so, i promised i'd share a wonderfully humiliating story before the week was out. little did i know that i would have the glorious opportunity of a wonderfully humiliating/awkward experience shortly after posting!
having already shared this tale with a few of my close friends, i repeatedly heard, "these things only happen to you - and all of the time!"
why? i don't know. but it's a damn good thing i can laugh at myself.
let me set the scene...
it's mid-week on a work day, and i'm in the office. i'm wearing a black crochet/lace dress (perhaps these are bad luck? see earlier posts) that hits just above the knee.
walking down the hall of our office suite, i get this sensation that something is missing.
something just.feels.wrong.
having now learned from previous experience, i check my dress to ensure the hem (and lining) is down where it belongs. check. zipper zipped? good to go there.
the dress is boat-neck style, so there's no worry over boobie-baring. hmmmm....
i just can't put my finger on it, and then:
wtf. my underwear disappeared!
i'm NOT kidding. i had absolutely put a thong on that morning, distinctly remember having seen it throughout my many bathroom trips earlier in the day, and it was definitely NOT there.
that "wrong" feeling was the definitive lack of anything between my V and the floor. a little too much ventilation down there.
and so i silently freak out. if it's not underneath my dress, then where the hell IS it? did it just fall off of me without my realizing it? it's not like my ass absorbed it...(i wiggle a little, just to make sure)
i start roaming around my office, scanning the floor and trying to do so in a nonchalant manner...it's not like i want to admit to someone that i'm looking for my panties.
but i can't find them anywhere!
i look under my desk - literally crawl down there to make sure they didn't somehow miraculously twist off of me while sitting indian-style. nope.
i look in the break room to make sure that, while focused on obtaining a diet coke, i didn't somehow ignore the fact that my thong was slipping down my legs. it wasn't there.
i went to the ladies room to make sure that i hadn't, somehow, left them on the floor...??? they weren't there.
my heart beating hard, a worst-case scenario played in my head....that our office manager may have found them and was holding them hostage waiting for someone (clearly me) to come up and claim their panties.
everyone would find out! and this was an OLD thong...not even one that i could be proud of!
at my wits end, i checked the last place i could think to look...up my dress. waaaaay up there.
hiding behind my office door, up went my hand...nothing to the left...nothing to the right...for shits and giggles, i reached a little higher, all the way up to my effin' rib cage...and there it was.
somehow, the skinny part of the thong (aka, the crotch) had SNAPPED (my pup chewing on my panties too much?) and left me with merely a BELT...which had hiked its way up my abdomen.
NOW what?
i just tried to make the best of it.
i removed the little panty belt, hid it in the bottom of my trashbin, and for the rest of the workday was totally free-ballin' it (or whatever that's called for those of us sans-balls).
i never realized just how important it could be to sit like a lady.
how do these things happen to me??
story time.
let me tell you a story. if it leads you to click the link at the bottom of this page, please accept my virtual high-five. if you prefer that it be a virtual hug, consider it yours. i hear i'm a talented virtual hugger...
(i promise to share a thoroughly awful and wonderfully humiliating story by the end of the week to make up for this one! xo - aQ)
so here we go.
it's first semester, my junior year of college. i'm 20, and i am unimaginably pumped to be heading to costa rica for my study abroad after christmas break.
younger drinking age! sexy tanned bodies! beautiful rainforests and stunning beach weekends!
best of all, classes will be much, much easier.
....as soon as i get through this chem-packed semester (blech!).
and so i sit, on a saturday night, cross-legged at my dorm room desk. the air is filled with james taylor tunes. i have a beer in hand (the best way to study). i am passionately skimming my way through the end of the chapter when my phone rings. it's my mom. i put the beer down (as if she could see me), and answer the phone.
"hey, sweetie - what are you doing for lunch tomorrow? i was thinking of coming over to see you and take you out!"
as i ponder the time this will take away from my pre-test super-cram session, the opportunity for a free lunch wins out. i am a poor college student, after all.
"that would be great!" ...and plans are set.
she picks me up the next afternoon and brings me to my favorite spot - jason's deli. the place of the amy-style sandwiches and salad bar of heaven...with the bonus of free soft-serve ice cream!!
she chooses a table outside and we begin our ritual - mother-daughter small talk over my free meal. we talk boys (not yet into "men" territory), we talk the stress of upcoming exams, we talk the last time i washed my sheets (it had been a while) and we talk about how glorious costa rica is going to be.
and then she does something unusual...she gets quiet (something the Q women are not known for ever doing). she clears her throat. and then she makes eye contact.
"so, ame, i brought you here to tell you something. and i want you to know i love you very much."
this can't be good....nothing good starts out with 'i brought you here to tell you something.'
as my mind races, i try to figure out what she's about to say before she says it.
some of the contemplated options:
divorce is something i can handle. have prepared for, even. i had seen the forecast, tested the wind, and totally saw this one coming.
unpleasant? sure. but something i at least feel somewhat prepared for.
i settle comfortably in my chair, ready to be "surprised", and let her tell me her way.
...i was so, incredibly wrong... (please note: divorce does actually happen...just give it 2 years)
"honey...i have cancer. it's breast cancer. i have been scheduled for surgery, and will begin chemotherapy shortly after."
.
.
.
.
.
.
WORLD STOPS.
......whhhhhatttt?
WORLD SPINS.
.....these things only happen to other people, not my family....
REFOCUS.
...but she looks so healthy!
.
.
.
.
this was, without a doubt, NOT something i had planned for. could have prepared for. was ready to hear...or would ever be ready to hear.
my eyes hurriedly reviewed my mother.
she still looked the same. beautiful hair, perfect complexion, fit physique and everything i was used to. there was no coughing, no sneezing, no signs of fever or pain. she was the same mother who tucked me into bed at night. helped me with my homework. dressed me up for prom and dropped me off for college.
she looked so healthy. so normal.
but she was sick. with something that could kill her. and there wasn't a damn thing in the world i could do about it.
after some initial questions, confusion and moments of silence, my mom restarted the conversation.
"i know you have been looking forward to going to costa rica. and i still want you to go. i have plenty of support here as i go through my chemotherapy, and there is no point in you staying here just to watch me get sicker. i love you, and i think it's best if you plan to go through with your study abroad."
first thought: but what if something happens to her while i'm gone!?
second thought: what an easy out...an escape from the hard new facts of life.
selfish, i know. but honest. i don't think anyone can ever prepare to learn that a loved one has cancer. we all deal with it differently. sometimes an escape seems like the only way to cope.
a few months later, i went to costa rica.
while i was gone, i focused on other things. i played with spanish. i turned 21. i met new friends, traveled to distant beaches, and tried to tell myself that i was having the time of my life. i distanced myself from home.
my mothers was a very different reality.
she slept on the couch, too tired to make it from her bedroom to the living area every day. she underwent a double mastectomy (removal of both breasts) and lost her sense of womanhood. she went to chemotherapy and tried to hold her food down as waves of nausea passed over her. for months. life as she knew it was replaced by doctor appointments, infusions of poisonous "medicine", exhaustion and isolation.
i will never forget the day i came home.
it had been almost six months, and as i was lowered by the escalator she came into view.
she was smiling in her pink bandana, covering the bald head she was left with after the hair fell out. she wore a loose-fitting top to hide the concave space where her breasts used to be. and she was thin. so thin.
this was one of the most difficult times of my entire life. i cannot imagine the depth of her pain, sense of loss, and fear.
but we got through it. the months wore on, and she fought. the hair slowly came back - gray and wavy in place of the silky blonde we were so used to. she underwent reconstructive surgery, and began to feel more like a woman again.
7 years later i am so thrilled to report: i still have my mother.
she has been in remission for a few years now, and she's looking better than ever.
we know we're the lucky ones. not everyone made it this far.
and this is where i get to the real purpose of this blog post. the reason i shared this personal glimpse into my life 7 years ago.
despite any recent controversy, the Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is by far the most effective and powerful player in the fight against the disease that tried to take my mother away from the world. Komen raises funds for research, for education, for prevention and social support.
in large part, Komen raises the funds to support the cause through large events and fundraisers. and this is where you come in.
in october of this year, i will be walking 60 miles over the course of 3 days in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day event. my mother and sister beside me, we will be walking to raise awareness, walking to provide support to those still fighting, and walking as a symbol of the financial support we were able to bring to the cause.
in order to walk, participants are challenged with raising $2,300. it's no small number, but it's no small cause.
i cannot do it without your help.
(THANK YOU to those friends and loved ones who have already donated!!! This request is not of you.)
if you have any desire or means, i ask that you support me. if you can think of anyone who might want to share in their support, i ask that you please send them my link (below).
every dollar counts. every bit of help you give gets me a little closer to walking beside my mom and fighting to help all of the women who currently or will eventually have to combat breast cancer themselves.
here is a link to donation page: http://www.the3day.org/site/TR/2012/AtlantaEvent2012?px=6521434&pg=personal&fr_id=1761
to contribute, simply click the link on the top left hand side.
thank you. thank you for reading. thank you for taking the time to contemplate supporting me in the walk. and if you do feel compelled to donate, put your hand up for my virtual high-five. which will most likely be followed by my virtual hug.
love, aQ
(i promise to share a thoroughly awful and wonderfully humiliating story by the end of the week to make up for this one! xo - aQ)
so here we go.
it's first semester, my junior year of college. i'm 20, and i am unimaginably pumped to be heading to costa rica for my study abroad after christmas break.
younger drinking age! sexy tanned bodies! beautiful rainforests and stunning beach weekends!
best of all, classes will be much, much easier.
....as soon as i get through this chem-packed semester (blech!).
and so i sit, on a saturday night, cross-legged at my dorm room desk. the air is filled with james taylor tunes. i have a beer in hand (the best way to study). i am passionately skimming my way through the end of the chapter when my phone rings. it's my mom. i put the beer down (as if she could see me), and answer the phone.
"hey, sweetie - what are you doing for lunch tomorrow? i was thinking of coming over to see you and take you out!"
as i ponder the time this will take away from my pre-test super-cram session, the opportunity for a free lunch wins out. i am a poor college student, after all.
"that would be great!" ...and plans are set.
she picks me up the next afternoon and brings me to my favorite spot - jason's deli. the place of the amy-style sandwiches and salad bar of heaven...with the bonus of free soft-serve ice cream!!
she chooses a table outside and we begin our ritual - mother-daughter small talk over my free meal. we talk boys (not yet into "men" territory), we talk the stress of upcoming exams, we talk the last time i washed my sheets (it had been a while) and we talk about how glorious costa rica is going to be.
and then she does something unusual...she gets quiet (something the Q women are not known for ever doing). she clears her throat. and then she makes eye contact.
"so, ame, i brought you here to tell you something. and i want you to know i love you very much."
this can't be good....nothing good starts out with 'i brought you here to tell you something.'
as my mind races, i try to figure out what she's about to say before she says it.
some of the contemplated options:
- she feels uncomfortable with me traveling so far away for study abroad? we've already tackled that.
- one of my siblings got into a car accident? i would have seen a text.
- she's displeased with my grades? wait till she sees how i blow away this exam!
divorce is something i can handle. have prepared for, even. i had seen the forecast, tested the wind, and totally saw this one coming.
unpleasant? sure. but something i at least feel somewhat prepared for.
i settle comfortably in my chair, ready to be "surprised", and let her tell me her way.
...i was so, incredibly wrong... (please note: divorce does actually happen...just give it 2 years)
"honey...i have cancer. it's breast cancer. i have been scheduled for surgery, and will begin chemotherapy shortly after."
.
.
.
.
.
.
WORLD STOPS.
......whhhhhatttt?
WORLD SPINS.
.....these things only happen to other people, not my family....
REFOCUS.
...but she looks so healthy!
.
.
.
.
this was, without a doubt, NOT something i had planned for. could have prepared for. was ready to hear...or would ever be ready to hear.
my eyes hurriedly reviewed my mother.
she still looked the same. beautiful hair, perfect complexion, fit physique and everything i was used to. there was no coughing, no sneezing, no signs of fever or pain. she was the same mother who tucked me into bed at night. helped me with my homework. dressed me up for prom and dropped me off for college.
she looked so healthy. so normal.
but she was sick. with something that could kill her. and there wasn't a damn thing in the world i could do about it.
after some initial questions, confusion and moments of silence, my mom restarted the conversation.
"i know you have been looking forward to going to costa rica. and i still want you to go. i have plenty of support here as i go through my chemotherapy, and there is no point in you staying here just to watch me get sicker. i love you, and i think it's best if you plan to go through with your study abroad."
first thought: but what if something happens to her while i'm gone!?
second thought: what an easy out...an escape from the hard new facts of life.
selfish, i know. but honest. i don't think anyone can ever prepare to learn that a loved one has cancer. we all deal with it differently. sometimes an escape seems like the only way to cope.
a few months later, i went to costa rica.
while i was gone, i focused on other things. i played with spanish. i turned 21. i met new friends, traveled to distant beaches, and tried to tell myself that i was having the time of my life. i distanced myself from home.
my mothers was a very different reality.
she slept on the couch, too tired to make it from her bedroom to the living area every day. she underwent a double mastectomy (removal of both breasts) and lost her sense of womanhood. she went to chemotherapy and tried to hold her food down as waves of nausea passed over her. for months. life as she knew it was replaced by doctor appointments, infusions of poisonous "medicine", exhaustion and isolation.
i will never forget the day i came home.
it had been almost six months, and as i was lowered by the escalator she came into view.
she was smiling in her pink bandana, covering the bald head she was left with after the hair fell out. she wore a loose-fitting top to hide the concave space where her breasts used to be. and she was thin. so thin.
this was one of the most difficult times of my entire life. i cannot imagine the depth of her pain, sense of loss, and fear.
but we got through it. the months wore on, and she fought. the hair slowly came back - gray and wavy in place of the silky blonde we were so used to. she underwent reconstructive surgery, and began to feel more like a woman again.
7 years later i am so thrilled to report: i still have my mother.
she has been in remission for a few years now, and she's looking better than ever.
we know we're the lucky ones. not everyone made it this far.
 |
| mom at my graduation in 2007...feeling more like herself! |
despite any recent controversy, the Susan G Komen Breast Cancer Foundation is by far the most effective and powerful player in the fight against the disease that tried to take my mother away from the world. Komen raises funds for research, for education, for prevention and social support.
in large part, Komen raises the funds to support the cause through large events and fundraisers. and this is where you come in.
in october of this year, i will be walking 60 miles over the course of 3 days in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day event. my mother and sister beside me, we will be walking to raise awareness, walking to provide support to those still fighting, and walking as a symbol of the financial support we were able to bring to the cause.
in order to walk, participants are challenged with raising $2,300. it's no small number, but it's no small cause.
i cannot do it without your help.
(THANK YOU to those friends and loved ones who have already donated!!! This request is not of you.)
if you have any desire or means, i ask that you support me. if you can think of anyone who might want to share in their support, i ask that you please send them my link (below).
every dollar counts. every bit of help you give gets me a little closer to walking beside my mom and fighting to help all of the women who currently or will eventually have to combat breast cancer themselves.
here is a link to donation page: http://www.the3day.org/site/TR/2012/AtlantaEvent2012?px=6521434&pg=personal&fr_id=1761
to contribute, simply click the link on the top left hand side.
thank you. thank you for reading. thank you for taking the time to contemplate supporting me in the walk. and if you do feel compelled to donate, put your hand up for my virtual high-five. which will most likely be followed by my virtual hug.
love, aQ
friendship tiers...not tears
i think often about how i would qualify my friendships.
don't judge me for analyzing my relationships. i'm a human. and have you met me (via this blog or otherwise)?
it's what.i.do.
i think that everyone can honestly say that their friendships are not all one and the same. the love or like you feel with a friend feels different from person to person, relationship to relationship, and the way your friendships look from the outside also varies.
some folks try to categorize their friendships into functions.
