Quote:
Maximus: "What we do in life, echoes in eternity."
Okay, so Gladiator is not the usual RomCom that I whine about, but it is my notoriously favorite movie. It has the best director, best script, best actors, costumes, sets, lightings, you name it. I adore all of it.
I chose this line because it's been chiming in my head for three days straight, as my Christian conviction finally plays on its new pull at my mind. I have nightmares of facing God with these dark patches on my soul and trying to explain what I was thinking. I am horrendously naive when it comes to men. It's not such an uncommon thing to have to fight against your hormones and acting upon them, but I feel like I have an especially difficult time to hold back, when I have trust in the opposite person, am attracted to them, the moment is there, and I assume I know how it's going to turn out.
I have absolutely never, ever been right.
Now that I'm come through the other side of completely immersing myself in all the secular world has to offer, I am facing the recovery mode of having to forgive myself for what I've done, and trusting that God, and my future husband, will too. This is by no means an easy feat. These people I have loved, I loved them purely when they did not, and they linger in my heart. Every one. Letting go was always the thing I had the most difficult with.
I had a friend who gave me a discouraging, yet somehow encouraging piece of advice very recently. He said that if you believe that there is a perfect "One" for you, then that means there are about 4 million men out there who are not it.
Ironically, I kissed this Fountain of Knowledge and he ended up being wrong too.
Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Go ahead, I'll wait.
Done now? I told you my life was one big self-sabotaging cliche after another. But I try hard to not let it be one hurt after another anymore. I matured slightly in this sense and upon a great adulthood discovery (Eureka!) realized I could simply change my situation with God and a nice calming attitude change.
Yeah, wow, Nobel prize winning stuff, I know! I do have these moments of awesome.
Yeah, except that's not me, that's the God in me. He brings me strength, and happiness, and good, honest friends to encourage me and laugh with. My darkest moments are becoming fewer and far between.
So, even though most of the guys I've dated have been awful, childish and selfish jerks, some of them have given me great happiness and memories. These are what I cling to, while I do my best to not bring up what is potentially hurtful.
I have a great life setup, always have. Terrible things have happened. Everyone has tragedy and mistakes. God helps, He truly does. It's all I can do but have faith that the love story He is writing will be a thousand times better than whatever I have tried writing myself. I just need to hand over the pen. Or in my case, the laptop keyboard.
And hey, if the Gladiator can phoenix his way out of his life struggles, I can too, right?
For the glory of Rome! Tally ho and onward.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Watching: 500 Days of Summer
Quote:
McKenzie: "You know, Henry Miller said the best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature."
Tom: "That guy had a lot more sex than me."
I relate to this movie in so many ways. The way Joseph Gorden Levitt's character just stumbles through love picking up the pieces while is seems everyone else has a perfect grasp on what's happening. I've always felt I take things too hard, and too literally, that I've thrown myself to love carelessly without thought on it eventually failing. I had such high hopes for it once, being the 'Tom Hansen' believer in the love Santa, now I've all but completely lost faith in such, but still long for the enjoyment of company, while making sure to keep them emotionally at bay, as did Summer in the movie.
I've come to the harsh realization that I'm out of prospects. There is no one I know that I yield any desire towards, or if I do, they do not have feelings for me. Though that fact seems pretty scary, I've also found that it isn't a bad thing. At least I've become firmly grounded in not wanting to mess with any more douches or stalkers. I'll wait it out for a good one.
It's always back to the timing of things with me.I feel like life bombards me with things too quickly for my brain to manage, like it tosses me into a pool and tells me sink or swim. I just sit in my pajamas, eat Ben and Jerry's Half Baked, and cry it out while spying on people's Facebooks. Or writing blogs at 2 AM.
I blame it on my girl best friend's pregnancy, and the marriage of my guy best friend, the happiness of my coupled-off family, and my long-time break-up process with a very true but doomed and stupid love. The last severed string of contact between us was cut off by my ex, and I can't help but feel the loss of a very dear friend. No matter what people tell me, or what bad blood is there, it is such a loss.
Tom Hanson broke plates, ate Twinkies and drank liquor. I'm too attached to my lovely dishware and don't much feel like cleaning or disturbing the neighbors in my apartment complex. I also despise taking shots and watching myself get fatter with each bite of Hostess. It doesn't work for me. Thanks a lot, movies, once again, you are no help.
I wish I could do what that first quote says and just write it all into a novel. I like writing, it's great therapy, and it worked for when my one love died. But I have dreamed of the story of my ex and I, and the twisted tale we weaved, and I don't feel like reliving such pains. My dead ex and I had nothing but good memories, while the Douche and I had mostly bad. Slight difference.
Time has to pass. I have to not fear the future, I still got a lot more ahead. But I'm also impatient.
Ah, young adult life.
McKenzie: "You know, Henry Miller said the best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature."
Tom: "That guy had a lot more sex than me."
