It was a few weeks ago, while I was at the Taylor Swift concert waiting for her to take the stage, that the simplest answer to the most difficult question popped into my head. We were watching the second of Miss Swift's opening acts and just before the last song the lead singer (and I'm sorry I can't remember who they were) said, "...life has no meaning unless you have someone to share it with."
Well, you bet your ass that sparked a fire in me. Unfortunately, I could do nothing but simmer. Who did this guy think he was? How dare he tell me that my life had no meaning! I would've liked to go up to him and strangle him Homer Simpson-style.
Now, of course, you're thinking that I'm overreacting. This statement has been said a million times by a million people. Countless songs, films, books, and poems have been written about this. What made me so angry at that particular moment?
Maybe it was just the perfect time. Let me set the story up for you, let's pull back a bit. At that moment, I was in the middle of purchasing my first home. At that moment, my job was (and still is) in a very stable place. At that moment, my family was healthy and happy.
At that moment, I was watching the phone waiting for a phone call--text message, Facebook request, smoke signal--that wouldn't come.
EPIPHANY!
Is my life really meaningless because there is a realistic chance that I'll never find The One?
No.
Hell no. I've worked too damn hard. The thousands of hours studying for school and working; the money saved for my house and good life I've provided for myself; the concentration and commitment to be as good as I can be at what I set out to do.
Now THAT'S the meaning of life: To do your absolute best with the tools you've been given.
I was given an analytical mind and determination. I also inherited a great deal of pride, straight down from my grandparents and probably their grandparents. That's not always a bad virtue.
You're probably thinking that if I applied myself just as hard to being social then I'd be all set.
Well, yes, and no. It's not like I haven't tried. I'm fully aware that no matter how much I fill the rooms up of my house with my stuff, there will come a point (on a dark and stormy night) when it will feel so empty and quiet that screaming will be my only option to prove that there is life.
It's just that I don't understand. Grades are easy: you do the work, you get an A. Work is easy: you show up, don't screw anything up, and tomorrow you get to come back. But people? There's no analytical formula to people. As much as Cosmo tries to break down all of the rules, the fact is that there are no rules.
Sidenote: Actually, I've followed the rules and that didn't work (see above).
So what do I have? What will have been the meaning of my life if I died tomorrow? All of the tangible things that I've worked so hard to acquire will be gone and the future that parents pass on to their children will not be passed on by me. Will it be counted as less successful because I didn't create a family?
Yeah, right. If I mention Steve Jobs you will think "Apple" (don't foget Pixar!), not "father and husband."
You want me to sort through pages of numbers and find out why the damn thing doesn't balance then I'm your girl. You want me to create a memorable impression on someone by just "being myself" then I'll give it a shot, but I can't promise any results.
Because the best with what I have is all I can do. That's all anybody can do.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Friday, September 16, 2011
Bo-ring
It is with a heavy heart that I report that I have NOTHING new to report. Nothing new on the house hunt. Nothing new on the man (?) hunt. All I've been doing is working, reading, and watching Friday Night Lights which is an awesome show but I think I got all of my TV watching out of the way in my younger years.
The one silver lining is that although I'm no longer actively counting calories (it's just so much work and I don't always have internet and I don't have a gynormous phone with apps) it seems that I'm losing inches. Or that the inches have moved from one place to another. No weight lost, just inches.
Anyway...last four months of the year are coming up and that always makes for good blogging.
The one silver lining is that although I'm no longer actively counting calories (it's just so much work and I don't always have internet and I don't have a gynormous phone with apps) it seems that I'm losing inches. Or that the inches have moved from one place to another. No weight lost, just inches.
Anyway...last four months of the year are coming up and that always makes for good blogging.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Second-date Update
Riddle me this Batman: How are house-hunting and dating alike?
Apparently, a lot.
I've made the grown up decision to purchase a house.
Also... I.... went on a date. Two, in fact. I know right? Crazy things are happening. Soon pigs will grow wings and fly! But I wouldn't count on hell freezing over just yet. As I write this I must inform you all that a) I have not purchased a house, and b) I'm back at square one on the dating "thing."
I know that my singlehood is legend and that there is even talk about a "family curse," but the reality is that a) there is no curse, and b) the legend is, as always, not as true as we'd like to believe (or not believe?). I am normal. I am part of a large group of people who are single. Actually, a very large group of millions and millions of people according to the U.S Census Bureau.
Although our single status doesn't stop us from waking up, going to work, and enjoying life, most of us would like for it to GO AWAY. Hell, some people will pay good money to have it go away.
Sidenote: I don't have cable but as I write this I'm at my brother's house watching "Millionaire Matchmaker" and it's awesome. I love this lady. She just burned a woman's "wish list"heh
The other legend about me that everybody knows is that, well, I'm part gypsy. I went to a dozen schools as a kid, I've lived in several states and two countries, and my attempts to escape from Arizona are as bad as Jim Carrey trying to escape his town in "The Truman Show." I just can't seem to stay in one place. Except now. I just passed the 6-year mark (on and off) of living in the same state. Hell, I've been living in the same neighborhood all this time. That's unprecedented. So since things are going well and my job is stable. I've decided to plant some roots.
And here's what I learned about my two mini-journeys.
First - you must gather information. "Buying a house is a big responsibility and should not be taken lightly." Yeah yeah, tell that to the people who screwed it up for the rest of us. Look, I have a job, a social security number that is actually mine, and money. I'm ready to buy.
Don't blame me for the past. Yes, learn from it and be cautious but don't make the assumption that I'm out to screw you over. I have my shit together. That goes for both lenders and men.
