Monday, February 27, 2006

So much for smiles

So how's that smile thing going for me? Well, just listen to this...

I'm in the packed elevator on my way up to the 9th floor, standing at the back, looking tired.

At floor 5, good-looking older man in front of me looks over. I don't smile, neither does he.

I look down for a second. He looks back at me.

I start to smile.

He speaks: "Hey, smile! I never see you smiling."

I smile and laugh: "I'm not a morning person."

He says: "Nobody is."

I say: "I'll try to smile more. I didn't realize it."

We hit his floor. "See ya," he says.

"Bye," I say, still smiling.


I don't even know what to make of this. In one sense, maybe I should be flattered. But in another, I should see this just as more irrefutable proof that I project a negative aura. However, maybe it worked for me this time, since the guy did start up a conversation. He seemed nice.

And I do know one thing, I walked off that elevator feeling pretty good. Thanks, random elevator man, for making this too-often-straight-faced girl crack a smile.

Maybe next time I can do it without prompting.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

The Religion Post

I'm starting to scare myself a little.

All my life, I've been without religion. I've been to church maybe a handful of times in my almost 24 years. I have indeed read the Bible, but it was for class and I didn't really buy into it.

Until now.

Last year, I started listening to Christian contemporary music. I came across it one day while changing radio stations, and it stuck. My grandmother had just died, and the lyrics gave me comfort. I cried as I listened to Natalie Grant's "Held." It was speaking to me.

Soon I realized that all the songs on that radio station meant something to me, not just because of their lyrics, but because of the beautiful and inspiring melodies. Happy music.

For months, I just figured this was a fluke. I liked the music, but I still didn't want to acknowledge that I believed the messages that went along with it. This was a big change for me. Not only have I never considered myself religious, but I've actually made a concentrated effort in the past not to have anything to do with religion.

Until now.

My ex-boyfriend always tried me to get to go to church, to at least consider having religion in my life. I always bucked because, put simply, religion meant nothing to me. Having lived without it for my entire existence, I didn't feel like I needed it.

And when my ex kept pushing me to go to church and embrace it, I think I even started to resent religion. It was pushing us apart. I felt like he was trying to change me, and I bucked.

Again, until now.

Now, my life has changed. When my dad got sick, I couldn't understand. I felt so powerless, and I began to see religion in a different light. I always used to see it as some made-up world where I didn't belong-- a world where people just used it as an excuse for everything that happened.

But now I think that maybe its purpose is very simple and much more noble than an "excuse": to give us hope. I may not believe that there is some great being up there making everything happen for a reason, but I do believe that we all need something to get us through the rough times.

And this Christian music? It gets me through. It gives me a way to understand the world around me. I realize that it doesn't matter why my dad got sick, and it doesn't matter whether or not I believe in God.

It only matters that I keep up my positive thinking, that I refrain from being angry over things I cannot control.

I still don't know if everything in the Bible actually happened. I still don't feel comfortable going to church. But for the first time in my life, I see why other people believe.

I listen to the Christian radio station in my car every day. I have a playlist on my iPod called "Inspirational music." I've got Christian song lyrics in my IM profiles.

And yeah, it scares me a little.

But it may just be one the biggest steps forward I've ever taken.

There is hope for the helpless, rest for the weary,
and love for the broken hearts.
There is grace and forgiveness, mercy and healing
He'll meet you wherever you are.
Cry out to Jesus. Cry out to Jesus.
~ Third Day

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

To Blink or Not to Blink

Okay, I know everyone hates DC area traffic. And I know everyone writes about it, like, all the time. And therefore I know that this is just going to be another one of those posts. But I just can't take it anymore. I must say my piece.

First of all, I know everyone around here drives like arrogant, drunken a-holes on their way home from frat parties. I know that, and I've accepted it. The collective mentality of drivers in the DC metro area, much like that of a wild grizzly bear, or I don't know, a rodeo bull being ridden to within an inch of its life for sheer entertainment's sake, is very vengeful and full of rage. That's us.

Being uptight, impolite denizens of society dressed up nice in suits is our thing. Okay, cool. What I am not cool with is that we cannot even seem to exercise the slightest bit of common courtesy to our fellow drivers. Particularly, using blinkers seems to be a major stumbling block. I can't even count how many times a car has cut me off within the past few days without even so much as a flick of the blinker.