I relate to this movie in so many ways. The way Joseph Gorden Levitt's character just stumbles through love picking up the pieces while is seems everyone else has a perfect grasp on what's happening. I've always felt I take things too hard, and too literally, that I've thrown myself to love carelessly without thought on it eventually failing. I had such high hopes for it once, being the 'Tom Hansen' believer in the love Santa, now I've all but completely lost faith in such, but still long for the enjoyment of company, while making sure to keep them emotionally at bay, as did Summer in the movie.
I've come to the harsh realization that I'm out of prospects. There is no one I know that I yield any desire towards, or if I do, they do not have feelings for me. Though that fact seems pretty scary, I've also found that it isn't a bad thing. At least I've become firmly grounded in not wanting to mess with any more douches or stalkers. I'll wait it out for a good one.
It's always back to the timing of things with me.I feel like life bombards me with things too quickly for my brain to manage, like it tosses me into a pool and tells me sink or swim. I just sit in my pajamas, eat Ben and Jerry's Half Baked, and cry it out while spying on people's Facebooks. Or writing blogs at 2 AM.
I blame it on my girl best friend's pregnancy, and the marriage of my guy best friend, the happiness of my coupled-off family, and my long-time break-up process with a very true but doomed and stupid love. The last severed string of contact between us was cut off by my ex, and I can't help but feel the loss of a very dear friend. No matter what people tell me, or what bad blood is there, it is such a loss.
Tom Hanson broke plates, ate Twinkies and drank liquor. I'm too attached to my lovely dishware and don't much feel like cleaning or disturbing the neighbors in my apartment complex. I also despise taking shots and watching myself get fatter with each bite of Hostess. It doesn't work for me. Thanks a lot, movies, once again, you are no help.
I wish I could do what that first quote says and just write it all into a novel. I like writing, it's great therapy, and it worked for when my one love died. But I have dreamed of the story of my ex and I, and the twisted tale we weaved, and I don't feel like reliving such pains. My dead ex and I had nothing but good memories, while the Douche and I had mostly bad. Slight difference.
Time has to pass. I have to not fear the future, I still got a lot more ahead. But I'm also impatient.
Ah, young adult life.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Watching: The Holiday
Iris: "As a matter of fact, he's a huge shmuck. How did you know?"
Arthur: "He let you go. This is not a hard one to figure out. Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend...?"
This movie has no real value to anyone's life, and kind of drags, but there are certain moments that stick out-- as another example, the "AM I HAPPY NOW" quote, I have used and reused several times in my life with the Douche.
It seems like in my life, that every six months, I'm in a completely and utterly different stage of life than I was before. I just re-read my past two blogs and shook my head at how different life was then. I guess I'll try to be brief as I fill you in on what's happened.
Since Mr. Perfect is what you last heard about, I'll start there:
Finally, I found out Mr. Perfect's flaw.
He's a F-ing coward. In all his beauty and personality, I guess there was not room for a backbone. He just stopped calling one day, then I see Facebook pics of him and another girl, and I knew it was over. "An embarrassment", he called me when I finally reached him on his cell about two weeks later. "A mistake". It struck hard at the old ego, and I'll never forget how I felt when he said it.
But I tried to not let it get to me, I simply nodded it off and tried to move on. Which was well and good, as I start hanging out with an old ex of mine, happen to bring him to a mutual party, Mr. Perfect happens to show up, and stinks up the place with obvious jealousy, and has the gall to throw harsh words at me about it. Pot, meet Kettle. You are the only one that's black.
Com'on. Really?
Over that. Nice guy. Just a mixed-up coward.
Let's get back to that old ex. We'll call him... well, he looks a lot like Michael Cera, so I'll stick with that name. After Michael Cera and I broke up, we remained awkward friends, and simply left it at that. He was recently deciding on a move up north, so during those weeks right after Mr. Perfect, I started hanging out with him to get our last friendship kicks in before he left.
He ended up kissing me at a movie, much to my surprise. It was very much like our first kiss, which was also sudden blitz inside a parked car. I didn't know what to feel. I was just surprised, but then it was just.... okay, whatever.
For the next month, due to the rebound timing, and the comfort in already knowing the guy, we 'fake dated'. This time, I knew exactly what to expect. I got no feelings in too deep, and when he left without a goodbye, I was absolutely fine.
I don't know how long of time passed until he called me from his place out of state. Could have been a month, maybe two. I didn't know he was drunk when he called. I didn't know how he really felt about me. But I do know, that call was the death of me, and I wish I had never answered.
I fell for all of it, the-- "I haven't stopped talking or thinking about you since I left", "You are the hottest person on the planet", and my personal favorite: "The only thing missing here is you". I blame my heartbreak for the vulnerability, because I agreed to pay half of a plane ticket for a visit. I took the time off, the day was set, I just waited for his end of the money...
and waited...
I don't know where I find these spineless boys who just drop off and stop calling without communicating that their minds have changed. Okay, maybe I should be less naive and more aware that normal guys don't talk about their feelings. Doesn't stop me from wanting one that does.
So, when I finally get a hold of that one, he tells me very simply: "You didn't expect me to just shun all other girls, did you?"
