Thursday, December 30, 2010

Previously salvaged

Today could be the first time I have ever looked at my car title.
Maybe it's because I'm working too much and my brain has turned to mush, but I thought it was poetic.

It says, "previously salvaged."

I thought that was beautiful.

A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
~W.H. Auden

Salvaged is to be saved from some disaster. To be saved and remain useful. I thought of how not only my piece of shit car was salvaged, but how we are. How we live through our rock bottoms and are able to continue on as someone better. The only reason I still have hope in this bleak world is because I know people can change.

Over Christmas, my siblings and I went to the theater and watched "How Do You Know." The movie is somewhere between fantastic and terrible, but probably closer to the latter. Regardless, there was a part at the end where Paul Rudd tells Reese Witherspoon about Play-Doh.

He tells her that it was made to be cleaner to remove soot off of wallpaper. But when people switched from using coal burning furnaces to oil fueled ones in the '40s and '50s, demand for the product evaporated. The company was in danger of going under when a family member discovered kids liked to play with it. It was remarketed as putty for children and the family business was saved.

The point of the story was that we're all just a tweak away from our full potential. That although now we may be shitty assholes, we can still be salvaged. That one difference would make all the difference.
Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
~Robert Frost

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

mattress situation, greener grass, Christmas bow

I just finished up a week with my family and two days back at work.

I am exhuasted.

My mom tried to make Steve and I feel at home by putting us in a bed we can share.
This is difficult in a house that doesn't have mattresses larger than full sized.
So she and my little brother shoved two twin beds together.
The mattresses are older than I am.

Now I need to go to the chiropractor.

But it was thoughtful of her all the same.

I was jealous that my sister got an air mattress until she woke up on the hard basement floor with no air left in it.

The grass isn't always greener on the other side, just usually.

* * *

Having siblings teaches you to compare yourself to everyone else.

And Christmas presents are no different.
I now see why most parents are very careful to spend the same amount on each of their children; because if they don't, the kids notice.

It seems very stressful to be a parent.
You're always trying to make your kids happy or at least keep them from hating you.
How do you do it? It's realizations like this that scare me off the idea.

That and even more stretch marks and not sleeping through the night and toys that make noise and premature piercings and deadbeat boyfriends and...

But there must be some good in it, too.
An overanalyzer can't even tell what color the grass is anymore.
I'm talking about myself, of course.

My mind is so unraveled that I forgot how I wanted to end this.
That is unusual for me because all the time when I am writing I am thinking how I can sum it all up and tie a nice bow around it on the last sentence; how I can accentuate what I was trying to say. But honestly, I don't know what I want to say today. I just know I want to say something because I am having blogging withdrawls. Sorry I couldn't tie a nice bow on my thoughts today. Just imagine this blog is like the last present under the tree where there was a bow on it at one time but now it's in a gift bag stuck to some tissue paper because of all the jostling. Yeah, I like that.

Monday, December 20, 2010

most worthless words

On the radio they were taking calls for the most annoying words of 2010. "Whatever" won in a poll. To me, that's not that bad.

That got me thinking...

Most annoying words:
1. Sure
As in an answer to a question. Answer the god damn question!
2. Fruition
It's one of those words I think people say just to sound smart (like "plethora"). I hate the sound of it. It makes me cringe, actually.
3. Ya'll
I had never heard it used in excess until this season of "the Apprentice," and now I can't stand it. It sounds lazy and purposefully hickish.
4. Proactive
I never want to hear that word again! It is overused in the workplace and relatively meaningless in my line of work.
5. Vaca (vay-cay)
How lazy have we become that we have to shorten everything?
6. Just
When meaning "only" or "merely." As in, "I just spent $300 on this pointless piece of crap."
Just is used to justify something stupid.
7. Irregardless
I absolutely hate words without meaning
8. Abhor
It sounds filthy
9. Pacific
(when it is supposed to mean "specific")
10. Heighth
and any other words with added letters or subtracted syllables.

