What's in a name?

“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”.

Ugh. Whatever, Bill.

So, as I have hinted on some of my social media accounts as well as gushing like a 13 year old girl, I am dating someone. We’ve been seeing each other for two months now and I like to say it’s serious, in that neither one of us is seeing anyone else. Also, he drives up every weekend to see me. Future plans are made well in advance and it’s just assumed that that’s just the way it’s going to be. However, something curious happened over the weekend.

We spent the day doing some fun stuff around the city, which included some cocktails (because, Baltimore) and I was feeling the liquid courage. When we got home, we were sitting on the couch and here’s what happened…

Me: So, since I’m slightly intoxicated and can’t be held responsible for what comes out of my mouth, can I be your girlfriend now?

M: *Big shit eating/patronizing grin* Awwww…..

Me: *stomaching falling out of butt* ha…well…that’s not really the reaction I was expecting *cue panic*

M: *puts hand on my face* You’re so beautiful…

Me: EW don’t compliment me now! *straight.up.dying.inside*

M: Haha oh my god stop!

Me: I’m sorry I brought it up. Just forget I said anything…

M: Well, what’s wrong with the way things are now?

Me: Nothing. I’m just used to defining things after some time, I’m not used to just ‘going with the flow’. I know that for all intents and purposes we are in a relationship, but, I mean, how am I supposed to introduce you to someone? ‘This is my FRIEND, M?’

M: Hmm…I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it. But isn’t it kind of High School? Like, ‘Will you be my girlfriend?’

Me: I don’t think so. But nevermind.

So, in true ME fashion, I panicked the rest of the evening. Every now and then saying “Sorry if I made things weird now” which would receive a “Oh my God, stop” from M. And I mean, everything was normal. He was super cuddly and cooked me a fantastic breakfast the next morning. But, I’m a mess.

I don’t understand his reaction. Why the hesitation? We essentially ARE what define a relationship between a boyfriend and a girlfriend. Plus, all of his friends call me M’s girlfriend. Why can’t he? What’s the big deal?

But on the other side of the argument, what is the big deal that I need for him to call me his girlfriend? It’s just a word, right? Wrong. For me, the title carries a level of respect to the relationship. I’m not some girl that he hangs out with. I am someone whom he spends a decent amount of time with. I need that security that that word can guarantee. As a functioning and realistic person who understands that people are people and they’re going to do what they want to do, one would hope that both people in the relationship would respect the title and what that relationship means.

Again, people, I get it. I got a big ol’ FUCK YOU when I was titled a fiancé so I know girlfriend is not going to stop anything. Here’s my thing, though, I need to have the conversation so both parties have the chance to both come to mutual understanding that they are in a relationship that is to be only between them and that there has to be that respect. As it stands right now, he owes me nothing and vice versa. If he were to do something with someone else, I technically cannot be angry as we have not established that we are in a monogamous relationship, other than me casually asking a handful of weeks ago if he was seeing anyone else (which he isn’t).

This is my first “relationship” since all the bullshit happened. It’s terrifying. I find that I panic really easily about stupid stuff and my mind is constantly going. I worry that I say too much and that I will drive him away. I know that my life will not end if we stop seeing each other, but, I’ve grown to really like this kid and I don’t want to lose it. I have to stop myself if I mentally question if what he’s saying to me is the truth. I have to remind myself that I must not hold him responsible for someone else’s crime. I need to remind myself that I did not drive Chris to cheat and that not everyone will do that to me. I need to remember that not everyone thinks like me.

What I really need is to get the fuck out of my own head.

I know everything will work out either way and it’s really not the end of the world. All I can surmise is that I DETEST DATING!

Today I Hate Exercising

More than usual.

I make it very plain that I do NOT like to exercise. To exercise I need to be tricked into it, like, dancing. I will dance until my face melts off. But to set out to run on the treadmill or the elliptical? PSH. I get bored.

I get tired.

I get over it, RULL fast.

It's a regular mental Game of Thrones and there's ALL KINDS of "Red Wedding" going on in my brain.

I've started going to this class called Pop Physique. It's AHMAHZING (you're welcome, Wil). It's a mixture of pilates and ballet barre and it is probably one of the hardest classes I've taken. But we listen to house music and the workout is split into threes- arms/chest, legs/ass, abs. And in between each big workout are long stretch sessions so you feel really long after you leave. You can visit the website here.

Anyway. The reason for the title.

You know those days that are just...annoying? They're not bad but they're not particularly good, either. They're typically Mondays. Well, today, mes amis, I had one of those annoying days and it continued into my class. I wasn't really into going anyway, but, Fatty McFatterson has begun her slow return and that bitch needs to stay back (plus, there are way too many restaurants in this city for me to just order a salad).

The annoying bit starts even before I leave the apartment- I can't find the partner to the the freaking $10 sock I have to wear for this class. Oh, I should have mentioned, this class is the typical white girl-lulu lemon yoga pants-i have to wear fancy socks- type of class. Obviously this is the type of class I would like. Anyway, lost sock = annoying. Thanks, dryer.