Pow, right in the kisser. Another phrase to be engraved in the memory banks forever. He had found someone else he wanted to "f--- rather than me" as I told him. At least, knowing him, I have the very real satisfaction that it is definitely his loss. Knowing him, he probably substitutes his own loneliness with an overweight 18 year-old girl who is sex-starved. But hey, he's still getting more than me.
Which brings me to about four months after that, in other words, the now. I left my job for its weak hours and new management injustices. Though it was a decision that made me happen, it also ruined me financially. I'm borrowing money from the Douche (he owes me) just so I can save my pride in front of my parents.
My stupid-ass pride, I swear.
I blame that on being the youngest, my yearning for independence, to achieve the fabled 'adulthood', to prove I can handle my own life, which Fate loves to throw to shit for laughs. I'm in a hurry to catch up to the life I thought I would have by the age 21, and as the years tick by, and my life stays the same crap, same boys, same pennyless self, soon to be homeless once more... I easily get discouraged.
Did I mention my other bestie, Best Guy Friend, just got engaged? I was the only actor in the proposal scheme, and the only witness to it. I got it on video. So I could replay my pain.
Best Guy Friend is one of the most handsome, decent people I know, and in fact, that's how I met him. I was set up to meet the 'nice, handsome blonde friend' and we just hit it off together. I was attracted to him at first, but it wore off quickly, and we grew closer and closer until he was like my brother.
Until I saw him propose to someone else. Not only that, but obviously, truly, happily, mean it with his whole heart. I'd never seen him so happy. And it wasn't that I was jealous because I was attracted to him at all, though it may have been a slight factor (only because I think he's pretty), but mostly, I know it was just because I wanted to be the fiancee. I wanted to be planning a wedding, to be done with boys... for a good, gorgeous one to get down on his knee and mean it to me. Best Guy Friend was the last ummarried friend I had. Now I feel like I'm having a repeat of last year with my Girl Bestie's engagement all over again. They've even got the same month as the date set.
So, basically, I'm a big scarred ball of hurt and resentment of my life a the moment, and I'm working on it. Not just the job search, the apartment search, or even the anti-boy-semitism, but getting back to that happy person I know I once was. Getting my head in the right place, knowing that this will all pass soon. I'll get another job soon, I'll get another boy someday when I'm ready, and when I do, my besties are going to pay me back tenfold when my time comes, I just know it.
And for now, I just keep telling myself that, cuz it's all I got.
Arthur: "He let you go. This is not a hard one to figure out. Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend...?"
This movie has no real value to anyone's life, and kind of drags, but there are certain moments that stick out-- as another example, the "AM I HAPPY NOW" quote, I have used and reused several times in my life with the Douche.
It seems like in my life, that every six months, I'm in a completely and utterly different stage of life than I was before. I just re-read my past two blogs and shook my head at how different life was then. I guess I'll try to be brief as I fill you in on what's happened.
Since Mr. Perfect is what you last heard about, I'll start there:
Finally, I found out Mr. Perfect's flaw.
He's a F-ing coward. In all his beauty and personality, I guess there was not room for a backbone. He just stopped calling one day, then I see Facebook pics of him and another girl, and I knew it was over. "An embarrassment", he called me when I finally reached him on his cell about two weeks later. "A mistake". It struck hard at the old ego, and I'll never forget how I felt when he said it.
But I tried to not let it get to me, I simply nodded it off and tried to move on. Which was well and good, as I start hanging out with an old ex of mine, happen to bring him to a mutual party, Mr. Perfect happens to show up, and stinks up the place with obvious jealousy, and has the gall to throw harsh words at me about it. Pot, meet Kettle. You are the only one that's black.
Com'on. Really?
Over that. Nice guy. Just a mixed-up coward.
Let's get back to that old ex. We'll call him... well, he looks a lot like Michael Cera, so I'll stick with that name. After Michael Cera and I broke up, we remained awkward friends, and simply left it at that. He was recently deciding on a move up north, so during those weeks right after Mr. Perfect, I started hanging out with him to get our last friendship kicks in before he left.
He ended up kissing me at a movie, much to my surprise. It was very much like our first kiss, which was also sudden blitz inside a parked car. I didn't know what to feel. I was just surprised, but then it was just.... okay, whatever.
For the next month, due to the rebound timing, and the comfort in already knowing the guy, we 'fake dated'. This time, I knew exactly what to expect. I got no feelings in too deep, and when he left without a goodbye, I was absolutely fine.
I don't know how long of time passed until he called me from his place out of state. Could have been a month, maybe two. I didn't know he was drunk when he called. I didn't know how he really felt about me. But I do know, that call was the death of me, and I wish I had never answered.
I fell for all of it, the-- "I haven't stopped talking or thinking about you since I left", "You are the hottest person on the planet", and my personal favorite: "The only thing missing here is you". I blame my heartbreak for the vulnerability, because I agreed to pay half of a plane ticket for a visit. I took the time off, the day was set, I just waited for his end of the money...
and waited...
I don't know where I find these spineless boys who just drop off and stop calling without communicating that their minds have changed. Okay, maybe I should be less naive and more aware that normal guys don't talk about their feelings. Doesn't stop me from wanting one that does.
