Back to the Blog

I'M HERE.

I didn't die. I didn't abandon you all. I just...had not much to say. Which is weird, because life is happening, and you'd think I'd want to talk about it.

But maybe my narcissism is dwindling and I've realized...no one cares.

Regardless, you're getting a summary of my life. Starting NOW.

• I have gone back to yoga. YES. YES I HAVE. I knew the second I renewed my physical practice I'd feel a million times better, and I do. I don't know why I ever stopped, probably your basic mix of insecurity and laziness, but the important thing is that I'm back, doing something for myself and my soul, embracing the love of yoga. WEEEEEEE!
• I'm auditioning to be an intern at my yoga studio in mid-November. DOUBLE WEEEEEE!
• Third date with the new nicknameless boy...siiiigh. I like him. Lots. Only hangup: he's my height, about exactly. And I am not tall. This is not HIS problem of course, he is hot as shit and has a six pack I want to lick, attraction is definitely not the issue and I don't judge the shorties. The issue is my self-consciousness about my size, and feeling bigger than him. I have issues. I know I just need to get over it, but it's hard when I'm larger than I'd like and feeling particularly vulnerable.
• So, adoring Nicknameless, but I'm having lunch with Vegas on Sunday too. It's only our second time seeing each other since we met, but I feel like I owe it to myself to see if there's an equivalent spark. And he is TALL.
• Tomorrow is my last day at my current soul-sucking job. @#&*$^*#&%$^*!!!! I keep having second thoughts, wondering why I'm leaving such a chill, easy position where I can do whatever the fuck I want, but then someone asks me to do something absurdly stupid and I'm like, "Yes. Get me out of here." I'm so nervous to start the new gig, but I know it's the best thing for me. I think my new, strict schedule and you know...using of my brain, will really have an influence on my life. I'm looking forward to a total lifestyle overhaul.
• I am optimistic about the future. For the first time in awhile.

Things I Am Not, A-Z

Things I Am Here

Athletic
Blonde
Confident

Dedicated
Enigmatic
Friendless

Getting any

Hopeless

Indifferent
Joyless
Kempt
Lean
Monied

Neat
Organized
Patient

Quiet
Reticent 
Statuesqe
Tan

Underweight
Vapid

Wild
Xenophobic
Yiddish
Zealot

My Inner Lady

A lovely little old man looking for Social Security told me today that I am "pleasant and feminine". It was sweet.

Something like this, I imagine?

If only he knew...

Beautiful Like Me

In my constant quest for self-acceptance and self-love, I am trying to focus on the things I love about myself, not the things I hate. 

In that vein, I present a list of ten things I love about my face, my body, my physical self. 

1. The shape of my eyes, I like to think they're slightly exotic.

2. My hair, in college my friends all called it my "Victoria's Secret locks" because it's so big and voluminous and bodacious. 

3. My natural, universe-gifted breasts. I've yo-yoed a lot with my weight and yet they've managed to stay pretty darn perky.

4. My skin, it's naturally pale and porcelain and fairly zit-free, and I try to keep it that way.

5. My feet, they're (usually) sample sized so I can try on the shoes on the floor in stores which makes shopping very easy. Plus, they're cute and wee. 

6. My height. Not too short, not too tall. Juuuust right, Goldilocks-style.

7. My moles and freckles. I have one underneath my left eyebrow that I find particularly cute, and a smattering on that cheek in the shape of an "A", and an arch on my chest. I love them all.

8. My cheekbones. The more weight I lose, the more prominent they are, and it reminds me of when I was a kid and I used to purse my lips and say "this is what I'll look like when I'm adult and beautiful!"

9. The scar on my left wrist from when I sliced open my artery when I was a toddler. It's always been a part of me and I love the familiarity.

10. My smile. It's big and it's bright and it's usually plastered goofily all over my face, genuinely and sincerely. I like it.

Hidden and Not-So-Hidden Talents

I'm very talented.

I'm sure you know this.

