Pain at the Pump

It's happened. I can't believe it's actually happened. The talk about gas hitting the "4 Dollar Mark" has been going on for quite some time now, but in a futuristic sense just like spaceships and flying cars. But it's actually finally happened. I was on my way to work this morning when I spotted it, and I felt like rubbing my eyes a few times just to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Thrifty Station in Fountain Valley read $4.25 for regular... Regular gas!--Not even the good gas that makes your car do all those wonderful things that I don't know about because I'm a cheap ass regular girl. No, for Premium they require a down payment and your first born son. I felt like a senior when I started reminiscing about the days when I first got my drivers license and gas was 99 cents. The Golden Days where I could fill up my gas tank for $15 and still have enough money left over to actually have a life. What is going to happen to all of us? Are we all going to be broke? Are we all going to leave our cars in the driveway and walk to work, even if it takes us five hours and we are ridden with filth and sweat by the time we get there? Should I move? Change jobs? Stage a protest?
I'm thinking I should come up with an alternative source for fuel. Any suggestions? Right now I've got some useless items on the list that don't do much good now, such as Decaf Coffee, Designer Impostor Perfumes, SPF 0 Tanning Oil, and Fruity Vodkas. Loan me your car so I can experiment.

Tossing Stones

God informed us that "he among us without sin should be the first to condemn another, or the first to throw a stone"... How often does anyone follow that statement? If that were true, no one would ever say anything bad about anyone else-- and that we know isn't true. People on a daily basis critique everything about everyone else-- they presume to understand, are quick to judge, and discuss another's life choices just as often and as quickly as they pick out what clothes to wear in the morning. There is no one person out there who is without sin---who doesn't make mistakes themselves. Granted, there are some of us who are better at making them and make them more frequently, but we are not alone. However, maybe it isn't other people whose critiques and judgements are undoubtedly harsh. I'm wondering if it's ourselves who throw the stones the hardest.
If we are perfectly confident and loving of ourselves, it shouldn't matter what others think of us, correct? Maybe we as a human race put way too much pressure on ourselves on a day to day basis and when we attain less than perfection, we toss the stone. We let others dictate what our level of perfection should be, and if we fail to achieve it, we feel like we've let ourselves down.

Today, I'm putting down the stone. I've got welts on my body the size of golf balls.

Why Drink?

As I sit here, staring at the computer, wondering why the walls feel like they are caving in and wondering why my surroundings are spinning, I can't help but ask myself why.. Why drink?

Last night's happy hour which went from one cocktail to four has evolved into this mornings hangover and I am desperately trying not to curl up into a ball under my desk and go to sleep. I dine on a very healthy breakfast of diet Dr. Pepper and Sour Cream and Onion Pringles, and hope that my antics last night did not a.) embarrass myself or b.) end with my phone number permanently stored in any strange man's cell.

The "morning after" is most definitely a hell on earth that we voluntarily put ourselves in when we decide to have too many cocktails. That three hours of giddiness comes at the expense of an entire day of dry heaving, diet soda, salty food, dizziness, random flashbacks, and frequent trips to the lavatory.

The universe, ever so amusing, sends the hangover in waves---so just when you think you've been cured, it comes back, disguised as something else. First, there's the initial wake up-- everything hurts, everything wants to come back up through the route it came in, and you have no idea what you've ever done in your life to deserve that amount of discomfort. You take some pain meds, sleep some more, maybe drink something carbonated and eat something to coat your stomach. An hour later, you start to feel better. You get out of bed, maybe even start to make something of your day. Then suddenly, it comes back. This will go on all day.

Seriously...Why drink?

Thinking

Thinking



I sat down one afternoon

And reflected upon my years

I thought about how much I've seen

I thought about all the tears


I thought about my weakened heart

How love has been so unkind

I thought about men I've loved and lost

And the times I've been left behind


I thought about how I've been betrayed

How lies caused so much confusion

I thought about how I've come to believe

That trust is just an illusion


I thought about my family

How much pain and hardship we've beared

I thought about how much they've meant to me

No one else has ever compared


I thought about times I've gone without

And tried even harder to gain

I thought about how I wanted sun

But often times just got rain


Then I thought about all the people

Who bared all of this with me

I thought about the kindness of strangers

And how what will be will be


Then I thought about smiling

When I realized I've been so strong

I thought about how through every trial

Strength kept me happy all along


Then I thought about thinking

And how the sadness had clouded my brain

I thought to myself, Count your blessings

And never once again thought of pain

Becoming Your Parent's "Parent"

I have felt this coming on for quite some time now...Ever since my Dad got sick and life got "really" hard.... I had started feeling like my mother's "parent"... And as of last night, I realized that is exactly what I am.

