Friday, January 06, 2006
Although I did not make any resolutions, I have decided to try to take care of myself. And by this, I do not mean go on a diet. They never work. Ok, the Atkins Diet DID work but it was a pain in the ass and it gives you bad breath all of the time. (You know how much smells affect me-knowing I was the smelly one was horrifying) What it means is that I'm going to start eating.
Yup. That's what I said. Since I've lived alone I rarely cook for myself. It's not uncommon for me to have a bagel for dinner. I've also been knowing to just have some olives. My mother would cry right now if she were to read this. Yes, just olives.
And what it ultimately comes down to is that I do not think I'm worth cooking for. I mean, why cook a meal if it's only me? Obviously the answer is: "Because I'm worth it." And also, it doesn't make sense that I am eating olives for dinner.
So, the point here is that I went shopping tonight and bought a weeks worth of healthy food. It came to $78. Nothing I bought was very extravagant and I didn't buy anything I would call a splurge (except for my humus, but that's a healthy snack too) My list included:
Swordfish steak (That was the cheapest thing I bought!)
Tons of veggies (This is where they getcha)
2 kinds of lowfat cheese
Olives (Just in case I can't kick the habit)
Diet Coke (With Lime)
All I'm saying is that this food better taste fantastic. $78?! What if I had a family to feed?
I could have bought like, a year's worth of Raman Noodles and still had money left over. I could have gotten Mac n Cheese and hot dogs and had money left for chips and soda and canned raviolli. Heck-I could have not bought groceries at all and just eaten at McDonalds all week for $40.
It's expensive to eat healthy. It's a shame, really.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
The ceiling was fashioned in wooden beams, high and majestic, yet humble at the same time. This was how she though of him: strong, handsome, yet approachable.
The resort boasted 4 stars and with its exceptional quality you could not help but be drawn to the many fireplaces that were tucked in around the various levels. The musky campfire aroma permeated the entire structure. They often ended their nights there, embraced by the warmth and the big leather couches.
"My sister's name is Nicola."
"Nicola? Are you sure? That's an awfully funny name." She laughed.
"Yeah, I know. But it is, it's Nicola. When she was born my mother wanted to name her Nicole. So they took her to be baptized and the priest wouldn't baptize her because Nicole was not an Italian name."
"Are you kidding?"
"No. I'm not. He was an old Italian priest from Jersey-did things the old way, you know? So he said, 'Name her Nicola and I'll baptize her.' And so, they legally changed her name and that's how she became Nicola."
She waited a few minutes before commenting, only because she did not yet know how he would react to her comments. She had not met any of his family, and knew that if anyone were to say bad things about her family, she would be upset. She was sure he was the same way.
"Couldn't your parents have just gone to another priest?"
"I suppose they could have, but this priest supposedly baptized lots of my family, and so they wanted him to baptize her too, you know? Kind of like tradition or something."
"I guess that makes sense, but to rename your kid just because a priest wants the name to sound Italian. Nicola isn't even a real name, is it?"
"Well, I don't know, but it is now!" He smiled down at her and kissed her nose. "I'm really going to miss you when you are gone."
"Let's not think about that now." She sighed. "But I'm going to miss you too."
"I can't imagine my life without you in it, you know. I know we just met, but you've really changed my life. You brighten my days and fill my heart with laughter. When I'm sad, I think about you and your lift my spirits. It's going to be very hard for me not to see you when I drive by Main Street. It's going to be hard not to smell your hair, or look into your pretty green eyes-to kiss your lips."
A tear rolled down his cheek. She sat up so that she was facing him, her legs in Indian style. "It's ok. We'll be ok. I'm going to miss you too, but we'll make it. Don't cry."
"It's hard for me, you know? It's hard for me to trust that you'll be back, because someone I cared about told me that before, and didn't come back at all. Not even to visit. It's hard for me to know that you are going to be different. I wish I could believe it, I want to so bad." He looked ashamed, as though she would think poorly of him for not believing in their relationship. His eyes were fixated on the fire.
"I know. But when I come back, I'm not going to be coming back just for you; I'm coming back for me too. That's the difference. She said she was coming back just for you-but she didn't want this for herself. I do. I want to be here, in this place. I want to suck up every ounce of happiness it has to offer. I want to wake up with the sun and make people smile and hear laughter and smell popcorn and dance in the streets and feel the rain. I want to be here, in this place and I want it for me. The fact that you are here makes it even sweeter. You will make being here better, but I am coming back because I love who I am when I am here."