Second - get a wingman (or a real estate agent). You need someone who will help you make wise decisions. Who will listen and understand what it is that you want and help you achieve that goal. Second opinions are always good to have but don't let them make the decision for you. Consider wingmen (or wingwomen, or compadres, or comadres, etc.) as a second pair of eyes, not a second brain.
My real estate agent has a list of essential things that I want in my house. If one of the homes clearly lacks what I'm looking for then we cross it off the list. If she sees potential in something she has me take a look and form an opinion. On the other topic: my bff patiently listens to me bitch hehehehe
Third - narrow down your choices. According to Zillow, there are 24,000 homes for sale in Phoenix. I'm not sure how many straight, single, men there are but for this blog's sake let's say 24,000.
Let me make one thing clear, there's no line of guys waiting outside my door wanting to ask me out. But, I'm not completely without choices. As I said above there have to be a few essentials that you're looking for. And the number one, non-negotiable essential for a guy to have is that HE MUST BE SINGLE. Don't give me any of that Ross Gellar "we're on a break" crap. Don't tell me that things "aren't working out" between you and someone else. Don't be give me the "well, we have an agreement" bullshit. In fact, I am declaring a three-foot radius around me as a "No Bullshit Zone." Done, basta, finito.
Four - once the search is narrowed down, you must explore further. So we went to see a total of four houses a couple of weekends ago. I only wanted one. The same occurred with the above-mentioned two dates. I know what I want, but not only that, it's a feeling too. A connection, if you will.
Now it's not that you automatically start putting in your furniture, knocking down walls, looking at color schemes. And you definitely don't start planning a wedding and thinking what your children will look like. Do we learn nothing from Cosmo, television, and movies? What I mean is that...I was interested.
Which leads us to step five, make an offer.
AND THEN YOU GET REJECTED!
Okay, okay, that's not exactly how it happened. Don't get me wrong, that's what the end result was, but it wasn't that cruel. See the thing is it would be great if everything and/or everyone just bent to our will but unfortunately that's not how the world works. At least not for me. Remember that documentary about Michael Jackson? He went into that Las Vegas furniture store and pointed at what he wanted. Done and done. Yet, was Michael Jackson ever really happy? Look again and you see that the owner is just indulging him and the cameras. Who knows if that furniture ever made it to Neverland Ranch :(
Totally lost my train of thought.
Ah yes, the offer. A stressful situation if I may say so. Put an offer on a house, it gets accepted, and as my real estate agent pointed out: "This is the door you're gonna walk through every day for several years." Not the same thing as with the guys. With the guys it's more like "Do you want to continue learning about this person and seeing what can happen?"
Then comes that sting. Ouch. You get so excited about the possibilities, you've thought about things, you've made sure your Ts are crossed and your Is are dotted. So why the "no"?
Who knows. Actually, I do know because I had to give my own "no". What were my reasons? Sure it's a buyer's market, but that doesn't mean you just go in and get what you want.
You can try to to argue the situation, "But I'm a solid person, blah blah." You can try to re-negotiate, "Tell me what you want and we can work things out." Or you can just accept that it's not meant to be. Actually, you should just accept it because it's unlikely that you'll change a seller or a guy's mind. Let's be honest, you put up the best offer you had. If it's not enough, it's not enough.
There are still 23,999 other houses for sale :-)
The search continues.
Apparently, a lot.
I've made the grown up decision to purchase a house.
Also... I.... went on a date. Two, in fact. I know right? Crazy things are happening. Soon pigs will grow wings and fly! But I wouldn't count on hell freezing over just yet. As I write this I must inform you all that a) I have not purchased a house, and b) I'm back at square one on the dating "thing."
I know that my singlehood is legend and that there is even talk about a "family curse," but the reality is that a) there is no curse, and b) the legend is, as always, not as true as we'd like to believe (or not believe?). I am normal. I am part of a large group of people who are single. Actually, a very large group of millions and millions of people according to the U.S Census Bureau.
Although our single status doesn't stop us from waking up, going to work, and enjoying life, most of us would like for it to GO AWAY. Hell, some people will pay good money to have it go away.
Sidenote: I don't have cable but as I write this I'm at my brother's house watching "Millionaire Matchmaker" and it's awesome. I love this lady. She just burned a woman's "wish list"heh
And here's what I learned about my two mini-journeys.
First - you must gather information. "Buying a house is a big responsibility and should not be taken lightly." Yeah yeah, tell that to the people who screwed it up for the rest of us. Look, I have a job, a social security number that is actually mine, and money. I'm ready to buy.
Don't blame me for the past. Yes, learn from it and be cautious but don't make the assumption that I'm out to screw you over. I have my shit together. That goes for both lenders and men.
Second - get a wingman (or a real estate agent). You need someone who will help you make wise decisions. Who will listen and understand what it is that you want and help you achieve that goal. Second opinions are always good to have but don't let them make the decision for you. Consider wingmen (or wingwomen, or compadres, or comadres, etc.) as a second pair of eyes, not a second brain.
My real estate agent has a list of essential things that I want in my house. If one of the homes clearly lacks what I'm looking for then we cross it off the list. If she sees potential in something she has me take a look and form an opinion. On the other topic: my bff patiently listens to me bitch hehehehe
Third - narrow down your choices. According to Zillow, there are 24,000 homes for sale in Phoenix. I'm not sure how many straight, single, men there are but for this blog's sake let's say 24,000.
Let me make one thing clear, there's no line of guys waiting outside my door wanting to ask me out. But, I'm not completely without choices. As I said above there have to be a few essentials that you're looking for. And the number one, non-negotiable essential for a guy to have is that HE MUST BE SINGLE. Don't give me any of that Ross Gellar "we're on a break" crap. Don't tell me that things "aren't working out" between you and someone else. Don't be give me the "well, we have an agreement" bullshit. In fact, I am declaring a three-foot radius around me as a "No Bullshit Zone." Done, basta, finito.