So, when I finally get a hold of that one, he tells me very simply: "You didn't expect me to just shun all other girls, did you?"
Pow, right in the kisser. Another phrase to be engraved in the memory banks forever. He had found someone else he wanted to "f--- rather than me" as I told him. At least, knowing him, I have the very real satisfaction that it is definitely his loss. Knowing him, he probably substitutes his own loneliness with an overweight 18 year-old girl who is sex-starved. But hey, he's still getting more than me.
Which brings me to about four months after that, in other words, the now. I left my job for its weak hours and new management injustices. Though it was a decision that made me happen, it also ruined me financially. I'm borrowing money from the Douche (he owes me) just so I can save my pride in front of my parents.
My stupid-ass pride, I swear.
I blame that on being the youngest, my yearning for independence, to achieve the fabled 'adulthood', to prove I can handle my own life, which Fate loves to throw to shit for laughs. I'm in a hurry to catch up to the life I thought I would have by the age 21, and as the years tick by, and my life stays the same crap, same boys, same pennyless self, soon to be homeless once more... I easily get discouraged.
Did I mention my other bestie, Best Guy Friend, just got engaged? I was the only actor in the proposal scheme, and the only witness to it. I got it on video. So I could replay my pain.
Best Guy Friend is one of the most handsome, decent people I know, and in fact, that's how I met him. I was set up to meet the 'nice, handsome blonde friend' and we just hit it off together. I was attracted to him at first, but it wore off quickly, and we grew closer and closer until he was like my brother.
Until I saw him propose to someone else. Not only that, but obviously, truly, happily, mean it with his whole heart. I'd never seen him so happy. And it wasn't that I was jealous because I was attracted to him at all, though it may have been a slight factor (only because I think he's pretty), but mostly, I know it was just because I wanted to be the fiancee. I wanted to be planning a wedding, to be done with boys... for a good, gorgeous one to get down on his knee and mean it to me. Best Guy Friend was the last ummarried friend I had. Now I feel like I'm having a repeat of last year with my Girl Bestie's engagement all over again. They've even got the same month as the date set.
So, basically, I'm a big scarred ball of hurt and resentment of my life a the moment, and I'm working on it. Not just the job search, the apartment search, or even the anti-boy-semitism, but getting back to that happy person I know I once was. Getting my head in the right place, knowing that this will all pass soon. I'll get another job soon, I'll get another boy someday when I'm ready, and when I do, my besties are going to pay me back tenfold when my time comes, I just know it.
And for now, I just keep telling myself that, cuz it's all I got.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Watching: Kate and Leopold
Quote: Kate: "Maybe that whole love thing is just a grown-up version of Santa Claus; just a myth we've been fed since childhood. So, we keep buying magazines, joining clubs, and doing therapy and watching movies with hit pop songs played over love montages all in a pathetic attempt to explain why our love Santa keeps getting caught in the chimney."
I know why MY love Santa keeps getting stuck in the chimney. He's too damn FAT! I have huge expectations for whoever my man is going to be, and not every guy can fit down that chute.
Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaah... That being said...
So, I went on my date.
It was pretty awesome. He opened all the doors, including car, paid for the sushi and ice cream to follow, and seemed hesitant to let me go. I even got my first lesson in driving a stick-shift.
Ironically, I've just gotten through with a relationship where the creepy scary person fell in love too quick and wanted to marry me within the week. Now, I AM that person, and my God, is it ever the most awful feeling ever. This guy was that great, and even with all the crap going on in my life, it's a beautiful distraction that's making me grin through it all. It's spring, folks, and I am twitterpated. Perhaps, way too much. I've done the worst thing I could do to the relationship. I put the dude on a pedestal.
It sucks. I don't like being this much in 'like' toward another person, it's frustrating and scary, as well as a toll on my self-esteem. I think way too much already, without adding way too much feeling toward another human being into the mix. Worst of all, I am aware of this and CAN'T SHUT IT THE HELL OFFFFFFF.
OhmyGodgrrrrr.
I'm annoying even myself. I've become the person I make fun of.
So, God or Satan or whoever, thinks it would be a good jolly laugh to lay me a few claymores in the field.
First brain explosion, was when Mr. Perfect told me he was only staying in town until June, when he was leaving on a tour de Europe and then moving back to the Valley where he was from. Therefore, he is 'not looking for anything serious'.
BOOM. Heart failure.
"Anything could happen in two months," is what my friends optimistically encourage. Well, he firmly sounded like he was leaving SD and everyone in it behind. I didn't know how to handle such a atom bomb, so I just said we would "enjoy each other until then", at the very least. It also raised the question of why we wouldn't be able to continue anything after he moved? I've had more than a little experience with the long distance relationship. He hinted back that it was too early to speak of such things, and I let the question fall to the ground lifeless, knowing he was absolutely right.
So, the countdown begins, and the pressure to be that desirable person to my beau whilst maintaining as much of myself I can manage, it's a delicate balance, perhaps too much so.
