Busy, Busy, Busy…Sorry, Sorry, Sorry!
Hey ya’ll!
If you’re one of those really awesome people who consistenly read my blog and feel like I dropped you like a fruit cake on Christmas Eve then I apologize profusely! The thing is I have been really busy with some uber fantastic projects. For instance:
1.) I am going to India in December! Yeah! You can read more about that here: http://www.intlprincess.org/
2.) I am starting a non-profit for eating disorders. Crazy! I know and I’ll put a link up soon.
3.) I got a promotion at the rehab I work at and I’ve been blogging for them. You can read the posts here: http://eatingdisorderrecovery.wordpress.com/
4.) And if you just miss me and want to see my silly face living my funny life you can check out my personal blog here:
http://princessninispice.wordpress.com/
I hope to come back and start blogging consistently, but I think I’m on “Holiday” at least until 2010. Love you guys! Chit Chat soon 
xoxo,
HonestChitChat
Mine!
Have you ever played with kids? If you have, I wonder if you’ve gotten the same feeling I get, that they are a glimpse of what the world “should” be like. Have you ever noticed the candor and bluntness that goes with kids? Once when I was helping my 4 year old niece Delaney get into her pajamas I offered her a new pair of underwear from her Snoopy suitcase. She declined stating, “No thanks, I don’t wear underwear to bed. No one in my family does.” I rolled on the floor laughing as I thought how embarrassed my sister would be if she heard her say that. She just gave me raised eyebrows that said, “Crazy Aunt Nini.” I just love that kids have absolutely no fear about airing the family laundry (or lack there of) they are absolutely free to be themselves.
But, why should they be afraid? For all they know there will always be a brown sack lunch to accompany them to school. There will always be a car to retrieve them from soccer practice. There will always be an aunt or an uncle to tuck them into bed when mommy and daddy are on a weekend trip in Palm Springs. If they are safe they have no reason to hold back. They have no bargaining to do. Life is perfect…Isn’t it?
We all eventually learn that life is NOT perfect.. I learned that at 8, when my “sack lunch” existence disappeared. My parents divorced, my dad had a mental break down and threw himself in front of a garbage truck. We left the only home I ever knew to a small apartment. Sack lunches were replaced with the phrase “borrow money from someone” the nice town car was replaced with a clunker that had to be jumped in the morning and overheated on the freeway. The aunts and uncles who tucked me into bed now the alcoholics and addicts that made periodic visits to our couch. This is when I learned the word, “Mine!”
When Delaney once came back from a trip to Indiana with a new word, “Mine!” Everything from her toys, to her juice box she proclaimed like a blue bird hailing the sunrise, this is “Mine!” My sister told me that while on the trip Delaney cousins taught her the word. As an only child she never heard it, but being around other kids she learned she had to claim what was hers. Delaney learned if you don’t keep an eye on your Barbies and Leggo’s someones going to take em’ and when they don’t give them back you have to fight them back by saying, “Mine.”
But, sometimes even when we ask nicely we still don’t get our toys back. I think this is one of the most difficult things about the human experience. The troubling fact that I can share, be nice and polite and you will still take my toys from me. That equation never has worked out for me as a kid or as a woman. This may sound a bit morbid to you, but as a woman who is excited to build a home and a family, I have this deep fear of finding the love of my life and then losing him. Or having children and then having something tragic happen to them. I guess I just can’t fathom waiting so long for the right guy, working so hard to be a healthy mom and then losing a kid. I see it happen all the time on the news and it doesn’t make sense to me. I feel like telling God, “I’m a good girl, don’t take my toys away from me. That’s not playing fair! That’s mine!”
I got to thinking about this concept of “Mine” after seeing The Time Travelers Wife tonight. At first I didn’t want to see it. I thought, “How am I supposed to relate to a freakin’ time traveling story?” But, I did in so many ways. The plot is a woman who is in love with a time traveler. They deeply love each other, but he is gone half the time because he can’t control when he travels. It just “happens.” She’s left alone on Christmas, New Years and spends so much time just waiting for the person she loves the most to just return to her presence. It was actually a very painful movie to watch. Seeing how much joy they had together and the anguish they endured each time they were apart. It killed me to see my worst fear reenacted repeatedly.