Four - once the search is narrowed down, you must explore further. So we went to see a total of four houses a couple of weekends ago. I only wanted one. The same occurred with the above-mentioned two dates. I know what I want, but not only that, it's a feeling too. A connection, if you will.
Now it's not that you automatically start putting in your furniture, knocking down walls, looking at color schemes. And you definitely don't start planning a wedding and thinking what your children will look like. Do we learn nothing from Cosmo, television, and movies? What I mean is that...I was interested.
Which leads us to step five, make an offer.
AND THEN YOU GET REJECTED!
Okay, okay, that's not exactly how it happened. Don't get me wrong, that's what the end result was, but it wasn't that cruel. See the thing is it would be great if everything and/or everyone just bent to our will but unfortunately that's not how the world works. At least not for me. Remember that documentary about Michael Jackson? He went into that Las Vegas furniture store and pointed at what he wanted. Done and done. Yet, was Michael Jackson ever really happy? Look again and you see that the owner is just indulging him and the cameras. Who knows if that furniture ever made it to Neverland Ranch :(
Totally lost my train of thought.
Ah yes, the offer. A stressful situation if I may say so. Put an offer on a house, it gets accepted, and as my real estate agent pointed out: "This is the door you're gonna walk through every day for several years." Not the same thing as with the guys. With the guys it's more like "Do you want to continue learning about this person and seeing what can happen?"
Then comes that sting. Ouch. You get so excited about the possibilities, you've thought about things, you've made sure your Ts are crossed and your Is are dotted. So why the "no"?
Who knows. Actually, I do know because I had to give my own "no". What were my reasons? Sure it's a buyer's market, but that doesn't mean you just go in and get what you want.
You can try to to argue the situation, "But I'm a solid person, blah blah." You can try to re-negotiate, "Tell me what you want and we can work things out." Or you can just accept that it's not meant to be. Actually, you should just accept it because it's unlikely that you'll change a seller or a guy's mind. Let's be honest, you put up the best offer you had. If it's not enough, it's not enough.
There are still 23,999 other houses for sale :-)
The search continues.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Baby Steps
Change.
Whoa, it's difficult. I should've known this. I was warned many years ago but my ego doesn't let me listen to others' advice. At twenty-eight it's difficult to get out of any habit. These past six weeks I've concentrated on two: my nutrition and my anti-socialness.
As a card-carrying member of the Fat Kids of the World, not eating whatever deliciousness I want is like asking Paula Deen to cook a meal without using butter, mayo, or heavy cream: damn near impossible. Paula would have to re-learn everything she knew about cooking. Therefore, I set about to re-learn what I knew about food.
Sidenote: I'm not a believer in "diets." I hear too many people complaining and being unhappy when they're on them and most of them regain the weight. What I set out to do was learn about calories and nutrition and thus make educated decisions about what I put in my mouth.
THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! (You were all thinking it)
So here's what I learned:
1) Even the tiniest food has a value. I used to wonder why I could work out and not lose any weight. Well that's because I was doing the "exercise" but not the "diet." You would think that someone who has watched so many seasons of The Biggest Loser would have learned this already. But no. As I said before: I like food. I like going to Paradise Bakery in the afternoons to get a chocolate-chip cookie. Or rewarding myself on a job well done with a greasy mushroom swiss burger and fries (Homer Simpson drool). Or, my personal Achille's Heal, a mocha frappuccino. Yeah...that had to stop. Everything has a value. I'm very conscious now of calories, fat content, grams of fiber, sodium, etc. Oh and most of all, I'm conscious of how long it's going to take me on the treadmill to eliminate those calories (usually a long time). BUT that fat kid inside me, the one that will be with me forever because I honestly love that huggable pork chop, still pokes me in the stomach sometimes and says, "c'mon, it would be a sin not to try it. Just a little bit." Nobody's perfect ;-)
2) Coffee and lattes are not the same. Hello, my name is Susana and I'm a Starbucks addict. I go there every morning. I have a gold card with my name on it. The baristas know what I want and how I want it. A couple of times the line was so long that I got my drink delivered in my hand and I was told "it's on the house." Yeah, I'm THAT person. Well, I WAS that person. You see, calorie-counting is exactly like keeping a budget: you have to cut the fat. Interestingly my financial budget had room for morning latte but my nutrition budget didn't, lol. I cut it out and now I walk every morning into the coffee place in my building and order their blend. It's very good and the barista has now remembered who I am and I don't have to tell her that I don't want a receipt. I miss my friends but I'm sure they'll understand. There are plenty more addicts for them to cater to.
3) Fruits and vegetables are bomb! Okay, this one I have to give to my mom because she's always tried to feed us, if not healthy, then at least not heart-attack-inducing meals. She's always taking the fat off of things and she uses grease as little as possible. But one of her tricks was to get us to eat fruits and vegetables without us really noticing. She purposefully mixes green beans with the corn so that we won't pick it out. She doesn't buy potato chips but instead cuts up fruit and puts it on the table, knowing that she raised four fat kids that can't resist anything. So when I read that when I get hungry between meals I should eat some berries or carrot sticks as opposed to a Kit-Kat Bar... well, that one wasn't so hard.
Of course I relapsed. As I write this I can still smell the french fries from this afternoon's trip to Jack in the Box on my fingers. I've also been lagging on my exercises (next blog) but that's what Monday's are for. The point is that there is a light in my brain that has been switched on and I will always be aware of the repercussions of ignoring that light. This isn't about weight. I've lost a lot of weight over these past few years and I am incredibly happy to say that I'm deeply satisfied with my body right now (that's a first). This is more about health and nutrition. Food and I are no longer lovers, we're really good friends.
