The other day a very sexy married Grandpa came up to my register and was so thrilled by my red lipstick he said, Wow look at those lips! They make me want a kiss! And as he walked away he said, You take care of my lips for me!
My red lips have become my staple as of late. I adore makeup. I probably have more lipstick than the average ten women combined. But red, red is like a tall, debonair, handsome man; it never goes out of style. And red lipstick seemed to hold a power to move people in a way I couldn't explain. People I've never met have something to say about it and that always makes me chuckle. Ladies have asked me the brand and the color before. And when I reveal that it's Chanel sometimes their reaction is comical. You work at Starbucks, how can you afford Chanel? And I had this thought that many people feel that way about a lot of things.
The truth was that even at $27 for one tube of lipstick, and even if worn every day, applied with a lip brush, that $27 tube of lipstick is going to last a long time. I would calculate it exactly but like I said, I have so much makeup that if I never bought another cosmetic item again I would still never use all the makeup I had. And why would I stop buying sparkly new makeup? That's just crazy talk!
But You can't afford Chanel made me wonder what else we convince ourselves we can't have. I know many beautiful, smart, talented, capable women who seem to always end up with men who treat them like Cinderella the chimney sweep rather than the Cinderella in the ball gown. And they think that they should take what they can get. Some of them secretly believe they deserve to be treated with such contempt. And if these women who endure such mistreatment ever miraculously escape their prisons when they finally do meet someone who treats them right there is this awe and disbelief. They simply can't wrap their brains around such chivalry because they'd never known the real thing. Their relationships had always been fake Fendi's.
I think that we mistakenly replace delight with distraction. We want something and we want something now. Waiting takes patience and who has time for that? I even joked recently that I didn't want to learn from my errors and grow and mature. Can't I just fall into another relationship like so many women do? And Mother wisely pointed out that the plan for me involved a great deal more than just being another woman hopping from guy to guy without ever pausing to wonder why she'd wasted her time.
The truth was, having fewer things but of the highest quality was worth so much more than a plethora of designer impostors. Wasn't having one tube of vibrant lipstick better than having 10 cheap ones? Wasn't saving to buy the real bag more satisfying than picking up one of those fakes wrapped in plastic? Wasn't it worth the cold, lonely nights to wait for the man who would treat you like the goddess you are instead of settling for the one who just deigns to sit next to you?
Life was too short for a fake Fendi, for a fake anything.
I certainly had learned the hard way that more just turned into junk, it cluttered, it impeded my space to grow. And I wanted what was genuine, not simply what was blowing up my phone.
"I could really be with you. And you should have everything you want."
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Veronica's lazy day
I have been working so much lately to have an actual twenty four hour period to myself was odd. It was literally that halting what should I do with myself feeling and I reveled in my lack of productivity. Sometimes doing nothing is the best something to be done.
I made love to a new novel (we spent so much time together in bed, we might as well have been lovers) and drank in the grey wetness of the day. When you don't have to be somewhere, when you don't have to be doing something in particular, hours just drip slowly by and I relished in it. I even delighted in looking at my calendar and noticing I didn't work before the sun tomorrow. Any more surprising delights and I might jump right out of the red lace that clothed me.
I glanced through old writings and remembered the Delilah Spell and smiled playfully over memories of illusions past. Some faded memories haunted in that icy, creepy goosebumps down your neck sort of way. But others merely lingered softly with confusing vagueness. And I was glad some things were written with disappearing ink so that chapters merely turned corners rather than slamming book covers shut. I even gathered something in my possessions that I thought should my path stumble with theirs I'd disclose the surprise.
Days continued revealing the unexpected and ever always that made me giggle at the thought of tomorrow. I hadn't had a PC or Mr. Dreamy sighting in more days than I cared to recall. But sooner or later some handsome stranger was bound to walk through those doors and this new chapter could begin its story.
