Friday, December 28, 2012

The Girl Who IS.

2013.  The New Year. It's funny that one moment can hold so much promise for the future, isn't it?  If you think about it, the New Year is when a lot of people vow to make some earth shattering changes in their lives.  Among many of the popular 'resolutions' people make during the New Year, some vow to lose weight, others to quit smoking, be more positive or let go of a long held grudge.  Whatever the resolution is, we tend to get carried away by the allure that the New Year (henceforth referred to as NY--not New York, but New Years) holds.

So what is it about the clock striking midnight to signify the dawn of the NY?  Is it what you're leaving behind in 2012?  Is it the promise of a fresh start?  Is it the chance to move forward into something different, by actually pairing a fresh start with the symbolism of all that is NYE?  The answer to these questions is different for everyone. However, if we look at history, and tradition in the United States....we're told a very interesting story.  In the US, the kiss shared at midnight is derived from masked balls that have been common throughout history.  In this tale, the masks symbolize evil spirits from the old year and the kiss, purification into the new year.  There you have it. As they say....

Out with the old, and in with the new.

As I ponder the past year, I think of both the good and bad things I went through.  In April, I moved into a house with my boyfriend.  A home, which we fixed up with our own bare hands.  A home, that I thought was going to fix the distance that had formed between us.  Unfortunately, that distance should have been repaired long ago.  However, that's all in the past.  Right now, it's simply a shadow of something. A scar, if you will, just on the tip of my heart. I got to see three of my dearest friends, make the ultimate commitment to the person that they love. I got to see my Monroe grow.  I was there for another, when everything seemed like it was falling apart around her---and because of that, we're closer than ever.  I reconnected with old friends, and made new ones.  I started to make changes in me.  Care about me.  Work towards loving me.  See, through the shit storm---I can find the good; and that's progress.  If I look at the one bad event that stands out, that has affected me more than anything---and I compare it to all of the good....I think that things can't be that bad after all---because as tired as I am hearing these sayings it's true:

Everything happens for a reason
It's always darkest before the dawn
God doesn't close a door without opening a window 
Karma exists....and it's a bitch  

While I am tired of hearing these sayings, I have come to a point where I have opted to let myself believe in them.  If we stop believing in all of the encouragement people offer, we tend to come off as gruff, pessimistic, or even worse-----ungrateful.  

So as I begin to think about how I am going to turn over a new leaf this year, I want you to all think about the implications that follow a holiday like NY.  You see, it shouldn't just be the NY that inspires us to make those earth shattering changes that I mentioned before.  No, we should always want to better ourselves, no matter what time of year it is.  You see, it's so easy to just give up.  Believe me, I'm the QUEEN of giving up.  Don't know how to complete a math problem?  Give up.  Don't know how to fix an error message on your computer?  Give up.  Have difficulty eating right and losing weight?  Give up.  Can't seem to get someone to let you in?  Give up.  You see, here enlies the problem with resolutions, or anything of difficulty.  Once the going gets tough, it's easy to leave it behind....because if given the option to fail, bend over backwards to make it happen---or give up---most of us would choose to give up. 

So here's some advice:

Don't be that person.  Believe me, I have been giving up on myself for a long time.  The victory is so much sweeter when we can say "You know what, I did this...and it was hard as hell, but look where I am now.  I did this."  So, ladies and gents, here are my resolutions:


  • Spend more time with my little sister---and make more of an effort to let her in.
  • Exercise
  • Lose weight
  • Be happy
  • Be fun
  • Be optimistic
  • Make plans and keep them
  • Don't be afraid to say "No"
  • Move forward
  • Let go
There you have it.  Seems like so much and so little all at once, but you know what?  I have so much I have to overcome before any of these can be conquered.  So, I move forward, and try to do so with as much power as I have. 

So as I leave you, I encourage you to think, really think about what I have said here.  Try not to let your resolutions fall by the wayside.  Don't think of the NY is your only chance.  Every single day is a new day. Give yourself a chance, and if you do--please know that your worst critic, your worst judge isn't me, your mother or the strange gas station attendant down the street.  It's you.  So give it your all.

I wish you all a safe and happy NY.  Hopefully you'll have someone to kiss when the clock strikes 12. Hopefully I will too...if not....I will know that what's meant to be....will be. 

A.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

Coming Soon....

Prepare for a New Years themed blog......

Coming to a computer screen near you...tonight.

I hope you all had a fabulous holiday.

A.

Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Black Cats, Broken Mirrors and Bad Luck

a : a force that brings good fortune or adversity
b : the events or circumstances that operate for or against an individual
2
: favoring chance; also : success <had great luck growing orchids> 
Definition courtesy of http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/luck
From a young age, the concept of luck is something that sort of sticks with us.  We might be lucky if we're chosen to be the first in line to get lunch, or lucky that we got an 'A' on a test--and didn't even study.  In adulthood, we might be lucky to have the opportunity to attend a university or lucky to have not gotten caught drinking underage at a party.  Hell, some women might consider themselves lucky to have gotten their period this month (and yes, I apologize for being so crude); however the point here--being that luck means something different for all of us.

With luck comes superstition, which is extremely interesting to me--because we all have our 'thing' to be leery of.  If you're somewhat superstitious, then you know, and can believe that perhaps one event might cause or lead to another event without scientific rhyme or reason.  These events, contradict even the most logical of explanations.  Well, maybe that is a bit dramatic; however---I can phrase it in a different way for you more simple minded, and less superstitious folks.  Sometimes, shit happens--and there is no real reason for it. 

The origin of superstitious thoughts is unknown. Nevertheless, there are many superstitious thoughts that often resonate with us all today--both religious and folkloric in nature.  Some refuse to open an umbrella inside, walk under a ladder, break a mirror or cross the path of a black cat.  Others post crosses over their front door in order to protect them from evil.  Whatever you believe, there's obviously a reason for it.  Maybe it's something that has been instilled in your mind from childhood; perhaps something happened to you in the past that has caused your superstitions to really escalate.  For example, I refuse to wear a necklace that I wore the day Francesca passed away.  Call me crazy---but it feels like there is bad 'juju' associated with it.  You and I both know that the pendant did not cause Frenchy's accident.  Yet, I still refuse to wear the necklace.  I wear my cross every single day, now that I've given all the other jewelry back to him.  The fact of the matter is, I am superstitious.  Yet, it doesn't prevent me from living my life, and I think that also because of my superstitions I am able to laugh at some of the situations I have been confronted with recently.  