People don't seem to understand that blinkers have an actual purpose on a car. Yes, they are there for your very own safety. They announce that you're coming so people behind you don't a) run into you b) swerve off the road trying to avoid you or c) shake in epileptic rage and scream obscenities at your ugly Honda with the really loud, stupid-sounding exhaust.

Plus, they're so easy to use! All it takes is two simple flicks of your wrist. You barely even have to move your arm. The only reason not to use a blinker is the same reason people choose not to wear seat belts: sheer laziness. Or, worst case, sheer ignorance.

If you're going to cut me off, if you need to sneak in front of me for some reason, at least give a little advance notice with a blinker. And if you can't do that, at least give me a little wave when you're finished screwing me over.

And for that matter, am I the only one in all of Nova/DC who waves anymore? I always wave, whether people willingly let me in front of them or not. It's like saying "thank you" when someone holds the door for you. Not waving and not blinking are just ways of showing your supreme sense of entitlement over other drivers. And they will hate you for it.

And eventually, we all just hate each other. I may think I always blink and wave, but every single time someone messes with me by not extending similar courtesies, my patience grates a little more. And I start to drive faster. To push the cars in front of me. To swear and scream and cut people off.


Please, save us from ourselves. Next time, JUST BLINK. Just make someone's day suck a little less. Just be an okay driver.


Oh, PS, two Canadian Geese were sitting on the road today as the snow fluttered down around them. I had to slow down so they could waddle away. And my road rage? Just melted.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

It's Official

I don't know how to flirt.

Once upon a time, I used to know. But after being in a relationship for so many years, I'm afraid I've forgotton how.

I think this results largely from the fact that I've spent the last four or five years sending off "I'm taken" vibes to any guy within a five-mile radius. I got really good at either completely ignoring members of the opposite sex or just plain not even noticing them. I'd never even crack a smile. This goes double for the times that a guy would actually look at me. In these cases I would just stare vacantly or look quickly away.

I can't even remember the last time I looked a man in the eyes and held my gaze. Nowadays, if I see a cute guy in the elevator, I do nothing. If he looks at me, I look down. It's almost as if I am afraid. People keep telling me to emanate friendliness. How am I supposed to do this when I'm so out of the habit of even smiling at people?

I guess it'll just take practice. Today, I got into the elevator with an older guy and quickly stepped to the back, head down. I could feel him looking at me, so I popped my head up and gave him a quick smile. He didn't really smile back--I think I took him by surprise--but it's a start.

Smiling is just the most rudimentary form of flirting, and I can't even get that down. So you can guess how I fare with actually speaking to guys. Most of my problem is that I wouldn't know if I was flirting even if I was doing it.

I've actually been told that I am a natural flirt, just because of my sweet nature. But I think this only happens with people I feel comfortable around. Take UW, for instance. I probably flirt with him accidentally all the time. Once, I even touched his knee while talking to him. And I didn't do it because I wanted to flirt, I just did it instinctively.

I'm like this with my friends, too. I don't go around touching them, but I'm confident with them. I can make jokes and say witty things. I'm always on top of my game.

But when I do want to flirt, even with a guy who is already a friend, I'm completely incapable. If it's someone I like, I'm okay at making casual conversation, but I have no idea how to let them know I'm interested. And I wouldn't dare touch their knee.

Or, I might think I'm flirting with them, but really I'm just being my regular self and I need to take it up a notch. I just don't know how to do that. I don't know how to be coy, cute, foxy.

I think I'm just not used to interacting with guys properly. I'm used to ignoring all randoms and being overly nice to the ones I already know. What I need to do is give the randoms some encouragement and stop giving out the wrong signals to any others.

And most importantly, I need to look the world in the face and smile.

People love you when you smile
And hate you when it's through
Lots of happiness
We are wishing you
If you come from Jamaica or Honolulu, yeah
Keep a smile on your face
I'll see the good that you do
~ Vitamin C

Friday, February 17, 2006

The Hospital

It's a scary place.

If you're there, it's not where you want to be.

It's sterile and cold.

Until this year, I hadn't been in a hospital in ages. Then a co-worker became hospital-bound because she was pregnant with twins. I visited her. I felt the smallness of her room, sensed the lonliness of the place. I silently thanked the world for sparing me from ever spending too much time in a hospital.

And then January hit, and the hospital became my second home. I learned my way around. I drove straight there from work. My mom and I ate meals there, rested there, even cried there.