I made love to a new novel (we spent so much time together in bed, we might as well have been lovers) and drank in the grey wetness of the day. When you don't have to be somewhere, when you don't have to be doing something in particular, hours just drip slowly by and I relished in it. I even delighted in looking at my calendar and noticing I didn't work before the sun tomorrow. Any more surprising delights and I might jump right out of the red lace that clothed me.
I glanced through old writings and remembered the Delilah Spell and smiled playfully over memories of illusions past. Some faded memories haunted in that icy, creepy goosebumps down your neck sort of way. But others merely lingered softly with confusing vagueness. And I was glad some things were written with disappearing ink so that chapters merely turned corners rather than slamming book covers shut. I even gathered something in my possessions that I thought should my path stumble with theirs I'd disclose the surprise.
Days continued revealing the unexpected and ever always that made me giggle at the thought of tomorrow. I hadn't had a PC or Mr. Dreamy sighting in more days than I cared to recall. But sooner or later some handsome stranger was bound to walk through those doors and this new chapter could begin its story.
My dearest friend
I was writing a letter today to a girlfriend, someone who has been going through a really rough time and I realized as I was writing that the encouragement I was offering her was just as much for myself.
Sometimes it's really easy to remind someone else how to keep a positive outlook yet look in your own mirror and second guess the reflection staring back at you.
It's harder to keep a clear head regarding yourself.
You know you so well after all and see all that so few ever do.
But take a moment to remind yourself to remember the truth and disregard the lies.
There are so many circling about sometimes they grow so loud, drowning out your hope.
I don't know if this makes you feel any better but even after the rollercoaster I was put through I spent this weekend missing him. And I thought what's wrong with me?! And I know you must be going through that too. Mother always says our relationships, our love, is an extension of ourselves, so the good we see in the bastards we love is from us. We love with the purity of our own hearts and trust that's what the men we choose to offer it to will give us in return. And then when they don't, we feel our hearts have failed us.
But have hope! You are such a vibrant, caring, beautiful, amazing woman and don't doubt for a second that there exists a man who is not such a bone head that he won't see that.
You are lovely and anyone who fails to open his eyes and see that is a fool.
And you should pity him.
Remember you can never go wrong believing the best of people.
Stay strong.
Trust in the plan He has for you.
Believe in the impossible.
Hope for the moon.
And I will too.
Sometimes it's really easy to remind someone else how to keep a positive outlook yet look in your own mirror and second guess the reflection staring back at you.
It's harder to keep a clear head regarding yourself.
You know you so well after all and see all that so few ever do.
But take a moment to remind yourself to remember the truth and disregard the lies.
There are so many circling about sometimes they grow so loud, drowning out your hope.
I don't know if this makes you feel any better but even after the rollercoaster I was put through I spent this weekend missing him. And I thought what's wrong with me?! And I know you must be going through that too. Mother always says our relationships, our love, is an extension of ourselves, so the good we see in the bastards we love is from us. We love with the purity of our own hearts and trust that's what the men we choose to offer it to will give us in return. And then when they don't, we feel our hearts have failed us.
But have hope! You are such a vibrant, caring, beautiful, amazing woman and don't doubt for a second that there exists a man who is not such a bone head that he won't see that.
You are lovely and anyone who fails to open his eyes and see that is a fool.
And you should pity him.
Remember you can never go wrong believing the best of people.
Stay strong.
Trust in the plan He has for you.
Believe in the impossible.
Hope for the moon.
And I will too.
I luff you, with two f's
I like you. Do you like me?
Or should I start liking someone else?
--Me, A la fourth grade
There's a guy at my new Starbucks who has a crush on me. It's very sweet actually. He's about as subtle as the Miraculous bra from Victoria's Secret (that's like the equivalent of what a train wreck does for the eyes; the Miraculous adds two cup sizes. Helloooo second date!)
This guy is such an eager beaver I can see the saliva form at the corners of his mouth when he's around me. His eyes light up and he finds any excuse to touch me or get me to look in his direction.
Of course, as luck would have it, I'm not interested at all. Isn't that the way the Starbucks cookie crumbles? But what fun would it be if I met a guy who was as crazy for me as I was for him? We've already written that chapter, on to more amusing things.