So does my satisfaction in my physicality have anything to do with my tiny step into being more social? Consciously? No, it doesn't. Subconsciously? I'll leave that to you Psych majors to figure out.
I think that gradually I am losing my distrust in all of society and being more selective about who I just don't want to know/see/listen to. Some people are nice. Some people are honest. Some people of the male persuasion can be nice, honest, and cute. Granted it's like searching for the Holy Grail, but there'll be adventures and experiences along the way. With that being said: I am now taking a step towards being social, and perhaps it could ultimately turn into taking a big step towards reversing the curse. Because, just like with the diet and exercise, this stuff doesn't happen on its own. No one is going to knock on my door and say, "Hi, wanna be friends?" Geez, that didn't even happen in elementary school. I gotta make the effort. So here goes the baby step...
I feel a little dizzy and lightheaded. Does this go away?
Whoa, it's difficult. I should've known this. I was warned many years ago but my ego doesn't let me listen to others' advice. At twenty-eight it's difficult to get out of any habit. These past six weeks I've concentrated on two: my nutrition and my anti-socialness.
As a card-carrying member of the Fat Kids of the World, not eating whatever deliciousness I want is like asking Paula Deen to cook a meal without using butter, mayo, or heavy cream: damn near impossible. Paula would have to re-learn everything she knew about cooking. Therefore, I set about to re-learn what I knew about food.
Sidenote: I'm not a believer in "diets." I hear too many people complaining and being unhappy when they're on them and most of them regain the weight. What I set out to do was learn about calories and nutrition and thus make educated decisions about what I put in my mouth.
THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! (You were all thinking it)
So here's what I learned:
1) Even the tiniest food has a value. I used to wonder why I could work out and not lose any weight. Well that's because I was doing the "exercise" but not the "diet." You would think that someone who has watched so many seasons of The Biggest Loser would have learned this already. But no. As I said before: I like food. I like going to Paradise Bakery in the afternoons to get a chocolate-chip cookie. Or rewarding myself on a job well done with a greasy mushroom swiss burger and fries (Homer Simpson drool). Or, my personal Achille's Heal, a mocha frappuccino. Yeah...that had to stop. Everything has a value. I'm very conscious now of calories, fat content, grams of fiber, sodium, etc. Oh and most of all, I'm conscious of how long it's going to take me on the treadmill to eliminate those calories (usually a long time). BUT that fat kid inside me, the one that will be with me forever because I honestly love that huggable pork chop, still pokes me in the stomach sometimes and says, "c'mon, it would be a sin not to try it. Just a little bit." Nobody's perfect ;-)
2) Coffee and lattes are not the same. Hello, my name is Susana and I'm a Starbucks addict. I go there every morning. I have a gold card with my name on it. The baristas know what I want and how I want it. A couple of times the line was so long that I got my drink delivered in my hand and I was told "it's on the house." Yeah, I'm THAT person. Well, I WAS that person. You see, calorie-counting is exactly like keeping a budget: you have to cut the fat. Interestingly my financial budget had room for morning latte but my nutrition budget didn't, lol. I cut it out and now I walk every morning into the coffee place in my building and order their blend. It's very good and the barista has now remembered who I am and I don't have to tell her that I don't want a receipt. I miss my friends but I'm sure they'll understand. There are plenty more addicts for them to cater to.
3) Fruits and vegetables are bomb! Okay, this one I have to give to my mom because she's always tried to feed us, if not healthy, then at least not heart-attack-inducing meals. She's always taking the fat off of things and she uses grease as little as possible. But one of her tricks was to get us to eat fruits and vegetables without us really noticing. She purposefully mixes green beans with the corn so that we won't pick it out. She doesn't buy potato chips but instead cuts up fruit and puts it on the table, knowing that she raised four fat kids that can't resist anything. So when I read that when I get hungry between meals I should eat some berries or carrot sticks as opposed to a Kit-Kat Bar... well, that one wasn't so hard.
Of course I relapsed. As I write this I can still smell the french fries from this afternoon's trip to Jack in the Box on my fingers. I've also been lagging on my exercises (next blog) but that's what Monday's are for. The point is that there is a light in my brain that has been switched on and I will always be aware of the repercussions of ignoring that light. This isn't about weight. I've lost a lot of weight over these past few years and I am incredibly happy to say that I'm deeply satisfied with my body right now (that's a first). This is more about health and nutrition. Food and I are no longer lovers, we're really good friends.
So does my satisfaction in my physicality have anything to do with my tiny step into being more social? Consciously? No, it doesn't. Subconsciously? I'll leave that to you Psych majors to figure out.
I think that gradually I am losing my distrust in all of society and being more selective about who I just don't want to know/see/listen to. Some people are nice. Some people are honest. Some people of the male persuasion can be nice, honest, and cute. Granted it's like searching for the Holy Grail, but there'll be adventures and experiences along the way. With that being said: I am now taking a step towards being social, and perhaps it could ultimately turn into taking a big step towards reversing the curse. Because, just like with the diet and exercise, this stuff doesn't happen on its own. No one is going to knock on my door and say, "Hi, wanna be friends?" Geez, that didn't even happen in elementary school. I gotta make the effort. So here goes the baby step...
I feel a little dizzy and lightheaded. Does this go away?
Saturday, July 2, 2011
A Lake, a Snake, and Tiny Tim
It's taken me forever to write this blog and I do apologize to my fellow travel companion for my procrastination. Yet, it took her almost a month to get her film developed so I'm calling it even :)
Last month, Memorial Day weekend to be exact, my cousin and I decided to go on a road trip. I believe I can speak for both of us when I say that a few days of escape from the world were completely necessary.