"this is my gym friend." "this is my girl-talk friend." "this is my coffee date friend." "this is my mom friend." "this is my family friend."
i have pondered that strategy, but i don't think it really works.
i had a nice long discussion with a friend last night - a friend i'll put on tier 1, without hesitation (we'll get to what that means later) - about how to appropriately describe the difference between unique levels of friendship.
and i think that they fall into tiers of closeness and connectedness.
right now, i'm going to say - no tier is an indication of higher/lower quality human being or level of fun that can be had with that person. not at ALL. it's just an indicator of the level of connectedness, the intensity of the friend love and "oh, they so get me!" moments.
i will also say that, more than likely, if you were ever to ASK me what tier you fall on, there's no way i'd tell you. feelings can get hurt when they shouldn't be. competition between friends of friends ought not exist (in my opinion). and it certainly isn't an indicator of my level of respect or opinion of you. i would probably shake out within your tiers exactly where you'd shake out on mine. heck - i might even shake out on your level 3 while for me you are a level 2. but who cares!?
it's just something i like to think about.
we're talking connectedness here, people. from fun times, common interests, all the way to soul sisters who seem as if they share the same brain waves. all wonderful people involved. otherwise they wouldn't be in the system of tiers at all :)
here is a visual of how i see these tiers shakin' out:
so let's get started with some delineation as to how the tiers shake out. feel free to add your comments/revisions as you see fit below in the comments box.
tier 4 - friendly faces
you see each other out and about. friends of friends, you have met them at social engagements and you are now (or were immediately) on a hugging basis. you have arrived. you're friends!
if you see them out, you know they'll recognize you and you know to expect a conversation. so you pray that, when you do bump into each other, you look put together.
these people probably hear some of your silly stories that you're willing to admit to most, know enough about you to ask how you're doing with some level of background understanding, and are probably on your list of invitees if you ever throw a good-size party. you don't necessarily expect that they'll show up - but you want them to know that they are welcome, and know they'd add to the group fun. always a joy to see at a large get together - but not in your inner circle.
if you see them out, it's exciting! everyone loves a friendly face, and this one has the potential to be a lot of fun over drinks in a group. but you wouldn't invite them to intimate social gatherings. you wouldn't share your deeper thoughts/feelings with them. you are more likely to give them lip service and more likely to say "i'm doing well, how are you?" when they ask rather than saying, "i've been stuck on the toilet all day, i'm pissed at my dog and i'm pmsing."
you connect on a very peripheral level - and they're fun.
tier 3 - on the list
these are the people you easily list off when you're inviting people to a party. and you're pretty sure that - if possible - they're gonna be there. these are folks you can grab an easy lunch with, and at the level at which you would spend time making plans to get together. you wouldn't just rely on bumping into them by chance (like those in tier 4).
these are friends you can relax with. meet up at the gym in sweatpants or without make-up or a hair brush. these friends are those who you would think to call if throwing a more intimate backyard bash. the friends who you can go shopping with, get your nails done with, meet after work occasionally and discuss lightly personal topics. you share some things in common.
these are friends you can share your thoughts with, but not someone who would ever be a candidate for constructive criticism (even if they ask for it). you're not that close, it's none of your business, and you can leave it to their tier 1 or 2 friends to handle that. think they're drinking too much? not your business. think they are dating a douche-bag? none of your business. think their parents are being dick-faces? still, none of your business. keep those opinions to yourself, but otherwise it's an easy friendship.
these friends pierce the outer level of friendship and connect with you on a more significant level. they're worth making the effort to spend time with. but there are still areas that aren't your (or their) damn business.
tier 2 - the best buddies
this group is a nice one. the ladies you know you can trust. the ladies that really listen, that really hear, and that clearly make an effort to be there for you when you need them. they're close friends, and they are important to you. if all goes well, you'll know them for a loooong time.
often times, these are the ladies you spend most of your time with. because you make an extra special point to. you don't just feel obligated to show up for their birthday/personal event/etc., you WANT to be there. and if you can't be, you not only feel as if you let them down, but you're also really disappointed that you missed out on sharing that experience with them.
these people matter. a lot. and they're super valuable. you probably have history. have known each other for a while. you have inside jokes, warm memories, and friends in common.
if you need an honest opinion, you know you can call on these girls. if you need a last-minute mega-huge favor, you know you can call on these girls. if you're in trouble and need a stern talkin-to, you know you can count on these girls. your business is their business. because they really care.
when they're sad or in a difficult spot, you may lose sleep over it. you feel compelled to be there for them and to try to help their situation. you are a shoulder to cry on and you've cried on theirs. and you always love sharing your awful/gross/wild stories with them.
you're in a judgement-free zone 75% of the time, and that's a great place to be.
for some people, this is the highest tier friend they ever find. and that's OK! these people are special, they support you, and they know they can count on you for the same. they form a solid foundation in your social world, and you are happy to be associated with them.
these friends hit just outside of your very soul - which is pretty damn close. when you find these ladies, you take care of those friendships. nuture them. because they're a critical element of any happy gal's life.
tier 1 - soul sisters
don't laugh at me for this title - after a loooong time spent thinking about the way in which i could accurately describe this connection, it's the only way i could think to state it. soul sisters. those women who seem to have been separated from you at birth. or who were born into the world for the sole purpose of one day being your friend.
you just "click". it's inevitable. these are the people with whom you can talk long into the night without realizing it's 1am. the people who are just on the same wavelength. you share your innermost issues, fears and insecurities, and find that you probably share a large majority of the same.
they just "get it" - and you just get them. it's effortless. completely fluid. and sometimes unbelievable.
these are the friends that not everyone finds. and they can be lived without.
but damn, they are life-enhancers.
these are the people i love to refer to as my forever friends. the people who you could go years without seeing, and then reconnect like it had only been yesterday.
the inner core of a person (their soul) doesn't change. and if you're connected there, there's really no maintenance needed.
sure - you would LOVE to see these people (or person) every day. but if you don't, you don't lose sleep over it. these people can be counted on to understand, to just accept the forever friendship as it is, and not to sweat the small stuff.
this is a 100% judgement-free zone. the people your heart breaks with. the people your heart leaps with. the people who accept you, COMPLETELY as you are, no ifs ands or buts.
if you are lucky enough to live nearby to one or more of these friends, take ADVANTAGE of it. because it may not be forever.
but the good news is, if distance does come between you, it'll be ok. jobs may change. lovers may change. looks may change. hobbies may change. but who they really are is all that really matters.
and that, my friend, is forever.
can you easily identify your friends on these tiers? do you think they matter? have you found any of your tier 1's?
share your thoughts...i'm interested :)
and to ALL of my friends, in every tier: i love you. and you make my life matter.
don't judge me for analyzing my relationships. i'm a human. and have you met me (via this blog or otherwise)?
it's what.i.do.
i think that everyone can honestly say that their friendships are not all one and the same. the love or like you feel with a friend feels different from person to person, relationship to relationship, and the way your friendships look from the outside also varies.
some folks try to categorize their friendships into functions.
"this is my gym friend." "this is my girl-talk friend." "this is my coffee date friend." "this is my mom friend." "this is my family friend."
i have pondered that strategy, but i don't think it really works.
i had a nice long discussion with a friend last night - a friend i'll put on tier 1, without hesitation (we'll get to what that means later) - about how to appropriately describe the difference between unique levels of friendship.
and i think that they fall into tiers of closeness and connectedness.
right now, i'm going to say - no tier is an indication of higher/lower quality human being or level of fun that can be had with that person. not at ALL. it's just an indicator of the level of connectedness, the intensity of the friend love and "oh, they so get me!" moments.
i will also say that, more than likely, if you were ever to ASK me what tier you fall on, there's no way i'd tell you. feelings can get hurt when they shouldn't be. competition between friends of friends ought not exist (in my opinion). and it certainly isn't an indicator of my level of respect or opinion of you. i would probably shake out within your tiers exactly where you'd shake out on mine. heck - i might even shake out on your level 3 while for me you are a level 2. but who cares!?
it's just something i like to think about.
we're talking connectedness here, people. from fun times, common interests, all the way to soul sisters who seem as if they share the same brain waves. all wonderful people involved. otherwise they wouldn't be in the system of tiers at all :)
here is a visual of how i see these tiers shakin' out:
so let's get started with some delineation as to how the tiers shake out. feel free to add your comments/revisions as you see fit below in the comments box.
tier 4 - friendly faces
you see each other out and about. friends of friends, you have met them at social engagements and you are now (or were immediately) on a hugging basis. you have arrived. you're friends!
if you see them out, you know they'll recognize you and you know to expect a conversation. so you pray that, when you do bump into each other, you look put together.
these people probably hear some of your silly stories that you're willing to admit to most, know enough about you to ask how you're doing with some level of background understanding, and are probably on your list of invitees if you ever throw a good-size party. you don't necessarily expect that they'll show up - but you want them to know that they are welcome, and know they'd add to the group fun. always a joy to see at a large get together - but not in your inner circle.
if you see them out, it's exciting! everyone loves a friendly face, and this one has the potential to be a lot of fun over drinks in a group. but you wouldn't invite them to intimate social gatherings. you wouldn't share your deeper thoughts/feelings with them. you are more likely to give them lip service and more likely to say "i'm doing well, how are you?" when they ask rather than saying, "i've been stuck on the toilet all day, i'm pissed at my dog and i'm pmsing."
you connect on a very peripheral level - and they're fun.
tier 3 - on the list
these are the people you easily list off when you're inviting people to a party. and you're pretty sure that - if possible - they're gonna be there. these are folks you can grab an easy lunch with, and at the level at which you would spend time making plans to get together. you wouldn't just rely on bumping into them by chance (like those in tier 4).
these are friends you can relax with. meet up at the gym in sweatpants or without make-up or a hair brush. these friends are those who you would think to call if throwing a more intimate backyard bash. the friends who you can go shopping with, get your nails done with, meet after work occasionally and discuss lightly personal topics. you share some things in common.
these are friends you can share your thoughts with, but not someone who would ever be a candidate for constructive criticism (even if they ask for it). you're not that close, it's none of your business, and you can leave it to their tier 1 or 2 friends to handle that. think they're drinking too much? not your business. think they are dating a douche-bag? none of your business. think their parents are being dick-faces? still, none of your business. keep those opinions to yourself, but otherwise it's an easy friendship.
these friends pierce the outer level of friendship and connect with you on a more significant level. they're worth making the effort to spend time with. but there are still areas that aren't your (or their) damn business.
tier 2 - the best buddies
this group is a nice one. the ladies you know you can trust. the ladies that really listen, that really hear, and that clearly make an effort to be there for you when you need them. they're close friends, and they are important to you. if all goes well, you'll know them for a loooong time.
often times, these are the ladies you spend most of your time with. because you make an extra special point to. you don't just feel obligated to show up for their birthday/personal event/etc., you WANT to be there. and if you can't be, you not only feel as if you let them down, but you're also really disappointed that you missed out on sharing that experience with them.
these people matter. a lot. and they're super valuable. you probably have history. have known each other for a while. you have inside jokes, warm memories, and friends in common.
if you need an honest opinion, you know you can call on these girls. if you need a last-minute mega-huge favor, you know you can call on these girls. if you're in trouble and need a stern talkin-to, you know you can count on these girls. your business is their business. because they really care.
when they're sad or in a difficult spot, you may lose sleep over it. you feel compelled to be there for them and to try to help their situation. you are a shoulder to cry on and you've cried on theirs. and you always love sharing your awful/gross/wild stories with them.
you're in a judgement-free zone 75% of the time, and that's a great place to be.
for some people, this is the highest tier friend they ever find. and that's OK! these people are special, they support you, and they know they can count on you for the same. they form a solid foundation in your social world, and you are happy to be associated with them.
these friends hit just outside of your very soul - which is pretty damn close. when you find these ladies, you take care of those friendships. nuture them. because they're a critical element of any happy gal's life.
tier 1 - soul sisters
don't laugh at me for this title - after a loooong time spent thinking about the way in which i could accurately describe this connection, it's the only way i could think to state it. soul sisters. those women who seem to have been separated from you at birth. or who were born into the world for the sole purpose of one day being your friend.
you just "click". it's inevitable. these are the people with whom you can talk long into the night without realizing it's 1am. the people who are just on the same wavelength. you share your innermost issues, fears and insecurities, and find that you probably share a large majority of the same.
they just "get it" - and you just get them. it's effortless. completely fluid. and sometimes unbelievable.
these are the friends that not everyone finds. and they can be lived without.
but damn, they are life-enhancers.
these are the people i love to refer to as my forever friends. the people who you could go years without seeing, and then reconnect like it had only been yesterday.
the inner core of a person (their soul) doesn't change. and if you're connected there, there's really no maintenance needed.
sure - you would LOVE to see these people (or person) every day. but if you don't, you don't lose sleep over it. these people can be counted on to understand, to just accept the forever friendship as it is, and not to sweat the small stuff.
this is a 100% judgement-free zone. the people your heart breaks with. the people your heart leaps with. the people who accept you, COMPLETELY as you are, no ifs ands or buts.
if you are lucky enough to live nearby to one or more of these friends, take ADVANTAGE of it. because it may not be forever.
but the good news is, if distance does come between you, it'll be ok. jobs may change. lovers may change. looks may change. hobbies may change. but who they really are is all that really matters.
and that, my friend, is forever.
can you easily identify your friends on these tiers? do you think they matter? have you found any of your tier 1's?
share your thoughts...i'm interested :)
and to ALL of my friends, in every tier: i love you. and you make my life matter.
i love humans.
it's funny, the way that my attitude and situation can change in a matter of minutes. or seconds.
i have been tired lately. working hard, traveling, and playing angry birds in bed on my new iphone until far too late at night. lack of sleep predisposes me to less-than-typical mood swings. here is what i have noticed over the past few days:
i'm walking through the mall and step into jcrew. i'm worn down from the day, my eye make-up is slowly creeping down my face, and i just need to spend a little money as a pick-me-up (bad habit). i am wearing a distinctly non-jcrew designer dress, and one of the female associates stops me. "you look beautiful. i love your outfit. the whole darn thing."
i.love.humans.
i'm hungry. i am waiting in line at the grocery store self check-out, wishing i could go ahead and crack open the plastic container of fruit i selected. as one of the kiosks becomes available, a 40-something businessman walks up. and then right in front of me toward my spot at the open self check-out. this dude jumped me in line, thought his time was more important than mine.
i.hate.humans.
i'm sitting at my desk, and my phone rings. it's been a busy day, i'm in the middle of a project, and i pray that whatever someone is about to ask of me will not take me too far off task. i pick up the phone. "hey, sunshine!" says the friendly voice of a colleague. "hey (friend)!" i say. he proceeds to share some good news with me, and thank me for helping him get our foot in the door. he then sends a note to my boss, cc'ing me, calling out our joint success and thanking me again.
i.love.humans.
i'm on a flight to newport for a wedding. my flight lands after the first leg of my trip, a little later than scheduled. i'm ready to get out of the plane and make a sprint to the ladies room. my connecting flight boards in about 10 minutes, from a different gate on the other side of the airport. a couple from the back of the plane starts shoving their way forward, throwin' elbows and shouting that they have a connecting flight that is about to board. they seemingly could care less for everyone else on the flight who also has a connection.
i.hate.humans.