I get to class and then it really starts. Here's just some of the thoughts going on in my head:

"ugh God i don't wanna be here"
"i have to do this....i don't want to but I have to...."
"...is she....really? REALLY?! THE PRIMA BALLERINA IS GONNA SIT NEXT TO ME?! TODAY?!!? OF ALL DAYS?! Is it too late to bail?"
"ugh. sure. you're all bendy. thanks for showing off. and do you really have to wear the ballet slippers? and the top knot is a bit much. whatever."
"[teacher] is gonna wear a scarf the whole time? sure you get to look cute while we sweat our balls off. i really want her cartier bracelet. doesn't she worry that it's gonna get messed up?"
"i'm a really hateful person. what's wrong with me? c'mon endorphins...."
"this is really hard"
"breathe. breathe. breathe. breathe. breatheohmygodbreathe. breatheholyjesusbreathe"
"she's really skinny. she kinda looks like my old roommate. huh."
"OH COME ON, BALLERINA!"
"i really should be focusing on what i'm doing..."
"oh fuck. legs."
"FUCK MY LEGS"
"i'm gonna puke. i'm gonna pukeFUCKMYLEGS"
"[teacher] hates me. oh she hates me. she totally knows i'm cheating. whatever."
"i'm done. can we be done?"
"i really need to stop staring at [the ballerina]. she probably knows i'm looking. how is she so bendy?! she probably goes to yoga all the time. i should go to yoga. no i shouldn't, i hate yoga"
"DAMMIT, JANE FONDA!"
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW"
"ha. ballerina has no ass. at least i have an ass."
"HOLYFUCKINGSHITBALLSMYASSHURTSOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW"
"abs. abs. lets do this."
"omgggggggggggggggggggg this stretch feels so good."
"ya know...happy baby pose is really weird but this feels great. oh my hips....ow. ow. ow."
"yep. i'm still in a terrible mood."

I really did throw a lot of shade at Ms. Ballerina, lol. I'm not proud but, oh well.

As much as I hated working out today, I did it and I'm proud of myself. Let's just hope I keep it up this week.

Later, gators.

*tap tap* Is This Thing On?

Well, hello there. How goes it blog friend?

It's funny- blogging has gone the way of all my diaries growing up. I get it because I HAVE to have it, I write a couple entries and then I forget where I hide it until I really need it. But I have to say, I miss writing. I keep talking about how I'm going to write a book so I really need to get to work on what said book is going to be about.

Things are good. Busy, but good. Still trying to figure my life out, but, who isn't? Especially being in 20-something land. Speaking of, I celebrated my 27th birthday last month. HOLY BALLS. I. am. Twenty. Seven. Is this what it's supposed to feel like? I don't feel a day over 20 and I am nowhere near where I thought I'd be at this age. I still laugh when I think of how I had planned my life. The two options that I had given myself were 1. A successful actress, either on TV or in film. Possibly an owner of an Oscar and dripping in designers and men. 2. A successful actress who is married. EL OH EL, Life. EL OH EL.

About once a month I have a quarter-life crisis cathartic cry (ahhh the alliteration...) and go over where I'm at and what I want to do. But here's the kicker- I have no idea what I want to do. Or, I do, and I'm too afraid to say it out loud. I don't know if it's because I'm afraid if I say it out loud that I'll be disappointed or someone else will be disappointed. Or that I automatically talk myself out of it because it's not "doable" or "financially smart". I don't really know. And on top of that it doesn't help seeing all these articles about Gen Y-ers (or "GYPSYS" as one writer affectionately refers to us) about how we're entitled and have this inflated sense of self. What if I'm not as good as I think I am? What if I'm not as fabulous as I know I am? What if I need to stop having this idea for myself that I should be more? Fuck I hate the what ifs.

I don't know. I just want to mean something. I want it all to mean something. But how do I do that?

Wow. This post got all intense really fast, haha. Sorry! I do have some funny posts planned because, me and my life. So, until then mes amis....

Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

Hi All! Long time no blog, eh?

Something huge happened recently. I'm talking 2 carats and a platinum setting huge.

My engagement ring finally sold!!!!!!

I know some of you may be wondering if I feel okay about it or feel unsure if you should be happy for me or sad. And honestly, I'm over the moon.

I don't mean to come off callous at all. That is the furthest from my intentions and I'm sure I'm going to catch some flack for it, but, whatever. I struggled with the decision to sell my ring because I loved it. It was so different and it was such a personal decision for Chris. But, after I found out about all the other stuff, it just hurt. It represented something that would never happen and I didn't want to hold on to something that I wasn't even sure if it meant what I thought. So, in October I took my ring to a huge Tacori dealer in Virginia. I felt that I would get my money's worth and this ring would go to someone who would love it as much as I did.

And ooooh girl was that trip a t-rip. The gentleman that I worked with at the jeweler was very nice and didn't ask why I was selling. So he took the ring and told me that he was going to dismantle it to weigh it and make all the inspections to make sure things were up to snuff. Well, he came back in and sat the carcass of my engagement ring on the table. I'm talking the thing was in two pieces- diamond separate from the setting. Head and body in pieces. I actually had to stifle a gasp just because it was so pretty and so broken. Ha, kinda ironic, huh? The gentleman, J, asked if I was okay and if I wanted to move forward, which I appreciated. But, I was solid in my decision. Even though it was hard to let it go.

Months passed and having that loose end undone was hard. I just wanted to be finished with everything and this last piece of the puzzle was keeping me from doing that. Finally, I got the email that it had sold. I was elated. I am elated.

I. am. done.

I can't explain to you what this means to me. Hell, I don't really know what it means yet.

All I know is, is that I'm free.

And I got my Loubs.