Last week, I wrote about scars. Well, ladies and gentleman--this clumsy girl is going to have another scar.  We had a work Christmas party last Wednesday.  While I had about 3 beers, I wasn't feeling anything, and was so busy that I didn't have time to 'get crazy.' Not that I had planned to anyway.  Regardless of that, I was running to the back of the stage, to get something that I had left there.  I slipped on some water, and hit my shin on the door jam leading to the back of the stage. First thing I did: looked around to see if anyone had seen.  Ironically, while I was running, I had thought to myself "There is a good chance that I fall over-because that would be just my luck."  I called it, didn't I?  Second thing I did, was sort of did the 'walk it off'.  Third thing I did was think to myself 'Well, that is going to leave a bruise."  As I continued to say goodbye to all of the guests, and talk to people, I felt something warm sort of saturating my pants.  I then looked down, and saw that there was a blood spot where I had hit my shin.  Sure enough, there was a pea sized puncture wound in my leg.  Now, everyone encouraged me to go to the ER, but if you know me--you will understand that I have an intense fear of needles, and anything having to do with the possibility of needle involvement.  So, I went home, and Jimena attempted to butterfly bandage my shin.  

Tis but a flesh wound..............................NOT.

I woke up at 2:30am to a saturated gauze bandage---a sweaty forehead and a queasy stomach.   Thus, I got my wimpy ass out of bed---and went to the ER.  Three stitches, a chastising nurse (about my BP and weight), and an irrigated wound was the result of said visit.  All I could do was laugh at the situation.  Laugh because as I was pouring peroxide into my wound to clean it (pre-ER visit), I screamed to Jimena "I hate insert he who must not be named here."  She retorted with "What does he have to do with this?" I laughed/cried/responded:

Because I blame everything bad that happens on him.

The rational part of me, and those of you who are reading this know quite well that me falling was not his fault.  The pain I feel in my heart, sure.  The pain I feel in my leg a week later, no.  That was my own clumsiness, that just adds to the pain(s) in my ass that I deal with every single day.  So, I will have another scar to add to my battle wounds.  This one will be visible, and will make for a great story when it's healed.  While this particular scar will not define me---it will define and symbolize this time in my life, and the transition I continue to make.  It will heal, as I am going to heal.  It won't be raw forever, but there will always be a shadow of it somewhere within me.  

I won't let it define me, though.

So as you read this, and you think about your own superstitions...and perhaps some of the bad things that have happened to you in the past, are happening now, or might happen in the future---please remember these words of wisdom that I can offer....

Those events will leave scars.  It is an inevitable truth.  However, you don't have to let those events define you.  You can rebuild yourself, get a thicker skin, and grow a new piece of yourself.  Just know, that darkness can't last for too long....even if they are predicting the end of the world on Friday.  Keep loving and laughing---and most of all, keep growing.

A. 
  

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Colorblind

Good Morning, all...

I don't have much time to write: however the next blog I write will be on the concept of luck.

I hope you all have an epic day.....

A.

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Hiding Scars

On my 10th birthday, my golden birthday...my family took me on a camping trip to Wisconsin Dells.  The usual family and friends joined us on our trip: Uncle Greg & Aunt Rose, Mom, Dad, Stephanie and Uncle Dave.  On the actual day of my 10th Birthday, we all went to Devil's Lake for a day of fun in the sun.  When I was a kid, I loved riding my bike everywhere.  So my Aunt Rose and I ventured out on one of the paths circling the lake.  As we raced down the asphalt path, I turned a sharp corner, hit some gravel and slid 6ft cutting my knee pretty badly and slicing my hands open.  At the time, I think it was the shock of the fall more than anything that upset me.  Granted the wound was deep, and I had fallen so hard that my mom had to pick the rocks out of it.  While I was sitting there crying, my mother took it upon herself to lecture me on the importance of wearing knee and arm pads when riding my bike. Now, anyone who doesn't currently have children....and anyone who rode a bike as a kid, knows that it is extremely uncool to wear knee, elbow and arm pads when riding their bike.  I suppose if I were a parent now, and even at an an older age now...I can see the value in wearing such ridiculous gear when riding your bike.  Nevertheless, to this day I still have that scar on my right knee...ironically in the shape of the state of Illinois.

Scars.  They sort of tell a story.  Scientifically scars are areas of tissue that replace our normal skin after an injury.  A scar, is the result of the biological process of wound repair in the skin and other tissues of the body.  Thus, scars are a natural part of the healing process.  However, when a person has a scar, there is always a story behind it.  My dad has a scar from the top of his collar bone to the bottom of his ribs.  It's from his near fatal heart attack three years ago.  My friend has two scars on her face from a sledding accident. Another friend has a scar on her shin from where she "shaved her legs for the first time, and shaved off an entire fucking layer of skin."  Yes, even her description of it fits her to a tee.  Regardless of what our scars are, and where they are located---they all have a story.  Not all scars are external, some scars are internal.  They're hard to pinpoint.  However, those scars are sometimes the thickest---and the ones that affect us the most.  As I was getting dressed these evening, and putting on my trusty sweat pants, I took some time to look in the mirror, yet again.  I know, it's an obsession I have, and it's something I am trying to overcome.  If I were to wear a bathing suit right now, you would see four stretch marks on the front of my stomach and two on each side of where my 'love handles' would be.  The reason I tell you all about this, is because I consider them to be scars.  Scars from a time period of really self destructive behavior.  These 'scars' have come to define me in a very negative way.  They reach me all the way on the inside, and touch me on the very tip of the loss I have just experienced.

If I think about those scars, and the journey I have just embarked on, I'm not certain this journey is going to help the fresh wounds heal.