Bomb number 2: I apparently offended him tonight, after he once bragged that no one could easily offend him AND said he liked me in the first place for my brashness. The word 'emasculated' was used. He didn't tell me what I did or said, exactly, just said it was nothing to worry about and he was just 'setting a boundary'. I feel terrible. It's why I'm up at 3 A.M. posting this in order to clear my head enough to sleep. Pretty sure I got more than a bit of my father's A.D.D., and the not knowing is what truly bothers me the most.
I know I'm putting too much pressure on myself through all this and I need to relax and let it go. Especially since I'm going to have to soon anyway. I just feel literally cursed with a passion for this man. All we've done is made out a few times, felt each other up, nothing major. I barely know him. Yet, I ache to be with him, and it's just sad and stupid. I'm addicted to the way he looks at me, his respectful hands, and most creepily of all, the way he smells. I used to be an Axe girl, and I'm slowly switching over to the dark side of Old Spice.
Actually being IN LOVE, one that feels so right, is really just the pits, I tell ya. Pretty sure it was Woody Allen who said:
"To love is to suffer."
Some song (that I can't remember the name of) said:
"I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."
WRONG! My prayer tonight? Dear God, please LET YOUR PEOPLE GO... of their feelings.
:/ <--- way sideways face.
I know why MY love Santa keeps getting stuck in the chimney. He's too damn FAT! I have huge expectations for whoever my man is going to be, and not every guy can fit down that chute.
Yeeeeeeeeeaaaaah... That being said...
So, I went on my date.
It was pretty awesome. He opened all the doors, including car, paid for the sushi and ice cream to follow, and seemed hesitant to let me go. I even got my first lesson in driving a stick-shift.
Ironically, I've just gotten through with a relationship where the creepy scary person fell in love too quick and wanted to marry me within the week. Now, I AM that person, and my God, is it ever the most awful feeling ever. This guy was that great, and even with all the crap going on in my life, it's a beautiful distraction that's making me grin through it all. It's spring, folks, and I am twitterpated. Perhaps, way too much. I've done the worst thing I could do to the relationship. I put the dude on a pedestal.
It sucks. I don't like being this much in 'like' toward another person, it's frustrating and scary, as well as a toll on my self-esteem. I think way too much already, without adding way too much feeling toward another human being into the mix. Worst of all, I am aware of this and CAN'T SHUT IT THE HELL OFFFFFFF.
OhmyGodgrrrrr.
I'm annoying even myself. I've become the person I make fun of.
So, God or Satan or whoever, thinks it would be a good jolly laugh to lay me a few claymores in the field.
First brain explosion, was when Mr. Perfect told me he was only staying in town until June, when he was leaving on a tour de Europe and then moving back to the Valley where he was from. Therefore, he is 'not looking for anything serious'.
BOOM. Heart failure.
"Anything could happen in two months," is what my friends optimistically encourage. Well, he firmly sounded like he was leaving SD and everyone in it behind. I didn't know how to handle such a atom bomb, so I just said we would "enjoy each other until then", at the very least. It also raised the question of why we wouldn't be able to continue anything after he moved? I've had more than a little experience with the long distance relationship. He hinted back that it was too early to speak of such things, and I let the question fall to the ground lifeless, knowing he was absolutely right.
So, the countdown begins, and the pressure to be that desirable person to my beau whilst maintaining as much of myself I can manage, it's a delicate balance, perhaps too much so.
Bomb number 2: I apparently offended him tonight, after he once bragged that no one could easily offend him AND said he liked me in the first place for my brashness. The word 'emasculated' was used. He didn't tell me what I did or said, exactly, just said it was nothing to worry about and he was just 'setting a boundary'. I feel terrible. It's why I'm up at 3 A.M. posting this in order to clear my head enough to sleep. Pretty sure I got more than a bit of my father's A.D.D., and the not knowing is what truly bothers me the most.
I know I'm putting too much pressure on myself through all this and I need to relax and let it go. Especially since I'm going to have to soon anyway. I just feel literally cursed with a passion for this man. All we've done is made out a few times, felt each other up, nothing major. I barely know him. Yet, I ache to be with him, and it's just sad and stupid. I'm addicted to the way he looks at me, his respectful hands, and most creepily of all, the way he smells. I used to be an Axe girl, and I'm slowly switching over to the dark side of Old Spice.
Actually being IN LOVE, one that feels so right, is really just the pits, I tell ya. Pretty sure it was Woody Allen who said:
"To love is to suffer."
Some song (that I can't remember the name of) said:
"I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."
WRONG! My prayer tonight? Dear God, please LET YOUR PEOPLE GO... of their feelings.
:/ <--- way sideways face.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Watching: Blue Valentine
Quote: Ryan Gosling's character: "Maybe I've seen too many movies, you know, love at first sight. What do you think about love at first sight? You think you can love somebody just by looking at them? But the thing is man, I felt like I knew her, you ever get that feeling? You know when a song comes on and you just gotta dance?"