If you know anything about me, you know I love my shoes. And I love Louboutins more than any other shoe in this world. When I decided to sell my ring, I made a promise to myself that I would buy my first pair, for two reasons.

1. I've always wanted a pair
2. Chris would have wanted me to

I'd like that think that Chris is happy with my decision to do this for myself. Because- guilt be damned- I fucking deserve it. I always feel guilty saying it, but, it's true. I've had a year from hell and he left me a gift of sorts that can help me do things for myself. So, thank you Chris. I get to start my life over in a beautiful pair of shoes!

Damned If I do. Damned If I don't.

For realz, dudes. This shit is ridiculous. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

Saturday was the anniversary of Chris' passing, what I've affectionally re-named "The Bad". And let me tell you, it's been pretty bad. All last week my feelings were up and down and I'm still stuck in more of the down side of things. Everyone's been really great and supportive and I apologize if I haven't been the nicest or the most positive.

I had a nice weekend. Friday was pretty rough- I lost it at work and had to go home early. But I got to hang out with my friend W and he always makes me feel better. We pretty much spent the weekend together, which was amazing. But, I feel like I somehow procrastinated my feelings. I had entertained the thought of going to Arlington to finally visit and say goodbye, but I couldn't fully commit to the idea. You're going to laugh when I tell you why.

All this time I've been saying how I just want to be done and move on, but, now that the time has come to be done and move on I feel like I don't want to. That I was sad to say goodbye. I mean, how do I feel now? What do I talk about? This whole year has just been about getting through and surviving. Well, I've survived- now what? How do I feel now? What do I feel now? What do I talk about on this blog? What do I talk about with people? I've had this crutch for the past year and now I feel like it's too hard to let go. It's like I'm letting go all over again.

But hadn't I let go? Didn't I let go when I decided to not let this whole thing hold me back?

I've always been the type of person that after a year anniversary passed of someone's death, I didn't really hold vigil for it anymore. I move past it. I mean, why continue to mourn and focus on the negative? Now I feel like I'm being such a hypocrite by feeling like I don't necessarily want to let go yet.

But seriously, what am I holding on to? Nothing. And yet, it feels like everything. Everything that I've been for this past year. I'm scared that I'm not allowed to feel sad anymore or have days when I'm kind of down in the dumps. Or I'm not allowed to silently resent the couples I see getting married. I have to be normal now and I don't know how to be.

I'm still so angry. I'm angry that I can never be that normal girl anymore. I'm angry that I have to figure everything out all over again. I'm angry that he's gone. I'm angry at what he's done. I'm just....I just hurt.

But at the same time, I don't hurt. I have moved on. I don't silently resent the couples. I'm already normal.

AHHHHHHHHH THIS IS SO FUCKING FRUSTRATING!

A Journal Entry

I was writing a new entry in my journal when I came across this one. I want to share it because in a strange way I'm proud of it. It's a bit wordy but, I don't care. When I read it, it takes me back to the very day that I wrote it.

I'm telling you now, chill out. Stop before you even start commenting on the link when I share this on my fb. Just. Chill. Out.

I'm fine. So here it goes...

November 17, 2012

Cry In The Bathroom

I don't know why I always have my good cries in the bathroom. I'm talking basic, guttural, fall on the floor type of cry. The type where you dig your fingers into your skin so hard that you hope that you're able to rip at least one memory out. The type that you're afraid your soul will fall out in one of your sobs.

My bathroom is a small one. Perfect for just myself. Black and white tiles cover the floor, as does my hair, and there is a white carpet runner down the center. I can't tell you how many times that carpet has been my solace. Actually, you probably can by looking at all the battle scars that are the mascara/tear stains that mix with its fibers. I don't know why I find it so comforting, but, every episode here I am: in child's pose or sitting like Buddha, turning to stone. Either waiting for emotional enlightenment or for the carpet to fly me away.

Today is the first day I've cried since I found out he cheated. After I found out it was all a lie. For a while I felt so good. Feeling like myself. The anger of it all pushing me to sanity, while being slightly unhinged. I mean, I laughed about it for Christ's sake.

Looking back this week has been a bit of a doozy emotionally. I'm tired, I got rid of my engagement ring, I've been constantly rejected and there's been too much visual presence of love. Oh, and lest I forget, remembering the lovely memory of discovering another girl's earrings in Chris' shit IN FRONT of his family.

Typically, the rejection from the likes of B would not affect me. I mean, it WOULD, but not to the level of achievement it's currently receiving. The thought that keeps assaulting my brain/heart is that once, just once, I want someone to love me enough to think of me. To choose me. To realize that the only answer is me.

I'm starting to resent a lot of things about myself. I hate that I'm considered pretty. I feel like I'm punished for it all the time. I hate that I give too much of myself. I hate that I care. I hate that I put other people before myself. I hate that I'm not good at one particular thing. I hate the way I make decisions. I hate the way I think. I hate that deep down I want to believe the best in people. I hate that I don't trust myself enough to make big decisions.

These are the thoughts that occur after the tears have stopped and the breathing has slowed. As I sit slightly slumped on my bathroom floor. These thoughts are intermingled with noticing how the texture in the paint is slightly raised and feeling the pain creeping up my back from having horrible posture, post-breakdown. Recognizing the ringing in my ears, despite the dingy bathroom silence. Noticing my heartbeat in the pools of tears that have yet to make their escape. Feeling the sensation of one tear losing itself, as it managed to remove itself from the others. Noticing that I'm holding my hands just so, that I'm cradling my naked ring finger. Wondering if it is Chris hauntingly guiding my hands to a soothing position.