Last week, my therapist told me she thought that it might be healthy if I subscribe to an online dating site--and create a profile.  Let's all be honest with ourselves....firstly, I will fully and honestly admit that I am 100% awkward when it comes to talking to guys.  I don't even know where to begin, mostly because I don't have the confidence to even think that a guy would want to talk to me.  Some of that stems from being dropped like I was nothing.  Some of that stems from myself.  Some of that stems from me being 19 when I met the one I thought I was going to be with forever.  Before I met him, I spent so much time taking care of others, that I never really worried about learning how to find my 'dating groove.'  Here I am, 25---and I have to learn how to date.  Nevertheless, I digress....and yes....that all rhymed.  So, I created a dating profile.  I took a chance and 'emailed' a few guys...and none of them responded...which was a blow to my ego that is already the size of a pea.  I started to talk to this one individual.  What do you know, a conservation officer?  Seems I attract them.  We did the whole 'small talk' thing, which I wasn't really certain of because I mean, what do you say....furthermore, what do you say when you're talking to someone online...which is awkward in itself.  Let's face it folks, I am not Carrie Bradshaw---and I don't walk down the streets in fabulous clothing with fabulous shoes...stumbling across men that I think might be 'the one.'  No, I drive to work in my dress pants, with my Converse All Stars on (yes, I walk to my car this way with my dress pants), and I change my shoes when I get to work, and I have chipped nail polish on my toes...and I like to wear t-shirts.  I don't have that suave nature, where things just fall into place.  As much as I would love to be Carrie Bradshaw, I'm not her....and things don't seem to be working that way.  So, as we continued to talk, he asked me about my past relationships.  So I told him, I told him everything.  Which I think was a mistake.  He kept asking questions, so I kept talking. I think I divulged too much....because he asked me for the second time "So, what do you do for work" and I went to answer...again (which I thought was weird....but hey) and he quickly said "Sorry, I had the wrong window open".  Ouch, burn.  I know the point of online dating is to talk to lots of different people. It just feels so awkward and impersonal.  The thing is, I don't know how else to have the courage to talk to people, and even many of the guys I have mentioned on this site, haven't answered.  Ouch, burn.  I know I have to give it time, and I can't let my scars show.  Needless to say, that individual has not reached back out to me again....and when I say this, I almost say it with a chuckle because it's just my luck and personality. I guess I just have to keep trying.  Even though I believe it is too soon, and even though my scars are shining as bright as they ever have before. 

Better get my Neosporin out....

A.

Odd Man Out

It's the classic story of childhood.  At recess, a group of 10 children gather to play a game of touch football in the cool fall weather.  Two team captains are chosen, and the choosing of the teams ensues.  As a person who is  waiting to be picked--you have this feeling of dread in your stomach...and it kills you.

No one wants to be picked last. 

I don't have time to write it all out---but prepare for my tales of entering the online dating world later....

A.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Where are you going, and what do you wish?

Sometimes I wish that I had a 'blogger' application linked to my brain.  It's tough because sometimes, I have a thought, "That would be perfect for my blog."  Hence, I am going out and buying a journal and a nice pen.  Anytime I have one of those thoughts, I can write it down.

----Begin Blog----
Cruel Intentions.  It's a movie starring Ryan Phillipe and Reese Witherspoon.  In the film, Sebastian  (played by Phillipe) is a self centered and egotistical 'teenager' with money to burn and the looks to do it with.  His stepsister,  Katherine (played by Sarah Michelle Gellar) makes a bet with him.  You see, Phillipe and Gellar constantly play a game of cat-and-mouse because she knows that he is madly in love with her.  The bet is this:

If Sebastian successfully seduces Annette, (a sworn virgin until marriage) then Katherine will 'make all of his dreams come true'.

 As Sebastian attempts to fulfill his conquest, he begins to fall in love with Annette, and actually care about her.  The truth is, it scares the shit out of him--because he realizes what he thought was once love---doesn't even begin to compare to what he is starting to feel for Annette. For once in his life, he realizes the person that he is.  For once in his life, someone else means more to him, than himself.  

 The film comes to a point, where Annette finally accepts him.  He stops himself from actually completing his 'mission'---leaving Annette embarrassed, ashamed, and feeling dumb for letting herself feel something for Sebastian.

After the meeting the bedroom, when Sebastian stops himself from having sex with Annette, he returns to his room out of breath.  When he closes the door to his room, he is left standing there looking in the mirror.  Looking at the man that he finally realizes he is.  

The next morning, Annette leaves the house (she is staying with Sebastian's Aunt) because she can't bear to face with happened.  After a conversation with Katherine, Sebastian decides that he must go after Annette.  Not because he needs to 'seal the deal' (although that is what he would prefer Katherine to think), but because he truly is in love with her.  He feels bad that he hurt her in such a way.  Sebastian gets into his car and finds out where she is going.  

Enter Counting Crows, Colorblind--and the scene to meet all scenes. Sebastian travels through the city of New York, over some kind of bridge---and to a train station.  Annette gets on the escalator, and takes it to the upper level.  Standing there, at the top of the escalator is Sebastian.  A true grand gesture of love.  
 
Annette and Sebastian have sex for the first time, thus consumating the feelings they've been having for one another. 
 
Following all of these events, Sebastian goes back to Katherine, and explains that he has won 'the bet'.  Katherine, becomes upset, for two reasons: Sebastian has followed through on what he has claimed he could do; and he has fallen in love with a girl who is everything she isn't.  In the moment she realizes this, she threatens to damage both Sebastian and Annette's reputation by exposing the entire situation.  She manipulates Sebastian, by saying the one thing that truly gets him.... 

"People don't change overnight..."
 
Worried that Katherine might be right, Sebastian makes the hasty decision to break things off with Annette.  He explains that she was just a conquest, that he really didn't feel anything for her--and that he messed up.  Deep down, they both know that he is lying---especially as he tries to choke back the tears when he tells her this. 
 
The movie ends, as Sebastian continues to learn of Katherine's manipulative antics.  He realizes that it doesn't matter what happens, as long as Annette knows that he is the person she thinks he is---and that he loves her.  He makes a copy of his most prized possession (his journal), and gives it to Annette.  She reads it, and finally understands who he is.  Feeling some kind of forgiveness, she takes to the streets of NYC after she sees him outside her bedroom window.  Meanwhile, as he is walking down the street (away from Annette's apartment building), another character (who fits in with the manipulations of Katherine) attacks Sebastian on the street.  A fight ensues, and Annette attempts to stop it.  She ends up being thrown in the street by the other gentleman, and Sebastian throws himself in front of a cab in order to save her (which is sort of dramatic, yes).  He tells Annette he loves her with his last dying breath--and she admits that she loves him too.