Leave behind the problems, the worries, the heartbreak, and get in a car and drive! (That might be my new mantra).
We started from South Gate (representin') in the early morning. Of course every time I go to South Gate I must stop at my favorite coffee place "Tierra Mia." For you millions of readers out there, you must go! It's delicioso. I hear rumors that there is one in Norwalk but SOMEONE hasn't taken me. I shall keep the name of the guilty party secret. For now.
So off we go towards Lake Havasu, a place neither of us had ever been to. We weren't sure what we were expecting to find. It is, after all, a lake in the middle of nowhere and it was a long holiday weekend. I do believe my cousin held the desire of getting in a bar fight, get me drunk, and get me to hook up with a boy. But more on that later.
We arrived (if memory serves correctly) at around two in the afternoon. The lake was visible from the highway but, swear to the Big Guy in the Sky, it took us like two hours to actually reach the water. We had no idea how to get TO THE LAKE.
We were so hungry that we parked by London Bridge (an actual bridge from London, duh) and had fish and chips at the first place we sat down. I suggested that before the festivities start we should find a place to crash, seeing as though the hard-core party people would be arriving soon. Thus we did two things: we drove all the way back to the beginning of town, entered WalMart and bought two chairs; and we found a hotel room.
And what a room it was.
A corpulent man (big word, I know) in charge of the Motel 6 gave us the key to our room, which was magnificently overpriced, and we lugged our things inside. Or at least to the door. The smell that hit us nearly knocked us over. It was...piss. Yep, no other way to describe it. It smelled like piss. We go back to said innkeeper and informed him of our little problem.
"They all smell the same," he says.
What? Did he personally piss in all of them so they could smell the same? WHAT?!
So he follows us to the room and walks in and he says...nothing. Because he can smell it. He then opens the door to the room across the hallway (which smells relatively better) and says, "This one doesn't have a bathtub."
Really? You think I care about a bathtub at this point? Thank you, we'll take it.
Finally we left our things and proceeded to find out how one gets to the actual lake. Sure, if you have a boat it's easy. Anyway, there seems to be some sort of beach-like thingy but there were too many people there so we drove (more driving) to the part that is owned by the government. True story.
We took out our chairs, unfolded them, and sat down to relax. There were only a few people, the water was clean, and the sun was setting right in front of us. It was great.
Of course we got hungry again. Time to clean up and hit the town *woot*
Okay, disclaimer: I care very little for bars, drinking, and "hooking up" and even less about putting those things together. Which is why I'm about to tell you about the best, most delicious friggin salad I have ever eaten in my life.
Okay, so we go to this place called..? Who the hell cares, it was pegged as a Mexican place. It was pretty empty, most of the customers were being seated outside. The waitress seats us at a big round table with like seven chairs and I tell her there's no need for this since there's only two of us.
"Susana, sit down"
"No, why do we need this huge table?"
The waitress moves us all the way to the end and it's then that I find out that the table across from us was full of cute boys. Oh well, I'm hungry. Our waiter (because the waitress got huffy) was very nice and my cousin only ordered drinks while I, being a card-carrying member of the Fat Kids of the World, ordered a salad. A scallop salad.
From the balcony we can see some outdoor bar (??) and hear their fantastic DJ. Of course I'm being sarcastic because anyone that would take Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" and mix it with Techno should be shot. Is there no respect anymore?
Anyway! Did I mention that my back is turned and I have no idea who is around us? This will be important later but in the meantime my salad arrives.
O.M.G. I'm not kidding, I want to drive the who-knows-how-many hours back just to eat that salad again. It had these gigantic scallops that were cooked perfectly. The greens were fresh. It had just the perfect amount of dressing and there were pieces of mango scattered about. *insert Homer Simpson drool*
So as I am having fantasies about kidnapping the salad chef, this guy comes up to us and starts talking. He needed to smoke (strike 1), he looked very young (strike 2), and his name was Tim (ball 1). Let me say this to the future mothers of America: Don't name your kid Tim. He will have to forever endure being called Tiny Tim and while it might be funny when he's young, it will not be flattering when he's older.
PS - I'm not the one who started calling him Tiny Tim, though I did think of it.
So Tiny Tim is smoking just outside our area and he starts talking in a Southern twang. Turns out he's from Asheville, North Carolina (one point for Tim). Had he been relatively sober and not thinking with the "other" brain we could've had a conversation. But, alas, Tim and his friends were not sober and were not interested in conversation. In fact he actually said "We're gonna go to BJs"
??????
It's the name of a club.
"You should break your car in and hook up with Tiny Tim," is what I was told by the devil not on my shoulder but sitting right across from me.
"Umm... no," is what I answered. Though I will admit that the thought passed through my mind and stayed there longer than it should've.
Tiny Tim said goodbye and gave us his number in case we wanted to "go on the boat" tomorrow.
From there we left too to see if we'd get into a club but neither of us felt like paying $20 to get into a fight. Therefore we walked around and watched people grinding on the dance floor and this sad drunken creature hopping up and down to a horrible song. No one paid attention to her and it was pretty sad.
Drunks *sigh*
The next morning we went hiking. Again, the purpose was to start at the trail and reach the lake. We walked and talked and were generally having a good time until I hear a hiss!
It was a snake! A snake! Hissing at me!
Yes, I jumped about three feet in the air and yelled. The thing watched us walk away but we were more attentive after that and I think I counted about a hundred lizards and a rabbit because of it. There is a slight drop somewhere when you start to enter the "crack" in the mountain.
btw, the person who wrote the guidebook either has a great sense of humor or has no idea what double meanings are.