And then I soberly remind myself that I do not feel him. I have not felt him at all since he's been gone. I do not feel the numbness of losing an appendage- of losing a piece of myself. To feel something missing. I am reminded ever-so of the gripping reality that I am pain-stakingly in the repsent. The searing, murderous feeling of being ever present in the here and now. The hard, cold truth that I am sitting on the floor, crying in the bathroom. Alone.

Anniversary

Hey stranger!

How goes it? Good? I hope so. Long time, no blog, eh?

Things have been going well. Every day I settle in more and more with my "new" life here. And I'm having a lot of fun. But, if you saw the title of this entry, the anniversary of all the hard times are coming.

Two weeks ago was mine and Chris' dating anniversary; May 15th.

I had been feeling a little wonky when the month started and I had actually started a blog post about it, but, never finished. It's funny...I'll feel all these feelings and then once I voice them, I feel better. But still the feelings are there, whether I want them or not. Which I don't.

I was in an Excel class all day on the 15th, which was probably the best thing for me. Subject matter that was in one way stimulating my mind and in another way, numbing it. I couldn't really focus on what that day meant or what I was feeling or thinking. But when I got home, I was making dinner for myself or something (I can't really remember what I was doing) and I just sat on the floor and bawled my eyes out. I hadn't cried like that in a really long time. And poor Beau, he just stared at me with this sweetest, confused look on his face and walked over and just laid on my lap. He tried to rub his face on mine but I was covering my face with my hands. And there was sat, just like that, for about 10 or 15 minutes. My friend, MM, came over later and brought me some wine which meant a lot. I felt okay the rest of the night. The next day, however, was a different story.

I woke up and it felt impossible to get out of bed. I was lethargic, anxious, just everything and nothing at the same time. And that's the worst feeling ever. You're absolutely REELING but feel like you weigh a ton so neither feeling is coming to fruition.

I sat down at my desk at work and just lost it. I told a few of my coworkers what was going on, when I was able, and they understood. But it got to the point that I really couldn't sit there anymore. I got up and went out to my car and called my mom and just sobbed. I was right back to feeling where I was last summer. I can't believe I felt that way for months. I don't wish that on anyone. It's awful. And I don't want to feel that way anymore. Any time I put my mind back there, the way my body physically reacts is...there are no words.

It's June 1st. In 14 days is the anniversary of what I have started calling The Bad; the day that my life changed forever. I'm terrified. I don't know how I will feel that day but I'm glad that it's on the weekend so I don't have to worry about work. I've contemplated going to the cemetery since I've never been and I want to have closure. I want to close this wound once and for all. A friend of mine told me that I don't need to physically be at the grave to have closure, but I like to stand on ceremony. For me, I need to physically be there. His....remains...if that's what you want to call them, are there. "He" is there. If I get to the cemetery and I'm blocked like I was last year, then I'll take that as a sign that I don't need to do it. But, I want to be done. "He" needs to "hear" what I have to say. And I don't feel him around so how do I know that he has "heard" what I've said at this point? I'm still so angry and hurt and I just need to release this for my sanity.

I hate that I have to do this. I hate that I'm not the person I was and will never be again. I hate that he took that from me. I hate how this entire process has happened. But, while I hate it, it is what it is. And I'm better for it.

If you haven't seen "The Great Gatsby" (uhh...you NEED to....), there is a scene where Gatsby is telling Nick the truth about his life. When he is talking about when he met Daisy, he says something that really resonated with me. He says, "I could have been a great man, Nick. I could have done great things, if I hadn't fallen in love".

Amen, Gatsby. A-freaking-men.

The Cat Brag

I judge me for my lack of blog updates. Eventually I'll stop having to apologize for my not keeping up on a timely basis. But, until that day arrives, I'm sooooooooorry!

I got a cat! An adorable, handsome, cutestlittlethingyou'veeverseenthatyouwannaeathisface cat!

Everyone, this is Beau.

Couldn't you just die? Ugh. I die so hard.

I had been considering getting a cat for a while but I was hesitating because of a few reasons:

1. I was worried about still being able to have a social life
2. Money
3. Caring for another living thing

The biggest thing holding me back was my dog, Sophie, whom I had while I was briefly living in North Carolina. I was unable to bring her with me back to Maryland and that devastated me. But, she went to a really great home and I still miss her. It's a pretty safe bet that I have some residual guilt from that situation. But, I the past is the past and the future is best, right?

Right!

So a few weeks back, I was on FB and a friend of mine had shared a "Second Chance" post for a cat named Ziggy at BARCS (Baltimore Animal Rescue Care Services). And I gotta tell ya, whoever writes their posts must have taken some SERIOUS creative writing classes because his description tugged my heart strings right to the shelter. I had to see the little guy and maybe save him from his cage.

I get there, visit Ziggy and he was just terrified. He was curled up all the way in the corner of his cage and was very leery of my presence. After a little time he let me pet him but that's it. We didn't really connect and my hand was COVERED in black hair. I have all carpet in my apartment and that really wouldn't have been ideal. I felt bad, but, I decided to browse. I met another kitty named Fancy Kitty and she was a talker. She meowed the whole time and basically laid her head in my hand. I liked her but I asked the girl to show me some of her favorites. She goes "Umm...." and kind of scanned some of the cages in the room we were in and she pointed to a cage with a cat named Tiger McLamb.