By the time my face was sopping with tears a key line came from the wife. Her husband knows he is going to leave her and her young daughter for the LAST TIME. He apologizes to her and even after all the pain, strife and hardness she says, “I wouldn’t change a moment of our life together.”
It may sound like a corny little chick flick line to you, but its quite profound to me. Growing up I constantly tried to cling on to some form of stability in my life. I begged to live in the same home for 6 months. That we would have running car for just 3 months. That I could expect when to see my dad come to school dressed like a homeless man. I just wanted to be warned. If I couldn’t have what was mine, I at least wanted to know what to expect from life. The funny thing I have learned is NOTHING is CONSISTENT.
Considering where I came from I live a pretty remarkable life. Even though I have lived in 25 different homes in 26 years of life, even though I attended 4 different colleges to get a Bachelors Degree, even though I have battled addiction and an eating disorder I now live a pretty mellow life. Do I dare say a consistent life? I do. I’ve lived in almost the same house for a year and half, have driven the same car for 4 years, I have friends that I could count on to break me out of prison if need be and most importantly I have faith that keeps me pretty sturdy. As hard as it would be to go back to my childhood, to go back to a life of chaos and disorder I’m not sure I would be as distraught knowing what I know now. Knowing that life ebbs and flows the way it ought to. That sometimes I have to give up the precious things that are mine and make me comfortable in order to receive something grander and bigger than I could have imagined. Sometmes I’m wrong about what I think is mine and what I’m entitled too. And sometimes being wrong is the most comforting thing I could have never asked for.
Xoxo to ya’all,
HonestChitChat
Only Cowboys need apply…
Howdy partners! So I just gotta say that I am uber overwhelmed by the response to my book review on Why Men Love Bitches. If you view the link you’ll find over 20 comments of women who have been the “nice girl” in a relationship and got treated like cow dung for it. Women have moved states, changed jobs, purchased killer baseball tickets, cooked dinners and “put out” all to be treated worse than most street puppies in Mexico. And I hate to say it, but it has simply been the results of these women just being “Too nice” to their undeserving male counterpart.
This ruckus has just gotta stop! And as the sexy sheriff of Http://honestchitchat.wordpress.com I say the tune of the town starts to sing a different melody NOW! My thoughts are that us women need to saddle up and drive those baboons away from our territory (of time, commitment and compassion) And instead start with a clean slate of land. And who will be gainfully employing in this land you may ask?” I reckon it be the studly, “MANLY” , confident, courteous, line dancing cowboy.
When you look for a guy you should in essence be looking for a “Cowboy” And to keep that cowboy you need to have to really, really LOVE YOURSELF and not put up with any cow dung! Everyone likes to go “boot knockin” but if you’re doing it with a baboon and not a cowboy that will not reciprocate your kindness you’ll end up with a lot more heart ache and pain than you really bargained for.
So how can you verify if you are dating a cowboy? Ask yourself the following questions? Does he…
A.) Pony up and ride on over to your barn to hang out?
*Because if he is really diggin’ you he will want his precious lass to be safe and sound in her home in the dark hours of the night. Not driving in the pitch dark through an apartment complex in South L.A.
B.) Does he act like tossing cow chips is the funnest thing in the world when he’s with you?
*A cowboy could care less if he’s throwing cow chips or raking hay in the barn. Just as long as he’s with “his girl.” So MANY women commented that their dudes would rather watch TV/Play video games/ hang with boys than hang out with them. And they stayed in these relationships for 7 years!!!! If you’re guy is a real “Cowboy” he will enjoy being with you no matter what. And if he’s more attracted to Mario and Luigi than you than he probably has more issues than just social ineptness.
C.) When you are hurt does he get you band aid?
*A cowboy doesn’t like seeing his woman in pain and will protect her at any cost. If she’s hurt by his actions he’ll apologize. If there is a communication mishap he’ll clear the air. He WILL NOT tell her she’s a crazy B-otch.
D.) Is he a fun guy who takes you line dancing?