And some favorites:
1. Suburbia
2. Tinsel
3. Moron
4. Audacity
5. Carny

Sunday, December 19, 2010

letters from home

Today I have a to do list longer than I am tall. Only two more days until we board that plane, and two days doesn't seem like enough time for everything I have to wrap up at home (literally and figuratively). I was looking for these photo holder stickers so I could send off a book, and couldn't find them anywhere. I went down to the basement to see if they ended up in a box in a tub somewhere.

In a tub was a box and in that box was a bunch of letters I've saved. Letters from the people I love the most: the people who love me back. There were letters from my sister and my dad, from my college roommate Karen, from my best friend Patrick. There were letters from Stephen before we got married, scribbled on the backs of receipts or on scrap paper from the company we worked at together. I found a letter from my Grandpa dated 1998 which meant so much more to me now that I've lived more and can understand what he meant. There were letters from Gracie's parents and grandparents. Letters thanking me and letters telling me they loved me.

I found myself sitting on the cold concrete floor, tears streaming down my cheeks and snot dripping out my nose. A biography of my life in letters people have written me. Feelings and conversations that I have since forgotten are there in that box, written on bright stationery or dingy receipts. Why is it that the parts of life so easy to forget are the times you felt loved and the times easiest to remember are the times you felt pain? Despite my feelings, I have never been alone. There are people who love me and care for me even though I'm a Superbitch most of the time. And when they can't say it outloud, or when they can and know that it would mean more to me in writing, they write it down so I can keep it always. It is there in the basement: this burning warmth in the cool dampness.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Pounds on board

I did something stupid.

Reeeeeeal stupid.

I stepped on the scale.

I noticed my love handles expanding a few days ago, but then later I had one of those mornings where I hadn't put on my glasses yet and thought I don't look that fat today. So that's where the scale came in.

I thought maybe it had overlooked that I am working out less and eating more. I thought maybe it was forgiving me for not stepping on it much recently and was going to reward me with a nice number under 150. I didn't think. The reality hit me like a sack of potatoes to the back of the head.

I am a chubster.

You all know by now that over five years ago I had a baby. Well, once I returned home from the hospital, I stepped on the scale. What I weighed then is what I weigh now. Eeks. This time I don't have a child growing inside of me to blame.

So I will continue to blame having a baby for forever ruining a woman's figure. It does. Well, it did mine, at least. That coupled with my aversion for dieting and my lack of self-control around anything from the baked goods category. But we can blame lack of control on pregnancy too, right? (I hear all these stories about bladder control going out the window after child #2).

I know Denise Richards and Kelly Ripa and Heidi Klum and all these other skinny blond bitches had no problem going back to washboard abs and perky tits. Well, I live in reality - you know, that place separate from personal trainers and catered meals under a daily calorie count of 2,000 (gasp). So hello, 155. Welcome you couple extra straggling LBs that just made it on board. We've been expecting you. After all, I live in reality.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Bitch naked on a trampoline

I know my blog posts have become a bit sporadic. I hate myself for it. But I'm working a lot and working out when I can to prevent the second chin that is trying to arrive in time for Christmas. My page came up in some more interesting Google searches, so since that's easy, that will be my post today. The shit people Google, I tell ya. Oh, and I'm glad you can't see what I've Googled because some of it is pretty embarrassing.

1. 2010 boy scout popcorn overpriced
Oh, so it isn't just me?
2. Can you have no reflection in a mirror
If you're a ghost or invisible
3. I hate the word foodie
So do I. And "prego" and other kidsie sounding words (save for "carny")
4. Bitchlust
Who doesn't want a good bitch?
5. I worried about bitching me at work
Maybe you should start doing your job properly then
6. These donut bitches used to believe they were grown up bitches
I'm just proud that I appear if you Google "donut" "bitches" and "grown up"
7. Announcement of Rich Brown being named CFO of Garden Ridge
I imagine Rich's disappointment when he Googled his achievement and found nothing but my blog.
8. Bitch naked on a trampoline
Sorry to disappoint in my lack of nude photos here, but trust me, you don't want to see this.
9. Sweaty women
Some people have weird fetishes.
10. Stepbrothers sweater vest
I have made it on Google! I come up in sweater vest searches!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

separation anxiety

Just as children, step by step, must separate from their parents, we will have to separate from them. And we will probably suffer...from some degree of separation anxiety: because separation ends sweet symbiosis. Because separation reduces our power and control. Because separation makes us feel less needed, less important.
~Judith Viorst

It's been six years since that Christmas I was pregnant: when the morning sickness was just about to begin along with the emotional tornado that has become me. Over five years have passed since Gracie was born. While those years have passed somewhat uneventfully for me, this whole time, she has been growing taller and smarter and more personality.