At Sebastian's funeral, Katherine and Annette exchange words---both acting as if they don't know who the other is. 

Enter the Verve's Bittersweet Symphony, and Sebastian's revenge on Katherine.  Annette has made copies of Sebastian's journal, and the entire student body of their school reads it---in addtion to all the attendees of Sebastian's funeral.  In the end, Katherine is hated by all, because they realize that she is deceitful, manipulative and selfish.  Moreover, she ends up alone--and Annette ends up driving off, with a sweet smile of satisfaction plastered on her face. 

What can we learn from this interesting (and probably forgotten) teen movie from the 90's?  The first lesson, is that the things that we think aren't always good for us,  might just be fine.  The truth of the matter is, you never know until you give it a chance.  There is always the chance we could get hurt.  Getting hurt by taking a chance is always a possibilty.  Sometimes you just have to let yourself let go.

Another lesson we can learn: our lives are not directed by John Hughes (Thank You Easy A).  While this film wasn't directed by John Hughes, and it's a lot darker than anything John Hughes ever directed, the concept is there.  Love, is not that easy.  Ryan Phillipe does not show up at a train station and wait for us at the top of the escalator.  However, as females---we have the right to dream.  In dreams, and in love there are no impossibilities.

Lastly, we must know, that even though we might want (them) to---people don't change overnight.   

For the past month and a half I have been writing about becoming a new person.  I have a new hair cut and I see a therapist (which is hard for me to admit here, because you all are aware that I'm a hot mess).  The complete and honest answer is, I just keep existing as I am--making the changes as I see fit.  The biggest, and most important change I want to make, just isn't happening---and it's a constant obsession.  When I am not thinking about him or the situation at hand, I am thinking about how much I hate the way I look.  Yesterday I went to a party with a friend of mine.  I got all dressed up, and put make up on.  I felt good when I left work.  Once I saw myself in the mirror, I hated the way I looked.  I thought in my head "No wonder why he didn't want you anymore....go back and look at your pictures throughout the past six years." I'm not sure how to stop hating myself. 

People don't change overnight.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Jump Back, Flash Forward

A little girl and a tall boy stand in a deserted street just after 1am.  It's one of those cold nights.  Not one where you can't stand outside for too long---no it's one of those damp, crisp cool nights.  Reminiscent of Friday Night Lights, and high school football.  You can see your breath, but there's something magical in the air.

On this particular night, there is both magic and sadness in the air.  The stars are shining brightly, clear as a pair of pristine diamond earrings.  She looks at him, tears in her eyes.  He looks at her, with shades of comfort behind his crystal blues.  A long, loving embrace is exchanged---and assurances that the time apart would go quickly.  She kisses him goodbye, and gets in her little red car....left to drive home and dream of the next time they meet.

Six Years Later

He loads her car up in the pouring rain.  Dog, duffel and all.  She stands there with tears in her eyes--and looks at him.  The stars are not shining.  He doesn't look at her.  In fact he avoids her stare, just so he doesn't have to feel what she's feeling.  He kisses her forehead, and walks away---shutting the door behind him.  She gets in her black car, left to drive back home---thinking of where she went wrong.
One Week Later

She loads her car up...dog duffel and all.  It's pouring rain, and again there are no stars.  Funny how Mother Nature seems to follow our feelings...almost as if we were caught in a movie. He isn't there. There are tears in her eyes, but he made sure he wasn't there to see them. She gets in her black car, left to drive back home again, thinking she was such a fool for believing in love.

1.5 Month(s) Later

She drives home listening to music.  It's one of those crisp cool nights.  She could see her breath when she walked to her car, but she wasn't sure there was something magical in the air.  She drives home, looking at the patchy sky dotted with stars.  How beautiful for a December.  As she parks in her old spot, she walks across the lawn---wishing he were there in the driveway waiting for her.  Alas, he is not, and the reality sets in yet again.  She curses her heart for wanting his love, for missing and loving him.  She applauds her brain for giving her strength to move on.

In the end, she's going to be okay--but for now, she's still a bit broken.   

Sometimes there's 'good' in goodbye...

Yesterday, I sat here for two hours thinking about how I could compress all of my thoughts into one swift blog.  I wrote three paragraphs, deleted two.  Re-wrote those two paragraphs, deleted the entire thing. Yesterday, was not a blog writing day. 

So, today, yes today is a blog writing day.  

Since we are somewhat on the subject, I'd like to try something new.  Think about every single thing you did today.  Maybe you got up, went to the gym, went to work---did your thing at work and then came home.  What motivated you to get out of bed this morning?  What motivates you to go to work or do your laundry?  When you think of motivation, there are many ways that we are motivated to complete the necessary day-to-day tasks.  It's fascinating because the very thing motivating you to read this blog, is not the same as the drivers behind you eating a sandwich for lunch.  Yes, that's a given.  Some motivators are inherent, while others are desires that we have perhaps accumulated through habit.  It's simple.  Nature vs. Nurture.  Despite that, as human beings, I find that we all struggle with motivation on some levels.  Even when you look at behaviors motivated by both nature and nurture.  So right now, what motivate you--might not motivate you in the future.  

Two weeks ago, I signed up to run a 10k.  Now, most of you who know me, know that I am, by no means a runner.  I can do the elliptical, and at one time in my life was extremely motivated to the point where I was working out every single day.  In college I would run up the 13 flights of stairs to our dorm room.  I am not certain what happened, and cannot fully explain when it happened.  Over the course of the past 6 years, I gained over 50 pounds.  A time period went by where I was able to lose weight.  Then I gained it back.  I lost weight, then gained it back.  In my lifetime, i've never been perfect--but at the same time, I have never had issues like this.  As time went on, I would end every single week saying 'Starting Monday, I am going to diet and exercise--Sunday is my last hoorah.'  Then it would continue on and on and on and on. 

So, what motivates me now?

It's sad for me to admit.  The very thing that is motivating me now, is the very thing that has been causing me pain for the past month.  It's the pain that forces me to move on.  It's a simple truth; we cannot let our pain consume us--because if we do, it's like letting our soul die.  So we push forward, and we try to focus our energy elsewhere because the very thing that we once put all of our energy into, is gone. 

