auld lang syne & all that shiz

My first "Bah, Humbug!" of the season goes out to NYE. I'm just not enthused about it this year. I will observe it as a passage of time and a click on the dial to another year. I just don't want to DO anything.

I don't want to drink beer or champagne. I don't want to go to a rowdy house party or even a glittery soiree. I don't want to wear funny hats or chant a countdown. For some reason I don't really even want to be around people. I am content to hole up in my spinster pad and wear sweatpants and eat ice cream or maybe even fall asleep early.

(Don't judge me. I rather enjoy nights like that.)

I don't know what it is. Maybe the magic is gone. Maybe I'm just exhausted. Maybe somewhere in my head I've turned it into a couples holiday, and since I've never had anyone to kiss at midnight, what's the point? The allure is gone and this year I just don't care. I don't caaaaaaare.

I could always watch my alma mater play in their bowl game, but I don't have cable, so I'd have to, ya know, go be around people. Besides, we'll probably lose anyway. (Hey, we invented rice krispie bars and peanut butter and computers. We don't NEED to have a good football team, mmkay?)

Anywho - for those of you that decide to be less loserly than me, have a wonderful time, and be safe out there in the madness. It's a full moon tonight, you know.

An Exercise in Futility

New Year's resolutions are stupid.

Just a bunch of shiny ideas that never get accomplished. Yet I can't really seem to stop myself from MAKING the damn things. So, since it's going to be inevitable, here we are.

Except they're not going to be things like "lose 30 pounds" and "eat healthy" and "exercise more" (notice how all those are related?) - because I'm doomed to fail from Day 1. I'm not going to lie to myself. I do need to lose a lot of weight. But I love food. I hate exercise. I was actually doing fairly well until the Holidays struck. And perhaps I will again. But I'm not going to chain myself to the idea.

Instead, I am going to do things like call my grandparents more. Take weekend trips and visit my parents more. Cross things off my list. Take more pictures. Have more fun. Clean out my closet and get rid of the shit that doesn't fit. Take a vacation (if even a day) and stay off the Internet (or at the very least, not check my work email). Go see the movies I want to see. Even if it costs me $7 to do so. Learn to say no. Alternately, learn to say yes. Don't run away from the awkward, because sometimes it is necessary. Even out my sleep schedule. Be (more) on time for work. Quit hiding in my apartment. Eat out less and cook more. Fix the things about myself that bother me. Smile - things are all right.

And, you know. Unpack those last few boxes from when I moved last July. (DON'T LAUGH, I'M TOTALLY GONNA DO IT.)

For Someone Else

I am not one of the world's greatest bloggers. I am barely more than a speck in the whole grand scheme of things and I am well aware that there is only a small handful of people that even read this. I get starstruck by bloggers who are wittier and more eloquent than I am; who have handfuls of supportive readers-turned-friends that they've never even met. I am envious of the prettier blogs and the well-read blogs and yet at the end of the day I am content to sit in my own corner of the world and just write whatever I want because it's therapeutic for me, and I don't give a damn if nobody reads it. In fact, sometimes it's better if they don't. Because then people know things about me, and I feel vulnerable and exposed. I rarely make any sense at all and I whine about insignificant things like how I'm cranky today because I didn't sleep well last night and I not-slept through my first few snooze cycles and didn't have time to shower today and my ass still hurts from where I fell on the ice two days ago, or about boys that refuse to feel the things I feel, or my dangerously low bank accounts.

But today I am going to write about something else. Actually I'm not going to write at all. I am going to loan my space to someone else. Because there is one of those awesome bloggers out there who needs the words and the space and the support more than I do. Her name is Brandy and I only recently found her blog and even then it was mostly because a lot of the other new blogs that I have discovered and fallen in love with, have been posting this. Curious, I finally went to her blog and was immediately charmed by it. And my heart hurt that her heart hurt, so bandwagon-jumping it may be, but... this is what I want to share today. If it bothers you, I promise I will be back to bitching about stupid shit tomorrow.

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My name is Brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He’s recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He’s the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I’m overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren’t sure what’s happening. He’ll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what’s going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as ‘brandy’s hot awesome dude’). If you don’t pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven’t seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn’t a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It’s just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

Christmas: Epilogue

This post-holiday Monday is a bit more painful than I thought it would be (and not just because I fell on the ice on my front stairs last night and bruised my ass) - I am having a really, really hard time getting jump-started after 3.5 days of doing absolutely nothing but eating, drinking, watching movies, and playing Super Mario on my sister's Wii.