i make it to my hotel in newport around 1:15am. i am exhausted, covered in airport musk (you know what i mean), and ready to hit the sack. my handsome cousins run down the stairs and embrace my boyfriend and i in big happy hugs. they waited up for us, and we haven't seen each other in a year.
i.love.humans.
after visiting with my cousins upstairs at the hotel, around 1:30am my boyfriend and i quietly walk down the stairs. the woman who checked us into the hotel blocks our path at the bottom, points her finger, and yells "i don't know what kind of establishment you think this is, but if you don't be quiet and go immediately to your room i am calling the police and you're out of this hotel. and who is sitting in the hallway? get her out!" i respond in a calm voice, let her know that she's talking to the wrong people, i am not responsible for anyone else who may be making noise in the hotel nor am i aware of or responsible for whomever is sitting in the hallway. it's not my hotel, and i am not a representative of everyone in it. she repeats her threat, and eventually lets my boyfriend and i return to our room. livid, i sit down at the computer and work until 2:30am writing a pointed letter to hotel management.
i.hate.humans.
i woke up this morning and headed to the office. on my way, i dropped into a local grocery store to snag my favorite protein bar. i'm checking out when an elderly couple on a pair of walkers calls out to all of the grocery store ladies. they have purchased them all breakfast, and want them to stop to enjoy it! my check-out lady whispers to me, "they come in here every day, have been for years, and sometimes they bring us gifts and meals. aside from church on sundays, we see them every day...same time. if they ever don't show up when we expect them to - which i'm afraid may happen in the next year or so - we'll know that something is wrong. we will be sending someone to go check on them." i think of the sweet couple, at the end of their years, and the grateful staff at the grocery store.
it warmed my heart. it made my morning.
i really, really do love humans.
i have been tired lately. working hard, traveling, and playing angry birds in bed on my new iphone until far too late at night. lack of sleep predisposes me to less-than-typical mood swings. here is what i have noticed over the past few days:
i'm walking through the mall and step into jcrew. i'm worn down from the day, my eye make-up is slowly creeping down my face, and i just need to spend a little money as a pick-me-up (bad habit). i am wearing a distinctly non-jcrew designer dress, and one of the female associates stops me. "you look beautiful. i love your outfit. the whole darn thing."
i.love.humans.
i'm hungry. i am waiting in line at the grocery store self check-out, wishing i could go ahead and crack open the plastic container of fruit i selected. as one of the kiosks becomes available, a 40-something businessman walks up. and then right in front of me toward my spot at the open self check-out. this dude jumped me in line, thought his time was more important than mine.
i.hate.humans.
i'm sitting at my desk, and my phone rings. it's been a busy day, i'm in the middle of a project, and i pray that whatever someone is about to ask of me will not take me too far off task. i pick up the phone. "hey, sunshine!" says the friendly voice of a colleague. "hey (friend)!" i say. he proceeds to share some good news with me, and thank me for helping him get our foot in the door. he then sends a note to my boss, cc'ing me, calling out our joint success and thanking me again.
i.love.humans.
i'm on a flight to newport for a wedding. my flight lands after the first leg of my trip, a little later than scheduled. i'm ready to get out of the plane and make a sprint to the ladies room. my connecting flight boards in about 10 minutes, from a different gate on the other side of the airport. a couple from the back of the plane starts shoving their way forward, throwin' elbows and shouting that they have a connecting flight that is about to board. they seemingly could care less for everyone else on the flight who also has a connection.
i.hate.humans.
i make it to my hotel in newport around 1:15am. i am exhausted, covered in airport musk (you know what i mean), and ready to hit the sack. my handsome cousins run down the stairs and embrace my boyfriend and i in big happy hugs. they waited up for us, and we haven't seen each other in a year.
i.love.humans.
after visiting with my cousins upstairs at the hotel, around 1:30am my boyfriend and i quietly walk down the stairs. the woman who checked us into the hotel blocks our path at the bottom, points her finger, and yells "i don't know what kind of establishment you think this is, but if you don't be quiet and go immediately to your room i am calling the police and you're out of this hotel. and who is sitting in the hallway? get her out!" i respond in a calm voice, let her know that she's talking to the wrong people, i am not responsible for anyone else who may be making noise in the hotel nor am i aware of or responsible for whomever is sitting in the hallway. it's not my hotel, and i am not a representative of everyone in it. she repeats her threat, and eventually lets my boyfriend and i return to our room. livid, i sit down at the computer and work until 2:30am writing a pointed letter to hotel management.
i.hate.humans.
i woke up this morning and headed to the office. on my way, i dropped into a local grocery store to snag my favorite protein bar. i'm checking out when an elderly couple on a pair of walkers calls out to all of the grocery store ladies. they have purchased them all breakfast, and want them to stop to enjoy it! my check-out lady whispers to me, "they come in here every day, have been for years, and sometimes they bring us gifts and meals. aside from church on sundays, we see them every day...same time. if they ever don't show up when we expect them to - which i'm afraid may happen in the next year or so - we'll know that something is wrong. we will be sending someone to go check on them." i think of the sweet couple, at the end of their years, and the grateful staff at the grocery store.
it warmed my heart. it made my morning.
i really, really do love humans.
good day to you
it's been a wonderful 36 hours.
...and i needed it!
after a rough start last week, i was really hoping for a smooth transition into this one. let me give you a brief picture into how life looked approximately a week ago...
it's monday morning. i wake up at 7:15, about 30 minutes after my intended start, and rushed to get ready. showered. dressed. make-up'd. and out the door.
i was mentally patting myself on the back as i pulled into the parking lot of my office, proud of the fact that i arrived one solid minute before 8am, when it hit me: i had left my laptop at home.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! (one of those panic moments that can only be experienced in all of its glory on a monday morning)
i had to think fast.
do i back out, turn around and head home to scoop up my laptop and do another lap to the office?
impossible. not only would i be significantly late for work, i would also be noticeably late for my 8:30am monday-morning call with my boss.
shit.
my mind raced. and eventually reverted back to middle school amy, the girl who knew that whenever she left her homework at home, or her books, or whatever other critical element had been forgotten, there was always one person who could be counted on to save the day:
my mom.
yes, i am 27 years old. but sometimes, your mom is the only one who can fix a situation. that was the case in this one.
i furiously dial her number, sweating in my car still parked in the office parking lot. it rings once. it rings twice. and then my sleepy, angel of a mother answers the phone.
can she go to my house and please, oh please please bring me my laptop?
not even a question. she's on it. jumps out of bed and comes to my rescue.
i have never been more thankful that my mother lives just down the road.
she gets to my office just in time: 8:28am. i plug in my laptop, pick up my phone, and get back on my game as i call my boss.
whew. i made it.
when the call is finished i hang up the phone. i lean back in my chair and breath a sigh of relief.
we're back on track. this day isn't going to be so rough after all - just a fluke of a bad start.
i head into the hall and am stopped by a male colleague. we chat about a presentation we'll be giving to a client in a few hours, and all seems to be going well. until he changes topics.
"so, did you say you were at a golf resort over the weekend?" he asks.
"why yes, i was at pinehurst over the weekend. why do you ask?"
"well, i can tell, because it looks like you got hit with a flying golf ball right in the neck! ha ha."
i gasp. i cover my neck with my hand. it couldn't be, could it? how did i miss it?
the inescapable truth: i had a major hicky almost dead-center on my neck, and i hadn't noticed it as i rushed to get ready this morning.
my colleague spotted it first. and i was humiliated.
"oh, well uh, i'm sure i must have just burned myself while i was getting ready this morning."
he smirks. and calls to three other male colleagues, "hey (dude 1), (dude 2), and (dude 3), come check this out. look like a burn mark to you? *evil cackle*"
the guys come out of the offices, faces ineffectively hiding mischevious grins.
i have both hands covering my neck.
me: "seriously guys, it's just a burn mark."
guys: "if it's a curling iron burn, why is you hair so straight? heh heh heh..."
they got me.
they all three get the evil eye, and i retreat to my office. thankfully, i had my concealer in my purse. fate. i take care of a quick cover-up job, and for the next hour endure random drop-ins to my office:
"hey amy, you need some burn cream for your wound?"
"how you healin' up over there?" "that humidity really must have killed your curls."
i stuck to my story. but i was so, incredibly busted.
the rest of the week was a blur, a hurricane of days that spun my head around and made my eyes cross. proposals. revisions. deadlines. meetings.
...and then came friday, at 5pm. and all was calm. but was it the calm before another storm?
all weekend i worried.
but it's been great! so far (i realize it's only wednesday), i have woken up on time and at work looking decently human. i have spent quality time with the boyfriend and some of my closest girlfriends. i even get to keep one at my house for a few nights :)
so now, i look forward to the rest of the week. to coming home from work this evening to my visiting friend, to girl talk and take-out, to the return of my boyfriend and date night on saturday.
i pray that i'm not jinxing myself. will somebody please knock on wood? but i think this may be a good week :)
...and i needed it!
after a rough start last week, i was really hoping for a smooth transition into this one. let me give you a brief picture into how life looked approximately a week ago...
it's monday morning. i wake up at 7:15, about 30 minutes after my intended start, and rushed to get ready. showered. dressed. make-up'd. and out the door.
i was mentally patting myself on the back as i pulled into the parking lot of my office, proud of the fact that i arrived one solid minute before 8am, when it hit me: i had left my laptop at home.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! (one of those panic moments that can only be experienced in all of its glory on a monday morning)
i had to think fast.
do i back out, turn around and head home to scoop up my laptop and do another lap to the office?
impossible. not only would i be significantly late for work, i would also be noticeably late for my 8:30am monday-morning call with my boss.
shit.
my mind raced. and eventually reverted back to middle school amy, the girl who knew that whenever she left her homework at home, or her books, or whatever other critical element had been forgotten, there was always one person who could be counted on to save the day:
my mom.
yes, i am 27 years old. but sometimes, your mom is the only one who can fix a situation. that was the case in this one.
i furiously dial her number, sweating in my car still parked in the office parking lot. it rings once. it rings twice. and then my sleepy, angel of a mother answers the phone.
can she go to my house and please, oh please please bring me my laptop?
not even a question. she's on it. jumps out of bed and comes to my rescue.
i have never been more thankful that my mother lives just down the road.
she gets to my office just in time: 8:28am. i plug in my laptop, pick up my phone, and get back on my game as i call my boss.
whew. i made it.
when the call is finished i hang up the phone. i lean back in my chair and breath a sigh of relief.
we're back on track. this day isn't going to be so rough after all - just a fluke of a bad start.
i head into the hall and am stopped by a male colleague. we chat about a presentation we'll be giving to a client in a few hours, and all seems to be going well. until he changes topics.
"so, did you say you were at a golf resort over the weekend?" he asks.
"why yes, i was at pinehurst over the weekend. why do you ask?"
"well, i can tell, because it looks like you got hit with a flying golf ball right in the neck! ha ha."
i gasp. i cover my neck with my hand. it couldn't be, could it? how did i miss it?
the inescapable truth: i had a major hicky almost dead-center on my neck, and i hadn't noticed it as i rushed to get ready this morning.
my colleague spotted it first. and i was humiliated.
"oh, well uh, i'm sure i must have just burned myself while i was getting ready this morning."
he smirks. and calls to three other male colleagues, "hey (dude 1), (dude 2), and (dude 3), come check this out. look like a burn mark to you? *evil cackle*"
the guys come out of the offices, faces ineffectively hiding mischevious grins.
i have both hands covering my neck.
me: "seriously guys, it's just a burn mark."
guys: "if it's a curling iron burn, why is you hair so straight? heh heh heh..."
they got me.
they all three get the evil eye, and i retreat to my office. thankfully, i had my concealer in my purse. fate. i take care of a quick cover-up job, and for the next hour endure random drop-ins to my office:
"hey amy, you need some burn cream for your wound?"
"how you healin' up over there?" "that humidity really must have killed your curls."
i stuck to my story. but i was so, incredibly busted.
the rest of the week was a blur, a hurricane of days that spun my head around and made my eyes cross. proposals. revisions. deadlines. meetings.
...and then came friday, at 5pm. and all was calm. but was it the calm before another storm?
all weekend i worried.
but it's been great! so far (i realize it's only wednesday), i have woken up on time and at work looking decently human. i have spent quality time with the boyfriend and some of my closest girlfriends. i even get to keep one at my house for a few nights :)
so now, i look forward to the rest of the week. to coming home from work this evening to my visiting friend, to girl talk and take-out, to the return of my boyfriend and date night on saturday.
i pray that i'm not jinxing myself. will somebody please knock on wood? but i think this may be a good week :)
requisite awful moments
over coffee this morning i read the following article on oprah.com by leigh newman: "the 5 heartaches everyone needs to have only once." you can click to read the article here.
after having read through these 5 moments, i have determined that while we may only need to have each example only once, i have had countless opportunities to experience these suckers. if i had to guess, i'd say that several of them are burning memories (more than once) in your past as well.
you know. the "f my life" and "ohmygoodnessiwanttodie" situations in which hiding in the bathroom, under your covers, or in a hefty glass of wine will only get you so far.
i have re-worked the 5 "heartache" moments in more general terms below, and included examples of my own moments of shame and shittiness.
hopefully you'll get a chuckle. thinking back, the only way i survived is through an ability to heartily laugh at myself and my past idiocy. and the understanding that, while situations such as these are bound to happen again, eventually, yes - we will laugh about it later.
here you go:
Situation 1: you loved them, they did Not love you back.
amy's experience - oh, the horror. the heartache. the crying-into-your-pillow nights and the endless, repeated analysis you put your friends through...when what they really want to say is, "he's just not that into you." there doesn't have to be a reason they're not into you - be it a friend, a man, etc. sometimes what you think is "incredible chemistry" is actually incredible, one-sided attraction. and you're that one side. it sucks.
i once loved (or was it obsession?) a man who, without a doubt, did not feel the same way about me. i essentially prostrated myself before him, to the dismay and shock of my friends, and turned myself into the unsolicited mat upon which he could tread. he doesn't call me? doesn't treat me like a lady? treats me like arm candy that is easily disposed of and traded for the next pretty item of momentary interest? i made up excuses. i knew that, once given enough opportunity, surely he would see that we were destined to be together. that our "chemistry" was so strong, it was undeniable that whatever momentary hurdles might stand in our way (timing, stress, diarrhea...whatever), it was crystal clear that i was the only woman for him.
(buzzer sounds) yeah...wrong! i humiliated myself, to him and others, and appeared more than desperate to attain a love that would never be returned. it sucks. we all do it, at some point in time. it hurts. sometimes physically. and we remember it. hopefully, this learning experience helps us to avoid future blindness in one-sided affection in the future. sometimes...it takes several tries. eh. we'll get it right some day.