I love this awfully depressing movie to death. Ryan Gosling is a very underrated force in acting. He touches a place in my soul that makes me ache and want someone brilliant to keep him on a script forever.
The theme in this movie is a love that fades, or maybe was always unrequited. I fear at night that I will marry someone I love more than they love me, and cheat, or leave, or simply not love me in the way I know I deserve.
I have issues, I'm aware. Strangely, none of these come from my father. I have a great father. I just weaved a wonderful life tapestry of bad choices and ill fortunes.
It's been a little while, but a lot has happened in a little amount of time. Didn't end up going to the wedding with anyone, and being alone really sucked. My speech went over great, especially since the Best Man didn't seem 'all there'... made me look even better. But, my relationship dynamic with my bestie has, of course, changed, and I haven't seen her much since the wedding. I make fun of her on the phone saying how I understand because she's probably busy having all sorts of sex with her new hubby. Which BTW, I never see her without, even on the few times I get to snag a quick visit. Kind of sad, but I totally get it. I would be the exact same way in her shoes.
(Insert not-so-subtle jealousy quip here.)
I want to be married so bad. Yet, there's no way in hell I want to rush it at ALL. I just want to skip a few years to when I'm already comfortable with my perfect man and all the dating dust has settled into good ol' routine normalities of dependable relationship comforts. Is that too much to ask?
To add insult to injury, the Douche proposed to me... Then two hours later got his 2ND DUI.
I deemed it a great time to say our final farewells. I feel bad for abandoning him in his time of need, but this was a mistake he brought on himself, right? I told him, "It's not like this was a fateful fluke, that a cop just HAPPENED to catch you drunk-driving. We both know you do this all the time." Plus, he's obviously just stupid.
Oh, yes, did I mention he got arrested for possession last month too? Classy.
As much as I will love that man for as long as I live, I know it's only because he was so many of my firsts. It was time to call that relationship's time of death long ago. I was hanging around with defibrillator paddles yelling "CLEAR!" for months.
______________________________________________<-- that's the relationship flatlined.
Double sad.
Yet, I got over it quickly this time around. I feel like an old hat getting over that boy, since I've had to do it so many breakups before.
Also, during the time of sadness, I used to be stuck working at a horrible fast food burger joint, which for my own protection, and for their overly stuck-up ways, we will call Snobby Burgers to keep their anonymity (since I still work there one day a week). At Snobby Burgers, the rules are way excessively strict, the people high-stress levels at all times, the rushes never cease, and worst of all, their talk revolves around A SCRIPT. I pride myself on my people skills, and being restricted to a damn script was like someone putting hands around my throat and squeezing. Everyone is your boss, everyone is angry, if they bother to speak to you at all.
Not all bad things came out of Snobby Burgers though. I did meet a guy... (well, two, actually, the first one was a weirdo I was never really attracted to and dumped after a couple of weeks after coming upon the discovery of his lunacy.)
(SIDE NOTE: Never introduce dudes to your older brother until you know how they react in large groups... As if my bro needed more stories to embarrass me at parties with... Eesh, what an embarrassing disaster. Don't make me talk about it.)
Anyway, I still stand by that I was hired and had my time at Snobby Burgers for a reason. And that reasons name is... well, let's call him Mr. Perfect until I can discover something wrong with him, because I've been looking hard for the flaws and I haven't found any yet. He's the perfect balance of Christianity and party, great sense of humor, gentle voice and demeanor, handsome features and a great physique. We had a great conversation over a 3 in the morning walk, upon discovering in the middle of the night that we lived across the street from one another. And he has taken to calling me 'my dear', which make those almost deadened high school stomach butterflies brush the dust off their wings and break out into a tango. I haven't been this excited about a 'potential' in a long time and I can't wait to see how that goes.
I have a sushi date with Mr. Perfect on Thursday. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.
:D <--- Really happy face.
I love this awfully depressing movie to death. Ryan Gosling is a very underrated force in acting. He touches a place in my soul that makes me ache and want someone brilliant to keep him on a script forever.
The theme in this movie is a love that fades, or maybe was always unrequited. I fear at night that I will marry someone I love more than they love me, and cheat, or leave, or simply not love me in the way I know I deserve.
I have issues, I'm aware. Strangely, none of these come from my father. I have a great father. I just weaved a wonderful life tapestry of bad choices and ill fortunes.
It's been a little while, but a lot has happened in a little amount of time. Didn't end up going to the wedding with anyone, and being alone really sucked. My speech went over great, especially since the Best Man didn't seem 'all there'... made me look even better. But, my relationship dynamic with my bestie has, of course, changed, and I haven't seen her much since the wedding. I make fun of her on the phone saying how I understand because she's probably busy having all sorts of sex with her new hubby. Which BTW, I never see her without, even on the few times I get to snag a quick visit. Kind of sad, but I totally get it. I would be the exact same way in her shoes.
(Insert not-so-subtle jealousy quip here.)
I want to be married so bad. Yet, there's no way in hell I want to rush it at ALL. I just want to skip a few years to when I'm already comfortable with my perfect man and all the dating dust has settled into good ol' routine normalities of dependable relationship comforts. Is that too much to ask?