The best part about this new Romeo is that his name is Jared. Yes, Jared, which happens to be the name of the nemesis I left behind at my last store. One Jerad abhors me, another Jared adores me. Perhaps the inverse of letters affects their affection.
Hey, anything is possible.
But this new Jared was good for me. I think all women need a Jared in their life. A sweet, harmless, doting, everything you do is amazing to them kind of guy to remind yourself, Aw, so THIS is what interest looks like. It does not play mind games with you. It does not say one thing but do another. It doesn't grow overwhelmed by its devotion to you. It just dotes. Passionately, genuinely, with all sincerity, dotes. And even though I couldn't return the sentiment it painted my cheeks crimson in all feminine bashfulness.
Mama always said the best way to get over a lost cat was to get a new cat. And I couldn't seem to find one, which I knew was part of my whole growing-maturing-character building-strength enduring testy-majig. Good ol' Big G, doesn't give us more than we can handle but comes pretty damn close. I wasn't at a breaking point but I certainly contemplated bawling or stabbing something more often than I ought. But I blamed the water retension in my brain. And as the days ticked by, the swelling was going down. And so was my insanity level.
At least that's what I kept telling myself.
So, ok, I thought, I don't get a new kitty, at least not anytime soon. But, I do get a very attentive puppy dog. It really is a shame I have zero fondness for dogs. But that's life, right? You want what you can't have and by the time you get it your desire has waned and you've moved onto something else. That's why life is one big tragi-comedy. And it always made me laugh. And as this year had already proven time and time again, there were more plot twists than there were curls on my head.
And that, that I did love.
With all that I had.
Or should I start liking someone else?
--Me, A la fourth grade
There's a guy at my new Starbucks who has a crush on me. It's very sweet actually. He's about as subtle as the Miraculous bra from Victoria's Secret (that's like the equivalent of what a train wreck does for the eyes; the Miraculous adds two cup sizes. Helloooo second date!)
This guy is such an eager beaver I can see the saliva form at the corners of his mouth when he's around me. His eyes light up and he finds any excuse to touch me or get me to look in his direction.
Of course, as luck would have it, I'm not interested at all. Isn't that the way the Starbucks cookie crumbles? But what fun would it be if I met a guy who was as crazy for me as I was for him? We've already written that chapter, on to more amusing things.
The best part about this new Romeo is that his name is Jared. Yes, Jared, which happens to be the name of the nemesis I left behind at my last store. One Jerad abhors me, another Jared adores me. Perhaps the inverse of letters affects their affection.
Hey, anything is possible.
But this new Jared was good for me. I think all women need a Jared in their life. A sweet, harmless, doting, everything you do is amazing to them kind of guy to remind yourself, Aw, so THIS is what interest looks like. It does not play mind games with you. It does not say one thing but do another. It doesn't grow overwhelmed by its devotion to you. It just dotes. Passionately, genuinely, with all sincerity, dotes. And even though I couldn't return the sentiment it painted my cheeks crimson in all feminine bashfulness.
Mama always said the best way to get over a lost cat was to get a new cat. And I couldn't seem to find one, which I knew was part of my whole growing-maturing-character building-strength enduring testy-majig. Good ol' Big G, doesn't give us more than we can handle but comes pretty damn close. I wasn't at a breaking point but I certainly contemplated bawling or stabbing something more often than I ought. But I blamed the water retension in my brain. And as the days ticked by, the swelling was going down. And so was my insanity level.
At least that's what I kept telling myself.
So, ok, I thought, I don't get a new kitty, at least not anytime soon. But, I do get a very attentive puppy dog. It really is a shame I have zero fondness for dogs. But that's life, right? You want what you can't have and by the time you get it your desire has waned and you've moved onto something else. That's why life is one big tragi-comedy. And it always made me laugh. And as this year had already proven time and time again, there were more plot twists than there were curls on my head.