Situation 2: you let an opportunity pass you by and seriously regretted it
amy's experience - i was studying abroad, 21 years old, traveling around nicaragua with some of my girlfriends. we had landed on my favorite place in the world - ometepe, a little island in the middle of the freshwater lake nicaragua. it.was.stunning. we were staying in a remote hostel, one which could only be reached by a massive suv, and after checking into our open-air room decided to join the other visitors in the communal dinner, included in our super cheap rate.
and that's where i met him. i don't even remember his name. he was from canada, he was handsome, and i had an immediate attraction. he sat beside me, we talked, and we made a plan to kayak together in the wee hours of the morning before i was leaving for another nicaraguan city with my girlfriends.
the next morning i woke up, full of anticipation and worry that he just might stand me up. i had nothing to fear. there he stood, handsome and tanned, waiting beside two kayaks with a cup of coffee waiting for me.
we took off, slowly paddling alongside one another with easy conversation. we paddled around a tiny island about a hundred yards out, and then stopped to lay back and just float as we watched the sun rise. it felt like magic. there was definite chemistry.
we paddled on back, sat by the water, held hands and talked about how we could get in touch later. in a rush, and per his request, i quickly told him what city we'd be in and where we could meet - time, place, etc. a fool, i gave him no other contact information (email, phone, etc.). and then, with my friends, i took off for mainland nicaragua.
i was floating. i was so excited. and then plans changed. i had the option of standing my ground, ensuring that i arrived at the proposed meeting spot, or going with the flow to appease my friends. i chose the latter. and i never saw him again.
i am twenty seven now, and still think about that guy. the mystery canadian, the handsome kayaking partner, who (for all i know) was left waiting around while i never showed up. i still kick myself for what could have turned into an exciting, romantic, if fleeting experience.
but i learned from it. i came back from study abroad and started taking chances. that's how i met my current boyfriend. after one missed opportunity after we first met (never said i was perfect), the second time around i made sure that he knew exactly how to get in touch. we've been together more than three years now. i am so thankful i went out on a limb. and still kicking myself for letting the canadian get away.
Situation 3: you didn't do your homework
amy's experience - this has happened too many times to count. especially in college. showing up in class, or in lab, getting put on the spot only to give a dumb "uh...uh..." clearly bullshit response. it has happened in my professional life. submitting proposals i thought looked spot-on, only to realize later i had not read and researched the full extent of the prospective clients need. it's humiliating. makes you feel incompotent. and, for a while at least, teaches you to get your shit in order before you may be put on the spot.
Situation 4: you looked like a disaster in public (humiliation!)
amy's experience - i am sure this has happened to me more often than i am aware, but the one situation that really stands out in my mind happened to me last summer. in an effort to look my best prior to seeing friends, i went to get my already short hair-cut trimmed and perfected. and i was in a rush. my stylist not available? give me the novice! my hair would work itself out, and look just as i hoped it would regardless...right? yeah, no ma'am.
i came back home in a shameful sulk. i knew it looked bad, but was hoping it would pass by the notice of others. i tested it on my loving boyfriend. "ha, ha...don't worry, it's not THAT bad...my little mushroom head." fuck. the chick gave me a bowl-cut, for goodness sakes!
so i went back. immediately. to the salon, requesting a do-over. what did that require? more inches off. shorter and shorter, until i had less of a bowl cut...and more of a boy cut. i was horrified. and had plans to show up to a sporting event with a couple of my beautiful girlfriends and their husbands in less than an hour.
so we went. and my kind friends assured me that i pulled it off...my "cheekbones really make this cut work." they were so lovingly lying to me.
even better - we ran into one of my pseudo-exes that night. it was...spectacular. horrifyingly so.
the hair grew out. i learned to master the art of the bobby pin. but i was humbled. and now i am slow to judge those who are strong enough to brave the public eye when making a clearly acknowledged styling mistake. and i never, ever cheat on my hair stylist.
Situation 5: you spoke (callously) without thinking
amy's experience - i wish it weren't true, but this one has happened more times than i can count. and more times than i would like to (or could possibly) remember. the times where i fondly compare my dog to a new mother's child. when i imply that my sister's eventual children may end up obese. when i told my color-blind boss that, yes, your commentary on this design is un helpful and just plain wrong.
my current best memory of this has to be from a few weeks ago. cuddling with my sweet (and sexy) boyfriend, i put my hand on his bum...and then i slapped it. "hard as a rock, right!?" he joked. and i responded, "a rock? yeah, right...it's more like a marshmallow." *silence....* "a marshmallow?" ...i knew i said something wrong. deep down, i know that one should never compare someone elses backside...or most body parts...to a marshmallow. but i was joking - right?
yeah...it wasn't funny.
i'd hurt his feelings, and spent the next ten minutes trying to dig myself out of a hole. only to dig myself deeper. "well, you know, in this position anyone's bum would feel like a marshmallow...er...you know i love marshmallows. i love your marshmallow. would i continually smack it if i didn't love it? ...er...i'm sorry."
lesson learned? no more comparing someone's body parts to fluffy food items. ever.
(***for the record: he has a cute little man bum. i do love it. and it does not feel like a marshmallow.)
SO - now it's your turn. share some of your own requisite awful moments :) xo - aQ
after having read through these 5 moments, i have determined that while we may only need to have each example only once, i have had countless opportunities to experience these suckers. if i had to guess, i'd say that several of them are burning memories (more than once) in your past as well.
you know. the "f my life" and "ohmygoodnessiwanttodie" situations in which hiding in the bathroom, under your covers, or in a hefty glass of wine will only get you so far.
i have re-worked the 5 "heartache" moments in more general terms below, and included examples of my own moments of shame and shittiness.
hopefully you'll get a chuckle. thinking back, the only way i survived is through an ability to heartily laugh at myself and my past idiocy. and the understanding that, while situations such as these are bound to happen again, eventually, yes - we will laugh about it later.
here you go:
Situation 1: you loved them, they did Not love you back.
amy's experience - oh, the horror. the heartache. the crying-into-your-pillow nights and the endless, repeated analysis you put your friends through...when what they really want to say is, "he's just not that into you." there doesn't have to be a reason they're not into you - be it a friend, a man, etc. sometimes what you think is "incredible chemistry" is actually incredible, one-sided attraction. and you're that one side. it sucks.
i once loved (or was it obsession?) a man who, without a doubt, did not feel the same way about me. i essentially prostrated myself before him, to the dismay and shock of my friends, and turned myself into the unsolicited mat upon which he could tread. he doesn't call me? doesn't treat me like a lady? treats me like arm candy that is easily disposed of and traded for the next pretty item of momentary interest? i made up excuses. i knew that, once given enough opportunity, surely he would see that we were destined to be together. that our "chemistry" was so strong, it was undeniable that whatever momentary hurdles might stand in our way (timing, stress, diarrhea...whatever), it was crystal clear that i was the only woman for him.
(buzzer sounds) yeah...wrong! i humiliated myself, to him and others, and appeared more than desperate to attain a love that would never be returned. it sucks. we all do it, at some point in time. it hurts. sometimes physically. and we remember it. hopefully, this learning experience helps us to avoid future blindness in one-sided affection in the future. sometimes...it takes several tries. eh. we'll get it right some day.
Situation 2: you let an opportunity pass you by and seriously regretted it
amy's experience - i was studying abroad, 21 years old, traveling around nicaragua with some of my girlfriends. we had landed on my favorite place in the world - ometepe, a little island in the middle of the freshwater lake nicaragua. it.was.stunning. we were staying in a remote hostel, one which could only be reached by a massive suv, and after checking into our open-air room decided to join the other visitors in the communal dinner, included in our super cheap rate.
and that's where i met him. i don't even remember his name. he was from canada, he was handsome, and i had an immediate attraction. he sat beside me, we talked, and we made a plan to kayak together in the wee hours of the morning before i was leaving for another nicaraguan city with my girlfriends.
the next morning i woke up, full of anticipation and worry that he just might stand me up. i had nothing to fear. there he stood, handsome and tanned, waiting beside two kayaks with a cup of coffee waiting for me.
we took off, slowly paddling alongside one another with easy conversation. we paddled around a tiny island about a hundred yards out, and then stopped to lay back and just float as we watched the sun rise. it felt like magic. there was definite chemistry.
we paddled on back, sat by the water, held hands and talked about how we could get in touch later. in a rush, and per his request, i quickly told him what city we'd be in and where we could meet - time, place, etc. a fool, i gave him no other contact information (email, phone, etc.). and then, with my friends, i took off for mainland nicaragua.
i was floating. i was so excited. and then plans changed. i had the option of standing my ground, ensuring that i arrived at the proposed meeting spot, or going with the flow to appease my friends. i chose the latter. and i never saw him again.
i am twenty seven now, and still think about that guy. the mystery canadian, the handsome kayaking partner, who (for all i know) was left waiting around while i never showed up. i still kick myself for what could have turned into an exciting, romantic, if fleeting experience.
but i learned from it. i came back from study abroad and started taking chances. that's how i met my current boyfriend. after one missed opportunity after we first met (never said i was perfect), the second time around i made sure that he knew exactly how to get in touch. we've been together more than three years now. i am so thankful i went out on a limb. and still kicking myself for letting the canadian get away.
Situation 3: you didn't do your homework
amy's experience - this has happened too many times to count. especially in college. showing up in class, or in lab, getting put on the spot only to give a dumb "uh...uh..." clearly bullshit response. it has happened in my professional life. submitting proposals i thought looked spot-on, only to realize later i had not read and researched the full extent of the prospective clients need. it's humiliating. makes you feel incompotent. and, for a while at least, teaches you to get your shit in order before you may be put on the spot.
Situation 4: you looked like a disaster in public (humiliation!)
amy's experience - i am sure this has happened to me more often than i am aware, but the one situation that really stands out in my mind happened to me last summer. in an effort to look my best prior to seeing friends, i went to get my already short hair-cut trimmed and perfected. and i was in a rush. my stylist not available? give me the novice! my hair would work itself out, and look just as i hoped it would regardless...right? yeah, no ma'am.
i came back home in a shameful sulk. i knew it looked bad, but was hoping it would pass by the notice of others. i tested it on my loving boyfriend. "ha, ha...don't worry, it's not THAT bad...my little mushroom head." fuck. the chick gave me a bowl-cut, for goodness sakes!
so i went back. immediately. to the salon, requesting a do-over. what did that require? more inches off. shorter and shorter, until i had less of a bowl cut...and more of a boy cut. i was horrified. and had plans to show up to a sporting event with a couple of my beautiful girlfriends and their husbands in less than an hour.
so we went. and my kind friends assured me that i pulled it off...my "cheekbones really make this cut work." they were so lovingly lying to me.
even better - we ran into one of my pseudo-exes that night. it was...spectacular. horrifyingly so.
the hair grew out. i learned to master the art of the bobby pin. but i was humbled. and now i am slow to judge those who are strong enough to brave the public eye when making a clearly acknowledged styling mistake. and i never, ever cheat on my hair stylist.
Situation 5: you spoke (callously) without thinking
amy's experience - i wish it weren't true, but this one has happened more times than i can count. and more times than i would like to (or could possibly) remember. the times where i fondly compare my dog to a new mother's child. when i imply that my sister's eventual children may end up obese. when i told my color-blind boss that, yes, your commentary on this design is un helpful and just plain wrong.
my current best memory of this has to be from a few weeks ago. cuddling with my sweet (and sexy) boyfriend, i put my hand on his bum...and then i slapped it. "hard as a rock, right!?" he joked. and i responded, "a rock? yeah, right...it's more like a marshmallow." *silence....* "a marshmallow?" ...i knew i said something wrong. deep down, i know that one should never compare someone elses backside...or most body parts...to a marshmallow. but i was joking - right?
yeah...it wasn't funny.
i'd hurt his feelings, and spent the next ten minutes trying to dig myself out of a hole. only to dig myself deeper. "well, you know, in this position anyone's bum would feel like a marshmallow...er...you know i love marshmallows. i love your marshmallow. would i continually smack it if i didn't love it? ...er...i'm sorry."
lesson learned? no more comparing someone's body parts to fluffy food items. ever.
(***for the record: he has a cute little man bum. i do love it. and it does not feel like a marshmallow.)
SO - now it's your turn. share some of your own requisite awful moments :) xo - aQ
...and i floss!
it's going to happen again. they've got me booked.
after years of going to the dentist whenever the spirit moved me (which was definitely not a semi-annual event...), i've been roped in.
i'm due for my 6 month. today. 2pm.
and i am terrified.
before you judge me and imagine that i'm just one of those women who never grew up, let me explain.
in my youth, i always had a positive relationship with the dentist chair. i looked forward to the new tooth brush, to the potential for stickers, to the positive feedback i was sure to get from the assistants and "the man" (or woman). i did not hesitate to head in the direction of the gritty toothpaste and rubbery tooth-cleanin' machine.
but that was then.
as i have grown older, my teeth have grown weaker. lamer. pu$$ies.
what were once "pretty teeth!" with ne'er an issue, are now cavity-prone and worn from nightly teeth grinding.
i blame it on reality tv that permeates my dreams.
...anyway.
the last time i went in for a check-up, it had been over 2 years since my last appointment. 2 years, friends. and shit, apparently, happens in that period of time.
i had 7 cavities. i think. it got to be so many that it was difficult to count.
i just closed my eyes, cursed and tried to visualize happy sex while i was drilled.
it still hurt. a lot.
you know they use effin' giganto needles to numb your mouth prior to cavity excavation, right?
it's true.
i don't like 'em in my arm. i don't like 'em in my hand. i don't like 'em in my bum and i certainly don't want 'em in my mouth.
fucking.needles.
it's the worst part of the dentist. and, unfortunately for me, it's an inevitable danger each and every time i sit in that damn chair as an adult.
so let's get something clear.
i floss. usually. i brush my teeth with moderate vigor.
something about this life has created a magnetic force between me and the dreaded sharps. is it karma? is it bad joo-joo?
what have i done to deserve this torture?
but so it is. and so i come to the office today, pre-dentist, prepared.
75 mini-flossers sit in my desk drawer. a bottle of listerine total care is standing alongside my laptop. my toothbrush is at the ready.
like many folks, presumably, i am praying that some hard-core cleaning and disinfecting will hide any potential cavities that exist in my amy mouth.
but my dentist is tricky. in a high-tech kinda way.
he's got this mouth camera that actually depicts - in vibrant color - each and every crevice in your mouth in which problematic bacteria/tartar may reside.
so that's where the listerine comes in. if it works, i am writing a heartfelt letter to johnson&johnson.
cross your fingers, friends.
i'm about to take it to the face.
after years of going to the dentist whenever the spirit moved me (which was definitely not a semi-annual event...), i've been roped in.
i'm due for my 6 month. today. 2pm.
and i am terrified.
before you judge me and imagine that i'm just one of those women who never grew up, let me explain.
in my youth, i always had a positive relationship with the dentist chair. i looked forward to the new tooth brush, to the potential for stickers, to the positive feedback i was sure to get from the assistants and "the man" (or woman). i did not hesitate to head in the direction of the gritty toothpaste and rubbery tooth-cleanin' machine.
but that was then.
as i have grown older, my teeth have grown weaker. lamer. pu$$ies.
what were once "pretty teeth!" with ne'er an issue, are now cavity-prone and worn from nightly teeth grinding.
i blame it on reality tv that permeates my dreams.
...anyway.the last time i went in for a check-up, it had been over 2 years since my last appointment. 2 years, friends. and shit, apparently, happens in that period of time.
i had 7 cavities. i think. it got to be so many that it was difficult to count.
i just closed my eyes, cursed and tried to visualize happy sex while i was drilled.
it still hurt. a lot.
you know they use effin' giganto needles to numb your mouth prior to cavity excavation, right?
it's true.
i don't like 'em in my arm. i don't like 'em in my hand. i don't like 'em in my bum and i certainly don't want 'em in my mouth.
fucking.needles.
it's the worst part of the dentist. and, unfortunately for me, it's an inevitable danger each and every time i sit in that damn chair as an adult.
so let's get something clear.
i floss. usually. i brush my teeth with moderate vigor.
something about this life has created a magnetic force between me and the dreaded sharps. is it karma? is it bad joo-joo?
what have i done to deserve this torture?
but so it is. and so i come to the office today, pre-dentist, prepared.