Right after we found out about the cancer, my mom broke down in tears in the main lobby. And people just went on with their business, breezing past, trailing IVs, stealing a glance or two. I guess tears are just typical in a hospital.

People expect them.

It's probably the only place you can sob hysterically and gratuitously in public without creating a spectacle. We walked around with red, flustered eyes and no one seemed to even notice.

Everyone in a hospital has their own problems. When you're in a crisis situation, you can only worry about yourself, your loved ones. Your problem becomes the biggest problem in the world, and you don't pay attention to anyone else.

I know I didn't.

I cannot remember much of anything about the hospital except my own experiences. I can't even tell you if I saw anyone else crying, because I wasn't looking. I was only looking at my mom as she buried her face in her hands and murmured inaudible words through tears on her cell phone.

I never want to see her in that kind of pain again.

And for that matter, I'd much rather never be in a hospital again. I've had two surgeries, I've visited my dad, I know the fear he felt...I think I've paid my dues now. That's the thing about life, though. It doesn't matter what you want or what's happened to you before.

You don't always get your way.

There are people who have had easier times than me and people who have had it a lot worse. We all have wonderful fortune, and we all have bad luck. It's how we deal with it that defines us. And I am so proud of my family for this past month.

It's been a nightmare, and we've come through it. Our love for one another is intact and stronger than ever. My dad is happy and hugging me tightly every night before bed.

My family amazes me.

And more than anything, I'm thankful for that.

Thursday, February 16, 2006

On Lonliness

Okay, so I'm tryin' to figure out something: Why am I so damn lonely?

I don't live alone. I have friends. I have people I can call. I have a great family and in fact live with three-quarters of them. I have pets. I have nice co-workers, a job, classmates at school.

But there is one thing I don't have, and I bet you can guess what it is: A boyfriend.

So, to revise my original question, why does my happiness depend on having a boyfriend?

On the phone the other day, my sister told me that I shouldn't expect to be happy with a guy until I can first be happy alone. Of course, I immediately bucked this concept. Because, really, have I ever been happy alone? No.

I didn't have a boyfriend until the end of my junior year in high school. And, yes, for the majority of those first 17 or so years of my life, I was alone and miserable. I was always insecure, always yearning for attention from the opposite sex. Always shy, always having crushes who would never ever return my affections.

When I finally did start dating, I tended to latch myself on to people, which explains why I've already had two very serious, lengthy relationships at the tender age of 23. I bounced from one relationship, one kiss even, to the next. I couldn't bear to be alone even for a small period of time.

The one exception is the summer after my sophomore year of college, all of which I spent completely single. And actually, it was a great summer. I spent it with my best friend S., who was also single at the time, going to concerts and goofing off. I never had any real dates. Maybe just a hook-up or two. And I was okay, self-confident, and even happy.

So how do I get back to that place now? Somehow my confidence has plummeted this past year, and I don't know how to fix it. It's like I'm afraid to just be me.

When I'm alone with myself, which is far too often during my commutes to work/class, my thoughts always lead to dark places. I am constantly worrying about everything from my body to work to my family. But mostly, I'm feeling lonely on those car rides.

K used to tell me all the time that I was beautiful. I always thought I didn't need that encouragement, but I was wrong. Because now that no one's (revision: no guy's) telling me, I don't feel so beautiful.

Today, for instance, I got all dressed nice in a skirt, straightened my hair, put on my pearls, did everything. And yet...I still feel like crap. I LOOK like crap. My mom and dad both told me I looked nice, but that didn't make me believe it.

I know it's all in my head. I feel like some attention from a guy would make me feel better...but is that really true? Probably not.

So, bottom line: I think my sister is right.

I need to fix myself before I can expect someone else to fix me. Because who wants that job, anyway?!?

Quick V-Day update: It was uneventful. UW (i.e., office stalker boy) gave me simple card. He gave a bunch of girls in the office cards. Pretty nice, actually. My boss gave me a single rose - so sweet of her.

And my dad gave me a pot of flowers and an adorable red frog stuffed animal which I have appropriately named "Froggie." My family also had a nice dinner with the good wine glasses and homemade pineapple upside-down cake. I guess it wasn't so bad after all...

Monday, February 13, 2006

Love & Loss: The Big Post

I have a hard time getting over things. Whether it's sadness, bitterness, or just plain old rage, I've never been adept at just letting anything go.