And that, that I did love.
With all that I had.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Gracie
Once upon a time there was a girl.
She was always looking for something.
She'd lost it so long ago she'd forgotten what it looked like.
But she knew it was missing.
And she wanted it back.
She was persistent, sometimes forcefully so.
She embodied drama.
She knew how to make things happen.
But she didn't know how to make them stay.
And that always left her rattled.
She spent a lot of time alone.
She'd discovered it was easier to search alone.
People distracted, they took and they deceived.
They poisoned truth with their seductive lies.
And she always believed them.
She couldn't lie and she couldn't distrust.
Her heart wouldn't allow it.
She always believed.
One day she was driving, it was raining.
And her lonliness was palpable.
And she felt ashamed.
She wasn't lonely because of them.
She was lonely because of her own heart.
And it made her cry.
She was running in circles and she was tired.
She hit every stop light red.
And so she just sat there.
And waited.
She missed Him and didn't understand how He'd become so far away.
But she guessed that was why she never got what she wanted.
She kept catching glimpses of all that could be but never was.
Being wrong all the time was draining.
She no longer trusted her heart.
And that frightened her.
What could she trust if she couldn't trust what was inside her?
So she walked back to her huddled corners, her safety and she remembered.
She remembered believing.
She remembered all the things she'd done that had put fear in her gut
But she'd done them anyway.
And she remembered the mountains that had leapt into the sea
And the words that had found love sifting through all the ashes from the mountains
And the medicine that had healed hope
And the heartless that had been moved to compassion
And she was very thankful for second chances.
For 2,538 chances.
Because she knew she would need them.
And she wished more than anything that for tonight He could have skin on.
Just tonight.
Because all she wanted was a hug.
Just to know it would be ok, to feel it.
But she believed.
And as she tasted the salt once again
She remembered.
She remembered what she forgot,
She remembered what she was looking for.
And she would find it.
She had to.
She was always looking for something.
She'd lost it so long ago she'd forgotten what it looked like.
But she knew it was missing.
And she wanted it back.
She was persistent, sometimes forcefully so.
She embodied drama.
She knew how to make things happen.
But she didn't know how to make them stay.
And that always left her rattled.
She spent a lot of time alone.
She'd discovered it was easier to search alone.
People distracted, they took and they deceived.
They poisoned truth with their seductive lies.
And she always believed them.
She couldn't lie and she couldn't distrust.
Her heart wouldn't allow it.
She always believed.
One day she was driving, it was raining.
And her lonliness was palpable.
And she felt ashamed.
She wasn't lonely because of them.
She was lonely because of her own heart.
And it made her cry.
She was running in circles and she was tired.
She hit every stop light red.
And so she just sat there.
And waited.
She missed Him and didn't understand how He'd become so far away.
But she guessed that was why she never got what she wanted.
She kept catching glimpses of all that could be but never was.
Being wrong all the time was draining.
She no longer trusted her heart.
And that frightened her.
What could she trust if she couldn't trust what was inside her?
So she walked back to her huddled corners, her safety and she remembered.
She remembered believing.
She remembered all the things she'd done that had put fear in her gut
But she'd done them anyway.
And she remembered the mountains that had leapt into the sea
And the words that had found love sifting through all the ashes from the mountains
And the medicine that had healed hope
And the heartless that had been moved to compassion
And she was very thankful for second chances.
For 2,538 chances.
Because she knew she would need them.
And she wished more than anything that for tonight He could have skin on.
Just tonight.
Because all she wanted was a hug.
Just to know it would be ok, to feel it.
But she believed.
And as she tasted the salt once again
She remembered.
She remembered what she forgot,
She remembered what she was looking for.
And she would find it.