So we had to slide down this rock but to get back up (if we made it back) we had to hold on to a rope and climb. Ummm...I don't think so. I don't approve of climbing.
"One of us should try it first."
Yeah, the one of us that isn't me.
After about a half hour of debating and going back and forth, the one of us that isn't me slid down and climbed back up.
"It's really easy," she says a bit too enthusiastically. Why aren't we in Tiny Tim's boat?
So I slide down, fairly easy; and then I climb up, also fairly easy. The lesson: things are worse than what they seem.
Okay, let's keep going. Did I mention we were looking for the lake? Did I mention we didn't find it? Again. Who the hell knows how to reach this damn hole but once we reached the part where there was nowhere else to go but back, well we went back. Walk, climb, trudge. Wait, where are we?
We perhaps got a little bit lost. We perhaps came out on the highway a few yards away from where we parked the car.
Not only is my car a beautiful sight all on its own, but it also had water. Warm water, but water nonetheless.
On our way back we stopped at Dairy Queen to eat ice cream and plan the next leg of the trip which I will not relate because it has nothing to do with a Lake, a Snake, or Tiny Tim whom we never heard from again. I hope he found BJs.
The next post will come sooner, I promise. It's really exciting, I've been counting calories. Oh and there was also that other thing.
Last month, Memorial Day weekend to be exact, my cousin and I decided to go on a road trip. I believe I can speak for both of us when I say that a few days of escape from the world were completely necessary.
Leave behind the problems, the worries, the heartbreak, and get in a car and drive! (That might be my new mantra).
We started from South Gate (representin') in the early morning. Of course every time I go to South Gate I must stop at my favorite coffee place "Tierra Mia." For you millions of readers out there, you must go! It's delicioso. I hear rumors that there is one in Norwalk but SOMEONE hasn't taken me. I shall keep the name of the guilty party secret. For now.
So off we go towards Lake Havasu, a place neither of us had ever been to. We weren't sure what we were expecting to find. It is, after all, a lake in the middle of nowhere and it was a long holiday weekend. I do believe my cousin held the desire of getting in a bar fight, get me drunk, and get me to hook up with a boy. But more on that later.
We arrived (if memory serves correctly) at around two in the afternoon. The lake was visible from the highway but, swear to the Big Guy in the Sky, it took us like two hours to actually reach the water. We had no idea how to get TO THE LAKE.
We were so hungry that we parked by London Bridge (an actual bridge from London, duh) and had fish and chips at the first place we sat down. I suggested that before the festivities start we should find a place to crash, seeing as though the hard-core party people would be arriving soon. Thus we did two things: we drove all the way back to the beginning of town, entered WalMart and bought two chairs; and we found a hotel room.
And what a room it was.
A corpulent man (big word, I know) in charge of the Motel 6 gave us the key to our room, which was magnificently overpriced, and we lugged our things inside. Or at least to the door. The smell that hit us nearly knocked us over. It was...piss. Yep, no other way to describe it. It smelled like piss. We go back to said innkeeper and informed him of our little problem.
"They all smell the same," he says.
What? Did he personally piss in all of them so they could smell the same? WHAT?!
So he follows us to the room and walks in and he says...nothing. Because he can smell it. He then opens the door to the room across the hallway (which smells relatively better) and says, "This one doesn't have a bathtub."
Really? You think I care about a bathtub at this point? Thank you, we'll take it.
Finally we left our things and proceeded to find out how one gets to the actual lake. Sure, if you have a boat it's easy. Anyway, there seems to be some sort of beach-like thingy but there were too many people there so we drove (more driving) to the part that is owned by the government. True story.
We took out our chairs, unfolded them, and sat down to relax. There were only a few people, the water was clean, and the sun was setting right in front of us. It was great.
Of course we got hungry again. Time to clean up and hit the town *woot*
Okay, disclaimer: I care very little for bars, drinking, and "hooking up" and even less about putting those things together. Which is why I'm about to tell you about the best, most delicious friggin salad I have ever eaten in my life.
Okay, so we go to this place called..? Who the hell cares, it was pegged as a Mexican place. It was pretty empty, most of the customers were being seated outside. The waitress seats us at a big round table with like seven chairs and I tell her there's no need for this since there's only two of us.
"Susana, sit down"
"No, why do we need this huge table?"
The waitress moves us all the way to the end and it's then that I find out that the table across from us was full of cute boys. Oh well, I'm hungry. Our waiter (because the waitress got huffy) was very nice and my cousin only ordered drinks while I, being a card-carrying member of the Fat Kids of the World, ordered a salad. A scallop salad.
From the balcony we can see some outdoor bar (??) and hear their fantastic DJ. Of course I'm being sarcastic because anyone that would take Adele's "Rolling in the Deep" and mix it with Techno should be shot. Is there no respect anymore?
Anyway! Did I mention that my back is turned and I have no idea who is around us? This will be important later but in the meantime my salad arrives.
O.M.G. I'm not kidding, I want to drive the who-knows-how-many hours back just to eat that salad again. It had these gigantic scallops that were cooked perfectly. The greens were fresh. It had just the perfect amount of dressing and there were pieces of mango scattered about. *insert Homer Simpson drool*
So as I am having fantasies about kidnapping the salad chef, this guy comes up to us and starts talking. He needed to smoke (strike 1), he looked very young (strike 2), and his name was Tim (ball 1). Let me say this to the future mothers of America: Don't name your kid Tim. He will have to forever endure being called Tiny Tim and while it might be funny when he's young, it will not be flattering when he's older.
PS - I'm not the one who started calling him Tiny Tim, though I did think of it.