It took me YEARS to truly get over what my high school boyfriend did to me. After we broke up, he betrayed me in the worst possible way--by going behind my back and hooking up with my best friend, of course. And they both lied to my face about it. I was not prepared for such a breach of trust, especially since it was coming from the two people I trusted most.

I lashed out at both of them, and anger became a fixture in my life. I had wild fantasies in which I plotted the ways I would get back at them. I wanted them to feel my pain. This incident occurred in the very beginning of 2001, and now, five years later, I can finally say that I am officially over it. Former best friend and I have reconciled. We even hang out once in a while.

As for dishonestBF, well...we're on good terms too, but we're not "friends," not even acquaintances. The last contact we had was a random facebook message from him in which he told me his dad had just had a heart attack. I suppose he wanted some support from somebody, though I'm not sure why he came to me.

And after hating his guts for all those years, I told him how sorry I was about his dad. I comforted him as I would with any friend. That's how I knew I had finally left the past behind. I'd let it go.

And as horrible as this entire double betrayal was, I know that it helped me to grow. It taught me to tread lightly and not to trust so freely. It taught me not to give so much of myself. It taught me to forgive.

I know that I'll never again harbor such bitterness inside me. That feeling tore at me for so long. It didn't hurt them at all, it hurt me. And I refuse to ever hurt myself that way in my lifetime.

Puppy Love
Just as I couldn't let my anger go, I have had difficulty letting love go. Even after dishonestBF brought out a side of me I never knew existed, I still missed him. The fact that I still had feelings for him made everything so much harder.

I always thought we would get married, even after we broke up. Sure, it was high school puppy love, but to me, it was real. I truly thought we would be together forever. Looking back, this was such a silly thought, since we had barely experienced life for ourselves, let alone together. We hadn't lived together, hadn't taken a trip together, hadn't had sex, hadn't even slept in the same bed for a night. All we did was hang out in his basement and park next to each other at school.

And yet, I loved him. I loved him for being kind, for the way he treated me, for his big brown puppy dog eyes. I didn't see any of the bad, though it was all there--the random lies he told, his inescurities, the fact that he didn't brush his teeth as often as he should.

Maybe that's what love is. Maybe it means you only see the good. Maybe it means you have such faith in someone else, and in your relationship, that you can't imagine ever not ending up together.

If he hadn't broken my trust in such a pivotal way, who knows what might have happened. We could still be together. But that's the thing about love. Even when it seems like forever, you're always one lie, one fight, one anything away from losing it.

He was my first love, and we were all wrong for eachother. I know that now, and I am so glad that we didn't work out. But, still...nothing since has ever felt so right.

I hope one day I'll find that puppy love again, that feeling of forever togetherness, that confidence in another person. It may open me up for betrayal, but in the's all worth it.

Grown-up Love
As soon as DishonestBF was booted out the revolving door, in walked CollegeBF. He says it was love at first sight. It wasn't quite the same for me. In actuality, I wasn't over DishonestBF, not in the least. But I needed to move on, and that's what I did.

We really enjoyed being with each other. He made me laugh. He listened to me. He gave me advice. He taught me how to be more independent. He helped me to be more outgoing. Oh, and he brushed his teeth every single day.

We spent every day together and yet never got sick of each other. We had so many lazy days full of movies, television shows, and late nights. During my sophomore year of college, I spent more time in his room than mine, more nights in his bed than mine. And then, it happened... we did get sick of each other. He taught me how to fight, to resent, to yell. I didn't ever have the feeling that we'd be together forever. And it ended.

Yet nine months later, it started up again. We were just so comfortable together. When I was with him, it felt like going home. Safe. Warm. Snuggly. We had such a strong bond, such a strong sense of trust. After DishonestBF, he was the first guy I had really opened up to. I felt like I'd done the inevitable--I'd found someone I could trust again.

In the end though, the trust wasn't enough. Our relationship outlasted our respect for one another. My inability to just "let things go" translated into an inability to compromise. And despite being together for so many years, I never felt completely sure that he was the one. I knew this because of my experience with DishonestBF...I knew what that fuzziness should feel like, and it wasn't happening for me.

I couldn't overlook the problems we had. If anything, they intensified. Yes, I loved him, but at some point I must have stopped loving him in that way--the unconditional way. I knew I couldn't marry him, and I knew I had to finally make a decision without worrying about its impact on him.