In this case, I am coming to find that there is good in goodbye.  As much as I'm missing companionsip and affection, two things that I am so afraid I will have a hard time finding--I know that I need to push on and set goals for myself. 

So, I have vowed to start slowly, and start off small.  Running, running away from my past---and running toward my future.  It's all I can do....and I know how to do for now.

For those of you who struggle with the same motivation issues as I do--my advice is this:

Run towards something that challenges you.  Makes you a better person, scares you and excites you all at the same time.

I guarantee, if you do that---you're going to feel so much more whole.

A.


 

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Ode to Annoyance

Have you ever had one of those days?  You wake up--and everything seems decent, and then one small thing happens and you're instantly annoyed for the rest of the day?

Most would think that a person who is 'annoyed' is one who has this ring of negativity surrounding them.  I, on the other hand have come to find annoyance, hilarious.  This doesn't mean that I find all 'annoying' situations hilarious, nor do I find all 'annoyed' individuals to be likeable.  However, it was one conversation yesterday, that totally made me look at the emotion of annoyance in a different manner:

"Everything annoys me this morning lol.  I saw a post that said 'I'm so happy!' Annoyed.  Saw the prego post.  Annoyed.  Saw (insert name here).  Annoyed.'

To me, this was hilarious.  Mostly because I understand this person, and, in all essence---we are the same person.  Despite that, it was her ability to make her annoyance so hilarious is what made me laugh. 

I guess what I am getting at, here---is that annoyance, or the state of being 'bothered' by something is usually fueled by something else.  A catalyst, if you will.  While this state doesn't bother me, because I definitely have short fuse when it comes to incompetence and stupidity (which is something I need to work on)--I suppose my wisdom for the day is this:

When you're annoyed, take a look at what's really bothering you.  Then find the hilarity in any situation that is bothering you--or rubbing you the wrong way. Like my friend, she was able to vent---but make it hilarious, and I am sure for a short moment, her annoyances went away.  Then for the rest of the day, it became a joke.

I have to go to work now, BUT those are my 2 'cents' this morning.

Enjoy the day!

A.

Monday, November 26, 2012

Fear

What are you afraid of?  It's an interesting question because--we are all afraid of something.  Even the toughest of people are afraid of something; a person can deny even their deepest fear--but in the end it's something we cannot run from.  

 Fear can come in many forms, and the notion of being 'afraid' of something starts when we are young.  For example, when I was little, I was afraid of ghosts coming out of the closet.  In order to protect myself from any mysterious creatures that might pop out in the middle of the night.  I would sleep facing the wall, cover my entire body with the blanket--and wedge my face in between the wall and the mattress, so I could breathe.  It became such a habit, that when I returned to this room a month ago, even at 25 years old I still sleep that way.

Yes, it is interesting to think about how my fears differ from when I was a child.  As a child, I was this meek, insecure kid, trying to figure out where she belonged in the world.  I know this is a story that many have, as most of our childhood is spent trying to figure out 'who we are.'  Nevertheless, I think that I always had these 'nerdy' tendencies as a little girl.  I was reading Titanic books, and teaching myself how to write hieroglyphics up in my room.  I wore dockers and brown shoes for a good majority of my middle school years.  I had big glasses and braces.  I was always raising my hand (so much so, that one of my teachers told me to stop), and I was always trying to figure out who my friends were.  In high school, I surrounded myself with academics and activities to keep myself busy.  Yet, I really couldn't escape the way I felt.  In grade school, they called me 'pug' because I had this smooshed in chubby little face with large glasses.  Overly awkward in every way.  In high school, they called me 'mini me' because I was short, plump---and sometimes overly chatty.  I would pretty much talk to anyone, because the more friends I had---the less alone I felt in other ways.  My fears in my middle/early high school days?  Let's see.  Needles, spiders, bad grades, being made fun of, letting my parents down.  

Enter senior year...17 years of age.

April 20, 2005, 8:30pm--
In one moment, everything can change.  When I look back on that night, and everything that followed Frenchy's accident, I changed so quickly and so much, it is hard for me to remember how I was before.  With this loss, came the pressure to grow up--and quickly.  It was like receiving a phone call with a recorded message from God:

Hello Alexandria, welcome to the real world.  Yes, it does exist.  

The real world.  Our parents always threaten us with it, right?  Especially when we take things for granted, they always seem to find a way to insert a comment about the real world, harsh realities and adulthood.  As children, or teenagers we immediately roll our eyes and sigh with exasperation.  It's all an act on our part, of course.  To be frank, the idea of the 'real world' scares the shit out of  us kids---and we'd just as soon live in our blissful childhood lives than address some of the things that await us in the future.  

When a major event like losing someone occurs, our fears change.  I'm not saying it takes losing someone for our fears to change--but what I am saying is that for me, losing someone changed my fears forever.  Suddenly, human life didn't seem invincible, and the harsh reality that we all die reared it's ugly head.  

Fears change.

College-Adulthood:

College is the time of your life.  New friends, new environment, new aspirations.  In college, you're on top of the world.  Your fears from high school to college also mutate to take a new form.  Adulthood is that much closer, thus our fear of life starts to rear itself.  Graduating from college is probably one of the proudest moments a person can experience, but it's bittersweet---especially in today's society.  With college graduates facing high unemployment rates, our generation is faced with a very real truth: Things aren't always as easy as we think they're going to be. You see, we grew up and based our aspirations on the words of our parents and teachers:

If you do well in grade school and high school, you'll get into a good college.  If you graduate from college, you will get a job!

If only it were that easy.  I can't tell you many of my friends took jobs because they had no other choice.  Honestly, I couldn't be happier in my career.  I don't dread going to work every day, and I know that I can grow where I'm at.  For me, fear of my job has dwindled into nothing--because thankfully I realized early that I can never go back.  While my initial experience with teaching wasn't exactly positive, I don't know if I had the patience for it.  I don't know where I would be right now, if I had a positive experience teaching.  It wasn't the children...it was the district, the politics, the instability.  I'm grateful, though---because I was able to conquer my fear.  Fear of failure, fear of change and fear of the unknown.  

Fear of the unknown.