*Cowboys love to show off their gals! They take them line dancing. To picnics on the farm and teach them how to drive the family tractor. Their always proud to have them around. A jerk doesn’t hang with his girl on a regular basis. He doesn’t take her out. He never pays and he only sees her when its convenient for himself.
E.) Open doors like a Southerner?
*A cowboy will open your door to the car. Make dates in advance. Walk you to your door. Tell you “You look beautiful tonight” and offer you their jacket. You need to find a man that will treat the way you DESERVE to be treated.
And alas, I find that for all of us women knowing how we “Deserve to be treated” seems to be the foundation upon which all relationships stand. As heartbreaking as it was to read the comments of so many women who had been hurt by men for so many years, I knew that it was only 50% of the mans fault the other 50% lay with the woman for not communicating to the man how she deserved to be treated.
When I set up a relationship with someone I show them how I treat myself and if they don’t comply then they will WANT to leave. Which has happened. But, the truth is I am blessed that there are men who don’t like me. Cause the truth of the matter is I don’t want to be with a guy who wants me driving to his house all the time which is 40 minutes away. I don’t want a guy who makes sexist remarks about women. I don’t want a guy who can only hang out with me past midnight. I don’t want a guy who asks me to pick up a six pack on the way to his house. And I don’t want a guy who doesn’t call me every couple of days. I believe I deserve to be treated better than that. The men and women in my life know that and my result is I have the most amazing friends in the world, they are people who care about themselves and the people around them.
Having said that I challenge all of you beautiful, smart, talented and courageous women to first and foremost learn to love yourself, to stand by your beliefs of the way you deserve to be treated and THEN go lasso you a fine cowboy!
Yee haaa!
Have a great week! I’ll post again this Friday!
HonestChitChat
P.S. My new posting schedule is Mondays and Fridays.
Michael Jackson:Don’t matter if you’re black or white! But, if you’re anorexic…. BEAT IT!
The second I heard that Michael Jackson had a heart attack and caught a one way flight to go meet the big G-O-D… I simultaneously thought two things 1.) Of my little sister and I hiding against my mothers breast, under her over sized 80’s sweater every time Thriller came on MTV and 2.) That Michael Jacksons Eating Disorder killed him. How do I know he had an Eating Disorder? Well for one I work in the Eating Disorder field, two I’ve personally experienced a good portion of my life eating ” chicken broth with a fork “ and as they say… ”You can spot it if you got it” and three….come on people, if you add up all of MJ’s behaviors and life experiences you get a pretty text book case of a full blown eating disorder. So lets examine the sugar free evidence shall we?
Exhibit #1…His “8th grade girl” weight
At his death MJ weighed 112 pounds and was 5 foot 10 and 1/2! Hold the macaroni! That gives him a body mass index of 15.9…(A normal BMI is between 18.4 and 24.9!!!!!!) According to American height and weight charts, even if he was at the small end and had a small frame he should have weighed AT LEAST 144 pounds. Now, if he is as I am predicting an Anorexic his weight played a huge factor in his death since the majority of Anorexic deaths are due to heart failure AKA Heart Attacks which is due to stress on the body from malnutrition. In the beginning of Anorexia, the body makes up for the lack of food, by taking nutrients from the bones. When the bones are depleted (and osteoperosis is left) the body stops being able to function and eventually the organs stop working without fuel.
Exhibit #2…King of pill poppin DRUG USE
In essence Anorexia is a powerful voice in its victims head that tells them while awake and even while dreaming that they are a worthless, fat piece of lard. Many turn to drug use and alcohol to numb out the voice in their head. While doing so they discover that the drugs not only numb the voice, but are a appetite suppressant too. There is a good portion of evidence that Michael Jackson abused prescription drugs (enter Dr.Murray) I do agree that he most likely was a drug addict, but I argue that his anorexia and body dysmorphia came first. The drug use is only a symptom of a greater problem.
