Posts tagged personal

According to the bride of the wedding I went to over the weekend, I was the “boy favorite” of the night. Supposedly, there were quite a few “admirers” discussing me from afar.

SHOUT OUT TO THAT CLEAVAGE ENHANCING ASOS DRESS FOR HELPING ME LIVE THE DREAM

After suddenly finding out that the former editor of the site my boss and I are contributing writers to has flown the coop and did not provide us any further information on what will happen next with our articles submitted there (including one I wrote up yesterday which I invested A LOT of time, energy, research, and enthusiasm into), it’s only natural to fire off cordial emails on all cylinders to find out who the new site moderator is while silently internally screaming, “fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!” in your head.

What is less expected is when the new moderator gets back to you quickly and is very polite and friendly. You want to be just as friendly back, but you’re so riled up that it takes a minute.

So you do a slow clap at your desk in her honor. And with everyone looking at you like you’ve lost your damn mind. Which essentially, for about 15 minutes there, I had.

It’s just a day where I feel a very spiritual connection to Ari Gold who, had Entourage included a blogging element to the show, would be bitching at bloggers and site editors about what makes it so fucking hard to stay within that company for longer than 6 months at a time.

Anyways. Lettuce all be grateful that while my ability to go from calm to furious can happen in the blink of an eye, generally it’s only about issues that deeply unseat me. And that I am at least doing better now than I did when I was younger when I get upset.

Wedding #1 Bullet Recap: The Santa Barbara Edition

The weather was glorious.
The ceremony was short and held on the beach.
Wearing a dress with sleeves was a smart move.
I drank all the alcohols - vodka, gin, rum, champagne - and didn’t die the next morning. Miracles are real.
I think every girl in the room cried during the father-daughter dance.
I met a single guy in line at the open bar (where else?) and made out with him later.
But yeah no, no plans on following up with that one. I mean… no.
My drunk ass begged the DJ to play “Birthday Song” by 2 Chainz and he gave me such a look of disgust I cracked up all over again.
I ate the wedding cake slice with my fingers.
Because I couldn’t find a fork.
And on the walk back to the hotel I tried to walk in my stilettos.
I tried to put them on for about five minutes before giving up and saying to my friend, “This is just not happening tonight.”
I don’t remember that.

Good weekend.

Last night I had a dream that one of my closest friends, Sara, was planning on moving away but she wouldn’t tell me where she was moving to or when. It made me upset because I know in real life, that would never happen. But in the dreamscape, I didn’t realize that where I was wasn’t real life and I felt frustrated with so much that I decided to drop everything and start running. I quit my job in my dream, backed out of all of my commitments, and threw my purse and phone to the ground and started running with nothing accompanying me. I made it as far as Agoura Hills before my old roommate in college Jas (and now awesome marathon runner) easily caught up to me and convinced me to go back and go home. But when I turned to look back behind me, the night sky was falling and I didn’t feel like I had a home anymore. It was more of an abstract than anything else - home as a concept, but not a place I could call my own. I woke up feeling lost for a few minutes.

This was the full on definition of stress dreams induced by moving.

For the better part of my life, I have been told I am intimidating by both men and women alike. And I’m not about to disagree with this presumption made before you get to know me either.

Where the intimidating portion of me began, I don’t know. Maybe it was when I was in grade school reading a book and somebody would ask me what I was reading and rather than tell them, I’d hold up the book so they could read the title for themselves and leave me alone. Some people say it’s in the way I dress. Others say it’s my lipstick, which has been been a daily coat of red for over a decade now. I also like to listen to music a lot and usually have my earbuds in. And then there were other bits and pieces of items tossed in - I have a firm walk, I exhibit male and female characteristics, I’m always working all the time, and my all-time favorite, I look “interesting” but the person who thinks I look interesting “doesn’t know how to approach me.” I don’t really know or get it. I tend to see my future as something to grab onto and reign in for myself and know that at the end of the day, it’s what I do and how I do it that gets me there. Stopping to talk to some basic ass dude at the bus stop who gets huffy when I don’t immediately hand him an award for saying hello to me isn’t going to get me where I need to be.

Over the years, the harder I have worked and continue to keep working has reaped in its share of recognition and benefits. One of the interesting aspects of being quoted in articles online or in having your work published on a consistent basis and sharing said pieces on your various social networking accounts is that you notice who likes certain things and who doesn’t. My interest is piqued the most at the kinds of guys I know who like these stories. I like to share what I’m doing and how I’m doing it because it makes me proud. It’s hard work and it pays off on a regular basis. But I have never been the kind of girl where “the thirst is real.” I’m not a manic pixie dream. I don’t write statuses filled with “yaaaaaaaays!!!!” and those irritating hearts with the number 3 included or tweet some half assed tweet like “I miss” and let you fill in the blank with some assorted thought you think I might be having. I have the bangs and the big eyes, but I also have a mouth that will sooner tell you to get your ass off the couch and do something with your life before encouraging you to keep on dicking around with your guitar, strumming that g chord all afternoon long.