I'm not saying it's right or wrong for me to feel this way or act this way... I do feel that someone out there needs to take care of her, since she has no husband or parents to look out for her. But it is a very strange feeling. I'll give some examples.

I don't want ANY harm to come to her. That is a normal thing to feel for anyone you love, but it's deeper than that. I feel the need to protect her from "the world"... She's been in this bubble for such a long time and I feel as though she doesn't really know the way things work. I don't want her to experience any more sadness, pain, or uncertainty. I get angry when someone is mean to her. I try to teach her things each day-- like how to use a cell phone, how to turn on and off the television using the complicated remote control, and how to use a necklace to accessorize an outfit. If she's hungry, I want to make sure there is something for her to eat. If she's cold, I want to make sure she has a blanket. I want her to have the perfect job-- one that makes her feel good inside and keeps her busy. I send out her resume places and call her when she has an interview. I make sure she's taking the right medication and at the right times. How did this happen?

There are times when I might be feeling particularly low... and I come to her to find solace and comfort, the way a child seeks out his or her parent to make things "better"... although when I come to her as her child, I see that she is upset... and I end up comforting her. She becomes the child--sad, feeling lost, and needing her hand held. I tell her of the ways of the world, pull an example from my life, say that everything will be all right, chin up, etc etc. She drifts off to sleep like a child, and I, the grown-up, the parent, solve my problem alone.

It really hit me last night when I went to go pick her up from work--- me, picking her up from work. I watched her inside the store. She works at a clothing store, and the store had closed so the employees were cleaning up. I sat in the parking lot, thinking. I didn't like that she was working so late... She's going to be tired in the morning, I thought. Her feet must hurt, I thought. Don't they know she's too smart to sweep, I thought. I didn't like that it was after 9 PM and she was still working, even though she was supposed to get off at 9. I wanted to go in there and say "Excuse me, she's done" and take her home so she could get some rest.

I'm wondering how I went from being a young girl in her 20's to an old woman. I'm wondering if sometime soon I'll get those missed years back. Until then, I play the role that is needed of me, for now.

Noisy Neighbors

I lit my candles, took out a book, and snuggled into bed around 10 PM. It had been a busy day at work, and I was looking forward to a good night's sleep. I read for a bit, then blew out the candles and closed my eyes. Just as I was drifting away, it started. The loud squawking, the conversation.. it was piercing to the ear. I wrapped my blanket around my head in hopes that the friction would drown out the noise. Nope. As it neared midnight, enough was enough. But what do you do when your noisy neighbors are.... birds. Yes, birds. F-ing Nocturnal birds.

What on earth are they doing up all night? Since when do birds come out when it's cold and stay up all night talking? Had they flown back from their winter vacation already? Were the parent birds out of the nest for the night, so the teenager birds had a party? I have no idea.. All I know is that it didn't stop. The clock went from midnight, to 1, to 2, to 3 AM... and still the squawking. I grew extremely frustrated. Birds in Connecticut did not stay up all night. They tucked in their baby birds as the sun went down, and kept their beaks closed until the human world began to stir again. But no, not Cali birds.

I started to move from room to room to see if the noise grew fainter. The noise was just as prominent downstairs on all of the couches. I tried the couch, another couch, and secretly wished I lived in a house that did not believe in gun control. By this time it was nearing 4 am, and just when I was about to turn on the tube and drown my sleepless woes in infomercials, I remembered... you couldn't hear anything from my mothers room. The soothing lullaby of her window fan drowned out any noises from the outside world. Score! I opened the door, crept in, and listened for a moment. No birds.

I pulled down the covers and got into bed, and just as my brain started visualizing sugar plums, I heard another noise, and remembered. The rumbling, grumbling, earth shattering snores that came from the woman next to me--Ohhhhh yes... I had almost forgotten. Infomercials it is. Maybe I'll see the one with the foot pad that turns brown.

Maybe the birds were up all night complaining about their noisy neighbor.