That's right, Tiger McLamb.

Mr. McLamb was taking a little nap, but, when he realized we were there to visit, he calmly got up and waited for the cage to open. The girl helping me picked him up and he immediately perched on her shoulders. She was telling me how calm he was and she always felt it was a good sign if they perched on you like he was. So, she passed him over to me and he immediately laid on my shoulder and purred. He was completely content and didn't want to get down.

"Uh-oh..." I thought. I knew I was in trouble.

I started to shift to put him back down and he wrapped himself around the back of my neck, almost like he was hugging me to say, "No. I want to stay".

I died.

I tried to stay as detached as possible. I hadn't 100% made up my mind yet about committing to getting a cat. But I knew I REALLY liked him. It actually turned out well for me because it was too late to adopt him that day. But I wouldn't have any way. I told the girl I wanted to go home and think about everything before I adopted him. So, she kindly put a 24 hour hold on him for me.

I went back and forth about it the rest of the night and all next day. I literally hadn't made up my mind until I walked into the shelter. Could I handle the commitment? Did I want the responsibility? What would I do if I had to go away? Luckily I have wonderful friends who helped me argue both sides. My personal favorite was my dad's response, "Kid 18 years, Cat 15 years. Get a Furby". BARCS definitely made sure this is really what I wanted- I had to wait for 2 hours to get Beau, formally Tiger McLamb. They were busy, then they had to get him ready, then we had to have a cat class, it was pretty legit. But, I stuck it out. I wanted my little man; My Beau. And I got him :-)

Right out of the box

I didn't make a sound in the box as we were driving home. I thought that was pretty amazing. And when I took him out, he immediately was all over me. He climbed up and he put himself on my shoulder like a little baby. I was hooked.

He is wonderful. He makes me want to come home at the end of the day and spend time at home. Actually, he's made this apartment really feel like a home.

Don't get me wrong, he still has the Cat-itude when he feels like copping one, but, he is still really mellow and loving. And funny! Boy, he cracks me up.

Let me tell ya 'bout muh best frand!

ugh. i can't.

"Kitty Dans la Ville"

I'm officially at Cat Lady status. But, can you blame me? He's so photogenic and awesome!

Ugh. I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

A Month In

As of Saturday, I have been a Baltimore resident for a month. So far the following things have happened:

- I reconnected with friends from back home and have been introduced to their fabulous friends
- I enjoyed myself so much that I fell down the steps at Max's Tap House
- I've all but forgotten that I DON'T have to give my number to everyone who asks for it
- My car was towed and it cost me $300. All because I didn't want to pay to take a cab. In the end, I still had to take a cab to go pick up my car
- I have gotten lonely
-I have worked until 11:30 pm
-I've had a near breakdown in FedEx/Kinkos
- I've kissed an Indian Lawyer
- I've kissed a BEAUTIFUL freshly turned 21 year old
-I've seen an amazing performer SO CLOSE that I could smell her perfume
- I've taken my stepmom and her bff out on the town
- I've cried in my bathtub
- I have eaten incredible food
- I have danced my ass off
- I have received a letter for jury duty for my first time EVER. For the court system in La Plata
- I have finished reading a book and started another
- I've hated living alone
-I've loved living alone
-I've made lovely new friends
-I've missed my friends from back home

As you can see, I've been all over the place, haha. To say the least. Not to worry, I'm still going strong. I'm just still getting comfortable and adjusting. The most difficult part of this whole journey, so far, has been the living alone part. I've never lived 100% by myself before. Even when I was out on my own before, I always had roommates. Twice I had roommates who moved out about a month before our lease was up, but that was different. That time was spent packing and getting ready to move. I didn't really have to time to sit and realize, "I am by myself". But, I have had plenty of time to sit on my couch and think, "I am by myself". It's weird.

It can be kind of scary at times because I'm a thinker. I literally think of ev.er.y.th.in.g. I go over every thought, situation, feeling and over analyze. Then I worry that I'm becoming neurotic. And then I worry that I'm going to have a Hannah-sized freak out and jab a q-tip so far in my ear that I live in a giant t-shirt for 3 days. God that episode was horrific.....but I digress.

The worst part is that I wonder if I made the right choice by moving here. Work, in all honesty, has been challenging. It's not bad, it's just different. It's a whole different thing being back in the corporate world. And to be in the corporate world doing what I went to college for, which I haven't really touched since 2009, is scary. When they say it's a $40 million deal, IT'S A $40 MILLION DEAL. It's not hypothetical. It's not for a grade. IT'S FOR $40 MILLION FREAKING DOLLARS! Now you understand why I would have a breakdown in Kinkos.

I hate that I do this. I hate that I question my decisions. But I can't help it.

See what I mean about my neuroses?

I know that it will get better. I know that I will hit my stride. It just takes time. You all have been with me long enough on this journey that you know I have a difficult time with patience. It is truly a virtue that I have to work on a daily basis.

I just miss the familiar. I miss knowing what I'm doing. I'm uncomfortable with all of this inner examination and thorough look-over of what I'm doing and where I'm going and how I'm going about it.

Everything will be fine, I know it will. And really, it already is. I'm just being silly. BLAAAAHHHHHHHH.

And here's hoping that I'm about to get out of jury duty...