I only have a handful of guy friends (barely at that) who are consistently supportive of me and what I do. And the feeling is quite mutual back. A slightly larger group that extends beyond the handful seemingly comes and goes depending on who they’re dating at the time or getting involved with. (Which is also weird to me because I’m the last person who would ever serve as a romantic threat to a relationship but then again I have never been on the “let’s have a baby!” train and a firm believer in multiple soulmates for years now so maybe that’s like a thing people in long term relationships get weird about idk digressing here.) When I tell a guy I either liked at one point or another something good that happened to me and their response back is muted, if even at that, it makes me feel… not necessarily sad, but more like what I did didn’t register or matter to them at all.

But then I snap out of it because I am me. Do I really want to be with someone who could not be genuinely excited for me when I work hard and it pays off? For whom my success threatens them to some degree? I’m not going to step back into the shadows so the guy can take the center stage. That’s bullshit! There is not one fiber of my being that would allow that or take it going quietly! The stage can be best shared by the person who matches me and complements who I am and is equally at ease with hard work and moving onward and upward. And until that moment occurs, I’m here for doing my own thing and being my own lady. Also here for it if it does not happen either.

Maybe I’ll be a hot chambermaid in my next life getting all those thirsty lords running after me begging me to show them my ankles or something. But until then, all you need to know is that I’m so much less intimidating when you get a couple of gin and tonics in me. So when in doubt on reaching out, pour one out and we’ll make a smashing (ha, literally) pair together.

HT

1) There is now officially less than two weeks lying between me and my move-in date. I have yet to secure my movers. I did change my mailing address. Half of my bedroom is in suitcases and bags. I threw out/gave away a lot of stuff and still feel like I have too much. My stress levels have officially shot through the roof and are wrecking havoc with my sleeping schedule. I was awake last night until 2 AM because I just couldn’t sleep. One thought kept rolling in after another. And so it goes.

2) I get my stitches taken out today from the extraction THANK GOD. Unfortunately these are not dissolvable stitches and need to be physically removed and have been itching like actual stitches do, only they’re in my mouth. Once they’re out, I hope this means I can get back to eating the millions of things I have been given instructions not to eat which include but are not limited to: spicy foods, broccoli, anything with a seed (i.e. most fruits, bagels with seeds, tomatoes), most hard/crusty food, chicken, steak, drinking anything with a straw, the list goes on. We’re having another weight loss competition at work and I guarantee you I’d probably win if I had to continue on with this hideous dental diet but I would also hate everything too so, no.

3) However, I have been substituting gin and tonics as a means of coping with my regularly scheduled eating lyfe loss so that’s a win.

4) Speaking of booze (ain’t we all tho?), this Saturday is the BIG wedding. Granted I have two weddings to hit up this summer but the one I’m most excited for is this Saturday in Santa Barbara as my dear, dear friend Dorrie marries her longtime boyfriend. Rarely do I ever say this about nuptials of any sort, but this wedding is going to be legit. Held on a beach. Open bar. SIGNATURE MARGARITAS. A seriously outstanding DJ who understands good dance/house music. Oh, and the most important detail of all… as Dorrie is originally from Staten Island, there will be quite a few single NY and Jersey guys up in the joint. Which given my track record, at weddings and otherwise, can only lead to awesome drunken makeout sessions. A friend of mine and I are both going (she is my plus one) and we already have our hotel room booked and I’ve told her I’m going on a bender for this wedding. If you’ve ever had a moment in your life where you can feel the hangover coming, this is it. But it will be a nice bender because I’m a good friend and not a drunken Roger on American Dad style bender.

5) The real bender will be the Saint Louis trip in July, which is more or less my vacation and a trip that I plan on being drunk all five days during. My mom and I already know where we’re going drinking when I get off the plane that afternoon - we don’t fool around. I’ve already mapped out the five days with plans and activities which is throwing my entire family for the loop because when my brother came home from the Navy, he didn’t plan anything and they basically did nothing for a week while he was there. The same cannot be said about me in the slightest. I have this one glorious plan in my head to spend an afternoon at the park by my parent’s house, making flower crowns and drinking champagne and listening to some music and seeing if my best friend can stop by and hang out with me and then taking a nap under the sky. A little on the hippie side, but it sounds like the best damn idea I’ve had in a long time. For just a few hours, I’d like not to be Heather Taylor, or HT as I often sign off on emails at work as, and just be… Heather.

We’ll get back to the full name version of me post trip.

HT