Exhibit #3….Plastic Spaztic Surgery-
We have all heard people comment on things they would like to change about their appearance. A small percentage of people actually go under the knife and maybe get a nose job or put collagen in their lips. But, Michael Jackson didn’t just have one or two surgery’s he allegedly had 44 surgerys! This is also evidence of an Eating Disorder. Many Eating Disorder patients suffer from body dysmorphia. No matter how much weight they lose, how much bone you can see, how shiny their hair, how petite their nose or how tanned their rump is they will continue to find flaw after flaw in their body. They have such an extreme amount of self hatred that they cannot accept themselves as they are. Body dismorphia would explain MJ’s epidemic of plastic surgery procedures.
Exhibit #4: His DIEt… hence the word “DIE”
There is a whole lot of speculation on what if anything crossed the King of Pop’s lips. In interviews he admitted to water fasts, then he fasted on Sundays, then he ate once a day, then he binged on hot wings, cake and cookies….obviously not the healthiest eating rituals. Extreme dieting is known to cause great havoc on the bodies organ…the most vital being the heart. If Michael was practicing this lack of eating and binging coupled with his drug use its no wonder his body faded by 50.
Exhibit #5…Problem? What problem?
Addicts, Alcoholics and Anorexics are notorious for refusing help with their addictions. There is plenty of evidence out there that his family tried to intervene. MJ reportedly severed relationships with people who confronted him on his behaviors. Anorexia is a disease of control. Anorexics find comfort in believing they can truly make their life perfect as long as they can control their weight. The thought of giving up their behaviors is unfathomable. They resent the person who is coming in between them and their disease.
So whats the verdict?
I argue that my evidence proves the Michael Jackson’s primary addiction was his Eating Disorder not drug abuse. I now would like to motion that the news media like CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC, FOX, E Entertainment News, TMZ and even you Perez Hilton start reporting the real friggin’ story here. Every single one of ya’all that sit in front of a tele-prompter, camera, laptop and claim yourself a righteous and heroic journalist in search of the raw truth to relay to the public actually do your “reputable” job and report THE UGLY TRUTH! Who are you so afraid of offending anyway? The 90lb producer sloshing vodka in the ladies room? Or the 12 year old anorexic girl who has only had apple juice since thursday?
The truth is, The King of Pop, who along with 1 out of every 4 college aged girls, 7 million women and 1 million men have Eating Disorders. To some of you, you might think…”So you throw up your food and sometimes don’t eat. That’s pretty weird, but sorry I don’t get what the big deal is.” Let me try to explain it simply to you…There is a genocide going on under your nose, at your school, at your work or even in your home and you don’t even know it or care to change it. An Eating Disorder is simply self hatred. Meaning that 1 out of ever 4 college girls, 7 million women and 1 million men think they are piece of crap. They live in hell everyday believing that they are worthless and need to earn approval from the world hrough their appearance.
And for the record, I don’t think the media is to blame..it’s us. A lot of us out there with addictions have bought into the lie that unless we provide a service a good time, an attractive body, a hot car, straight A’s, a lucrative job, an impressive lifestyle or a enviable house that we are not worthy to exist as humans
. Talent, fame, wealth, adoration, fans, children, safety, security, travel, music, dancing and even his own theme park couldn’t make him feel loved. Being loved is a human need, but in the sad case of Michael Jackson you can have everything money can buy and the adoration of the world but even all that can’t convince a person who doesn’t love themselves that they are enough just as they are. I hope this blog opened your eyes a little today. I hope you leave here knowing that your body is not a service, it is a container that holds your soul and it is your soul that is within your beating heart that makes you lovable. It’s not ironic that Anorexics die of heart attacks, I consider it quite poignant. The once pure soul can’t take anymore more abuse and breaks free going back home to be with G-O-D.
Good night,
HonestChitChat
I got into a CHICK FIGHT…
I got into a chick fight…I seriously don’t think there is going to be anyone more shocked to read those words than I am right now. Trust me, if you knew me you would NEVER guess that I, the church goin, baby sittin’, cookie bakin , smile wearin, girly girl from Newport would be seen throwin blows at another chick in front of Rudy’s on the Peninsula. But, as they say, “Life is stranger than fiction.”