To add insult to injury, the Douche proposed to me... Then two hours later got his 2ND DUI.
I deemed it a great time to say our final farewells. I feel bad for abandoning him in his time of need, but this was a mistake he brought on himself, right? I told him, "It's not like this was a fateful fluke, that a cop just HAPPENED to catch you drunk-driving. We both know you do this all the time." Plus, he's obviously just stupid.
Oh, yes, did I mention he got arrested for possession last month too? Classy.
As much as I will love that man for as long as I live, I know it's only because he was so many of my firsts. It was time to call that relationship's time of death long ago. I was hanging around with defibrillator paddles yelling "CLEAR!" for months.
______________________________________________<-- that's the relationship flatlined.
Double sad.
Yet, I got over it quickly this time around. I feel like an old hat getting over that boy, since I've had to do it so many breakups before.
Also, during the time of sadness, I used to be stuck working at a horrible fast food burger joint, which for my own protection, and for their overly stuck-up ways, we will call Snobby Burgers to keep their anonymity (since I still work there one day a week). At Snobby Burgers, the rules are way excessively strict, the people high-stress levels at all times, the rushes never cease, and worst of all, their talk revolves around A SCRIPT. I pride myself on my people skills, and being restricted to a damn script was like someone putting hands around my throat and squeezing. Everyone is your boss, everyone is angry, if they bother to speak to you at all.
Not all bad things came out of Snobby Burgers though. I did meet a guy... (well, two, actually, the first one was a weirdo I was never really attracted to and dumped after a couple of weeks after coming upon the discovery of his lunacy.)
(SIDE NOTE: Never introduce dudes to your older brother until you know how they react in large groups... As if my bro needed more stories to embarrass me at parties with... Eesh, what an embarrassing disaster. Don't make me talk about it.)
Anyway, I still stand by that I was hired and had my time at Snobby Burgers for a reason. And that reasons name is... well, let's call him Mr. Perfect until I can discover something wrong with him, because I've been looking hard for the flaws and I haven't found any yet. He's the perfect balance of Christianity and party, great sense of humor, gentle voice and demeanor, handsome features and a great physique. We had a great conversation over a 3 in the morning walk, upon discovering in the middle of the night that we lived across the street from one another. And he has taken to calling me 'my dear', which make those almost deadened high school stomach butterflies brush the dust off their wings and break out into a tango. I haven't been this excited about a 'potential' in a long time and I can't wait to see how that goes.
I have a sushi date with Mr. Perfect on Thursday. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.
:D <--- Really happy face.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Watching: The Wedding Date
So, I accidentally deleted my first post. I'm still new at this, and took no deep looming caution to when they warned me that 'this action cannot be reversed' was indeed the truth, and in retrospect should have had a better sense of care.
Nevertheless, I prevail.
You didn't miss much, I was just mulling over deciding between two men to take to my best friend's wedding reception, comparing my predicament to pretty much every romcom ever made, and as an update to such matters I chose neither boy as a date. I'm pretty much flying solo, unless you count going with my other best friend, who by a great stroke of fortune, happens to be male, handsome, and down to dance. Whether he is a good dancer or not is definitely not an important enough matter to consider addressing.
So, I found out my best friend was getting married in November. I've since written about four to five (depended on how many sentences you count as a proper speech) maid of honor toasts, all of which I deemed inappropriate for mixed company. Upon researching movies for some good ideas, I found that a helluva lot of movies use the same speeches over and over again!
Exhibit A:
"If you must lie, lie in the arms of one you love, if you must steal, steal away from bad company..." etc.
Gag me with a spoon.
We've all heard that load of crap before, that cheesy stream of blabber trying to come across as wit. Most every other movie has some person, be it man or woman, sobbing something equally cheesy. Or the comedic favorite: being belligerently drunk and saying something personal and/or mean about someone in the room, and getting yanked off the stage by a sober family member.
In a word, I'm quickly learning that though movies can give you a couple wise lines about relationships at times, and carefully woven fairy tale dreams to strive for, they rarely have something I can actually use. Don't judge me, I never thought movies would be my roadmaps for life, I'm just saying its a little hard to swallow when so many things in my life have been such a cliche, that not all things are like they are in the movies.
So, SHH! Don't tell anyone (and most of all my bestie), but like all things I'm stumped on, I went ahead and Googled it. I got some good ideas to put in the speech, but nothing really seems good or clever or appropriate enough for the love of my life, my sister, my girlfirend I wish had been born a man so I could marry myself.
She's so doubtless and fearless about it all that it scares me. She met the guy six months ago, so I don't have much to say in regards to him either, since we've barely hung out. I've been avoiding settling on what to say, and my time is running out. She gets married the day after tomorrow.
To top it all, I got an atom bomb dropped on me that put me in tears after I saw her tonight, having her tell me that because I was not Mormon like her, I couldn't watch her actually get married, walk her down the aisle, or even help her get ready. I would show up to basically take pictures, then wait outside the ice castle off the 5 freeway also known as their sacred 'Temple' until it was all over. She had been waiting this long to tell me because she had hoping she could change up the rules, but her efforts were, of course, futile, and she had to come to terms with it now.