These talents include:

• Sneezing five times in a row on a regular basis.
• Putting both feet behind my head.
• Rationalizing anything.
• Making everything messy the second I walk into a room.
• Drinking insane amounts of Diet Coke without vomiting. 
• Collecting obscene amounts of Diet Coke cans on my bedside table with no shame.
• Knowing exactly how much alcohol to pour into one of my water glasses and still leave enough room to add a whole can of Diet Coke and fill the thing just to the brim, no bubbles. NO BUBBLES.
• Talking forever.
• Writing about anything, ramble-style. I can string words together, this much is true.
• Decorating. I get it from my mother, but I have to say, my apartment is pretty pretty.
• Speed-cleaning.
• Lying.
• Rapping.
• Pretending like I'm listening, then figuring out what was said.
• Actually being a good listener, and giving advice.
• Doing thoughtful things.
• Being kind. 
• Being a bitch.
• Loving on my kitty.

The Foreign Land of Man: A Timeline of Love

I remember when I first started "dating" my first "boyfriend". I air-quote that shit because we didn't really date, and he wasn't my boyfriend, but it was my first romantic experience, and it was a thing.

We spent most of our time hanging out in his parents' office, watching movies and making out. Then we started moving into his bedroom occasionally for more serious making out. He said that every time we stepped foot into his room, I hesitated and looked around in wonder like I'd never been there before.

Like it was a foreign land.

I still kind of feel that way when I enter a guy's room. Honestly, it doesn't happen very often. The last time was oh, say...almost a year ago. And that was like, just ONCE.

I really don't have a ton of manly experience. This last year of online dating increased it significantly, but to describe my history would be fairly brief.

A timeline follows behind the cut. Behind the cut, because my father reads this blog, and this is INAPPROPRIATE.*

*Moreso than everything else you write, Taylor? Good point.

Things I Am, A-Z

Anxious

Bubbly
Curvy
Determined

Eager
Flexible
Grateful
Hopeful
Intelligent

Jealous
Kind
Loud
Motivated

Nice
Obsessive
Passionate
Quirky
Regretful

Solitary
Talkative
Unsure

Vulnerable
Weak
Xtra (fail)
Yearning
Zany

Ways in which I am ridiculous.

A totally non-comprehensive list.

• I talk to my cat. All day. In a variety of odd voices, about everything.
• I also talk to the dog like he can understand me. "Your ball is to the LEFT!" "Can you please go to the bathroom? I need to get to work, and you're seriously pissing me off."
• I have anxiety about closing tabs on my browser, resulting in having an insane number of tabs open at once.
• I bought a new dress specifically because I'm seeing a boy I made out with in high school tonight. Obviously nothing I had was good enough. (If he doesn't make it out to the bar, does he owe me $20?)
• I'm still a child at heart in most ways, like I don't just get off my bed to pick things up, I lean over while reeeeaching and almost fall off while making really odd noises.
• I thought about trying on my skinniest minniest jeans last week, but you don't lose magic weight just 'cause you worked out three days in a row.
• When I rap, I am super intense about it. I have swag.
• I think if I suck in when I'm driving in narrow lanes it makes my car smaller.
• Sometimes I catch myself singing the same song in my head for five minutes and I realize I could just, you know...listen to it.
• I counted the number of elephants and Eiffel Towers in my apartment, and both exceed a reasonable number. Maybe I should get a new collectible.

Reasons That I Rock

This list is incomplete.

Obviously.

*I can spell tchotchkes on the first try.
*I can name all 50 states in alphabetical order.
*I have an impressive collection of Beanie Babies in my parents' garage.
*I also have Buffy The Vampire Slayer action figures.
*I know how to swear in French. Merde.
*I know how to count to ten in THREE languages. Yes, one of them is English.
*I once saved a puppy from drowning.
*I can put both feet behind my head.
*I can wiggle my ears.
*I can arch one eyebrow. Just one.
*I often evade traffic through a carefully plotted series of alleys and parking lots.
*I speak fluent Cat.
*I laugh loud and often.
*I only need to hear a song a few times before I can sing all (most) of the words.
*I have a pretty big heart. Metaphorically speaking.
*I'm incredibly easily entertained, simple creature that I am.
*I have tons of recommendations for books, movies and music. Try me.
*I have a few adorably and inappropriately placed moles.
*I'm smarter than your average bear.
*I'm so humble.