She leaned in and kissed him softly on his forehead and nuzzled her nose to his. "I'll be back. I promise you that." She whispered.
He closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder. "Thank you." He whispered back. "Thank you."
They sat there entwined in each others arms for another hour, simply listening to the sound of the fire crackling and the tired guests arriving back from their busy day at the parks.
It was a sound they both loved; the sound of people on vacation, away from their normal lives. It was something that most people found hard to appreciate, but the two of them shared the passion. They loved the swoosh of the automatic doors, the shuffle of tired feet-longer for adults and quicker, more close together for the children. There was something special and unique about people who loved these sounds, and they felt lucky to have found each other.
They'd stay until the last of the guests returned from the parks. They started their day with them at the gates, and finished at the hotels. The only difference here, was that now they blended in.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
The only thing is, I don't know when it'll show up. Apparently it takes a while to republish because it's so large and a major change, but I'm expecting it any time now. I am posting this with the new text color too-so I'm sorry if it clashes with the old one. I know, I know...it's terribly tacky. But it'll look good when it's all together.
When I first started this blog in July, I did not actually think I would continue it. I was just fooling around one day and decided to open an account. All of the "normal" names I would have chosen were taken, and that is how I came up with the title. It was literally like, the 30th one I typed in.
In any case, because I did not think I'd continue blogging, I chose the template that most suited me. I love geometric patterns and shapes and swirls and polka dots and so my old template was good. However, after surfing hundreds of blogs, I noticed that LOTS of people had the same one I did.
And it bothered me. It bothered me not only because it confused me every time I stumbled upon a look alike (What the...how'd I get to my site?") but it also did little for my sense of individuality.
SO-without further adieu-my *new* template.
I hope you like it...when you can see it.
Oh. The only thing I still have to do is put the title up on the green header bar, but for some reason I can't figure it out. Does anyone know how to do that? If so, please email me. I'll love you forever. Or at least like you a lot.
Thanks!! Oh...thanks to Monty for teaching me how to do
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
How do you live with yourself?
I had an eerie feeling today that you were around.
I listened for the beeps but there's snow on the ground.
I looked for your car but it no longer exists.
I wonder if you'll show up to make amends for the hits.
Will I always have to look over my shoulder?
I struggle to keep the control I stole back.
I fake a smile when my strength begins to lack.
Behind laughter I mask a fear that's still real.
And pretend what I went through was no big deal.
It would cause harm.
Writing these words on a page you can't read
makes me feel stronger, and safer indeed.
I'll grow and I'll learn, but you'll stay the same
and truly and deeply, I feel that's a shame.
1. Would you rather have a head significantly smaller than your body should have or significantly larger than your body should have?
2. You are given the chance to open 1 of 3 envelopes. The 1st, labeled "WHEN," will reveal the exact date and time of your death; the second, labeled "HOW," will reveal the method of your demise, and the third, marked "VALUE," would reveal how much or how little you will be remembered after you're gone. If you had to select and read the contents of 1 of the envelopes, which would you choose and why?
3. What is one aspect of being a child that you miss the most?
1. Having a smaller head would make my body look huge, and I don't think I want to add any more bad optical illusions in that regard-though having a huge head would get annoying-especially on an airplane...and in bed...and talk about how much more shampoo you'd need. Go big or go home. (Course, I'd hope my neck would hold it up!!)
2. I would choose the envelope labeled "Value" because if the contents indicated that I would not be remembered or missed, I would know that I was not currently living my life the way I should be. No matter "When" or "How" I died, I would start making immediate changes to live my life better now and would devote the rest of my time strengthening my relationships.
3. I miss the "everything will be ok" feeling that went along with being a child. Knowing my family was there to help keep me safe was always a nice feeling, and being a grown up sometimes makes that feeling go away. And also, I miss having my hair brushed after a bath and footie pajamas. 8-)
Monday, January 02, 2006
28 years people?! First of all, how does one decide they are going to start painting a baseball? Second, how does one decide they are going to keep painting it until it weighs a billion pounds?!
Crazy. I would have chosen purple.
The wife doesn't look too happy though. What do you bet she's thinking to herself, "It's bad enough my husband had to paint a baseball...NOW the fucking reporters are here and I have to take a picture with this freakish thing. Bastard."
Ok, maybe not that exactly, but if it were me, I'd be pissed. That's why they have garages.