Age Old Question

Picture this:

It is a beautiful Sunday evening. You decide to walk down to the city harbor to get out of your apartment and peruse some shops. You stop to get your favorite tea on your way back. As you're walking back to your apartment, you see a line of boys and decide to avoid them, being that you are by yourself. Then you hear them yell "YO GIRL! WHY YOU WALKIN' THAT WAY? LET ME SUCK YOUR P***Y".

Yes, I am serious.

Yes, I stopped in my tracks.

Mind you- there are about 20-25 other people standing around there, waiting for the bus. It took every fiber of my being not to turn around and go off.

I don't even know where to start. Who talks like that to women?! Who talks like that period?! Where the hell do you learn that that's okay?!

I've dealt with males saying stuff to me my entire life. I have no problem answering their stupid ass  remarks with bitchy retorts. But why is it that it tends to be younger African-American boys that think they can talk like that? The most APPALLING things have been said to me by boys who are probably between 16 and 22 and I'm just walking down the street, minding my own damn business.

When I lived in this city before, I would discuss this with some of the African-American ladies that I worked with. And by discuss I mean trade horror stories. I just don't understand what it is about the African-American culture that makes it okay for males to talk to women in such a way that is both infuriating and degrading.

It makes me angry.

It makes me sad.

It makes me want to punch a mother fucker in the face.

It just makes me feel like that we, as women, just can't win. We're regarded as both trash and treasure no matter how hard we work. I mean, c'mon guys, without us you wouldn't exist. You need our baby-cookers to be able to create life. And let me tell ya, yelling "YO LET ME SUCK YOUR P***Y" is not what a lady wants to hear. That isn't what ANYONE wants to hear.

I love living in the city, I do. I can handle myself and these dumb asses who insist on being stupid. But we really need to take a step back and really examine ourselves as a culture. Both the "men" who insist on treating women like crap and the women who don't stand up for themselves.

End rant.

Good Morning Baltimore

.....There's the flasher who lives next door/ There's the bum on his bar room stool/ They wish me luck on my way to school...

Greetings from gloomy, wet, loud and UTTERLY FANTASTIC Baltimore! And don't worry, none of those things have happened...yet.

I'm very sorry that I've been gone for so long. The past month has been quite the whirlwind. My show opened and closed, I started my new job and moved. I can't tell you how exhausted I've been through all of this, but, it has been amazing. And the people who have helped me have been amazing.

I feel like myself. A feeling that I've been slowly getting back over these months. But now, being on my own in my own space, in a city that I really began my adult life, I feel like I've been catapulted into normalcy. It's quite nice.

And, dare I say it, I feel like I've begun to forgive Chris. Not all the way, but, slightly. I have a lot of time to myself here and any time I'm alone for long periods of time I tend to think about ev.er.y.th.ing. Especially when I'm trying to go to sleep. I find myself thinking about him. Remembering things. I even attempt to miss him but then my mind/body/heart is all "HELL TO THE NO!" and then I'm over it. The sadness isn't there and neither is the fire. It's just.....it is what it is.

And it is happy. I am happy.

I'm also nervous just being back out on my own again. It's been three years and this time I am COMPLETELY on my own. I have no roommates to fall back on. But I can do it. I feel it in my gut that everything will work out.

This year has been so exciting so far and I'd be lying if I didn't say that I was wary. To be honest, I didn't let myself get excited about moving into my place until after my check cleared. It's silly, I know, but too many times in my life I've been let down at the very last moment. It's a lesson I've had to learn time and time again but this time I think I've got it. So I'm good, God. I am gooooooood. I'm picking up what you're putting down.

I also feel a bit guilty being so happy.  There have been a lot of people around me who have experienced hurt and disappointment. It's hard for me being 100% COMPLETELY happy. I want everyone to be happy. I want everyone to stop hurting. But that's the lesson, isn't it? When good things happen to you, you must keep your eye on everyone else? Be thankful for the good things you've been given but want everyone else to share it. Either that or it's a flaw of mine; happy for what I've been given but feeling like I'm not worthy. Good gracious I'm a mess. But a happy mess!

All in all things are wonderful. Thank you all for your love and well wishes!

...And I promise Baltimore/ That some day when I take the floor/ The world's gonna wake up and see/ Gonna wake up and see/ Baltimore and me...

Floaters

I picked up the newest Vanity Fair when I did a Target run on Sunday. It was practically begging for me to buy it because they cleverly placed Jennifer Lawrence on the cover. If you haven't heard me gush about her, she's totally my girl crush. We're best friends in my alternate reality. Surprisingly enough, however, this post is not about her. Although I probably should do one about her. Seeing since we're sparkle friends and all. *Sigh*.......I have a problem......

The real inspiration from this post comes from another recent pop culture heroine- Lena Dunham. The magazine does a quick review of her life and how she has been able to be an honest social commentator about what it's like to be a 20-something "girl", trying to make it in a post-Sex and the City New York. But what struck me was the term that Europeans use to refer to people like me, you, and others like us: the floating generation. It is defined as, "young people over-educated for the employment they can find, if they can find it, whose lives have stalled on the cusp of adulthood".

Balls. If that doesn't make perfect sense, I don't know what does.

I don't know about you, but, I definitely feel like a floater. As hard as I try to be tethered or get picked up on some sort of gust, it just wasn't happening. Or, I get picked up and then my winds change and I'm back to floating in the great abyss of life. I want so badly to be tethered. Or do I?