75 mini-flossers sit in my desk drawer. a bottle of listerine total care is standing alongside my laptop. my toothbrush is at the ready.
like many folks, presumably, i am praying that some hard-core cleaning and disinfecting will hide any potential cavities that exist in my amy mouth.
but my dentist is tricky. in a high-tech kinda way.
he's got this mouth camera that actually depicts - in vibrant color - each and every crevice in your mouth in which problematic bacteria/tartar may reside.
so that's where the listerine comes in. if it works, i am writing a heartfelt letter to johnson&johnson.
cross your fingers, friends.
i'm about to take it to the face.
mean girls
i remembered something important this weekend. something i ought not to have forgotten, but hadn't been faced with in a quite a while:
mean girls are real.
for real.
bitches.
here's how i know.
over the course of the past few weekends i have been working on addressing an issue i now face. on my face. it's called raccoon eyes.
i spend one long day in the sun with sunglasses on my face, and i get this crap. go figure.
and so, i have been strategizing. sans-glasses, i have attempted to allow it to naturally even out. yeah, apparently the tanned area beneath my eyes likes to just get DARKER. and so i have recently employed the latest tactic: carefully applying 30 spf with a q-tip to the tanned area beneath my eyes without allowing the sunblock to hit the white part. it's tricky, but i'm hoping that when done appropriately it will yield the desired results.
we'll see.
this does play a part in my mean girls story, i promise.
so i'm laying poolside with my toes in the water, sunblock strategically q-tipped on my face, when i hear the chatter (my eyes were closed, but my ears weren't...). four women, bikini-clad with full-make-up and clearly styled hair, sitting to my right:
"oh.my.god. i totally couldn't handle her anymore, so i didn't even text her. if she asks, you did NOT see me today."
"i know, right? so annoying."
"she's probably out running or riding her bike today. she needs to. she has no business being in a bikini yet this summer. i don't know why her boyfriend is still with her."
"why is that guy even with her?"
"why do we even let her hang out with us?"
(snarky cackles)
"so, i think your guy might come back to the pool today. you should ask him to help you with your sunscreen..."
"you mean the guy with the girl who was his wife? yeah. he was cute. i hope he comes back."
"you are totally cuter than his wife."
"well, yeah."
(they flip through trash mags)
"oh my god. i don't see any attractive people here at the pool today. are we the only ones? i thought you told me that hot guys lived here? why are we even here?"
"those guys yesterday were hot. and if we are the only hot girls, then it totally doesn't matter. we can get anyone we want. oh my gosh, you need a pedicure."
"i know, i totally do. and i'm so fat."
"not as fat as those girls yesterday."
"you're right."
(insert amy thought: is it eavesdropping if they're speaking so loudly that it seems they want to be heard?)
and they blather on and on. about how they recently got fired but are having their uncle lawyer write something up on his letterhead so that they give her good severance. about how all of the guys in charleston wanted them when they visited there last weekend. about how some girl's swimsuit was "so last season." about the jumping ability of the hot (married) guys yesterday. etc.
it was almost as if i was listening to a SNL skit in which they make fun of air-headed females with valley girl accents. because that's what they sounded like.
now, it's one thing if these girls are in their teens. a natural time when mean-girl attitudes abound as insecure girls fight to find themselves in the social order of high school and early college.
but these girls were definitely in their late twenties. definitely. single chicks, on the prowl, full-on mean-girl attitudes.
what the hell is the point?
they seemed fairly well educated. they were generally attractive (from what i could see through sneaky half-squinted eyes) but by no means knock-outs. they clearly have girlfriends to spend time with.
so why the attitude?
after about 30 minutes of listening to their drivel, i gave up on my task and stood to leave.
girls go silent.
i threw on the exercise shorts i'd come in, put my hair in a wet ponytail, snagged my book and headed home.
knowing that they had little else of substance to talk about, i can only imagine what they may have said of me.
"oh.my.god. look at her face."
i'm working on it...
"her swimsuit is so NOT this season."
target 2010, bitches...
"i can't believe she came alone to the pool. doesn't she have any friends?"
sometimes a girl just needs a little quiet time...
"she has a fat ass."
yes, i do...at least i have one!
...at least, that's what i imagined in my mind.
i cannot imagine that those "ladies" (can you even call them that?) left the pool, and each other, feeling a glow of positivity and contentment. i cannot imagine they left their get together feeling as if they had learned something new & valuable, strengthened a long-term relationship, or helped someone they cared about.
in my mind, i imagine that they looked down on me just as they seemed to look down on most of the other ladies they described in their mindless chatter.
and i look down on them for that.
at the rate they're going, they may never get the real sense of fulfillment that i get from my ladies nights. they may never know the treasure that is some quiet "me" time. they may never learn to love others as they seem to love themselves, and laugh at their own flaws rather than pick on the flaws of others.
am i saying that i'm always innocent of bitch-talkin'? no way.
guilty party. right here.
but i do have boundaries. strangers ought not be victims.
and i'm a lady...i do my bitch talkin' in private.
thank you to my girlfriends who provide me with conversations of substance. who laugh with me rather than at me when i have raccoon eyes. or crash my face into a wall and get a black eye. or show up looking like a hot mess.
and to you mean girls: please stop fucking up my airspace.
mean girls are real.
for real.
bitches.
here's how i know.
over the course of the past few weekends i have been working on addressing an issue i now face. on my face. it's called raccoon eyes.
i spend one long day in the sun with sunglasses on my face, and i get this crap. go figure. and so, i have been strategizing. sans-glasses, i have attempted to allow it to naturally even out. yeah, apparently the tanned area beneath my eyes likes to just get DARKER. and so i have recently employed the latest tactic: carefully applying 30 spf with a q-tip to the tanned area beneath my eyes without allowing the sunblock to hit the white part. it's tricky, but i'm hoping that when done appropriately it will yield the desired results.
we'll see.
this does play a part in my mean girls story, i promise.
so i'm laying poolside with my toes in the water, sunblock strategically q-tipped on my face, when i hear the chatter (my eyes were closed, but my ears weren't...). four women, bikini-clad with full-make-up and clearly styled hair, sitting to my right:
"oh.my.god. i totally couldn't handle her anymore, so i didn't even text her. if she asks, you did NOT see me today."
"i know, right? so annoying."
"she's probably out running or riding her bike today. she needs to. she has no business being in a bikini yet this summer. i don't know why her boyfriend is still with her."
"why is that guy even with her?"
"why do we even let her hang out with us?"
(snarky cackles)
"so, i think your guy might come back to the pool today. you should ask him to help you with your sunscreen..."
"you mean the guy with the girl who was his wife? yeah. he was cute. i hope he comes back."
"you are totally cuter than his wife."
"well, yeah."
(they flip through trash mags)
"oh my god. i don't see any attractive people here at the pool today. are we the only ones? i thought you told me that hot guys lived here? why are we even here?"
"those guys yesterday were hot. and if we are the only hot girls, then it totally doesn't matter. we can get anyone we want. oh my gosh, you need a pedicure."
"i know, i totally do. and i'm so fat."
"not as fat as those girls yesterday."
"you're right."
(insert amy thought: is it eavesdropping if they're speaking so loudly that it seems they want to be heard?)
and they blather on and on. about how they recently got fired but are having their uncle lawyer write something up on his letterhead so that they give her good severance. about how all of the guys in charleston wanted them when they visited there last weekend. about how some girl's swimsuit was "so last season." about the jumping ability of the hot (married) guys yesterday. etc.
it was almost as if i was listening to a SNL skit in which they make fun of air-headed females with valley girl accents. because that's what they sounded like.
now, it's one thing if these girls are in their teens. a natural time when mean-girl attitudes abound as insecure girls fight to find themselves in the social order of high school and early college.
but these girls were definitely in their late twenties. definitely. single chicks, on the prowl, full-on mean-girl attitudes.
what the hell is the point?
they seemed fairly well educated. they were generally attractive (from what i could see through sneaky half-squinted eyes) but by no means knock-outs. they clearly have girlfriends to spend time with.
so why the attitude?
after about 30 minutes of listening to their drivel, i gave up on my task and stood to leave.
girls go silent.
i threw on the exercise shorts i'd come in, put my hair in a wet ponytail, snagged my book and headed home.
knowing that they had little else of substance to talk about, i can only imagine what they may have said of me.
"oh.my.god. look at her face."
i'm working on it...
"her swimsuit is so NOT this season."
target 2010, bitches...
"i can't believe she came alone to the pool. doesn't she have any friends?"
sometimes a girl just needs a little quiet time...
"she has a fat ass."
yes, i do...at least i have one!
...at least, that's what i imagined in my mind.
i cannot imagine that those "ladies" (can you even call them that?) left the pool, and each other, feeling a glow of positivity and contentment. i cannot imagine they left their get together feeling as if they had learned something new & valuable, strengthened a long-term relationship, or helped someone they cared about.
in my mind, i imagine that they looked down on me just as they seemed to look down on most of the other ladies they described in their mindless chatter.
and i look down on them for that.
at the rate they're going, they may never get the real sense of fulfillment that i get from my ladies nights. they may never know the treasure that is some quiet "me" time. they may never learn to love others as they seem to love themselves, and laugh at their own flaws rather than pick on the flaws of others.
am i saying that i'm always innocent of bitch-talkin'? no way.
guilty party. right here.
but i do have boundaries. strangers ought not be victims.
and i'm a lady...i do my bitch talkin' in private.
thank you to my girlfriends who provide me with conversations of substance. who laugh with me rather than at me when i have raccoon eyes. or crash my face into a wall and get a black eye. or show up looking like a hot mess.
and to you mean girls: please stop fucking up my airspace.
sociopath
i just read a seriously disturbing article.
they say misery loves company. i propose that most negative experiences love company.
therefore, i have decided to share this article with you: read here.
the article describes a 9 year old boy, "michael", who displays unpredictably heated violence and then cold callousness. he is intelligent, he learns quickly how to manipulate people and situations to get what he wants, and he shows no sign of remorse.
they believe this is tied, in part, to his inability to feel empathy for others.
the first image that hit my mind: the omen.
the second: myself as a young girl.
i was manipulative - there's no doubt of that. i prided myself in my ability to lie. but i definitely, definitely felt remorse. punishment - from a harsh tone, to an angry look, to being sent to my room - it all terrified and mortified me.
not this michael kid.
and that got me thinking further. do i know anyone, from childhood on, who displays symptoms of being a psychopath?
let's check out some of the symptoms:
how about for you? does the article not intrigue and terrify you?
they say misery loves company. i propose that most negative experiences love company.
therefore, i have decided to share this article with you: read here.
the article describes a 9 year old boy, "michael", who displays unpredictably heated violence and then cold callousness. he is intelligent, he learns quickly how to manipulate people and situations to get what he wants, and he shows no sign of remorse.
they believe this is tied, in part, to his inability to feel empathy for others.
the first image that hit my mind: the omen.
the second: myself as a young girl.
i was manipulative - there's no doubt of that. i prided myself in my ability to lie. but i definitely, definitely felt remorse. punishment - from a harsh tone, to an angry look, to being sent to my room - it all terrified and mortified me.
not this michael kid.
and that got me thinking further. do i know anyone, from childhood on, who displays symptoms of being a psychopath?
let's check out some of the symptoms:
- calculating
- manipulative
- occasionally violent
- occasionally impulsive
- quick to anger
- lack of empathy
- ability to fake feelings and emotions
how about for you? does the article not intrigue and terrify you?
advice for earlier you (and me!)
i want some feedback. so i created a survey.
please, friend - take it.
just click here.
i've been thinking recently about advice i would give to my earlier self. my 10 year old self, my 15 year old self, my 18 and 22 year old self. i also think about the advice that, if i had a megaphone to my generation, i'd provide.
i remember that i used to be devastated because i had yet to get my period. i was 15, and i was convinced that either (a) my ovaries were broken or (b) something was wrong with me and i would never, ever turn into a full-fledged woman.
it happened. but i wish i had known, earlier on, to treasure the time that comes before the monthly bleed-out. (yum).
i remember, around the same time, when i had not yet kissed a boy. i was terrified that i wouldn't know what to do, so i read article after article, quizzed my friends, trying to learn in vain from others.
it happened. and it was gross. i remember my first thought: "i can't believe this is a national passtime." (i hadn't discovered sex, yet.)
i would tell myself, "don't worry, it gets better. but congrats anyway."
i remember my mother's face when, in college, i told her that i hadn't changed my sheets all semester. i remember the stench of unwashed dishes stacked on top of our dorm room microwave.
i'd hand that self some lysol and a roll of papertowels and tell her to get to work!
i'd tell my post-college self to avoid dating within your industry (it's just bad news). that people gossip in the working world just like they do in high school.
and i would tell my 25 year old self not to tell her boyfriend so early on that she wants to marry him...woops!
what do you remember, and what advice would you have for your earlier self? share with me - take the survey!
love, aQ
please, friend - take it.
just click here.
i've been thinking recently about advice i would give to my earlier self. my 10 year old self, my 15 year old self, my 18 and 22 year old self. i also think about the advice that, if i had a megaphone to my generation, i'd provide.
i remember that i used to be devastated because i had yet to get my period. i was 15, and i was convinced that either (a) my ovaries were broken or (b) something was wrong with me and i would never, ever turn into a full-fledged woman.
it happened. but i wish i had known, earlier on, to treasure the time that comes before the monthly bleed-out. (yum).
i remember, around the same time, when i had not yet kissed a boy. i was terrified that i wouldn't know what to do, so i read article after article, quizzed my friends, trying to learn in vain from others.
it happened. and it was gross. i remember my first thought: "i can't believe this is a national passtime." (i hadn't discovered sex, yet.)
i would tell myself, "don't worry, it gets better. but congrats anyway."
i remember my mother's face when, in college, i told her that i hadn't changed my sheets all semester. i remember the stench of unwashed dishes stacked on top of our dorm room microwave.
i'd hand that self some lysol and a roll of papertowels and tell her to get to work!
i'd tell my post-college self to avoid dating within your industry (it's just bad news). that people gossip in the working world just like they do in high school.
and i would tell my 25 year old self not to tell her boyfriend so early on that she wants to marry him...woops!
what do you remember, and what advice would you have for your earlier self? share with me - take the survey!
love, aQ
charisma
let's be straight: i think i'm pms-ing at the moment. i'm craving chocolate, my face is letting me know just how imperfect it can look, and my patience tank isn't showing up as "full" when i wake up in the morning.
give it a few days, i'll be back to normal.
in the meantime, i've used my pms-motivated brain to ponder moments that have really pissed me off. criticisms of myself that i either accept or reject, and then i stew over them.
i swear - i try to leave shit in the past. but pms is like a shit-shovel. digs it all right back up and flings it in my face (and others) sometimes.
shit on the brain at this moment: an accusation that, while i'm great to talk to in person, i'm not as wonderful in group situations. i am an attention-seeker, desperate to be the center of attention, unable to listen and allow for others to speak their minds, and somewhat unnerving.