She had to.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Awake is the new sleep
I'm tired of being patient and mature
I want to be spoiled and selfish and important
Just for tonight, just for right now
I'm taking this moment in all self indulgence
And declaring it as mine
If you're reading this then you know
The complexity of all that no one sees
But I can't avert my eyes
The numbness that's trying to work its way up from my toes
Has been halted
I don't want to be another drone
I see them
The mass of quiet desperation
And I offer out my hand
As they look right through me
Seeing only shadows
I want something contrary
Complex Heavy Consuming
I can't become all I ran away from
Surely then The Resa will fade
And the inevitability frightens me
That as I blink your shell will harden
And you will embody the robots I fear
Clouds of black and white washing past
Yet this grey stands alone
Waiting
And free
I want to be spoiled and selfish and important
Just for tonight, just for right now
I'm taking this moment in all self indulgence
And declaring it as mine
If you're reading this then you know
The complexity of all that no one sees
But I can't avert my eyes
The numbness that's trying to work its way up from my toes
Has been halted
I don't want to be another drone
I see them
The mass of quiet desperation
And I offer out my hand
As they look right through me
Seeing only shadows
I want something contrary
Complex Heavy Consuming
I can't become all I ran away from
Surely then The Resa will fade
And the inevitability frightens me
That as I blink your shell will harden
And you will embody the robots I fear
Clouds of black and white washing past
Yet this grey stands alone
Waiting
And free
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Tucked Away
I thought after this year that I had learned patience.
But apparently there are still a few areas that need working on.
*Ahem*
I've only ever lived alone once in my whole life. It was when I was 21 and I hated it. I hated being alone all the time. The joke of it is if I had the financial means I would choose to live alone now. I can think of very few things that aggravate me more than feeling like my space is being invaded.
My current roommate is 86 years old so if ever there was the defense being set in their ways, she definitely warranted that. But Grandma is a bit of a pistol, as am I, and she has some habits that are very reminiscent of the male at my last residence and that's making the intensity of my heart palpitations increase.
She reads through my mail. She goes through my garbage. Yes, she looks through the garbage and if she thinks I shouldn't throw something away she takes it out of the garbage. I reached for a pen that looked like one I'd thrown away and as I started writing with it there was no ink.
Grandma, I asked, is this the pen I threw away?
Yes, Grandma said, I rescued that from the trash.
I internally hit my head against the counter.
Grandma the pen doesn't work, that's why I threw it away.
I can't tell you how many different items she has removed from the trash after I've discarded them. I can't handle it anymore. It makes me feel like I'm either living with a looney tune or I am one. I've started taking my garbage to work. Seriously. I'm afraid if it's not just kleenex or dental floss she's going to start saving it and questioning me about things I want gone from my life.
It is the weirdest feeling to be living with someone who doesn't want me to get rid of anything. At my old house I was constantly enduring complaints for having way too much of everything.
Once while still at home the head of the household got annoyed that I'd left something in the downstairs bathroom and so he put it in the garbage. When I'd found it and confronted him about it, asking him why he hadn't just asked me to move the 'offensive' item he claimed he knew I'd see it in the trash. Passive Aggressive 101, ladies and gentlemen. Why communicate about an issue when you can act out on it?
By the bye, the offensive item that warranted dumpster love? A pink magic 8 ball. On the counter.
*Cough*
I know that some people don't mean their actions to come off as crazy as they do but I found myself flashing back to old feelings and falling into old habits of wanting my space, of not wanting to be at home, of hiding out in my room. I actually remember feeling similarly when I was living where I was before Grandma's. People are not respectful of space. People are needy and clingy and selfish and invasive. The more I thought about it the more I thought people should be surprised when married couples don't act out in crazy ways not the other way around. Why does it shock us when people suddenly do things that are uncharacteristic? How can anyone handle living with someone who demands so much of them all the time? And every couple has one of those. You think you're safe, you think We're different but you're not. There's the controller and the controlled, the aggressor and the passive. And they each wear their role like a forlorn badge of dishonor, too stubborn to budge, too clueless to question.
I think that's why relationships are so frightening.
I am doomed to either be the one who has no boundaries or won't respect boundaries.
Oh, I know, I know.
I'm different.
But I'm also unfortunately not ignorant so I don't have that bliss as a luxury.