We were on the path to marriage, and though continuing down that path would have been much easier for me, I chose to hop off. I left all that I knew and all that made me feel safe, and I finally did something for myself. It was the most liberating thing I have ever done.

CollegeBF taught me to be true to myself. He taught me about grown-up love--living together, buying groceries together, really compromising--and I am eternally grateful. Yes, I still miss him. But I take solace in knowing that I made the right decision. In knowing that I wouldn't take one bit of our relationship back. It shaped me, and I like who I've become.

Future Loves?
Through each of these experiences, I have become wise. I know what I want in a mate. I know what a healthy relationship should be. And most importantly, I know a little better what love means. It means compromise, forgiveness, mutual respect. It means you can have all of this and still be happy. It means you can be the angriest you've ever been and just let it all go with a simple "I'm sorry."

It means you know you want to be with someone for the rest of your life without having a single seed of doubt.

I may only be 23, but I'm ready for that feeling. And when it hits me, I'll know.

I Want

I don't know if I can do this. Be single.

I'm so lonely. I just want someone to care about me. And I need someone to care about.

I need something to keep me going. And right now, school and work are not enough. Family is even not enough.

If anything, I just want someone to pay attention to me. I want someone to cuddle with. I want someone to hold my hand.

I want someone who will listen.

I want this feeling in my throat to go away. I want to be able to sit at work and not feel like crying.

I want hope. I want to be happy. I want a good life.

Is that really so much to ask?

Friday, February 10, 2006

Lauren: The Complete Collection

I'm feeling contemplative today, so I've decided to search inside myself for those interesting things that make me unique. Sometimes I pigeonhole myself as just some boring, average person, but there's a lot more to me than I give myself credit for. In fact, none of us are boring or average...we've all got our quirks, our passions, our secrets.

Here is a partial list of the traits, likes, dislikes, wants and needs that make me special. Hey, I'm feeling more special just by writing this.

1. I wear holiday socks all year long.
2. On average, I go to the bathroom once every hour that I am awake.
3. I love singing and dancing, but only when no one is around.
4. I listen to Christian music 24/7, but I'm not Christian.
5. I don't eat seafood.
6. I could easily be a vegetarian if I felt the need.
7. I practically invented the socks with Adidas sandals look.
8. I like dressing like a lazy bum.
9. I have an obsessive personality.
10. I am fascinated by crime. I read entire books about it.

11. I know the entire history of Henry VIII and all his kids.
12. I'm half Italian - my dad immigrated when he was 13 years old.
13. I have no middle name - I used to want it to be "Angel."
14. I want to name one of my kids "Canyon." Sucks for him.
15. I still count in my head to do simple arithmetic.
16. I've had two eye surgeries. My eyes are still messed up.
17. I'm against thongs. They make me feel fat.
18. I actually like living with my parents.
19. I'm happier with a boyfriend than without one.
20. I miss cuddling.

21. Everyone thinks I only like bad movies, but my taste is shifting.
22. I bought the Hillary Duff and Ashlee Simposn CDs by choice.
23. I never tire of re-runs of Saved By the Bell, Sister Sister and Roseanne.
24. I wish life really was a Seinfeld episode and I could be Elaine.
25. I've reached a point where I'm embarassed of my weight.
26. Sometimes I feel pretty, and sometimes I feel ugly.
27. I wish I was born blonde.
28. I love the color of my eyes.
29. I tried to learn the dance steps to the "Baby One More Time" music video, but failed.
30. I want to own an aviary of birds.

31. I'm afraid I'll never get married.
32. I pretend to be neat, but I'm a slob at heart.
33. I want to be a video editor.
34. I'm a car snob.
35. I don't like bars or clubs.
36. I like winter only because I can wear bulkier clothes and it's easier to feel cute.
37. I've been to a therapist.
38. I could eat sunny side up eggs every day for breakfast.
39. I'm stingy when it comes to buying food.
40. I have over a gig of songs on my iPod, but I listen to the same few on repeat and skip the rest.

41. Britney Spears is still my idol.
42. I like all music but rap.
43. I could be a better friend, but I'm the perfect daughter.
44. I love raw sprouts and avocado.
45. My hands and nose are always cold.
46. I wish my boobs were bigger and my butt was smaller.
47. I like being intelligent and calling myself a writer.
48. I love to see my name in print...and to read my own writing.
49. I am an artist - I just wish I painted more often.
50. I like reptiles, but not spiders.
51. I hate exercising with a passion.
52. I used to paint my nails black and I tried to dye my hair blue.
53. I still don't know if I believe in God.

