Sometimes Fabulous = Big Ole Drama Queen. But now I shall lighten up. For a while at least.
I went grocery shopping last night with the lovah and my little angel baby. Though some look as family grocery shopping as a Chore That Is Equal With Chinese Water Torture Only Worse Cause People Stare When Babies Scream And At Least You Are Usually Alone When Receiving CWT, we love to go shopping as a family. Violet will pick up stuff off the shelves, and Jason spends most of the time sneaking them out of the cart and putting them back. If something is on the bottom 2 shelves that we need, we let her get it for us…which usually takes about 7 tries to actually get the one we want, but she feels like she is helping.
Last night, though, she stayed in the cart because her Daddy, gem that he is, had already opened the bag of Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies. She has recently learned the signs for “more” and “please”, and since Jason cannot resist the adorability of Violet Signing and Grinning, she ate about 7 cookies while we were shopping.
Yup.
7 cookies.
She still ate dinner after that, so it can’t be that bad, right?
(I am gonna use that baby sign language thing next time I go Rebecca Needs New Pretties shopping…)
Try telling me no. I DARE you...
Monday, September 10, 2007
Ponder...
Though it has been regurgitated quite enough already, I have a few thoughts on Britney Spears.
Brit Brit…I grew up with you. I was pregnant with my first child as you were with your second. I was diagnosed PPD as you were shaving your head and trying to find a new identity.
Though I am simply a Fabulous Blogger and you are The Superstar, I feel your pain.
You were so cemented in who you were before, that it is a painful floundering scramble to regain any of that after motherhood. With every child, there is born a new you; you have different habits, different hobbies, different goals. While the New, Improved Mother Version is a wonderful thing, you have to let go of the Original.
This is incredibly difficult when you loved the Original, when the Original was a fabulous, glittery entity.
In reality, it doesn’t matter who you are. The effect is the same whether you were a Dean’s List Theatre Student or The Biggest Celebrity Ever.
There is a grieving process. You shaved your head. I took the more subtle approach of bleaching my hair and gaining 20 pounds. Either way, it is the modern equivalent of sackcloth and ashes.
There will be mistakes. There will be people who judge. There will be rude comments. There will be pain as you try to reconcile what everyone thinks you should be and who you feel you are. Just hold on. It will get better. It will get easier.
For what it is worth, you handled that VMA/Sarah Silverman thing much better than I would have. If she had spoken about my kid, called her a mistake when I thought she may have been listening, maybe even staying up late just to see Mommy on TV…there would have been bloodshed. Much much bloodshed. Good on ya for still performing.
And that is all I have to say about that.
Brit Brit…I grew up with you. I was pregnant with my first child as you were with your second. I was diagnosed PPD as you were shaving your head and trying to find a new identity.
Though I am simply a Fabulous Blogger and you are The Superstar, I feel your pain.
You were so cemented in who you were before, that it is a painful floundering scramble to regain any of that after motherhood. With every child, there is born a new you; you have different habits, different hobbies, different goals. While the New, Improved Mother Version is a wonderful thing, you have to let go of the Original.
This is incredibly difficult when you loved the Original, when the Original was a fabulous, glittery entity.
In reality, it doesn’t matter who you are. The effect is the same whether you were a Dean’s List Theatre Student or The Biggest Celebrity Ever.
There is a grieving process. You shaved your head. I took the more subtle approach of bleaching my hair and gaining 20 pounds. Either way, it is the modern equivalent of sackcloth and ashes.
There will be mistakes. There will be people who judge. There will be rude comments. There will be pain as you try to reconcile what everyone thinks you should be and who you feel you are. Just hold on. It will get better. It will get easier.
For what it is worth, you handled that VMA/Sarah Silverman thing much better than I would have. If she had spoken about my kid, called her a mistake when I thought she may have been listening, maybe even staying up late just to see Mommy on TV…there would have been bloodshed. Much much bloodshed. Good on ya for still performing.
And that is all I have to say about that.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Feeling Rather Hornet-Like
Today, I stumbled across this post at MamaPOP! (is that the correct spelling? It's how it looks in my head...)
I am not shy in my love for Glamour Magazine. I think that there is something truly magnificent in the way the use models from every size in the spectrum, zero to 26 and beyond. I have written poems about my feelings on this subject. I truly felt I had found a publication that got me, who understood who I was, who loved me back despite-and maybe even because of- my flaws.
Now, I am disappointed. Crushed, really. Considering cancelling my subscription.
America Ferrera is simply divine. She is funny, she is gorgeous, and she is real. WHAT would posses the editors of a fabulous magazine to insult her and her fans by changing her body?
To top it off, they put "Ugly Betty is HOT!" by her picture. Yes, Glamour, she is hot, she is naturally stunning, and she does not need you to change her in any way!
This is reminding me of how I felt when Jennifer Aniston slimmed down...like I have been betrayed. Pre-Pilates Rachel was lovely and curvy and looked like a normal, beautiful, healthy twenty-something. Post-Pilates Rachel was still lovely, of course, but we lost some of the connection. Some of the innocence, if I may be dramatic.
All in all, I feel like I am in high school, and the hot guy was being nice to me and telling me jokes, then called me a cow when he thought I wasn't listening.
I am listening, Glamour. Oh, I am listening.
They get one more chance.
I am not shy in my love for Glamour Magazine. I think that there is something truly magnificent in the way the use models from every size in the spectrum, zero to 26 and beyond. I have written poems about my feelings on this subject. I truly felt I had found a publication that got me, who understood who I was, who loved me back despite-and maybe even because of- my flaws.
Now, I am disappointed. Crushed, really. Considering cancelling my subscription.
America Ferrera is simply divine. She is funny, she is gorgeous, and she is real. WHAT would posses the editors of a fabulous magazine to insult her and her fans by changing her body?
To top it off, they put "Ugly Betty is HOT!" by her picture. Yes, Glamour, she is hot, she is naturally stunning, and she does not need you to change her in any way!
This is reminding me of how I felt when Jennifer Aniston slimmed down...like I have been betrayed. Pre-Pilates Rachel was lovely and curvy and looked like a normal, beautiful, healthy twenty-something. Post-Pilates Rachel was still lovely, of course, but we lost some of the connection. Some of the innocence, if I may be dramatic.
All in all, I feel like I am in high school, and the hot guy was being nice to me and telling me jokes, then called me a cow when he thought I wasn't listening.
I am listening, Glamour. Oh, I am listening.
They get one more chance.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Woe is me...I doth suffer
So, I spent the long weekend not feelin' so good...The Cold That Ate My Weekend came on all abrupt-like, and made me a very whiny woman. My lovely lovely boy provided me with ginger ale and chicken soup and uninterrupted Buffy the Vampire Slayer episodes. I love my boy.
I did receive a reprieve...we went to the state fair on Sunday. That is a whole 'nother, picture laden post.
I am back to work today. I am feeling much better. By which I mean, my throat was attacked by rabid felines, and icy grips of death keep moving along my abdomen...but the snot is almost gone!
By the way, I may be a bit of a drama queen.
I did receive a reprieve...we went to the state fair on Sunday. That is a whole 'nother, picture laden post.
I am back to work today. I am feeling much better. By which I mean, my throat was attacked by rabid felines, and icy grips of death keep moving along my abdomen...but the snot is almost gone!
By the way, I may be a bit of a drama queen.
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