In life, we don't know where we are going and where we are going to end up.  While most of us would love to be able to plan our lives down to the minute, and then follow all of those plans through flawlessly.  It's that sense of mystery that carries us through life.  Just when we think we've got it figured out---something changes and sort of knocks us off the course.  My father has always said, "We make plans, God laughs."  There are many instances in the past where I really should have thought of, and understood this.  I thought I have had it figured out for the past four years, at least.   How naive of me, right? 
 

What are you afraid of?

I'm afraid of me, I think.  I'm afraid because I don't know who I am right now.  I am sort of walking around, just doing the same things all of the time.  It's pretty exhausting actually---for me and for others.  With the fear of figuring out who I am, comes the fear of being alone.  The fear of being inadequate, not for others, not for someone else, but inadequate to me.  Right now, I am my biggest critic.  Screw what everyone else thinks about me.  I'm scared  because I don't know how to love me, how to accept me---how to not be afraid of me.  I've been afraid of spiders, needles, ghosts, fish in lakes, bridges and multiple other random things.  However, for me to admit that I am afraid of me---not because I am some kind of monster---but because I don't ever think or care about 'me'....that is a big step.

So, right now I have to figure out how to conquer that fear.  Let me get my shield and my sword out, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.         

Friday, November 23, 2012

Letting Go.

I am sitting here in  my childhood room, looking around at walls that have changed since I last stayed here for an extended period of time.  In fact, much has changed since I actually lived at my mother and father's house.  Right now, there is a dog bed on the floor, bookshelves with multiple sewing books organized and categorized ever so meticulously....and little trinkets of mine sprawled about the room.  The trinkets, are reminders of the life that I so suddenly was uprooted from.  

In the past month, I have floated through many emotions and state(s) of mind.  Today, as I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling I thought about all of the conversations I've been having with people lately.  The only conclusion that I can come to after thinking about said conversations--is that I need to let myself let go.  So, what better way to do it, than here.

Break---okay, here we go. 

Before I decided to write the blog you're reading, I looked through some of the pictures on my computer.  I am not sure what I am going to do with them all, hence my resistance to let go.  A normal person would just delete them.  I'm stuck.  Part of me wants to be so angry with him.  The other part remembers a great love that I had for such a long time, with unprecedented happiness.  The folder I opened, was that of pictures from our 3 year anniversary. An amazing day, where he took me to the shed aquarium--and we stayed in a lovely hotel, went to a beautiful dinner---and he gave me my promise ring.  I  know that I cannot dwell on these things; however these are the things that make me ask one question: How is it so easy for one person to fall out of love with another?  

Let's face it....that is what happened to me.  I am not sure what went wrong, or where it went wrong.  It takes two to tango, and I am sure there was plenty we could have done differently.  We fell in love when we were 19.  At that time, I felt like I was on top of the world--because I was his world.  Up until about a year and a half ago, I was his world.  Then it changed, and other things became the focus of his life. I don't hate him for that because people grow up and they change.  I am not saying he changed for the worse---I know that I changed and not for the better. I am not sure of the exact time when he fell out of love with me.  All that resonates in my head is the last telephone conversation I had with him:

Me: Do you love me?
Him: Yes.
Me: Are you in love with me?
Him: I don't know.

 That answer should be the very thing moving me forward.  The insecure girl in me wonders what I could have done to make him not fall out of love with me. Could I have been mentally stronger?  Could I have not let my depression take hold of me?  Could I have made a better attempt to lose weight?  Could I have done anything at all, to not have lost the flame that was once burning so bright---it was blinding?  Despite all of these things I listed (which I feel were weaknesses that lead to the demise of our relationship) the fact of of the matter is, if someone loves you they will accept you for who you are---hands down---no questions asked.  In the end, I need to know and realize that people grow up and sometimes they grow apart from each other.  I need to stop placing all of the blame on me. I will always love him.  I can't let go of that.  I do need to let go of him, though--because holding on isn't doing anything at all.  There is no reason to hold on.  

I wish him nothing but success and happiness in life.  I hope that someday, he will be able to find the person that makes him completely happy.  Someone that he can give the love he gave to me for quite some time.  They will be very lucky. 

Now, I need to let go.  So as I really make an effort to close this chapter, I might need some help; because finding out who you are and trying not to be afraid of it--is a scary thing.  

Sometimes, the things we hold on to, aren't nearly as important as the things we let go of.

A.

Thursday, November 22, 2012

Perfectly Imperfect

Perfection is an obsession.  It's interesting to think about the concept of perfection, and what it means to different people.  Some think that perfection is winning a game, making the honor roll or losing 10lbs.  Whatever form it takes, the ironic thing about perfection is that there is an inherent truth to it: perfection doesn't exist.  No one is perfect.  Nothing is ever completely perfect.  The minute we think things are 'perfect', and we let our guard down--that's when shit hits the fan because, in the end, we should know that nothing is ever perfect.  

Now, while I might seem cynical, because I have pointed out said inherent truth about perfection--you must know that I don't think there is anything wrong with striving for it.  In all honesty, the concept of perfection is something that I have struggled with my entire life.  From a young age, we grow up idealizing what the 'perfect' life is supposed to be.  To me, it was getting good grades, graduating from college, getting a good job and making it on my own.  Somehow, throughout all of those steps---I never seemed good enough for me.  Yes, I was the person who cried if they got a 'B' on her transcript in any class.  Yes, I'll say it again, I was that person. I suppose that I have always had a vision of what was acceptable and unacceptable.  To me, not being able to perform above the average was a problem.  In the back of my mind, there was always the potential do better, to be better.  I don't necessarily believe that it's wrong to feel this way---but it can get to a point where it becomes unhealthy.  For me, feeling like perfection is a far stretch comes from a lack of confidence.  I will be the first to admit that I am probably the lease confident person when it comes to anything regarding me.  This is a problem that I have had for a long time. I'll be the first to fully admit that.  It all stems from one thing--that desire to be perfect.  Those playing Devil's Advocate would pose the question, "Yeah, but what is considered 'perfect'?"  I've got so many visions of what I think perfect is supposed to be.  At the end of the day, it all comes down to the fact that I know I don't love myself enough to accept or deserve the love of another.  I think that is where so much went wrong in the relationship I was in for 6 years.  Being with someone who lacks confidence in themselves is exhausting. In that sense, I feel like I pushed him away with my poor self image.  Doing nothing to fix it.  Just continuing on a path of what was 'comfortable.'

