Cry me a riverrr.

I am becoming far more sensitive in my old age.

I mean, I've always been a delicate flower. Yell at me and I break down, it's just my natural reaction, which can be awkward at work let me tell you. I do tend to cry a LOT. Especially if there is any note of criticism in my father's voice---I am such a daddy's girl that way.

Anyway, that's not the sensitivity I'm talking about though. I mean specifically, I didn't used to cry at fictional situations. Movies, TV, books, I was an impenetrable fortress of emotion. NO TEARS. I remember "Pay It Forward" made me sob, and the fifth season finale of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" totally tore out my heart....basically, deaths only. Other than that, I have never been easily swayed by the machinations of writers or directors. You cannot tug at my heartstrings. I WILL NOT BE MOVED.

Recently, though, I find myself tearing up at, well...everything. A manipulative commercial. A terribly cheesy TV show. Musical movies. Blind kittens. Lonely old people. Disease. War. Broken hearts. Weddings. Spilled milk.

What is wrong with me?

*cries*

Maybe, as I approach that quarter century mark, I'm actually starting to give a shit about other people? Maybe I'm developing empathy, or sympathy, or whatever? MAYBE I'M NO LONGER A ROBOT?

I don't know.

But I really need to stop crying in public.

The Self Compassion Diet

A few weeks ago I was hanging out with an old friend that I haven't seen in awhile, and made an offhand comment about myself that I didn't really think about. Until she immediately replied, "Why would you say that? You're really hard on yourself."

It's interesting, getting a little perspective on yourself from an outside source.

Because she's totally right. I am extraordinarily hard on myself, and I don't really know why that is. I always have been. But I've been having  more issues with it recently: I try to go easy on myself which results in indulging in bad behavior which makes me feel guilty when I don't WANT to feel guilty and BAM. Self-destructive cycle INITIATED. Abort code is classified information. 

This article was exactly what I needed to read after this weekend.

A few choice quotes:

"People who find it easy to be supportive and understanding to others, it turns out, often score surprisingly low on self-compassion tests, berating themselves for perceived failures like being overweight or not exercising."

“I found in my research that the biggest reason people aren’t more self-compassionate is that they are afraid they’ll become self-indulgent,” said Dr. Neff, an associate professor of human development at the University of Texas at Austin. “They believe self-criticism is what keeps them in line. Most people have gotten it wrong because our culture says being hard on yourself is the way to be.”

“Self-compassion is the missing ingredient in every diet and weight-loss plan,” said Jean Fain, a psychotherapist and teaching associate at Harvard Medical School who wrote the new book “The Self-Compassion Diet” (Sounds True publishing). “Most plans revolve around self-discipline, deprivation and neglect.”

I took the test. And I am really not self-compassionate.

This article made me think of an anecdote I've heard many times about the American attitude towards food and indulgence. Basically, when a group of Americans is offered cake and asked to say the first thing that comes to mind, they choose words like "guilt" or "shame". When French people are presented with the same challenge, they said "celebration".

Our societal attitudes towards dieting and nutrition are just so fucked up.

Food for thought.

But not REAL food. Because I'm not hungry.

Nope. I'm not.

Monday Man Musings

You know you live in LA when you can accurately predict the company a potential suitor works for based on the vague descriptions in their profile. Or maybe just big cities in general?

ShoeDazzle? Check.
Grindr? Check.
BeachBody? Check.

Hilaaaaarious.

So, speaking of online dating, like that opening there was just absolutely random in nature and not at all intended as a lead-in, last night I went on my first date since rebooting my profile a few weeks ago. He was perfectly nice. Really. We had a good conversations, he was funny, he bought me wine, he did not set off my creepdar (like gaydar, but for creeps). But I had zero desire to tear his clothes off with my teeth. Sure, I'm sure one can DEVELOP that animalistic instinct, but I am not optimistic that it will happen in this case.

Plus, okay, here's the thing: I am attempting to show growth as a human being, so I have started replying to gentlemen who perhaps don't meet my preferred height requirements. (Growth pun totally unintentional.) I'm no gazelle myself so I should really not be so picky. But see, my assumption is that if a guy says on his profile that he's, say, 5'9 or shorter, he's probably exaggerating just a wee bit. (Heh. Wee bit.) At least an inch, maybe two. And the fellow from last night claimed to be a solid 5'8, but I really don't think he was more than two inches taller than me...max. So, my theory remains intact, and I'm really glad I wore flats.