I look at some other people that I know who, for the sake of this post, seem "tethered" and I feel jealous. They know exactly where they'll be, how strong their strings are and that they'll be able to weather whatever storm comes their way. I can't tell you how many times I've tried to get myself tied down, in one way or another. I was always the girl who had A Plan...or thought I did anyway. No matter how secure I felt, Life has always sent a hurricane my way and I'm caught up in all sorts of bustle and blow. But now that I look back, I'm not sure if I'm really all that sad or feel I missed out on something.

If we're looking at things half full here, I'm actually kind of lucky. I get/got my time to really just be. To figure out where I want to go and be able to choose which direction I want to blow. Instead of switching from one tether to another, I got to let go. Don't get me wrong, that TERRIFIES me every.single.time. Like, I'm talking sobbing breakdowns, eating feelings, the whole works. I hate it. I hate not having direction. I also feel that I'm kind of looked down upon. I mean, the definition says it perfectly: my life "...stalled on the cusp of adulthood". I had to move back in with my parents at 23. I had to take a job that really didn't stimulate my inner creative. Then the person who I thought was the love of my life was taken from me. I felt like I had nothing. I had failed 18 year old Rachel who had SUCH aspirations for herself. Not to mention, who swore she would never come back to this awful county. I had let her down and I didn't know which way was up.

....wait. Wasn't I supposed to be looking at things half full?

Well, my friends, my winds have changed. It looks like I may not be a "floater" any longer. I've recently been offered a new position as the Sales and Marketing Administrator/Coordinator for a national homebuilder. I'll be working in Columbia and moving back to BALTIMORE!!!!!!!!! I can't tell you how excited I am! All of this has literally fallen into my lap and I am beyond grateful. I honestly don't know what to do with myself. And this time has been so easy. I haven't had to grit my teeth and try to fit circles into squares to make things work. It hasn't been as easy as breathing but it's been close enough. It's nice, this feeling. This feeling of not having to work SO hard to make things work. And while I'm so very sad to say goodbye to my family, friends, and friends who have become my family, I am over the moon about this new chapter in my life.

I am finally starting to enjoy this ride called life.

New Year

I know I'm a little late, given we're three weeks into the new year but better late than never, no?

I feel I needed to write this post because this new year really means something important to me- a new life. Not only are the ending numbers of the year changing, but, so am I. I am leaving 2012 Rachel in the year she needs to stay. The hellish, awful, just plain terrible year that was 2012. My plan is to leave the hurt, the anger and the pain behind. Or at least try to anyway.

A couple days ago I was having a rough day. Nothing really bad happened, but, thoughts of Chris decided to assault my brain. It started when I was getting ready for work. I can't really remember what the specific memories and thoughts were but they were the type that got me angry. I do remember that a fair amount of the memories were about what Grandma Crazy said about/to me on Facebook and what I would have said to her if I could have. This happened all morning. It got to the point that I actually had to yell out loud in my car, "GET OUT OF MY HEAD! I DON'T WANT THESE THOUGHTS! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED!". It's amazing how well voicing your thoughts can overpower the "silent" ones. Even when the "silent" ones tend to be the loudest.

This continued most of the day until, finally, when I got home I was just in a plain bad headspace. Not to mention we hadn't seen the sun for, like, 7 days so I think that got to me, too. I left to go to rehearsal and ended up having to go to WaWa. Well, the way it works best for me is I had to drive past where Grandma C lives. I'd say about half a mile before I drove past the neighborhood (which is actually the same neighborhood were my dad grew up), the right side of my brain started to hurt really bad and it continued until about a half a mile past the neighborhood. I told my mom this and she suggested that perhaps it was Chris trying to get my attention. And I told her, as well as perhaps Chris if he was being a sneaky passenger, that he needed to "Leave me the fuck alone because I don't want him around yet". I know what you're thinking and yes- I am dazzling in my eloquence. I am totally a word wizard (side note- I definitely used the term "badassery" in a sentence the other day. 10 points to Gryffindor). But I digress.

At rehearsal I was wonky given my current mental annoyance and it just wasn't good. And then I go to leave and check my phone and the father of another ex who had passed away called me. At that point, I just threw my phone in my purse and told all ex-boyfriends to LEAVE ME ALONE! And then I cried. All the way home.

But! No big. I've felt fine since then and I've actually got some great news. And in typical Out of the Lion's Den fashion, I can't tell you yet. Don't you just LOVE me? I am probably going to announce it next week because I really am bursting at the seams to share. The future is looking bright for this gal!

Can the 2013 Golden Globes win all the awards? AKA this is just a post full of GIFs

No seriously. That award show deserves an award. There was so much AWESOME happening the entire time!

I always look forward to the Golden Globes because, to me, this award show seems to be the most fun. Everyone pokes fun at each other and gets white-girl-wasted (because, lets face it, everyone is too much of a diva to react any other way when wasted). Plus this show is a really awesome way to hedge your Oscar bets. Whoever wins a Golden Globe typically ends up winning an Oscar for the same category. Unless you're Ben Affleck who ultimately gets the last laugh with "Argo" because eeeeeeeeeeeeveryone knows he got snubbed. Way to make things awkward, Academy.