Lest you all be concerned, I did make it home for Christmas. The weather forecast was obviously very iffy for pretty much all of last week... Christmas Eve rolled around and I'd resigned myself to being stuck until at least the weekend. But, as luck would have it, Thursday was just a rainy day and so at the urging of my coworkers (and a phone call to one who had already departed for Minnesota), I decided to make a break for it while I still could. As it turns out, this was a good plan. I got up to my dad's safe and sound and the weather for the next two days was absolutely shit-tastic and I would not have probably been able to go anywhere if I'd wanted to.

I didn't get to see my maternal grandparents nor did I get a chance to head down to visit my mother, but! there is time to reschedule that which was missed.

And now I am back to the grindstone and very sleepy and marginally cranky but all in all, it was a great weekend. Bonus? I always forget about New Year's so this week is short too. TWO LONG WEEKENDS IN A ROW. Be still, my heart.

Also:

Ridiculous holiday headwear FTW.

I Wonder How Many Times I Can Accidentally Swear In A Christmas-Themed Post

No, I'm not blogging on Christmas day, you assholes.* I scheduled a post so it would do it FOR me. Because I'm pretty awesome like that.

*Though I COULD be, given the shit weather we got handed. Boo.

Side note: I totally title my posts AFTER I write them. I had no idea I could be so vulgar on such a sacred, sentimental holiday. But you did, didn't you. We all know how I am. Sigh.

So.

It's A Wonderful Life is pretty much the greatest Christmas movie of all time. Shit, it's probably one of the greatest movies of all time. (The American Film Institute insists on keeping Citizen Kane at the top of their BEST 100 MOVIES EVAR! list, and you know what? I've seen it. It was okay.)

They don't make movies like this anymore. It's funny and tragic and hopeful and lovely and it makes me bawl like a schoolgirl.

Especially this scene:


I also love the romance between George and Mary. It's sickeningly sweet and perfect and dammit that's what I want. I want my George Bailey.

George: What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey... that's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary.

Mary: I'll take it.

Damn. I loves me some old-fashioned romance.



Anyway. What I would like to leave you with, and which probably could have been the sole bit to this post:

"Remember, no man is a failure who has friends."

At the risk of sounding absurdly sappy - thanks for all the love and support this year (and in the past, and in the future). The friends I have now, the friends I have yet to make - they are really what make my life worthwhile and what has saved my ass from the horrible grips of depression and misery that an otherwise empty, lonely life could have been. I owe you guys more than you'll ever know.

Merry Christmas.

You Win Some, You Lose Some

This is awesome:

This is not awesome:

That's a lot of blue & purple I've gotta get through to get to where I need to be :(

"Travel Not Advised."

That's right, kids. Looks like I'll be spending Christmas in A-Town. On the bright side, I have had so many people offer to have me over so I'm not by myself, that I almost cried. Because I am weak and emotional these days. When did I become such a girl? ugh.

BUT! Both Grandmas postponed Christmas (because grandmothers have the power to do this, you know) so I won't be missing much. I am hoping I can head up Saturday yet so I don't miss the whole holiday weekend. Fingers crossed.

In Which I Blather Incoherently About The Same Shit As Always

It's been a while since we've had some proper angst on the Kelly Channel so I thought I would bring you fine people some snippets of melodrama to tide you over until I have something worthwhile to say. Or more cookie stories. Whichever.

It's going to be a little disjointed. Because I've been composing little drafts here and there of things I want to say, and my emotional circuit is apparently confused.

I'd like to blame the holidays and the snow and the lights and the fact that every single fucking person I know seems to be wrapped up in some sort of lovey-dovey vomit-inducing relationship of sorts (the stuff that usually sets me off) but you know what? I don't, because I don't care. I've weighed these options and realized the only thing that is angsting me is my own stupid, somewhat masochistic feelings. And the fact that "letting go" and "giving up" are two completely different ideas and yet they sort of mean the same damn thing, and while I am okay with the concept of letting go, it is not in my nature to give up.

I've always been able to get what I want. Through sheer luck, hard work, or solid determination, victory is always mine. (okay, okay, sometimes this has involved changing the definition of what I want, but the point still stands). You know why? Because life is too short to settle.