When One or the Other just 'Aint Enough

I've always known I wanted to be a mother. Most little girls play with dolls, but as I played with mine, I knew that part of my life's calling one day would be to have real ones-- to grow up, meet a man, have babies, and screw them up in my own, unique way. And here I am, almost 26 years old, and am no closer to having that real family than I was 20 years ago when I was playing with plastic. Friends, family members, and co-workers joke about my "baby fever" when in fact I believe that my yearning is only natural. I am not upset about my lack of babies, because I have other, very full-filling obligations, such as my career. However, when realizing that a job is full-filling my baby void, a whole new set of questions arise that I, being the ever-so-slightly over analyzer that I am, need answered.

I am finding that girls my age in the year 2008 have decided on either one priority-- the job, or the babies. Most young female executives I know are in no rush for babies, but are excited about moving up in their company and in the world. I also find that the reverse is true. I find that women my age who are on the verge of a family or are in hopes of a family are not very enthusiastic about what they do for a living. My question is, what do you do when one or the other just 'aint enough? Why can't I be a 26 year old woman who loves her career, who wants to excel in the business/journalistic world and who has greater things on her horizon--- but who also is on pins and needles waiting for that family that she so greatly desires. Why can't I love babies AND business journals? Why can't I be excited about a networking event AND a future with a wonderful man?

More and more women are entering the workforce as we speak, and I find that wonderful. There are so many cookies out there to be eaten up, and I definitely plan on taking my fair share of them. However, why should it make me any less ambitious if I want to have babies, and take time off from work to raise them? And why should it make me any less "nuturing" or "maternal" if I also want to kick butt in the publishing world and meet as many professionals as I can? I'm wondering when it got to be silly that a woman in almost her late 20's is excited about holding a baby and having one in the future?

I hope that one day, 20-somethings will be allowed to desire both-- But for now, I remain that freak who loves her career, and also can't wait for the little mini-gus' to be running around in the future.

Sex and Everyone's City

Unless you've been living in a cave on a remote island since 1998, I'm guessing you are aware of a little 21st century phenomenon called "Sex and the City." A show about the lives of four women living in Manhattan did more for our gender than promote the tasty "Cosmopolitan". I truly believe this show is brilliantly written, and if watched closely, can really mold and change the life of the single woman, anywhere in the world between the ages of 20-99. This show not only teaches woman that it's quite all right to be sexually liberated, but that certain things women have been feeling for centuries is finally politically correct to be spoken about. Every time I watch this show I learn something new about myself. These four identifiable characters have a little bit of every woman in them...and every woman has a little bit of all four characters inside themselves. I shall explain...

Inside every woman, there is a "Carrie Bradshaw"--- a part of you who analyzes every issue until it barely exists anymore. A woman who has a hard time knowing what kind of man she truly desires, and is the number one confidant of all of her friends. Inside every woman is a long lost love like a Mr. Big, whether he exists in your current life or he left you years ago. Inside every woman is a desire to understand how the world works, how relationships work, and to want to capture every moment of it. Inside every woman is a desire to have designer bags and shoes in their possession, and not work for them.

Inside every woman, there is a "Miranda Hobbs"--- a part of you who has been beaten down by how hard the world has been. A woman who is bitter and sarcastic, and thinks that all fairy tales are complete crap. Inside every woman is a desire to make a life for themselves, and to not let a man define her, no matter how much she loves him. Inside every woman is a realist, someone who thinks that maybe, just maybe, dreaming is a waste of time.

Inside every woman, there is a "Samantha Jones"--- a part of you who loves sex, and desires no emotional attachment sometimes. A woman who is afraid to get too close to someone, so she stays on the surface with purely physical relationships. Inside every woman there is a fear of getting older and not seeming attractive anymore. Inside every woman there is a need to be sexual, desirable, and free.

Inside every woman, there is a "Charlotte York"--- a part of you who wants to settle down and have a family. A woman who wants to belong to someone and feel important. A woman who thinks manners and the way you carry yourself are crucial, and who desperately wants to be a mother. A woman who insists on people being educated, polite, and polished. A woman who blushes when people talk about their sex life or bodily functions in public.

I can find a piece of myself in each of these characters, and have learned so much about being a single woman from this show. I've learned that it's all right to over-analyze, to be bitter, to be sexy, and to have standards. Over-analyzing doesn't make you crazy, being bitter doesn't make you an un-happy person, enjoying sex does not make you a slut, and having proper standards does not make you a snob. What an amazing self-realization that can come from one simple show!