At this point, a month later (how ironic, it's been a month--and today is Thanksgiving) I'll pretty much do anything to make myself feel human again.  I got a haircut and highlights, a new pair of boots and a pair of jeggings.  I felt like I was on top of the world---with a little spring in my step and everything.  As the day went on, that sense of confidence started to dwindle.  My haircut high was fading.  I am not sure why it is so hard for me to appreciate myself.  I don't know where it all stems from.  I know that what I am feeling right now, stems from what I have been through.  I always had a lack of confidence---but this has magnified it.  It's hard to feel wanted when someone just walks away from you.  

The conclusion I have come to, is that I don't need him---to be me.  I need to become the person that I want.  If that means going for a run, or cutting my hair, painting, laughing, doing anything at all....then that is what I need to do.  I know what I miss, but that is a subject for the next blog.  Right now, I need to go for a run to clear my head.....more later....

Friday, November 16, 2012

The Art of Loss

Saying goodbye is never easy.  Throughout a lifetime, there are many ways we have to say goodbye.  Some of us learn it at a young age, and others never encounter that feeling until they grow older.  

When I was 18 years old, my best friend died in a car accident.  When this happened, I asked a lot of questions, shut myself down on the inside, and put on a strong face for those who needed me the most.  I'm not sure I ever fully dealt with losing her, but perhaps I did it in my own way by being strong for others.  As time went on, and as I grew-my feelings of sadness started to dwindle.  That doesn't mean I forgot about her, or loved her any less.  I just sort of accepted that she was gone, and took comfort in the fact that she was watching over me.  A guardian angel at my back, always.  

Losing someone is never easy.  A friend, a pet, a lover.  There are many ways we can lose someone.  They can be taken suddenly, or they can live a long and happy life--going quietly into the night.  You can sit and watch someone suffer, praying each day that they find peace. Someone we love might choose to end their own pain...a situation I don't want to dwell on, nor do I really want to mention it fully.  Or a person could walk away from you, leaving you in the dust without thinking twice.  

With loss comes many emotions.  Hence, the 5 Stages of Grief that I discuss so often.  But (and yes, I started a sentence with 'But') when we take the emotion or state of grief out of the neat packaging that psychologists have placed it in, it's a very dirty, messy thing.  It's a form of angst, a form of cancer that invades your soul when you have lost something.  In all honesty, no part of grief makes sense--and because of this, we as human beings full of emotion, spend countless hours trying to make sense of something that just cannot be figured out fully.  Thus, comes the main question we all ask, when feeling the effects of loss:

"Why?"

Why?  It's a question we hear a million times throughout the course of our lives.  In fact, it's the first question we learn how to ask as a child.  Why this?  Why that?  Why can't I stay up later?  Why can't I have candy for dinner?  Why can't I go out with my friends?  Why?  I suppose there is some good that can come of asking that question.  Perhaps, if no one had asked "Why", there wouldn't be a cure for Polio.  The wheel wouldn't have been invented.  My father's heart wouldn't be beating right now.  A lot of good can come from asking "Why."  However, sometimes we tend to torture ourselves by asking the same questions over and over and over again.  When it comes to loss, there is a simple answer to this question:

There is no answer. 

There is no answer.  When we come to accept that there is often no answer--is when we can finally start to rebuild ourselves without that person.

At the end of the day, what we have to work on, is accepting life without the person or being we have loved so much.  I write this today, not because of my own situation, but because of something someone I love very much had to deal with today.  It's been a rough go around for her, this year.  Somehow, some way---she has been able to see the positive in every little thing that has happened.  

Everything happens for a reason....

So, on a sunny day, when you're sitting by the water somewhere, you'll look out on the shoreline, and you'll see a man and woman with a black dog...running along the water's edge. It won't make you sad, no.  It will warm your heart; because you know, your black dog--will be running along the water's edge---next to a fisherman. Fishing Pole in hand....and they will be walking off into a bright sunset---in the most beautiful place there is.

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)......


A. 

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

This Is It.

Anger.  It's a fickle thing.  Some people are quick to be angry.  Others, stew and brew until they can no longer take it. 

I am the latter.  Jimena said it was going to take anger to help me to move on, and now I think that I am there.  Ladies and gents, he got a Facebook.  The one thing, he always said was stupid and would never do.  He even used pictures from our vacations to start albums.  The profile picture he has, is one that took.  Let's face it.  He is a single, 25 year old man.  The way my friend Alex, explained it to me is this: It's like a man going through a mid-life crisis--and buying a convertible.  I completely understand that Facebook is not the end of the world, and nor is him getting one the end all be all of the universe.  Yet, if you understood him and the way that he was---you would understand the way that I feel right now.  If I had been a terrible person in our relationship, if I were a cheater, a liar, a psycho, a controlling maniac--I might have been able to rationalize all of this. I am not going to dwell on the details---but here we go. 

 As time goes on, I continue to get slapped in the face harder and harder.  I am not sure how much harder I could get hit.  If you could see me now.  I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a room full of broken furniture---begging him to hit me harder.  No one can recognize me, and no one can hear me screaming. 

Hit me harder.  Hit me so hard you feel ashamed.  I can take it.  You've been doing it for the past three weeks, what's another few blows to my psyche?  I'll take the hits, look you right in the eye, and my stare will not falter. 

Today, he took a step futher away from me.  A step closer to being someone I don't know anymore.  If that is what you want, so be it.  I can hit hard, too.  Especially where it hurts.

So starts a journey to find myself. 

Tomorrow I am going to start training for a 10k.  I am going to put my best foot forward, and focus on work, and making myself better both personally and professionally.  I am going to find me, in the aftermath of this storm.  I am going to paint, and create, and laugh and write and be happy.  I was once happy, and you were too.  I don't know what happened to you, to me, to us.  I don't know a lot of things---but I do know I can be happy again.  You don't define me.  As much as I have been defined by this relationship, and as much as my heart hurts because of all this---I know I am going to be fine.   

I will no longer be someone you know anymore---and I hope it makes you die inside.  I hope it does to you, what you have done to me. 

So here's to the first day of trying to honestly and fully work through this pain, because to dwell on it will only let him hurt me more.

At the end of the day, I know that I can find happiness.  