...at least, that's what was said about me by someone who shall remain nameless.
it was said months and months ago. but it still irks me. it still makes me feel sensitive and insecure at times when i feel that, in groups of friends, i've dominated conversation and taken the spotlight from others. i do not want to be that girl. that person.
and so i try to ensure that (a) i am cogniscient of my tendency to selfishly steal the spotlight/talk time and (b) i apologize if i think back and realize i may have done so.
but that's just a story to get us started. i actually have a quiz for you to take that is only mildly related.
bear with me, this will be fun.
i have some kind friends to assure me that it's just my charisma that leads folks to want to be near me (perhaps they are too kind?), and i find this idea of charisma intriguing.
i certainly know many a charismatic person. i know what it feels like to be drawn to them. that's what drew me to many of my close friends. ...i wonder if i have some fraction of what my sweet friends claim i may.
do you? are you charismatic? are you a charmer?
or, like me, are you a potentially unnerving attention whore? you may think you know...but oprah may know better.
while toying around on oprah.com over my lunch break, i came across this quiz:
"how charismatic are you?" <--take it. let's compare notes.
my results, according to my biased answers, give me the following:
hooray. i am mildly charismatic. a mediocre charmer.
i am so o.k. with that.
it doesn't answer my question: am i an attention whore?
but at least i know that a teensy bit of charm may be involved.
give it a few days, i'll be back to normal.
in the meantime, i've used my pms-motivated brain to ponder moments that have really pissed me off. criticisms of myself that i either accept or reject, and then i stew over them.
i swear - i try to leave shit in the past. but pms is like a shit-shovel. digs it all right back up and flings it in my face (and others) sometimes.
shit on the brain at this moment: an accusation that, while i'm great to talk to in person, i'm not as wonderful in group situations. i am an attention-seeker, desperate to be the center of attention, unable to listen and allow for others to speak their minds, and somewhat unnerving.
...at least, that's what was said about me by someone who shall remain nameless.
it was said months and months ago. but it still irks me. it still makes me feel sensitive and insecure at times when i feel that, in groups of friends, i've dominated conversation and taken the spotlight from others. i do not want to be that girl. that person.
and so i try to ensure that (a) i am cogniscient of my tendency to selfishly steal the spotlight/talk time and (b) i apologize if i think back and realize i may have done so.
but that's just a story to get us started. i actually have a quiz for you to take that is only mildly related.
bear with me, this will be fun.
i have some kind friends to assure me that it's just my charisma that leads folks to want to be near me (perhaps they are too kind?), and i find this idea of charisma intriguing.
i certainly know many a charismatic person. i know what it feels like to be drawn to them. that's what drew me to many of my close friends. ...i wonder if i have some fraction of what my sweet friends claim i may.
do you? are you charismatic? are you a charmer?
or, like me, are you a potentially unnerving attention whore? you may think you know...but oprah may know better.
while toying around on oprah.com over my lunch break, i came across this quiz:
"how charismatic are you?" <--take it. let's compare notes.
my results, according to my biased answers, give me the following:
i am so o.k. with that.
it doesn't answer my question: am i an attention whore?
but at least i know that a teensy bit of charm may be involved.
archetype test
so, i was recently reading salary.com, learning about career development and comparing myself to what others have to say with regard to goals, motivation, etc.
i compare myself to others. all of the time. for better or worse, i have a hard-wired inclination to see where i "fit" into the rest of humanity. personally. professionally. permanently.
and so i of course jumped at the opportunity to take an archetype test. i effin' pounced, really.
what type of a professional person am i? what are my strengths, as deduced by salary.com? what are my weaknesses? what type of a role is my "best fit" and am i currently in it?
you know you've wondered. if you haven't...i just can't relate to you there.
take the test here, and share your results!
(you may have to create a profile...just do it.)
i took it, and my results look a little (or exactly) like this:
go figure. i'm a lover.
and heeeyyyy - apparently, i'm in one of the roles best suited to me! sales. yeah, baby.
are you?
i compare myself to others. all of the time. for better or worse, i have a hard-wired inclination to see where i "fit" into the rest of humanity. personally. professionally. permanently.
and so i of course jumped at the opportunity to take an archetype test. i effin' pounced, really.
what type of a professional person am i? what are my strengths, as deduced by salary.com? what are my weaknesses? what type of a role is my "best fit" and am i currently in it?
you know you've wondered. if you haven't...i just can't relate to you there.
take the test here, and share your results!
(you may have to create a profile...just do it.)
i took it, and my results look a little (or exactly) like this:
go figure. i'm a lover.
and heeeyyyy - apparently, i'm in one of the roles best suited to me! sales. yeah, baby.
are you?
doctor trickery
as i type this, my finger tips are sweating. i'm serious. my face is flushed, my skin is clammy, and my brain is swirling trying to determine an escape route from certain doom.
what doom, you may ask?
let me tell you a story.
it's a story about a healthy girl named amy. yeah, that'd be me.
for the past 4 years, i have eaten healthy, worked out regularly, slept fairly well, and exercised an acceptable amount of care when enjoying sexy time. i'm young, and in my personal opinion, pretty damn healthy.
which is the way in which i have justified, for these past 4 years, that i have had no need to bother doctors with performing my annual physical. waste of time and expense, right? that is certainly my opinion.
recently, however, someone pulled a trump card.
a family friend, my primary care physician, has been letting me slide all this time. refilling my two regular prescriptions without much of a complaint, i have had no one forcing my hand (and the rest of me) into the doctor's office to get checked out.
if the pharmacist indicated that i may need to make a visit to my doc to get some refills, i simply say, "call my doctor, and tell her who it's for." next time i come in, i flash a healthy girl smile, the pharmacist sees that i have the upper hand, and i'm on my way - Rx in hand.
it seems i may have been taking this for granted.
my doc finally pulled her trump card. she has decided it is time for me to see her, in the form of an annual physical, and she is holding hostage my regular prescriptions.
damn! damn.
i tried the healthy girl smile again. to no avail. i tried negotiating. i fought and lost.
it seems i must, in fact, go to visit my doc. and so i scheduled this "annual physical" that seems to be required.
the receptionist answered the phone, and i told him what was up. he acted as if it was all no big deal.
"alright then, we've got you in here for X day at X time, it should take about 30 minutes. you'll have to fast for 8 hours so that we can perform the blood work...."
my world stopped at those last two words, and i stopped him.
blood work!?!?
i didn't know i was signing up for that shit.
as i silently weighed the importance of my monthly prescriptions (one of which is the all-important birth control) against my intense fear of needles, the man on the other end of the line continued....
"yes, ma'am...all annual physicals include blood work."
and so, negotiator amy came back into play.
"well, is there an opt out box you can check beside that part? i'm o.k. with a physical, but i'd rather not have any needles involved in my visit."
"um, no ma'am. blood work is a mandatory part of any annual physical. we have to check your cholesterol levels, serum levels, etc."
"trust me, i'm healthy. it won't be a problem, and i personally don't need to know what those levels are. i'm not even interested. can you write a note on my chart, please, to indicate that blood work will not be necessary?"
"um...i don't think that's an option for you, ma'am."
"can we schedule just a check-up, then? code this meeting some other way, a minimum intensity level so that i can just get my prescriptions refilled?"
"ma'am...you're going to have to get blood work done either way."
bam. and that was it. my cards had been played, i was shit out of luck.
i scheduled the appointment, but i couldn't accept total defeat.
so i started doing research.
i googled standard requirements for annual physicals. fuck the bloodwork - it was all there.
i called around. did anyone know of a doctor who would perform a physical without involving needles?
no dice.
it seems, at this point, that next week i am doomed to be stuck and sucked. in a bad way.
unless....anybody out there know of someone with an option to "opt out"...? ;)
f. me.
what doom, you may ask?
let me tell you a story.
it's a story about a healthy girl named amy. yeah, that'd be me.
for the past 4 years, i have eaten healthy, worked out regularly, slept fairly well, and exercised an acceptable amount of care when enjoying sexy time. i'm young, and in my personal opinion, pretty damn healthy.
which is the way in which i have justified, for these past 4 years, that i have had no need to bother doctors with performing my annual physical. waste of time and expense, right? that is certainly my opinion.
recently, however, someone pulled a trump card.
a family friend, my primary care physician, has been letting me slide all this time. refilling my two regular prescriptions without much of a complaint, i have had no one forcing my hand (and the rest of me) into the doctor's office to get checked out.
if the pharmacist indicated that i may need to make a visit to my doc to get some refills, i simply say, "call my doctor, and tell her who it's for." next time i come in, i flash a healthy girl smile, the pharmacist sees that i have the upper hand, and i'm on my way - Rx in hand.
it seems i may have been taking this for granted.
my doc finally pulled her trump card. she has decided it is time for me to see her, in the form of an annual physical, and she is holding hostage my regular prescriptions.
damn! damn.
i tried the healthy girl smile again. to no avail. i tried negotiating. i fought and lost.
it seems i must, in fact, go to visit my doc. and so i scheduled this "annual physical" that seems to be required.
the receptionist answered the phone, and i told him what was up. he acted as if it was all no big deal.
"alright then, we've got you in here for X day at X time, it should take about 30 minutes. you'll have to fast for 8 hours so that we can perform the blood work...."
my world stopped at those last two words, and i stopped him.
blood work!?!?
i didn't know i was signing up for that shit.
as i silently weighed the importance of my monthly prescriptions (one of which is the all-important birth control) against my intense fear of needles, the man on the other end of the line continued....
"yes, ma'am...all annual physicals include blood work."
and so, negotiator amy came back into play.
"well, is there an opt out box you can check beside that part? i'm o.k. with a physical, but i'd rather not have any needles involved in my visit."
"um, no ma'am. blood work is a mandatory part of any annual physical. we have to check your cholesterol levels, serum levels, etc."
"trust me, i'm healthy. it won't be a problem, and i personally don't need to know what those levels are. i'm not even interested. can you write a note on my chart, please, to indicate that blood work will not be necessary?"
"um...i don't think that's an option for you, ma'am."
"can we schedule just a check-up, then? code this meeting some other way, a minimum intensity level so that i can just get my prescriptions refilled?"
"ma'am...you're going to have to get blood work done either way."
bam. and that was it. my cards had been played, i was shit out of luck.
i scheduled the appointment, but i couldn't accept total defeat.
so i started doing research.
i googled standard requirements for annual physicals. fuck the bloodwork - it was all there.
i called around. did anyone know of a doctor who would perform a physical without involving needles?
no dice.
it seems, at this point, that next week i am doomed to be stuck and sucked. in a bad way.
unless....anybody out there know of someone with an option to "opt out"...? ;)
f. me.
eff the baddies.
(warning: this is a bit of a rant. bear with me.)
i'm ponding a question today...a question relating to a situation that makes me more and more agitated, anxious, and angry as i continue to allow my mind to contemplate it.
...it takes a lot to make me really mad. i am downright angry as i type this post...
what is one to do as they see someone they love being wronged? that is the question.
the answer?
your first thought probably is, as mine would be: stop it. put an end to it.
protect the fuck out of that loved one.
and that's my first reaction.
but what about when the situation is more complex than simply the wronging of a loved one.
what if, in this situation, the loved one realizes that they are being wronged, and isn't entirely ready for it to end. the loved one is almost an accomplice, an enabler to their own wronging? willing to sacrifice parts of him or herself in order to maintain in the company of the wrong-doer? intellectually aware of the situation, but emotionally unprepared to remove themselves from the bad guy/girl and accept help or help themselves?
let's call this wrong-doer, bad/guy girl, the baddie. easier, gender-neutral and can be more easily applied to various situations.
let's also include a quick note on behalf of the baddie: a baddie is not necessarily a bad person. a baddie is simply someone who, in this case, knowingly wrongs someone else. often repeatedly. to their own benefit, resulting in the harming of someone else. perhaps good at the core, this individual is behaving selfishly in order to get exactly what they want out of a situation without giving anything they don't care to give.
this situation - the one making me clench my teeth and beat on my keyboard:
this particular baddie is a selfish baddie. someone who wants only certain aspects of my loved one, but not the whole package. who is willing to give of themselves only as much as is required to obtain what they want. who probably views themselves as "honest" in having provided the disclaimer that they're not looking for anything serious, while acting in a way which they understand will continue to draw in their object of prey.
he's using her. and they both know it.
the baddie is knowingly wronging my loved one. this baddie is selfishly promoting his own desires, and disregarding the unspoken but understood feelings of my loved one. allowing my loved one to be the only one to make sacrifices in what she needs and wants, in order to still have the scraps of whatever the baddie is willing to offer.
that is not the way to treat a person. any person.
that behavior is not a sign of respect.
that behavior is selfish. it is manipulative. and it is wrong.
but what is a witness to do?
i know that this situations occurs all of the time. probably every day. i've seen it. i've heard about it. i've watched it on television. i've listened to it in songs. none of them provide an answer to my question.
i have been that person. that girl who allowed herself and her needs to be minimized in order to glean even a fraction of what i really wanted from a relationship. my baddie knew what he was doing - he even later admitted to it.
i also had witnesses to my situation, friends who were gently honest with me and warned me of what was going on. warned me that, no matter how long i waited or hoped, my baddie was never going to give me what i wanted and needed.
they prompted me to make a break. they certainly tried.
it didn't help.
i knew what they were saying was true. i knew that, eventually, i would end up immensely disappointed, probably broken. but i just wasn't ready. i didn't have the emotional fortitude at that point in time to make the break, to give up on the huge amount of joy that i found in even the tiny scraps he threw my way.
eventually, it had to happen. and it did. the break and the fallout. the acceptance, the disappointment, and the frustration.
and so it has to happen for my loved one. having been there, it makes it even harder to watch.
and it does break you. for a while, at least.
The longer the connection, the harder the fallout. that's all there is to it.
if only i could give the baddies a taste of their own medicine...wishful thinking.
the breaking point
when it happens, i will be there for my loved one. whenever. wherever. however i need to be of support.
but how in the HELL do i help to soften the blow? is it my place, is it even possible, for an outsider witnessing the wrongdoing to save the victimized loved one from further and deeper hurt?
my current answer: i have no idea.
i don't want to overstep my boundaries. i also don't want to put effort into something that would prove fruitless.
i had to make up my own mind when i was the one being wronged. i had to let my heart catch up to my head. i had to stockpile up enough courage to make the break. there was nothing anyone else could say or do to change the progress of events.
it's just so damn hard to watch it happen.
fuck the baddie. figuratively. literally would just be too kind.
to you readers: i'm interested in your thoughts. i'm sure that, to some extent, we have all been that person who was wronged by a baddie. baddies are everywhere. and sometimes they travel in packs.
fuck 'em.
i'm ponding a question today...a question relating to a situation that makes me more and more agitated, anxious, and angry as i continue to allow my mind to contemplate it.
...it takes a lot to make me really mad. i am downright angry as i type this post...
what is one to do as they see someone they love being wronged? that is the question.
the answer?
your first thought probably is, as mine would be: stop it. put an end to it.
protect the fuck out of that loved one.
and that's my first reaction.
but what about when the situation is more complex than simply the wronging of a loved one.
what if, in this situation, the loved one realizes that they are being wronged, and isn't entirely ready for it to end. the loved one is almost an accomplice, an enabler to their own wronging? willing to sacrifice parts of him or herself in order to maintain in the company of the wrong-doer? intellectually aware of the situation, but emotionally unprepared to remove themselves from the bad guy/girl and accept help or help themselves?
let's call this wrong-doer, bad/guy girl, the baddie. easier, gender-neutral and can be more easily applied to various situations.
let's also include a quick note on behalf of the baddie: a baddie is not necessarily a bad person. a baddie is simply someone who, in this case, knowingly wrongs someone else. often repeatedly. to their own benefit, resulting in the harming of someone else. perhaps good at the core, this individual is behaving selfishly in order to get exactly what they want out of a situation without giving anything they don't care to give.
this situation - the one making me clench my teeth and beat on my keyboard:
this particular baddie is a selfish baddie. someone who wants only certain aspects of my loved one, but not the whole package. who is willing to give of themselves only as much as is required to obtain what they want. who probably views themselves as "honest" in having provided the disclaimer that they're not looking for anything serious, while acting in a way which they understand will continue to draw in their object of prey.
he's using her. and they both know it.
the baddie is knowingly wronging my loved one. this baddie is selfishly promoting his own desires, and disregarding the unspoken but understood feelings of my loved one. allowing my loved one to be the only one to make sacrifices in what she needs and wants, in order to still have the scraps of whatever the baddie is willing to offer.
that is not the way to treat a person. any person.
that behavior is not a sign of respect.
that behavior is selfish. it is manipulative. and it is wrong.
but what is a witness to do?
i know that this situations occurs all of the time. probably every day. i've seen it. i've heard about it. i've watched it on television. i've listened to it in songs. none of them provide an answer to my question.
i have been that person. that girl who allowed herself and her needs to be minimized in order to glean even a fraction of what i really wanted from a relationship. my baddie knew what he was doing - he even later admitted to it.
i also had witnesses to my situation, friends who were gently honest with me and warned me of what was going on. warned me that, no matter how long i waited or hoped, my baddie was never going to give me what i wanted and needed.
they prompted me to make a break. they certainly tried.
it didn't help.
i knew what they were saying was true. i knew that, eventually, i would end up immensely disappointed, probably broken. but i just wasn't ready. i didn't have the emotional fortitude at that point in time to make the break, to give up on the huge amount of joy that i found in even the tiny scraps he threw my way.
eventually, it had to happen. and it did. the break and the fallout. the acceptance, the disappointment, and the frustration.
and so it has to happen for my loved one. having been there, it makes it even harder to watch.
and it does break you. for a while, at least.