So Tiny Tim is smoking just outside our area and he starts talking in a Southern twang. Turns out he's from Asheville, North Carolina (one point for Tim). Had he been relatively sober and not thinking with the "other" brain we could've had a conversation. But, alas, Tim and his friends were not sober and were not interested in conversation. In fact he actually said "We're gonna go to BJs"
??????
It's the name of a club.
"You should break your car in and hook up with Tiny Tim," is what I was told by the devil not on my shoulder but sitting right across from me.
"Umm... no," is what I answered. Though I will admit that the thought passed through my mind and stayed there longer than it should've.
Tiny Tim said goodbye and gave us his number in case we wanted to "go on the boat" tomorrow.
From there we left too to see if we'd get into a club but neither of us felt like paying $20 to get into a fight. Therefore we walked around and watched people grinding on the dance floor and this sad drunken creature hopping up and down to a horrible song. No one paid attention to her and it was pretty sad.
Drunks *sigh*
The next morning we went hiking. Again, the purpose was to start at the trail and reach the lake. We walked and talked and were generally having a good time until I hear a hiss!
It was a snake! A snake! Hissing at me!
Yes, I jumped about three feet in the air and yelled. The thing watched us walk away but we were more attentive after that and I think I counted about a hundred lizards and a rabbit because of it. There is a slight drop somewhere when you start to enter the "crack" in the mountain.
btw, the person who wrote the guidebook either has a great sense of humor or has no idea what double meanings are.
So we had to slide down this rock but to get back up (if we made it back) we had to hold on to a rope and climb. Ummm...I don't think so. I don't approve of climbing.
"One of us should try it first."
Yeah, the one of us that isn't me.
After about a half hour of debating and going back and forth, the one of us that isn't me slid down and climbed back up.
"It's really easy," she says a bit too enthusiastically. Why aren't we in Tiny Tim's boat?
So I slide down, fairly easy; and then I climb up, also fairly easy. The lesson: things are worse than what they seem.
Okay, let's keep going. Did I mention we were looking for the lake? Did I mention we didn't find it? Again. Who the hell knows how to reach this damn hole but once we reached the part where there was nowhere else to go but back, well we went back. Walk, climb, trudge. Wait, where are we?
We perhaps got a little bit lost. We perhaps came out on the highway a few yards away from where we parked the car.
Not only is my car a beautiful sight all on its own, but it also had water. Warm water, but water nonetheless.
On our way back we stopped at Dairy Queen to eat ice cream and plan the next leg of the trip which I will not relate because it has nothing to do with a Lake, a Snake, or Tiny Tim whom we never heard from again. I hope he found BJs.
The next post will come sooner, I promise. It's really exciting, I've been counting calories. Oh and there was also that other thing.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sober May
I just read the last post and realized that only three people probably know what the hell I was writing about. The rest of you possibly thought I literally got drunk. My apologies. Sometimes I write these things so fast that I don't stop to consider that, well, you guys don't know what I'm talking about.
So let's see how I can word this - I've been listening to a lot of Adele, and I know how she feels. I also threw in a bit of Pink, Alicia Keys, a whole lot of Country, and, of course, Bonnie Raitt's "I Can't Make You Love Me" which I consider one of the saddest songs ever written.
Got it? If not, then look it up or ask your neighbor.
So with my drunken/foolish/stupid days behind me. I awake to nice little hangover in the beginning of May. As we all know, this hurts. Literally and figuratively. It hurts a lot (Yes, even for cold-hearted Scorpios). All you really want to do is throw up, take an aspirin, and get into bed. Then repeat. You're mood shifts from tired to grumpy to sad (could not have borrowed the Adele CD from Sarai any sooner).
My mom was talking to me about something today and she said, "It was a couple of weeks ago. When you were sick." Yes, yes I was.
**I would like to interrupt this blog to report that I just spilled a bunch of water over my table and it almost reached my brand-new laptop. Luckily it did not reach my new toy but that's because it was soaked up by the very important paperwork I had on the table. I want May to be over now!**
"Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to think of, and it gives her a sort of distinction among her companions." - Mr. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice.
BUT... hangovers don't last forever.
**Let me interject once more to say that the last statement should also be applied to the current Hangover movie franchise. Really you guys? It's the same script except they've changed the location from Vegas to Thailand. I realize this has worked for the Fast & Furious franchise but I do think we're all burning an awful lot of good brain cells here. I'm just saying.**
As I pointed out in the last post, May is a stand-alone month this year. The decisions made this month have led me down a different path than if I had stayed in my drunken state. (I really hope you Psychology majors are having fun with my metaphor. Comments and analysis are encouraged). I could've kept drinking but that would've only postponed this blog and probably sunk me deeper into the hole I went into.
Obviously it took me a minute to crawl back up and I still have the sense that I'm off-balance (i.e. I can't listen to Lady Antebellum's "Need You Now"). It might take another month or so to fully cleanse the system and that requires some focus. So for the month of June we (by 'we' I mean "Miss I-Kick-Ass-and-I'm-Going-to-Take-the-World-by-the-Balls" me and "Miss I-Want-Normal-and-Simple" me) are going to:
a) work out and focus on our health. Well, we do share one body;
b) be positive. Which could be fun given the difference in what both 'me's think is considered positive; and
c) regroup. Because, apparently, I've been ignoring a goal that--drunk or sober, one personality or two-- I should've never taken my eyes off of.
So stay tuned for... June Bloom (?) June-Never-Saw-This-Coming (?)Okay, I got a whole month to think about the title. But no worries my faithful readers, you do not have to wait a whole month for the next blog because there was a road trip this past week :-) Stay tuned for the details of our bank heist, hiding in canyons and fighting off deadly snakes, and meeting sexy-yet-dangerous men.