I know that some people, some very rare, the few and far between are different.
I had seen this year how surprising people can be, how unorthodox relationships could feel healthier than ones I'd always known as safe.
I know things don't always have to be black and white.
But I didn't like feeling this way; feeling once again like the space I claimed as my own was not mine.
I think as I'm getting older my wants, my dreams are simplifying and I feel like that's a good thing.
There's a whole lot I don't know, specifics I'm not concerned about.
But I think all I want, all I really truly wanted, was a place that was mine, a home.
And maybe, in the most hopeful of fairytales, there would be someone there to share in it.
But apparently there are still a few areas that need working on.
*Ahem*
I've only ever lived alone once in my whole life. It was when I was 21 and I hated it. I hated being alone all the time. The joke of it is if I had the financial means I would choose to live alone now. I can think of very few things that aggravate me more than feeling like my space is being invaded.
My current roommate is 86 years old so if ever there was the defense being set in their ways, she definitely warranted that. But Grandma is a bit of a pistol, as am I, and she has some habits that are very reminiscent of the male at my last residence and that's making the intensity of my heart palpitations increase.
She reads through my mail. She goes through my garbage. Yes, she looks through the garbage and if she thinks I shouldn't throw something away she takes it out of the garbage. I reached for a pen that looked like one I'd thrown away and as I started writing with it there was no ink.
Grandma, I asked, is this the pen I threw away?
Yes, Grandma said, I rescued that from the trash.
I internally hit my head against the counter.
Grandma the pen doesn't work, that's why I threw it away.
I can't tell you how many different items she has removed from the trash after I've discarded them. I can't handle it anymore. It makes me feel like I'm either living with a looney tune or I am one. I've started taking my garbage to work. Seriously. I'm afraid if it's not just kleenex or dental floss she's going to start saving it and questioning me about things I want gone from my life.
It is the weirdest feeling to be living with someone who doesn't want me to get rid of anything. At my old house I was constantly enduring complaints for having way too much of everything.
Once while still at home the head of the household got annoyed that I'd left something in the downstairs bathroom and so he put it in the garbage. When I'd found it and confronted him about it, asking him why he hadn't just asked me to move the 'offensive' item he claimed he knew I'd see it in the trash. Passive Aggressive 101, ladies and gentlemen. Why communicate about an issue when you can act out on it?
By the bye, the offensive item that warranted dumpster love? A pink magic 8 ball. On the counter.
*Cough*
I know that some people don't mean their actions to come off as crazy as they do but I found myself flashing back to old feelings and falling into old habits of wanting my space, of not wanting to be at home, of hiding out in my room. I actually remember feeling similarly when I was living where I was before Grandma's. People are not respectful of space. People are needy and clingy and selfish and invasive. The more I thought about it the more I thought people should be surprised when married couples don't act out in crazy ways not the other way around. Why does it shock us when people suddenly do things that are uncharacteristic? How can anyone handle living with someone who demands so much of them all the time? And every couple has one of those. You think you're safe, you think We're different but you're not. There's the controller and the controlled, the aggressor and the passive. And they each wear their role like a forlorn badge of dishonor, too stubborn to budge, too clueless to question.
I think that's why relationships are so frightening.
I am doomed to either be the one who has no boundaries or won't respect boundaries.
Oh, I know, I know.
I'm different.
But I'm also unfortunately not ignorant so I don't have that bliss as a luxury.
I know that some people, some very rare, the few and far between are different.
I had seen this year how surprising people can be, how unorthodox relationships could feel healthier than ones I'd always known as safe.
I know things don't always have to be black and white.
But I didn't like feeling this way; feeling once again like the space I claimed as my own was not mine.
I think as I'm getting older my wants, my dreams are simplifying and I feel like that's a good thing.
There's a whole lot I don't know, specifics I'm not concerned about.
But I think all I want, all I really truly wanted, was a place that was mine, a home.
And maybe, in the most hopeful of fairytales, there would be someone there to share in it.
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