The longer the connection, the harder the fallout. that's all there is to it.
if only i could give the baddies a taste of their own medicine...wishful thinking.
the breaking point
when it happens, i will be there for my loved one. whenever. wherever. however i need to be of support.
but how in the HELL do i help to soften the blow? is it my place, is it even possible, for an outsider witnessing the wrongdoing to save the victimized loved one from further and deeper hurt?
my current answer: i have no idea.
i don't want to overstep my boundaries. i also don't want to put effort into something that would prove fruitless.
i had to make up my own mind when i was the one being wronged. i had to let my heart catch up to my head. i had to stockpile up enough courage to make the break. there was nothing anyone else could say or do to change the progress of events.
it's just so damn hard to watch it happen.
fuck the baddie. figuratively. literally would just be too kind.
to you readers: i'm interested in your thoughts. i'm sure that, to some extent, we have all been that person who was wronged by a baddie. baddies are everywhere. and sometimes they travel in packs.
fuck 'em.
patience tank.
you've heard of the "love tank", no doubt. you know - when it's full, you're feeling fulfilled in your relationship(s), and when it's running on empty, you're feeling low.
similar in concept, i imagine my own personal level of patience to be found in my "patience tank" - i start fresh in the morning with a full tank. as the day progresses, it naturally declines as i use up my store.
little gems throughout the day can definitely boost that level in my tank back up a notch. those things can include sex, a good talk with a friend, a beer (or whatever your poison may be - just not tequila!), a nap, exercise...i could go on, but i won't for your sake. you get the picture. extra injections of patience throughout the day are certainly possible, the way i imagine it.
then, there are the patience-sucks that drain your tank more quickly than would naturally occur. like a headache. or pms. assholes. ____<-- you can fill in the blank (feel free to comment below).
i spent my morning - two hours of it, to be exact - in a patience-sucking environment. it was a powerful suck-age in meeting form with a kind but overly verbose man. i'll provide further insight in a moment, but to give you a visual...
my patience tank currently looks about like this:
i'm running very low...especially for the time of day. it's my lunch break, and i'm right around where i ought to be around bed time. i feel as if my patience quota has been unfairly depleted, stolen from me and the rest of the world forced to encounter me for the remaining hours of the day...unless, of course, i get refueled at some point. i see a glass of pinot noir in my future (and hopefully some sex).
anyway. back to the patience depletor.
he's a good guy, this man. let's call him mr. morningkill (or "mr. m" for short). he has good intentions. he's a little dated for the modern working world, but fairly intelligent.
did i mention he's verbose?
he's the kind of person who can describe one word with 100. who makes his point by making 10 points that are only vaguely relevant. he speaks slowly, intentionally, and endlessly. he repeats himself, just to be sure you got it. he doesn't believe you when you say you had it before he "taught it to you"...and so he repeats the process.
it reminds me of the moment in sandlot, when one of the boys describes things getting lost to "the beast" ...a moment in which he says, "f-o-r-e-v-e-r!!!" yeah. that's how long this meeting seemed to take.
halfway though, i pulled the "ladies room" card, tried to keep my face in a similar expression as to that it had held during our meeting, and went to look in the mirror. did it reveal annoyance? for sure. was it offensive? hopefully not...but mr. m can be sensitive. so i practiced my best, fake, looking-forward-to-whatever-you-have-to-say smiles, and headed back into the danger zone.
don't worry. i made it out alive. but with a perilously low patience tank.
perhaps my patience tank is smaller than that of other people. i have debated that before. or perhaps it's just my personal triggers for patience depletion, my susceptibility to the patience-suck, which are more commonly found in daily life than those patience-sucks belonging to other folks. for me, it includes things such as the following:
-blatant stupidity
-people who don't actually listen
-dirty spaces
-sleep deprivation & hunger
-people who think they are more attractive/intelligent/funny than they actually are
-poor vocabulary
-whining
-close-mindedness
-wasting time
i'm a girl who likes to get shit done. most things (i hate checking my mail...one of a very few exceptions). i like to be efficient. i like to get to the point. i like productivity, and i like concise meetings.
what sucks your patience? do you have your own version of my mr. morningkill?
...am i just an impatient asshole?
share your thoughts.
similar in concept, i imagine my own personal level of patience to be found in my "patience tank" - i start fresh in the morning with a full tank. as the day progresses, it naturally declines as i use up my store.
little gems throughout the day can definitely boost that level in my tank back up a notch. those things can include sex, a good talk with a friend, a beer (or whatever your poison may be - just not tequila!), a nap, exercise...i could go on, but i won't for your sake. you get the picture. extra injections of patience throughout the day are certainly possible, the way i imagine it.
then, there are the patience-sucks that drain your tank more quickly than would naturally occur. like a headache. or pms. assholes. ____<-- you can fill in the blank (feel free to comment below).
i spent my morning - two hours of it, to be exact - in a patience-sucking environment. it was a powerful suck-age in meeting form with a kind but overly verbose man. i'll provide further insight in a moment, but to give you a visual...
my patience tank currently looks about like this:
i'm running very low...especially for the time of day. it's my lunch break, and i'm right around where i ought to be around bed time. i feel as if my patience quota has been unfairly depleted, stolen from me and the rest of the world forced to encounter me for the remaining hours of the day...unless, of course, i get refueled at some point. i see a glass of pinot noir in my future (and hopefully some sex).
anyway. back to the patience depletor.
he's a good guy, this man. let's call him mr. morningkill (or "mr. m" for short). he has good intentions. he's a little dated for the modern working world, but fairly intelligent.
did i mention he's verbose?
he's the kind of person who can describe one word with 100. who makes his point by making 10 points that are only vaguely relevant. he speaks slowly, intentionally, and endlessly. he repeats himself, just to be sure you got it. he doesn't believe you when you say you had it before he "taught it to you"...and so he repeats the process.
it reminds me of the moment in sandlot, when one of the boys describes things getting lost to "the beast" ...a moment in which he says, "f-o-r-e-v-e-r!!!" yeah. that's how long this meeting seemed to take.
halfway though, i pulled the "ladies room" card, tried to keep my face in a similar expression as to that it had held during our meeting, and went to look in the mirror. did it reveal annoyance? for sure. was it offensive? hopefully not...but mr. m can be sensitive. so i practiced my best, fake, looking-forward-to-whatever-you-have-to-say smiles, and headed back into the danger zone.
don't worry. i made it out alive. but with a perilously low patience tank.
perhaps my patience tank is smaller than that of other people. i have debated that before. or perhaps it's just my personal triggers for patience depletion, my susceptibility to the patience-suck, which are more commonly found in daily life than those patience-sucks belonging to other folks. for me, it includes things such as the following:
-blatant stupidity
-people who don't actually listen
-dirty spaces
-sleep deprivation & hunger
-people who think they are more attractive/intelligent/funny than they actually are
-poor vocabulary
-whining
-close-mindedness
-wasting time
i'm a girl who likes to get shit done. most things (i hate checking my mail...one of a very few exceptions). i like to be efficient. i like to get to the point. i like productivity, and i like concise meetings.
what sucks your patience? do you have your own version of my mr. morningkill?
...am i just an impatient asshole?
share your thoughts.
showin' my ass
while packing my gym bag last night i was intentional. i knew i had two important meetings today, and wanted to look sharp. professional, yet feminine. put together, with a little flare. i chose a cream-colored dress, crochet & lace overtop a solid slip. nude shoes. a chunky red necklace to finish it off and give it a little "pop" of color.
the dress was a little something like this, in a cream color:
...little did i know that wasn't the only "pop" of color i'd have goin' on today.
my first meeting was this morning, at a major hospital in the area. my colleague and i showed up, met our potential client in the lobby, and were guided through the building to his office. we passed patients. we passed candy stripers. we passed doctors, nurses, and other staff. we conversed along the way, and things were clearly starting off on the right foot. i had a good feeling about this meeting, and i was looking forward to sitting down in this potential clients office with my colleague for a solid technical chat.
he brought us to his department office, and the door quickly opened for us. the gentlemen, being gentlemen, let me walk in first, and i quickly heard from my right "miss....miss...MISS!" i turned and found a receptionist, waving me over, actually requesting that i walk around her desk and come over where i can stand just beside her.
my first thought - maybe she wants me to sign in, but she wants to watch me write? maybe she has to issue me some sort of security badge to show that i'm allowed to be in the facility? i honestly had no clue.
she indicated that i lean down, and so i did. in my ear, she whispered, "uh, ma'am. i got a call from the ladies at the front. something about your dress. your slip."
i thought to myself...well, my dress is on. hemline was almost at my knees, it wasn't on backward....
she saw my confused look and indicated i should come back down for another whisper: "your slip seems to be caught. everyone can see your undergarments. we thought you should know."
first pop of color: my face going bright red.
(please keep in mind - my male colleague and male potential client are literally 4 feet away from me making small talk while i'm around the receptionists desk. gotta.keep.my.cool.)
i look down, and realize that my slip has indeed become caught right around my hips, and my bright blue underwear is absolutely visible through the top layer of my dress. front and back. fuck ME.
...and so, what's a girl to do? i duck to the side, stick my hands up my skirt, and yank the sucker down, that's what. and then i march my ass - in a ladylike fashion - right into the conference room in order to get this business meeting started.
the meeting went well. great, in fact. i won't lie - the entire time i was wondering whether or not the two gentlemen in the room were aware of my booty-baring debacle. i was also thanking my lucky stars that i've been doing squats lately.
at the conclusion of our meeting, i snuck ahead of the guys to the receptionist, and thanked her for letting me know. just to be safe - i gave her a gander of my backside to ensure no cheek-age was visible. i got a thumbs up.
i certainly got the "pop" of color i was looking for today. in the company color, no less. next time, though, i think i'm going to invest in some strategically placed safety pins. to save my ass.
the dress was a little something like this, in a cream color:
...little did i know that wasn't the only "pop" of color i'd have goin' on today.
my first meeting was this morning, at a major hospital in the area. my colleague and i showed up, met our potential client in the lobby, and were guided through the building to his office. we passed patients. we passed candy stripers. we passed doctors, nurses, and other staff. we conversed along the way, and things were clearly starting off on the right foot. i had a good feeling about this meeting, and i was looking forward to sitting down in this potential clients office with my colleague for a solid technical chat.
he brought us to his department office, and the door quickly opened for us. the gentlemen, being gentlemen, let me walk in first, and i quickly heard from my right "miss....miss...MISS!" i turned and found a receptionist, waving me over, actually requesting that i walk around her desk and come over where i can stand just beside her.
my first thought - maybe she wants me to sign in, but she wants to watch me write? maybe she has to issue me some sort of security badge to show that i'm allowed to be in the facility? i honestly had no clue.
she indicated that i lean down, and so i did. in my ear, she whispered, "uh, ma'am. i got a call from the ladies at the front. something about your dress. your slip."
i thought to myself...well, my dress is on. hemline was almost at my knees, it wasn't on backward....
she saw my confused look and indicated i should come back down for another whisper: "your slip seems to be caught. everyone can see your undergarments. we thought you should know."
first pop of color: my face going bright red.
(please keep in mind - my male colleague and male potential client are literally 4 feet away from me making small talk while i'm around the receptionists desk. gotta.keep.my.cool.)
i look down, and realize that my slip has indeed become caught right around my hips, and my bright blue underwear is absolutely visible through the top layer of my dress. front and back. fuck ME.
...and so, what's a girl to do? i duck to the side, stick my hands up my skirt, and yank the sucker down, that's what. and then i march my ass - in a ladylike fashion - right into the conference room in order to get this business meeting started.
the meeting went well. great, in fact. i won't lie - the entire time i was wondering whether or not the two gentlemen in the room were aware of my booty-baring debacle. i was also thanking my lucky stars that i've been doing squats lately.
at the conclusion of our meeting, i snuck ahead of the guys to the receptionist, and thanked her for letting me know. just to be safe - i gave her a gander of my backside to ensure no cheek-age was visible. i got a thumbs up.
i certainly got the "pop" of color i was looking for today. in the company color, no less. next time, though, i think i'm going to invest in some strategically placed safety pins. to save my ass.
mate preferences
i'm back, and still playing catch-up from our trip to europe. we visited london and barcelona, during which time we ate well, drank well, walked a ton and often froze our asses off. it was a very.good.time.
in between furiously ensuring i haven't let any balls drop at work (figurative, not literal balls) i have had the pleasure of reading an article entitled, "A Half Century of Mate Preferences: The Cultural Evolution of Values." and i liked it.
if you haven't yet noticed, i have an overarching, addictive interest: the human condition.
inside of that, i am specifically drawn to romantic relationships and any factoids to help me understand why folks are (or are not) attracted to other folks.
this article clued me in a bit. let's chat.
it's a long piece, written to describe the results of a cross-generational study done in two parts, one in the 1980's and one in 1996. in includes data spanning over 50 years, in an attempt to summarize value changes throughout the 20th century.
as it's so long, i'm going to summarize it for ya. if you think you're game for tackling the article itself, i suggest reading the intro, and then dipping down into the discussion portion at the end of each study.
before we get started, let it be known: i want to hear from you! why do you think these changes have come about, in your opinion? do you think the findings of this study are true and visible in your own modern life?
alright, baby. it's time.
here's the intro, in summary:
the 20th century has witnessed changes more radical and irretrievable than any previou scentury in the history of the human species. cars became commonplace in the first half, computers in the second. internet dating, virtual sex, and the specter of AIDS altered the landscape of human mating (banging). women have entered the work force at unprecedented levels. heightened awareness of sexual harassment, date rape, wife battering, and other forms of sexism have forced people to reevaluate assumptions about men and women. in the context of these cultural changes, a core question: have human values changes and, if so, in what ways? have we witnessed the cultural evolution of values?
values in human mating offer one arena within which these questions can be posed. mate preferences most likely have been influenced by cultural changes. one clear example pertains to widespread use of birth control, specifically oral contraceptives.
birth control reduces the unwanted or untimely onset of pregnancy. on this basis alone, we might predict that the importance of chastity in a potential partnership might diminish, relative to the importance of other traits. on the other hand, the widespread fear of stds should have the opposite effect of increasing the relative value people place on a chaste potential partner.
a second change pertains to the influx of women in the workforce, resulting in greater personal access to economic resources. it has been well documented that women more than men value economic resourced in a long-term romantic partner, an apparent fact universal across cultures. according to the "structural powerlessness" hypothesis, the importance owmen place on a man's economic resources should diminish as women gain greater personal access to such resources. the value women place on a potential mate's financial prospects, on this hypothesis, occurs because marriage has traditionally been the primary means by which women can secure access to resources. as women's personal access to resources increases as a result of their own labors, according to this hypothesis, the relative importance they attach to a mate's resources should diminish commensurably. recent research conducted at a single time period with a single sample in the US failed to support the structural powerlessness hypothesis, but a cross-cultural study conducted the same way found some support.
a third change (which amy finds very interesting) pertains to the bombardment of images featuring physically attractive models and actors. in the 20th century in the US, consumers moved from a reliance on radio to a pervasive use of tv, movies, and, more recently, internet images. intense exposure to images of attractive models produces decrements in men's commitment to their regular partner. what the fuck? from an evolutionary psychological perspective, such images may "trick" our evolved mating mechanisms, deluding us into believing that we are surrounded by hundreds of attractive partners, as well as hundreds of potential intrasexual competitors. might this bombardment of visual images elevate the value we place on physical attractiveness, relative to other traits?
the cross-cultural study (spanning more than 50 years) was designed to answer the following questions:
(a) what values in a mate, if any, have changed over this 57 year period?