First of all, bravo Tina Fey and Amy Poehler! These ladies were fan-fucking-tastic. Seriously. I think they really set the bar for the evening and that's why this year in particular seemed extra fun. They judge JUST enough without crossing into Ricky Gervais territory. Like this, for example,

 

And then basically telling Daniel Day-Lewis that he looks like E.T...

way to be a good sport!

 OMG I diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiied when they did Tina and Amy's category...

And this after Lena Dunham beat both of them...

 Finally, this. Just....this.

Tina and Amy just need to host everything, ever. Case closed.

Next, Jennifer Lawrence is my girl.

Finally, this...

You can watch the whole thing here. And you need to.

Now, my next favorite thing about this night is the fashion! As always, there were some amazing outfits and some that were just plain awful (I'm looking at you, Halle Berry). Here are my favorites of the night...

 DAYUM HELEN MIRREN! This is just fantastic! I love everything about this look, even her hair. I thought she looked absolutely gorgeous while still looking fun. Love, love, LOVE!

  I think Kate Hudson's look was by-far my favorite of the night. I just wish she had put her hair up. That neck detail needed to be shown off. Plus, since her hair is blonde the neck just got lost in a sea of gold and blonde. It's hard to tell where the neck ends and her hair begins.

 As much as it pains me to say this, I actually liked this look on JLo. No surprise that she went for the almost naked look for the millionth time but I guess when you find a look that works for you, you work it hard. Ps, girl needs to smile more. This isn't 2003 and you're not as popular as you once were. We can only take you serious if you're dating Diddy and not diddling with some dancer named after a ghost.

 Ooooooooooh I loved this, which surprised me. I haven't been a fan of the leotard dresses this season but Eva werks this one. This is a bad angle but when she was on stage she look FABULOUS!

 Again, this picture just does not do this dress justice. Jessica was STUN-NING!

 I just adore Kelly Osborne. Her body looks amazing and she's so proud of it! She looks like a mermaid and I die for that dress!

 I'm probably the only person who liked this dress. I thought it looked amazing on her and I tend to be a fan of wallpaper prints. Call me crazy but I love it. I just wish she had done something different with her hair. A chignon or a twist would have complimented this dress perfectly.


As for my worst dressed list...

 Ugh, that damn peplum. Nothing about this is flattering. Maybe the powder blue against her skin but that is it. The way the top is cut makes her look very broad and as if it's too small for her. The waist line makes her look hippy because of the peplum while the column skirt makes her look as if she has no shape at all. This is just all around bad.

Ugh, yawn, Adele. Again, she's sticking with what works for her but we literally see this at every appearance. Can we please see something new?

No, Halle Berry. Just....no.

I'm sooooooooooo disappointed in Jessica Chastain! Like, what is this?! It looks like she's going to a toga party! Not to mention this Calvin Klein dress makes her boobs look saggy. And then with the hair. Just, no. Not a good look at all.

Oh Lena. Lena, Lena, Lena. I'm proud of you for trying but, honey, no. Everything about this Zac Posen dress is all wrong for her. Not to mention that she was incapable of walking any time she got up. I loved this quote, "Judging by her awkward shuffles to the stage, two-time winner Lena Dunham immediately regretted wearing ice skates." Yes. That's EXACTLY what she looked like! I don't know if it was the girth of the dress or that her heel choice was too much for her. I love her show but girlfriend needs some help.

In her own category, Ms. Taylor Swift brought along her newest accessory- The Bitch Face.

o

The newly single songtress was working that look all night long. I wasn't particularly thrilled with her outfit choice especially since jilted and bitter aren't colors that work well on most people, Taylor included.

When she lost for Best Song

You can't always win, Taylor. This isn't the CMT awards.

Ew. I'm sure she's trying to be funny but it's not really translating. Although that could just be because I'm not a huge fan of hers. Sorry, Taylor. Bitch Face is best worn when you know you're a part of the group, not still working your way in.


I don't even know where to begin with Jodie Foster's acceptance speech for the DeMille award. From what I gather she came out without actually coming out and that she possibly wants to start making dog whistles? Oh and her mom has Alzheimers or Dementia. THAT I got. And that she's not Honey Boo Boo and she wants to spank Daniel Craig. Me too, lady, but what does that have to do with anything?

Finally, if nothing else about The Golden Globes gets you going, have a look at this...

You're welcome.

Until next year!!!!

Shameless Promotion Post

That's right everyone! The time has come for some show promotion!

If you follow me on instagram or have the privilege of being besties on good 'ol FB, you've been getting all kinds of inside looks of the rehearsal process. I am BEYOND excited to be a part of this show and I fully expect each and every one of you to come see it. Here's a brief synopsis of the show...

"(Comedy)  Part of Neil Simon's autobiographical trilogy, Brighton Beach Memoirs, provides a portrait of the writer as a young teen in 1937 living with his family in a crowded, lower middle-class Brooklyn walk-up. Eugene Jerome, a Polish-Jewish American teenager is going through puberty, a sexual awakening and search for identity all while dealing with his intense family. Eugene’s formidable mother, overworked father, and his worldly older brother Stanley create a unique living environment. Throw into the mix his widowed Aunt Blanche, her two young (but rapidly maturing) daughters and you have a recipe for hilarity, served up Simon-style. This bittersweet memoir evocatively captures the life of a struggling Jewish household where, as his father states "if you didn't have a problem, you wouldn't be living here.'" (Compliments of the PTP website)

You can go here for tickets or call and make reservations.

Family photo, minus Laurie

See you at the Beach!