Disclaimer - Some of the details of the next blog may have been created by the author's imagination. By 'some' we mean 'all'.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Mid-Year Update
It’s May. Usually I put up a mid-year blog post to see how things have progressed. I’ve always said that the most interesting things happen to me in the last half of the year. With the prospect of two weddings, a possible week-long vacation, and the usual celebrations, I’m sure the end of 2011 won’t disappoint. But this year I’m jumping the gun on my mid-year update because, quite honestly, it felt like the past four months were jam-packed. Also, I’m predicting that the month of May is going to be a stand-alone month. It may very well define the rest of the year.
Someone told me at the beginning of the year that I had too many resolutions:
1) Work hard and play hard
2) Volunteer/Be charitable
3) Write/Finish certificate program
4) Travel
5) Reverse the curse
Perhaps. It would also explain why January through April was so crazy. In February I took out the “Volunteer/Be charitable” resolution because it didn’t look like I could fit it into my schedule. Yet… I was pretty effing generous the last couple of months and, yes, it counts even though I’m not happy about it. So the resolution stays!
I also sent that $10 text message to the Red Cross
The first resolution, I have to say, is the best one. I’ve gotten into a good groove at my job, the office is taking shape nicely (finally put up some stuff on the walls), and I have not feared for my job once in the past four months. I’d say that’s pretty darn good. It’s that confidence in the fact that I am good in at least ONE THING that really helps me get out of bed in the morning.
I also bought a sweet new ride and, well, let’s just say that life has treated me very well in the “work and economy” department.
Stay in school kids ;)
There hasn’t been much travel which is both sad and a relief. I went to LA in January to, once again, attend a taping of The Ellen Show. Once again, we left with a crappy gift (a Bruno Mars CD which is good an all but not up to the standard of say, an iPad). I think I’m done with The Ellen Show. I also went to Prescott to visit my peeps for a weekend and play Glee Karaoke (awesome!). At the end of May there is a road trip planned and I still have a week’s worth of vacation time (and a new car!) to plan something else. I think I hear the East Coast calling my name.
I have to admit that my other two resolutions took the biggest toll on me. January started off fine. I thought I knew exactly what to expect. What’s that saying? “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.” A small tremor in February warned me that something was happening but it wasn’t until the next month that the earth really shook and chaos ensued.
I completely took it for granted that in March I was starting another class. (Insert sarcastic tone here) Excellent! Just in time.
In my novel writing class we learn that the key to a good story is to keep piling on trouble onto the protagonist.
By mid-March I knew I was in a novel.
What to do? What to do? This is the moment when one’s brain is so flooded with information and choices and dilemmas that it literally shuts down.
Therefore, one loses the ability to think rationally.
Therefore, one does stupid things.
No regrets. I think it’s healthy to do something stupid every once in a while: jump out of an airplane, get really drunk, jump off a cliff (that one’s a metaphor).
So let’s just say that in April I got really drunk and jumped off a cliff (I won’t jump out of an airplane cuz I don’t like to fly). During said drunkenness I also considered dropping one of my classes, which would’ve impeded me from obtaining my certificate :-0
With a slight hangover, I would like to give a warm welcome to Sober May.
Someone told me at the beginning of the year that I had too many resolutions:
1) Work hard and play hard
2) Volunteer/Be charitable
3) Write/Finish certificate program
4) Travel
5) Reverse the curse
Perhaps. It would also explain why January through April was so crazy. In February I took out the “Volunteer/Be charitable” resolution because it didn’t look like I could fit it into my schedule. Yet… I was pretty effing generous the last couple of months and, yes, it counts even though I’m not happy about it. So the resolution stays!
I also sent that $10 text message to the Red Cross
The first resolution, I have to say, is the best one. I’ve gotten into a good groove at my job, the office is taking shape nicely (finally put up some stuff on the walls), and I have not feared for my job once in the past four months. I’d say that’s pretty darn good. It’s that confidence in the fact that I am good in at least ONE THING that really helps me get out of bed in the morning.
I also bought a sweet new ride and, well, let’s just say that life has treated me very well in the “work and economy” department.
Stay in school kids ;)
There hasn’t been much travel which is both sad and a relief. I went to LA in January to, once again, attend a taping of The Ellen Show. Once again, we left with a crappy gift (a Bruno Mars CD which is good an all but not up to the standard of say, an iPad). I think I’m done with The Ellen Show. I also went to Prescott to visit my peeps for a weekend and play Glee Karaoke (awesome!). At the end of May there is a road trip planned and I still have a week’s worth of vacation time (and a new car!) to plan something else. I think I hear the East Coast calling my name.
I have to admit that my other two resolutions took the biggest toll on me. January started off fine. I thought I knew exactly what to expect. What’s that saying? “If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans.” A small tremor in February warned me that something was happening but it wasn’t until the next month that the earth really shook and chaos ensued.
I completely took it for granted that in March I was starting another class. (Insert sarcastic tone here) Excellent! Just in time.
In my novel writing class we learn that the key to a good story is to keep piling on trouble onto the protagonist.
By mid-March I knew I was in a novel.
What to do? What to do? This is the moment when one’s brain is so flooded with information and choices and dilemmas that it literally shuts down.
Therefore, one loses the ability to think rationally.
Therefore, one does stupid things.
No regrets. I think it’s healthy to do something stupid every once in a while: jump out of an airplane, get really drunk, jump off a cliff (that one’s a metaphor).
So let’s just say that in April I got really drunk and jumped off a cliff (I won’t jump out of an airplane cuz I don’t like to fly). During said drunkenness I also considered dropping one of my classes, which would’ve impeded me from obtaining my certificate :-0
With a slight hangover, I would like to give a warm welcome to Sober May.
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