Random Facts About Me And Tree

I figure after nearly a year of blogging, you all know quite a bit of shit about me. For instance:

*I'm lazy as fuck.
*I complain a lot.
*I really like Cheetos.
*And pancakes.
*I'm obsessed with my cat.

And you know a lot about that cat too, don't you?

*He's gay.
*And needy.
*And bitey.
*And loves to snuggle.
*And also loves Cheetos.

But, there are always more facts to be shared, closer bonds to build. If we're all gonna be BIFFs (Best Internet Friends FOREVER), there should be no secrets between us. And so I present, some more fascinating facts about me and the Tree.

I believe his face is saying: put me DOWN!

*I suffer from trypophobia, as does my sister, ever since we were kids. For years we just called it "the dotty thing" until I finally looked it up in college and found out it is a real thing and we are not crazy. (Well, we are, but not for this reason.) Basically trypophobia is "fear of holes", but that's not really it. I'm not afraid of holes. But when I see clusters of holes or dots, in just the right size and pattern, it gives me a horrible, visceral reaction. I feel physically ill, itchy, nauseous, disturbed, shivery, anxious. DO NOT LIKE. Not all the examples given in the link above bother me, I'm fine with bubbles and coral and condensation and poppyseeds. The dots can't be too big or too small, too close together or not enough, they just have to be perfectly positioned to FREAK ME THE FUCK OUT. A lot of times, it's something INSIDE the dots that gets to me. I do not like lotus pods. I do not like looking at cells. I do not like the backs of the leaves that were outside our condo in Hawaii when we were kids that LITERALLY MADE ME SCREAM. When I saw "lotus boob" (Google at your own risk, I'm not linking to that shit), I felt ill for DAYS. I also do not like the design around "showstopper" on the guy's lower back in this video. I fucking love that song, I love that video, but those motherfucking dots are stuck in my head and now when I listen to the song I get the dotty-feeling and it is HORRIBLE. HORRIBLE.

*When Bentley is mad at me, he makes it very well known. In the past he has pooped in front of my face while I slept to communicate his displeasure at being abandoned for a night, and he has gone to his litter box and peed out the door, on my floor when I have stopped petting him. His most hilarious method of communication, however, has gone by the wayside, 'cause he can't get up on the counters in my apartment. But for years, when he was mad at me for whatever reason, he would turn on the water faucets. Yes, they'd be on when the family came home from a day out, or he'd turn them on at 4AM to force me out of bed. Have you ever seen a cat turn on a water faucet? It's impressive.

*I won a writing contest when I was thirteen. $100 and my picture in the paper. Yeah, you feel grateful that you get to read my blog now, don't you? DON'T YOU?

*Bentley was the only non-gray kitty in his litter. They were all jealous of his luxurious coat and raccoon tail.

*I still fit into shoes I had in fifth grade.

*Mr. Tree has always wanted to be an outdoor kitty, but whenever he escapes into the great unknown, he is terrified and can't wait to get back inside. He makes noises like he's possessed by the Devil and speaks in tongues. It's disturbingly hilarious.

*When I was fourteen months old I was running around the house with a mug of cheese and crackers. I tripped, dropped and broke the mug, and slammed my left arm down onto the broken ceramic. I severed the main artery in my wrist and nearly cut my tendon. I have a nifty scar that, to me, is just a normal part of my body that I barely notice 'cause I've had it ever since I can remember. But sometimes people see it and get really quite and go, "Did you...try to kill yourself?" That's a bit personal, don't you think? No, I was not a suicidal toddler.

*Bentley does not like toys. He's not a dog. The only things he has ever played with are things like the wrapper off a Snapple or hair ties. He has no interest in anything that you paid money for him to play with. That's childish.

*Both the kitty and I love nothing more than snuggling in bed. Wait...you already knew that.