Without me.

I gave life to her, but her parents gave her the life she has. They are doing a spectacular job. Much better than I could.

Girls who get pregnant unexpectedly sometimes feel they're the only candidate for the job of mothering. Responsibility should go to someone responsible. And six years ago, I was not. I am glad I recognized that then.

Although the separation will always be an emotional choice, I can still watch her grow up; with the pictures, emails and Facebook messages her parents send me. Today they sent me her letter to Santa and I smiled to know a little about her.

She is a daughter apart from me, but always a part of me. I will never let go of that.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Sexiest Man Alive

After yesterday's post about creeps, did anyone catch Millionaire Matchmaker? Creepiest guy ever. I wasn't sure if he is a serial killer or a cannibal, but either way, I'm having nightmares tonight.

So onto a lighter topic: People magazine recently released their 2010 Sexiest Man Alive issue. Some of the men were ugly, some of them were OK, and a couple actually were sexy. Since I disagreed with some of the picks, I figured I would chronicle my own (very subjective) Sexiest Men Alive list:

It doesn't get hotter than Beckham. Period.

Not physically perfect like Beckham, but there's no denying his sexual magnetism.

John Stamos! (I am the uncast third brother on "Stepbrothers")

What can I say? I hate to be cliche' but he's the All-American guy. Sometimes what is popular is popular for a damn good reason.

Overlooked and underrated. It's a shame he never made it too far out of the OC.

It's next to impossible to find a picture of this one without Kardashian. Did people know who he was before? (also, why doesn't People ever make an athlete their Sexiest Man Alive?)

I have to agree with People's winner for the year. He's in peak physical condition. If humans were judged like dogs in shows, Ryan would win the blue ribbon (Beckham would lose out because of the tats - those judges are stuffy traditionals).

I like to round off my lists in even tens, but no one else came to mind. I called in my husband for help and he said, "aren't you forgetting someone?"

Oh yeah...

Monday, December 6, 2010

creeps on the loose

Remember the list of all the shit you can't write on a personalized license plate? Some of those were merely the mention of anything religious. So that's not allowed, but this is?

(RU18YET)

I imagine the inside is stocked with Boone's Farm and those Camel cigarettes in the pink boxes which are supposedly marketed for children.

Never let your teenage daughters near Hobby Lobby where we found this man. He must have been loitering in the bead aisle before hopping in his ride to go look for young blood at the skating rink, where with any luck Chris Hansen will be waiting.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

the pitter-patter is a rabbit in the front yard

Sometimes, I feel my life is somewhat trivial and meaningless. It's been over four years since I got married and five years since my daughter was born. And since that time, I feel like I've done nothing. I've had a hundred jobs and paid my rent and kept Furniture Row afloat, but have I really done anything?

Is it selfish to say having someone to depend on me would make me feel like there was a purpose to my life? Because that's how I feel. I don't mean people without children don't live fulfilling lives, I just mean that I don't. There is nothing special about me and my daily comings and goings. I am not shaping anyone's life or influencing anyone. I am existing.

I don't particularly like babies. I don't like how they can't talk and are always screaming. I don't like changing diapers or sucking boogers out of noses with a baster. But babies grow up to be cute little boys who play little league games and cute little girls who want to dress themselves in mismatched clothes.

That part doesn't sound half bad. I have already thought up traditions we would keep. I have thought of names and smiled at the thought of furnishing another room. I know what books I would buy them and where I would put the playhouse in the backyard. I know where I would lock Steve's booze up at and where I would hide their Christmas presents from Santa. I am playing house, but with only the house.