I waited until after she left to have a cry about it. Then, I had a bit of unnecessary road rage, and called my ex to bitch at him too.
Tonight, as I write this, I realize that all of this, my lack of speech-writing, and my bridesmaid-zilla attitude behind the scenes, is just a cover-up for my real underlying fear of losing my best friend to someone else, while I feel left behind man-less and friendless. I feel like my heart is treating this like her death-day instead of her wedding day. For all the while, as I was helping her prepare for the wedding, with the fittings and color swatches and showers and bachelorettes, I felt happy so long as I was still as involved as I possibly could be. I strove to be an integral part of her big day. She's done a great job of humoring me in this way.
Until tonight. I even asked her if there was a way I could fake being Mormon for the short time, hell, I'd kiss a dozen frogs if it meant I could be Mormon for a day. She said there was some sort of certificate I had to get signed to prove it to the religious nazis over at the Temple. I need a permission slip to see my best friend get married? Anyone else think that's a load of shit?
Anyone?
Bueller?
I love you guys, you must know, both of my besties are Mormon, so, of course, I'll have to go through this again when my pretty best guy friend has his turn at the altar. But seriously, right now, all I want to say is:
SCREW the Mormon religion.
>:( <-- Mad face.
Nevertheless, I prevail.
You didn't miss much, I was just mulling over deciding between two men to take to my best friend's wedding reception, comparing my predicament to pretty much every romcom ever made, and as an update to such matters I chose neither boy as a date. I'm pretty much flying solo, unless you count going with my other best friend, who by a great stroke of fortune, happens to be male, handsome, and down to dance. Whether he is a good dancer or not is definitely not an important enough matter to consider addressing.
So, I found out my best friend was getting married in November. I've since written about four to five (depended on how many sentences you count as a proper speech) maid of honor toasts, all of which I deemed inappropriate for mixed company. Upon researching movies for some good ideas, I found that a helluva lot of movies use the same speeches over and over again!
Exhibit A:
"If you must lie, lie in the arms of one you love, if you must steal, steal away from bad company..." etc.
Gag me with a spoon.
We've all heard that load of crap before, that cheesy stream of blabber trying to come across as wit. Most every other movie has some person, be it man or woman, sobbing something equally cheesy. Or the comedic favorite: being belligerently drunk and saying something personal and/or mean about someone in the room, and getting yanked off the stage by a sober family member.
In a word, I'm quickly learning that though movies can give you a couple wise lines about relationships at times, and carefully woven fairy tale dreams to strive for, they rarely have something I can actually use. Don't judge me, I never thought movies would be my roadmaps for life, I'm just saying its a little hard to swallow when so many things in my life have been such a cliche, that not all things are like they are in the movies.
So, SHH! Don't tell anyone (and most of all my bestie), but like all things I'm stumped on, I went ahead and Googled it. I got some good ideas to put in the speech, but nothing really seems good or clever or appropriate enough for the love of my life, my sister, my girlfirend I wish had been born a man so I could marry myself.
She's so doubtless and fearless about it all that it scares me. She met the guy six months ago, so I don't have much to say in regards to him either, since we've barely hung out. I've been avoiding settling on what to say, and my time is running out. She gets married the day after tomorrow.
To top it all, I got an atom bomb dropped on me that put me in tears after I saw her tonight, having her tell me that because I was not Mormon like her, I couldn't watch her actually get married, walk her down the aisle, or even help her get ready. I would show up to basically take pictures, then wait outside the ice castle off the 5 freeway also known as their sacred 'Temple' until it was all over. She had been waiting this long to tell me because she had hoping she could change up the rules, but her efforts were, of course, futile, and she had to come to terms with it now.
I waited until after she left to have a cry about it. Then, I had a bit of unnecessary road rage, and called my ex to bitch at him too.
Tonight, as I write this, I realize that all of this, my lack of speech-writing, and my bridesmaid-zilla attitude behind the scenes, is just a cover-up for my real underlying fear of losing my best friend to someone else, while I feel left behind man-less and friendless. I feel like my heart is treating this like her death-day instead of her wedding day. For all the while, as I was helping her prepare for the wedding, with the fittings and color swatches and showers and bachelorettes, I felt happy so long as I was still as involved as I possibly could be. I strove to be an integral part of her big day. She's done a great job of humoring me in this way.
Until tonight. I even asked her if there was a way I could fake being Mormon for the short time, hell, I'd kiss a dozen frogs if it meant I could be Mormon for a day. She said there was some sort of certificate I had to get signed to prove it to the religious nazis over at the Temple. I need a permission slip to see my best friend get married? Anyone else think that's a load of shit?
Anyone?
Bueller?
I love you guys, you must know, both of my besties are Mormon, so, of course, I'll have to go through this again when my pretty best guy friend has his turn at the altar. But seriously, right now, all I want to say is:
SCREW the Mormon religion.
>:( <-- Mad face.
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