Now, your turn...what makes you special?

Thursday, February 09, 2006


Sometimes I wonder how I ended up like this. Why does my happiness always depend on validation from others?

I know I shouldn't care what anyobody thinks of me, but the cold hard reality is that I DO care. I care so much that something as simple as a comment can ruin my whole day.

Every time office stalker boy tells me I "don't go out enough," it hurts me a little. Despite the fact that I loathe him, it still hurts.

And it's not just other people that hurt me. I hurt myself far too often. I allow my negative thoughts to control my moods. I've broken down in tears while looking for something to wear more times than I can count.

It goes something like this: Try an outfit on, am unhappy with outfit, try another outfit, am unhappy, try a third one, am unhappy, get frustrated, look at heap of discarded clothes on bed, get more frustrated, think about how much my life sucks, throw crying fit.

What an unproductive way to spend a morning. And yet it happens. However, it hasn't happened in while (due in part to a wonderful book), but even so, I continue to look for validation.

This very morning, I had trouble finding something to wear. Now, I didn't get upset or anything, and I eventually found something. I'm just not totally happy with this doesn't meet the idea of perfection to which I hold all aspects of my appearance (therapists calls this "appearance perfectionism").

Anyway, I saw my dad in the kitchen as I was eating breakfast, and I waited for him to tell me I looked nice. Sometimes he does that. But this morning... I got nothing, and that made me feel bad. Clearly, this is ridiculous. First of all, why does it matter what my dad thinks? Secondly, who even knows what was going through his head this morning anyway?

But the point here is that I wanted that validation. I wanted something, anything to help me believe that I looked okay. And for some reason, I can't give myself the always has to come from someone else.
I know I won't be truly happy until that reassurance comes from within.

Sometimes I wonder how I ended up like this. But maybe I should be wondering about how I can change it.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

The countdown continues...

Six days and 8 hours until the bane of all holidays. Tick, tick, tick.

In hopes of taking control of V-Day and making it the first-ever L-Day (all about me, of course), I've decided to treat myself to a little somethin' somethin.'

Here are a few items I'm considering:

Monster Ballads: Platinum Edition (inspired by a post from another intelligent blogger)
I love monster ballads. All of them. This compilation CD is sure to have my heart fluttering as I sing at the top of my lungs.

Just Like Heaven DVD
Such a cute romantic comedy. How can I resist Reese and that "cute in a non-conventional way" Mark Ruffalo? They fall in love...and he brings her back to life...literally! AWWWW.

Syberia II PC Game
Syberia I had an engaging story, stunning graphics, and a female protagonist--which is a rare thing in the gaming world. I couldn't tear myself away from it. Imagine my dorky-computer-game-player glee at finding out that there is a sequel.

Popular: The Complete First Season DVD
One of the best shows the WB ever cancelled (after only two seasons). It's a bit pricey, but definitely worth it.

iPod Car Adapter and Charger
I've been too much a cheap-ass to buy this thing, even though I desperately want (and need) it.

In addition, I will probably go on a movie-renting binge at Blockbuster just to keep myself busy on the fateful night. My must-rent list currently includes: Sideways, Before Sunset, Winged Migration, Indecent Proposal, and Mad Hot Ballroom.

Armed with the above necessities, a big old bag of Swedish Fish, and a bottle of Arbor Mist, I think I just might survive this V-Day.

Er, I mean L-Day.

And by "survive," I mean I don't end up crying or feeling too sorry for myself.

Yes, it's a low standard, but believe me, the bar is high enough.

Monday, February 06, 2006

The Smackdown

I really wish I had the fortitude to lay the smackdown on someone. You know what I'm talking about--the rare occurrence when someone is so asinine and so very deserving that you just go off on them in an explosion of verbal bitchery.

I don't believe I've ever had the privilege of said smackdown. I'm just not cut out for it. I go over these tirades again and again in my head, plotting exactly what I'll say in my moment of sweet redemption, but when it comes down to it, I'm a total pushover.

Today I had one of these moments. My favorite office annoyance, UW (who else?) came by again to "say hi." But he didn't so much say hi as annoy the total crap out of me:

Me: How was your weekend?

UW: Not so good.

Me: Oh, that's too bad.

UW: How was yours?

Me: Pretty good, actually.