(b) which values have remained constant despite changes in society?
(c) have the sex differences diminished over time as women gained greater personal access to economic resources?
(d) are there regional cultural differences within the same generation that might reflect differing degrees of cultural shifts?
study 1
participents from 1980's
results: three conclusions can be drawn. first, regions within the united states appear to differ in the values they place on a marriage partner, perhaps reflecting differences in the impact of various cultural changes in this century. a texas sample, in particular, appears to differ from the other samples in placing a greater value on chastity, good financial prospects, social status, and a similar religious background. second, several consistent sex differences were found that transcended sample. men in all samples placed more importance on good looks, whereas women in all samples placed more importance on good financial prospects, ambition, and industriousness. third, there was a tremendous similarity across all regions and sex in the overall ordering of the values. both sexes in all four samples, for example, rated mutual attraction and love as the most important value in selecting a marriage partner.
study 2
participents from 1996
results: for both men and women, there appeared to be an overall increase in the valuation of mutual attraction and love (especially from 1939), education and intelligence, sociability, and good looks. in contrast, there appeared to be a general decrease in the valuation of refinement, neatness, and chastity for both men and women. in addition to the changes that occurred in both sexes, several generational shifts appeared to be unique to sex. for men, there was an overall increase in valuation of similar educational background and good financial prospects as well as an overall decrease in valuation of good cook and housekeeper. for women, there was an overall decrease in valuation of ambition and industriousness.
summary
despite the apparent generational shifts, characteristics appeared to attain high levels of continuity in valuation across the assessment periods. dependable character, emotional stability and maturity, and pleasing disposition retained high levels of valuation for both sexes. similar political background reatined low levels for both sexes.
in addition to the continuities, six major sex differences recurred in each assessment period. men placed a higher premium that did women on good health, good cook/housekeeper, and good looks. in contrast, women placed a higher premium than did men on ambition and industriousness, similar educational background, and good financial prospects.
-- the end of the article summary --
so, what are your thoughts?
i won't lie. while i recognize (and have chosen accordingly) the importance of handsome physical features in my mate, i also would be less attracted to a man who earned less money than i did, or who i felt was lazy. i find someone who is hard working more attractive than someone with perfect looks and a lazy disposition.
my brother puts more emphasis on good looks in his future mate, with little to no interest in how much money they make. relating to the "housekeeper" quality noted above, he has specifically mentioned that he is significantly less attracted to women whose apartments are messy. while i have discouraged this seeming "picky" position of his, i don't believe he's much different from many other men.
i'm not saying that it's "right" - it just is.
what are your thoughts?
in between furiously ensuring i haven't let any balls drop at work (figurative, not literal balls) i have had the pleasure of reading an article entitled, "A Half Century of Mate Preferences: The Cultural Evolution of Values." and i liked it.
if you haven't yet noticed, i have an overarching, addictive interest: the human condition.
inside of that, i am specifically drawn to romantic relationships and any factoids to help me understand why folks are (or are not) attracted to other folks.
this article clued me in a bit. let's chat.
it's a long piece, written to describe the results of a cross-generational study done in two parts, one in the 1980's and one in 1996. in includes data spanning over 50 years, in an attempt to summarize value changes throughout the 20th century.
as it's so long, i'm going to summarize it for ya. if you think you're game for tackling the article itself, i suggest reading the intro, and then dipping down into the discussion portion at the end of each study.
before we get started, let it be known: i want to hear from you! why do you think these changes have come about, in your opinion? do you think the findings of this study are true and visible in your own modern life?
alright, baby. it's time.
here's the intro, in summary:
the 20th century has witnessed changes more radical and irretrievable than any previou scentury in the history of the human species. cars became commonplace in the first half, computers in the second. internet dating, virtual sex, and the specter of AIDS altered the landscape of human mating (banging). women have entered the work force at unprecedented levels. heightened awareness of sexual harassment, date rape, wife battering, and other forms of sexism have forced people to reevaluate assumptions about men and women. in the context of these cultural changes, a core question: have human values changes and, if so, in what ways? have we witnessed the cultural evolution of values?
values in human mating offer one arena within which these questions can be posed. mate preferences most likely have been influenced by cultural changes. one clear example pertains to widespread use of birth control, specifically oral contraceptives.
birth control reduces the unwanted or untimely onset of pregnancy. on this basis alone, we might predict that the importance of chastity in a potential partnership might diminish, relative to the importance of other traits. on the other hand, the widespread fear of stds should have the opposite effect of increasing the relative value people place on a chaste potential partner.
a second change pertains to the influx of women in the workforce, resulting in greater personal access to economic resources. it has been well documented that women more than men value economic resourced in a long-term romantic partner, an apparent fact universal across cultures. according to the "structural powerlessness" hypothesis, the importance owmen place on a man's economic resources should diminish as women gain greater personal access to such resources. the value women place on a potential mate's financial prospects, on this hypothesis, occurs because marriage has traditionally been the primary means by which women can secure access to resources. as women's personal access to resources increases as a result of their own labors, according to this hypothesis, the relative importance they attach to a mate's resources should diminish commensurably. recent research conducted at a single time period with a single sample in the US failed to support the structural powerlessness hypothesis, but a cross-cultural study conducted the same way found some support.
a third change (which amy finds very interesting) pertains to the bombardment of images featuring physically attractive models and actors. in the 20th century in the US, consumers moved from a reliance on radio to a pervasive use of tv, movies, and, more recently, internet images. intense exposure to images of attractive models produces decrements in men's commitment to their regular partner. what the fuck? from an evolutionary psychological perspective, such images may "trick" our evolved mating mechanisms, deluding us into believing that we are surrounded by hundreds of attractive partners, as well as hundreds of potential intrasexual competitors. might this bombardment of visual images elevate the value we place on physical attractiveness, relative to other traits?
the cross-cultural study (spanning more than 50 years) was designed to answer the following questions:
(a) what values in a mate, if any, have changed over this 57 year period?
(b) which values have remained constant despite changes in society?
(c) have the sex differences diminished over time as women gained greater personal access to economic resources?
(d) are there regional cultural differences within the same generation that might reflect differing degrees of cultural shifts?
study 1
participents from 1980's
results: three conclusions can be drawn. first, regions within the united states appear to differ in the values they place on a marriage partner, perhaps reflecting differences in the impact of various cultural changes in this century. a texas sample, in particular, appears to differ from the other samples in placing a greater value on chastity, good financial prospects, social status, and a similar religious background. second, several consistent sex differences were found that transcended sample. men in all samples placed more importance on good looks, whereas women in all samples placed more importance on good financial prospects, ambition, and industriousness. third, there was a tremendous similarity across all regions and sex in the overall ordering of the values. both sexes in all four samples, for example, rated mutual attraction and love as the most important value in selecting a marriage partner.
study 2
participents from 1996
results: for both men and women, there appeared to be an overall increase in the valuation of mutual attraction and love (especially from 1939), education and intelligence, sociability, and good looks. in contrast, there appeared to be a general decrease in the valuation of refinement, neatness, and chastity for both men and women. in addition to the changes that occurred in both sexes, several generational shifts appeared to be unique to sex. for men, there was an overall increase in valuation of similar educational background and good financial prospects as well as an overall decrease in valuation of good cook and housekeeper. for women, there was an overall decrease in valuation of ambition and industriousness.
summary
despite the apparent generational shifts, characteristics appeared to attain high levels of continuity in valuation across the assessment periods. dependable character, emotional stability and maturity, and pleasing disposition retained high levels of valuation for both sexes. similar political background reatined low levels for both sexes.
in addition to the continuities, six major sex differences recurred in each assessment period. men placed a higher premium that did women on good health, good cook/housekeeper, and good looks. in contrast, women placed a higher premium than did men on ambition and industriousness, similar educational background, and good financial prospects.
-- the end of the article summary --
so, what are your thoughts?
i won't lie. while i recognize (and have chosen accordingly) the importance of handsome physical features in my mate, i also would be less attracted to a man who earned less money than i did, or who i felt was lazy. i find someone who is hard working more attractive than someone with perfect looks and a lazy disposition.
my brother puts more emphasis on good looks in his future mate, with little to no interest in how much money they make. relating to the "housekeeper" quality noted above, he has specifically mentioned that he is significantly less attracted to women whose apartments are messy. while i have discouraged this seeming "picky" position of his, i don't believe he's much different from many other men.
i'm not saying that it's "right" - it just is.
what are your thoughts?
travelin' (wo)man
"i'm leavin', on a jet plane. don't know when i'll be back again..."
...that's a lie. i'll be back on march 11th. but you get the point. i'm going on a trip!
the boyfriend and i, plus a favorite married couple, are headed out this evening for london. after london, it's on to barcelona. and then home.
it's something i've been looking forward to for a while, and i can't believe it's here.
..i also can't believe how stressed out it makes me!
my boyfriend and i both have professional alter-egos. there's business boyfriend. and then there's business amy. beware the alter egos.
business amy differs greatly from average aQ. business amy is direct. business amy is fast. business amy has very little patience, doesn't appreciate anyone contributing to delays in any shape or form, and is less likely to be flexible.
business amy likes to get.shit.done.
you can tell if business amy has still taken me over if you talk to me on the phone. the boyfriend calls me every evening from whichever city he happens to be in, and can quickly discern who he's talking to. is she calm and sleepy? hello, average aQ. somewhat snappy and to the point? alter ego is still in charge.
while business amy is helpful, even necessary in certain situations, she certainly gets in the way sometimes. she seems to come out in moments or days of higher-than-average stress.
preparing for travel is one of those stressors.
hello, readers. this is business amy typing. bwah-ha-ha-ha.
my poor boyfriend. my poor family. my poor friends. those who have encountered my alter ego probably leave my presence with shivers. business amy can be cold.
the only really great cure i've found? red wine.
which is exactly what i plan to dose myself with as soon as i hit the plane this evening. it'll be cheap. but it'll be red. and it'll kick the ass of any remnant of business amy left in my system. i'm really looking forward to it.
and speaking of looking forward to things...i am SO looking forward to my trip. once my feet are on the ground outside of heathrow, it's game on. beer:30. time for fish 'n chips, tapas bars, playing tourist and playing with accents. even languages!
i will be acting as the group interpreter while we are in barcelona. and man, are my comrades in for it.
it's been a while since i have really been in need of my deeply buried spanish skills. they're dusty. they're rusty. and my grammar is terrible.
i'm praying that i don't accidentally respond with profanities and a smile. that i don't order goat when i was hoping for fish. that i don't call someone a prostitute when i intended to call them a professional. i especially hope i don't lead anyone to believe i'm pregnant when i had hoped to admit that i was embarrassed - no doubt i'll do something to humiliate myself. vocabulary is key, and mine in spanish leaves a lot to be desired.
i have no doubt i will return home with many a silly story. embarrassing photos. and a hangover.
but until my feet hit the chilly ground of london, i have to get there. and i have a plan. here's my itinerary:
1. leave office.
2. get home and pack up the rest of my shit.
3. briefly freak out that i've forgotten something (underwear isn't necessary..i'm sure going commando is more than accepted in europe. deodorant and bras, for me, are non-negotiables.)
4. get dropped off at the airport and freak out that i forgot my passport (jeff will have it)
5. get my ass on the plane.
6. get a glass of wine in my hand
7. promptly pass out with the help of tylenol pm
8. feet on the ground in london (hours, and hours, and hours later)
wish me luck. i'll miss you until then. hasta luego...i'll be back!
...that's a lie. i'll be back on march 11th. but you get the point. i'm going on a trip!
the boyfriend and i, plus a favorite married couple, are headed out this evening for london. after london, it's on to barcelona. and then home.
it's something i've been looking forward to for a while, and i can't believe it's here.
..i also can't believe how stressed out it makes me!
my boyfriend and i both have professional alter-egos. there's business boyfriend. and then there's business amy. beware the alter egos.
business amy differs greatly from average aQ. business amy is direct. business amy is fast. business amy has very little patience, doesn't appreciate anyone contributing to delays in any shape or form, and is less likely to be flexible.
business amy likes to get.shit.done.
you can tell if business amy has still taken me over if you talk to me on the phone. the boyfriend calls me every evening from whichever city he happens to be in, and can quickly discern who he's talking to. is she calm and sleepy? hello, average aQ. somewhat snappy and to the point? alter ego is still in charge.
while business amy is helpful, even necessary in certain situations, she certainly gets in the way sometimes. she seems to come out in moments or days of higher-than-average stress.
preparing for travel is one of those stressors.
hello, readers. this is business amy typing. bwah-ha-ha-ha.
my poor boyfriend. my poor family. my poor friends. those who have encountered my alter ego probably leave my presence with shivers. business amy can be cold.
the only really great cure i've found? red wine.
which is exactly what i plan to dose myself with as soon as i hit the plane this evening. it'll be cheap. but it'll be red. and it'll kick the ass of any remnant of business amy left in my system. i'm really looking forward to it.
and speaking of looking forward to things...i am SO looking forward to my trip. once my feet are on the ground outside of heathrow, it's game on. beer:30. time for fish 'n chips, tapas bars, playing tourist and playing with accents. even languages!
i will be acting as the group interpreter while we are in barcelona. and man, are my comrades in for it.
it's been a while since i have really been in need of my deeply buried spanish skills. they're dusty. they're rusty. and my grammar is terrible.
i'm praying that i don't accidentally respond with profanities and a smile. that i don't order goat when i was hoping for fish. that i don't call someone a prostitute when i intended to call them a professional. i especially hope i don't lead anyone to believe i'm pregnant when i had hoped to admit that i was embarrassed - no doubt i'll do something to humiliate myself. vocabulary is key, and mine in spanish leaves a lot to be desired.
i have no doubt i will return home with many a silly story. embarrassing photos. and a hangover.
but until my feet hit the chilly ground of london, i have to get there. and i have a plan. here's my itinerary:
1. leave office.
2. get home and pack up the rest of my shit.
3. briefly freak out that i've forgotten something (underwear isn't necessary..i'm sure going commando is more than accepted in europe. deodorant and bras, for me, are non-negotiables.)
4. get dropped off at the airport and freak out that i forgot my passport (jeff will have it)
5. get my ass on the plane.
6. get a glass of wine in my hand
7. promptly pass out with the help of tylenol pm
8. feet on the ground in london (hours, and hours, and hours later)
wish me luck. i'll miss you until then. hasta luego...i'll be back!
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