Basically, I just don't like feeling bigger. Even now that I'm significantly lighter, standing next to a guy in my height range makes me feel like a lumbering giantess, all boobs and hips and hair. I felt like I could probably squash this slight fellow with the weight of my bodaciousness. Plus, I can't wear heels. So yeah, not so hot for the thin, short guys. Give me a buff, broad shouldered one and we'll talk.

Anywho! I don't know if he'll ask for a second date, or if he picked up on the friends-only vibe, or what. But I have another date set up for tomorrow. I KNOW I'M SUCH A WHORE. Law student, tall, has a sexy name. I do enjoy a sexy name.

I'm sort of disconnected from the process this time around, which is probably a good thing. I really have zero expectations. My motivation is just to get out of the house and have a conversation with a penis-haver who isn't feline in origin. So, by that measuring stick, every date will be a success!

You know, until I actually like one of them. Feelings complicate EVERYTHING.

We'll just deal with that rickety, hazardous bridge when we come to it.

Caturday

So, I woke up this morning, face to face with Tree.

And this was the sequence of events.

Happy Caturday!

"I'm living on such sweet nothing..."

New Calvin Harris song featuring my goddess, my inspiration, Ms. Florence Welch.

Enjoy!

FUCKING FRIDAY!

I love Friday.

It's sort of sad.

All I ever wanted out of life was to NOT be one of those people who wakes up on Monday morning and thinks to themselves, "Five days till Friday!"

But I totally am.

And it's fucking FRIDAY.

Today is awesome because:

1) I went to yoga for the first time in...let's just say awhile. Even though I know I will feel better if I go, it has been very hard to drag my ass to class. And of course, I do feel better now. It's kind of annoying.

2) After almost two years working here, I have finally memorized the bank deposit address. I AM THE BEST RECEPTIONIST EVER.

3) I am in the process of cleaning out my inbox. I've already reduced it from nearly 5,000 to under 2,000 so we are making PROGRESS. AND I've unsubscribed from a wide variety of newsletters that I never read. I feel so freeee. Is it weird that I love clearing out my inbox?

4) IT'S FRIDAAAAAY!

Baby Elephants Are My Soul

I've always thought I wanted a tattoo. I used to say that once I thought of a design I really liked, I'd wait six months before getting it so I could be absolutely sure...but I've had a design in mind for over a year now, and  have yet to get it. We'll see if I ever do.

Anyway, relevant point is that this tattoo features a baby elephant, because this is my spirit animal, basically. From my oldest stuffed animal to my assortment of figurines.

And I was on Jezebel this evening and came across this article. Baby elephant orphan is adopted and taken care of by a woman whose life I would very much like to steal. They cuddle. 

OMFGBABYBABYLOOKATTHEELLIEIWANTTOPLAYYYYY.

My soul is so happy right now. Everything I want  in life.

His name is Moses.

*dies*

Change: A Tutorial

That's a Tree.

Songs for fall...

I want to put these songs on a playlist, curl up with some tea and a cozy blanket and a purring kitty, and maybe eat something pumpkin flavored.

Too bad it's still fucking 80 million degrees in LA.

Fuck you, global warming.

Hope you like!

"I Will Wait" by Mumford & Sons
     -This song absolutely KILLS ME. When the chorus swells and his voice breaks slightly I just die of a musical orgasm.



"Fire" by Ingrid Michaelson
     -Love me some Ingrid. I like the new album, sounds a lot like Sara Bareilles. I think they're buds.



"Ho Hey" by The Lumineers
     -First heard this song in yoga and it just puts a goofy smile on my face.



"North Side Gal" by J.D. McPherson
     -I just love this vibe. Makes me wanna boogie.

"Draw me like one of your French girls."

WHO WANTS TO SEE SOMETHING AMAZING?

I know, I know. You do.

Cats That Look Like Pinup Girls

YOU ARE WELCOME.