UW: What did you do?

Me: I rented a bunch of movies.

[Discussion of movies, including my opinions on all of them]

UW: You need to go out more.

Me: Well, that's not really something I enjoy.

UW: Oooookayyyyy (in really sarcastic/"you're a loser" way)

[Awkward moment of silence as I stare at him in seething rage with a half-smile plastered on my face and he shakes his head and pretends he thinks I am a loser]

UW: Okay, see ya.

Me: Bye bye [in annoying sing-song tone with as much contempt as I can muster]

Analysis: Okay, so, yes, he picked on me again. He does this every. single. time. he talks to me. Without fail, he always makes fun of me in some way. Either I am stupid for wearing gloves in the office (my hands are cold, okay?), or it's the fact that I "need to go out" more, or some other stupid reason (my iPod songs suck, for example). Now, maybe this is his way of "flirting" or whatever, but it's getting really old. It's getting insulting.

Usually I just attempt to defend myself by saying "Look, I'm not a loser" or "I don't need to go out." But today I attempted to tell him straight out that "going out" (whatever the F that means) is just not something I normally do. Of course, it didn't come out as I had planned. What I really wanted to say goes something like this:

Look here, stalker-boy, I'm sick and tired of you always telling me who I need to be and what I need to do. Your opinions do not matter to me at all, mostly because I have absolutely no respect for you. I don't enjoy being picked on and verbally harassed just because you think you like me.

And for that matter, what do you know about anything anyway? You don't know me and have no right to judge me. I take pride in my life and I especially take pride in the fact that the most important thing to me isn't how many bars I managed to stumble to last weekend. It's nice to know that just because I didn't get shit-faced last night doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy myself.

I'm sorry if I do more meaningful things with my time, like watch independent films--I am a fucking film student, aren't I? And I'm really sorry that you're such a sorry fucktard that YOU need to laugh at ME just to feel good about yourself.

Please, just go back to a bar somewhere and drink your sorrows away. Go find a girl who will be impressed when you tell her all about how drunk you got in Spain, or that you used to actually know how to brew beer (ohhhh, what a useful talent in life). Please go talk to someone else, because I'm sick of trying to be nice to you. Fucker.

Whew. I feel better. And I do apologize for the profanity, but in rare instances it's just necessary to make my point.

We're gonna make a better day

Hands down the best part of the Super Bowl: "You're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to Lost."

Oh, and I only watched the halftime show. Didn't see a lick of football, and I'm proud of it.

I also managed to watch four movies this weekend and get most of my reading done for school. I highly recommend Grizzly Man, Crash, and Cellular...all excellent and thought-provoking films. The fourth movie? Guess Who. It was fun, but not fun enough, and clearly it paled in comparison to the others.

Oh, and also, I woke up this morning on time and feeling refreshed. It was such a strange feeling that I had to sit there and actually ponder why I wasn't hitting the snooze button on my my alarm. Better yet, I left for work on time and arrived on time even after a detour to Blockbuster.

Things just seem to be looking up. And I am very thankful.

All around the world, you've got to spread the word
Tell them what you've heard
We're gonna make a better day
All around the world, you've got to spread the word
Tell them what you've heard
You know it's gonna be o.k.
~ Oasis

Thursday, February 02, 2006


It's Groundhog Day, one of my favorite holidays. And I can't even write a post about it.

I can't be witty. I can't be creative. I can't think straight.

I can only sit here and contemplate my life, my family, and everything that has led up to this day.

I can only question why certain things happen.

I can only try to understand how everything has suddenly changed.

Yes, it's Groundhog Day, but it's also the day I finally accepted the facts: My dad has cancer and he needs chemotherapy. He is sick, and he's going to get sicker, and I'm afraid.

I'm afraid the chemo will drain him.

I'm afraid I can't be strong for him and for my family.

I'm afraid...that we will lose him, and I'm even more afraid to say that out loud.

Up until this day, I hadn't thought of that as an option. I thought maybe the cancer was localized. Or, if not that, then surely it hadn't progressed past the second stage. I thought everything would be okay, because he's such an inherently good person.

But I guess none of that matters. We're dealing with something much bigger than I can fathom--something so unsettling that I get nauseous when I think about it. And if I keep thinking about it, I lose myself in it.

It's swallowing my family. And it's not fair.

Please let us make it through this.
Please let us beat the odds.
And for once...please let me have faith.

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