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Change of Pace

Nope.  No song title today.  I wasn't feeling it.  However, what I was feeling---was something I did find on Pinterest that I wanted to share with you all.  It's pretty hilarious, and true.  


Truths for Mature Humans

  1. I think that part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.  
  2. Nothing sucks more than the moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
  3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
  4. There is a great need for a sarcasm font.
  5. How are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
  6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
  7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on #5.  I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
  8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
  9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
  10. Bad decisions make good stories.
  11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
  12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes out after Blue Ray?  I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.
  13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.
  14. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this--ever.
  15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? $***!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail.  What did you do after I didn't answer?  Drop the phone and run away?
  16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day.  What a waste.
  17. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.  
  18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
  19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers.  I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night, more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.
  20. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.
  21. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger, and suddenly realize I had no ideas what the heck was going on when I first saw it.
  22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
  23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I am trying to finish a text.
  24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
  25. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand what the other person said?
  26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front.  Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
  27. Shirts get dirty.  Underwear gets dirty.  Pants?  Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
  28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?
  29. There's no worse feeling than that millisecond you're sure you are going to die after leaning you chair back a little too far.
  30. As a driver, I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.  
  31. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
  32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning a Tail on the Donkey--but I'd bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!


These are all true, and embody me in every way.

Goodnight for now.

A.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Well I've been afraid of changing....cause I've built my life around you

Acceptance.  

The process of coming to accept what has happened to me has been and still is like ripping the bandage off of a fresh wound. This is the only way I can explain it....as I recently experienced this with my 'nephew.' Last weekend when he was at his dad's house he fell and skinned his elbow pretty badly. He needed to take the bandage off....and as I peeked under it, I could see that his elbow was still bleeding. In that moment, he was terrified of the prospect of pain to follow ripping the bandage off of his cut. It took lots of coaxing, heavy breathing and reassurance that everything would be okay...but we finally got the bandage off with warm water and minimal tears. If anything, it was more a mental strife than a physical one--despite the fact that both, at the moment, seemed equally distressing.

As I continue to try and live in the stage of acceptance, I find myself taking two steps forward, and ten steps backwards. However, I'm finding more and more that I'm tiring of myself and so are others. Thus making me feel more foolish for feeling sad.

Stay tuned.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

Oh, I'm never gonna be the same again, now I've seen the way it's got to end...

How many of you have seen the movie, Men in Black?  In case you haven't, it's one of those classic movies that our generation grew up with.  The movie stars Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones as protectors of our universe--and fighters of intergalactic terrorism.  Nevertheless, the film begins with us meeting Agent "K" (Jones), who in essence has difficulty finding a partner that fits his standards.  James, (Smith) is an overzealous New York City Police Officer, who is frustrated with the apathy of his coworkers and encounters a villain who seems to be more than meets the eye; literally.  Eventually, Agent "K" recruits James, and puts him through rigorous tests in order to confirm his inclination that "The Kid" is, in fact, right for the job.

Thus, James becomes Agent "J"--and sheds his identity to join MiB.  Everything he once, was--he is no more.  SSN, erased.  Birth certificate, 'misplaced'.  Fingerprints, destroyed.  All indication that James ever existed---has evaporated into time and space; and just like that James Edwards is gone. 

As "J" gets acclimated to his surroundings and the inner-workings of MiB, he learns that we are not alone--and that those who occupy this universe with us aren't always little brown alien men who become your best friend, repair cuts on your fingers--and beg to 'phone home'.  No, as with everything in this life--there are the good, and there are the bad.  

Enter Edgar the Farmer, His Wife--and "The Bug" (also seen as a giant angry cockroach)...

As Agents "J" and "K" attempt to track down "The Bug" that supposedly crash-landed on a rural farm.  When they encounter the wife of the farmer who has gone missing, she describes her husband's behavior to the Agents:

"I know Edgar, and that wasn't Edgar....it was like something was wearing an Edgar suit."

The movie continues with "K" taking "J" along for the ride--in the effort to find and stop "The Bug" that will inevitably destroy Earth if he gets his hands on The Galaxy, which is ultimately what he is after.  A few fight scenes, 50 hilarious one-liners, and a closing scene that includes vast amounts of juicy roach guts--our audience is lead to draw many conclusions from this comedy.  

  1. We always have the potential to be something else---even if it means our identity is sacrificed in the process.
  2. Not everything is as it seems.
  3. There is good in this world, and there is evil. 
  4. We are not alone.  Even if this is a comedic attempt at science fiction with a rap song in the end-credits.  Think about the concept.  We are not alone in the sense that, perhaps there might be something else out there in this universe.  However, we are not alone because no matter who you are, there will always be someone there to help you get the disgusting roach guts off of your suit.
  5. Sometimes, the memories we have are not those we desire.  Some of us would rather be "Flashy-Thinged" so that we don't have to deal with our past.  
  6.  There is always more than meets the eye, in every situation.  
  7. We don't always end up where we think we will.
What I find interesting about my analysis of this movie, (which is not as deep of a plot as I have made it out to be, let's get real here)---is that there are many truths within the conclusions that our audience can draw.  One of the biggest being "We don't always end up where we think we will."  You see, I have been on a plan for so long---that perhaps I've lost the ability to see the value in spontaneity.  Just as we have been told in our history classes: The unknown scares us.  Yes, not knowing who I am, who I am going to be, where I am going, and if I am ever going to find love again scares the shit out of me.  Planning makes things seem so much better, doesn't it? Planning makes things simple, makes the chances that something will go wrong, less likely.  To play devil's advocate--planning also makes things worse; because when something doesn't go 'according to plan' the after-effects are way more devastating.  

Right now, I'm in an "Alex Suit."  I am me on the outside, but on the inside---I'm a big old hot mess.  Plain and simple.  I'm good, and I'm bad.  I'm sane, and a little loopy.  I'm jaded.  Jaded, jaded, jaded---and cynical as hell.  I'm uncertain.  I'm just messed up---and I will admit it.  This messed me up big time.  I guess I am just going to have to try and let go--but I don't think it's as easy for me to walk away from the past six years as it was for him.  Funny how things work out, isn't it?  So I am going to continue to wade through the quicksand---and even though I keep getting stuck---there's one truth I know I can count on...

I am not alone, because no matter who I am---there will always be someone there to help me get the disgusting roach guts off of my suit.