This is pretty much the motto I've embraced since I was old enough to start setting any sort of goals or ambitions. Even when I was little, although my desires were obviously much simpler. If there is something I want, it's mine. (Unfortunately, this also applies to shopping... hence the credit card debt I have acquired. Heh.) Not to say that I've had a fantastically charmed life, by any means, but when it's the things that I think really count, those are the ones I really pushed myself for. Things never got handed to me... and I think I am better off for it, even if I had always wished otherwise. I was the best at damn near everything in high school, I pushed my way through a bitchly hard design program in college, I never stopped to tell myself no. Because why would I? Limitations were for other people. I only got to have one life, and I was going to see to it that it was orchestrated exactly the way I wanted it, the first time. When I am all said and done, I will have no regrets.

What is your point, I know you are asking. Shut up and get off your ego trip, already. You're getting it all wrong, and it is my fault because I am saying it all wrong. Most of my never-say-die ambition in the past was due to a horrible, raging perfectionism and a paralyzing fear of failure. After I got to the point where I made it past all the trivial things and realized that, hey, this is my life, and I am living it for real, my focuses switched less from personal achievements to more of an abstract desire to put all the pieces together in order to make myself happy. It's much simpler now. I don't need titles and awards and good grades and shiny material things. (Although, don't get me wrong, I still have an ego that needs stroked, and I welcome all of these things with open arms). The things I want now are more abstract and intangible and I don't have any good examples so you'll just have to take my word for it.

The whole point I am circling back to, is, the one area of my life I have not been able to control as tightly and as efficiently as everything else, is that of my love life. Which is inappropriately named because it implies that it exists. Which it does not.

I've got options, I realize this, as evidenced by the random boys coming out of the woodwork that have been causing me great frustration and a whole other type of angst. If I wanted any of them, I could have them. I'm not trying to be cocky, I am just simply stating a fact. There is one of my exes that I could simply snap my fingers and he would come running and fall all over himself in love with me if I even indicated that I was remotely interested. (Whenever this occurs to me, I have to remind myself that I am not, in fact, a bitch, and torturing the poor boy would not be nearly as fun as it sounds, because, inevitably, there would be Guilt.) And even with past flings and romances, I always got what I wanted, to a degree - even if it's, say, a drunken makeout session rather than an actual quasi-committed relationship. I succeeded in so far as to at least get the object of my attention to give me any sorts of the attention that I craved in return. So in my mind, it totally counted.

But, what I want, right now, is not the temporary affections of a mildly intriguing fling. I want something more real than that, and, unfortunately, I want someone very specific, who is not, in fact, cooperating. I have gotten myself convinced that this is the only thing I want right now (so those other poor boys can just give up and hit the road, because they're not even a blip on my radar) and these stupid feelings have been hanging around for so long and are so unnervingly present all the goddamn time that I couldn't untangle myself if I wanted to. Which, to be honest, I don't really want to. Because even if they are wasted, they are still real.

I've made several unsuccessful choices in the past... and even if I let it knock me down or send me to the bottom of a pint of ice cream, deep down, I always know that's where they were headed. There was always a defining moment where suddenly my intuition would kick the side of my brain and scream, this isn't going to work. I always ignored it, of course, because listening would mean an active choice of being alone, and who wants that? A shitty relationship is better than no relationship, right? (Wrong. That was another thing I have since learned). The difference right now is that both my head and my heart seem to be in agreement, and so who I am I to argue?

The truth is, though... I don't know how to play this game. Maybe if I did, I'd be having better luck in changing his mind. My only strategy right now is to lick my wounds in private and try not to make a huge ass of myself, even though I'm pretty sure it's not a secret, to anyone, anymore. C'est la vie. Just because I want something doesn't mean I can have it. Even if that contradicts the past 25 years of me forcing it to be otherwise.

So it's hard for me to accept that something I have come to believe in, is falling further and further out of reach, and I'm faced with the only option of Giving Up. I don't know why that seems so scary to me. It really isn't. I've been telling myself to do so since this summer. I have a bad habit of not listening to myself.

But dammit. It sucks so hard because I positively adore this boy and it's such a hopeless, hopeless situation. I am resigned to be the tragic heroine in my own fucked up little love story, the pathetic girl who follows around the boy that doesn't feel the same way.

So much for keeping to short blog posts, eh?