Now if you were to pull me aside while I lay tanning by the pool on a warm June afternoon and ask me to make up a scenario of a real life chick fight I could possibly get into I would probably sit up, reapply some tanning oil and say, “Okay, well first I would have to be a very sunk drunk off four shots of Gold Schlagger, 3 shots of patron, 4 Margaritas and one Adios Mother F*$#%^. It would definitely be in the middle of a cheesy casino in Vegas like the Stardust at like 3 in the morning. It would be started after some chick cracked out on coke tried to take my winnings from my $3600 jackpot, after I put $100 on red 24 at the roulette table. She would be running for the exit, but I would jump on her back in the middle of the casino. All of my chips would go flying in the air, but passerby’s wouldn’t try to gather them. They would be too fixated on me trying to hand cuff the crack head with the elastic from my hair.” Now, that is exactly what DIDN’T happen.
What did happen is I was completely sober last Saturday evening. Yes, SOBER. As in one RedBull and a water. I strolled on down to Rudy’s with a lady friend of mine who was meeting up with a boy. The boy was super chill, his wing-men were witty and cute, but his posse of lady friends sitting on the patio weren’t too friendly. They sat on the patio while I danced on tables and tried to get everyone in the bar to do the dance moves to Thriller with me. I’m just one of those people who don’t need alcohol to make a fool of themselves, I can do that all on my own. It also helps that I ran into a few guy friends from High School. They joined in on my dancing antics.
It’s funny dancing with boys that you’ve known since the 5th grade. You remember the 8th grade dance when they built up sweat beads just putting their hand on your waist, then they build up the courage to touch your butt at prom (of course after they’ve drank a six pack of beer with a straw out of their jacket.) But when your 26 and have a body full of testosterone ready to mount, they don’t hesitate to grab, grind and swing you around the local pub like you’re going for gold on, Dancing with the Stars. Now, I was laughing my head off, the chicks on the patio…not so much. I kept seeing them glaring me down through the big glass wall between the dance floor and the patio. Next thing I know one of the guys with the group of girls comes up to me and starts dancing. I go with it. He moves me across the dance floor/bar floor…I go with it. He puts his hand down my pants and tries to put his hand up my….I don’t go with it. Assuming he’s drunk and out of it. I push him away and go find my guy friends. They say, “Whats wrong?” I just bottle it in and smile and say, “Nothin’ I’m cool.”
A couple hours later my guy friends leave, I’m showing off solos on the dance floor when another one of the guys from their group approaches me to dance…I go with it. He goes low to the floor…I go low to the floor….He goes super low…I go super low… He turns around and practically sits on me as I fall back on the floor. I see him get up, walk away and go high-five the girls on the patio…I don’t go with it or bottle it in. I walk up to the girls on the patio and say, “I’m sorry, but I have noticed a lot of negative energy from you tonight. Did I do something to offend you and your friends?” The chick with the glasses says, “No, honey. You’re just too drunk to realize what’s going on. Don’t worry about it” I say, “Actually, I’m not drunk. I don’t drink.” She looks at me like a very prejudice and ignorant woman looks when she’s made a very big mistake.” I say, I just like to have fun, but I feel like I have offended you guys someway and I’d like to clear the air.” She says, “Don’t worry about it.” And gives me a fake smile. Fuming I go up to my lady friend and say, “We need to leave.” We go to the bathroom and I explain everything that has happened over the course of the evening. She says she wants to try to smooth it out with the girls since they are close with the guy she likes. As I’m in the bathroom I repeat the words, “Integrity and respect…treat all people with integrity and respect. Don’t hurt anybody HonestChitChat. Violence is never the answer. Integrity and Respect.”
I take a deep breath and we leave the bathroom. MY lady friend goes up to one of the girls to talk it out. I see the guy who tried to stick his hand up my crotch and the sanity switch in my head loses power. I go up to the guy and push him against the glass wall between the bar and the patio. He had his back to me (I’m a cheap fighter) A few of the girls scream while I go “bam- bam style” pounding on his back. I don’t know who, but someone pulls me off of him. All of the sudden 5 angry, clenched fisted girls come after me. My lady friends boy toy who is like 6 bagillion feet tall puts his arms out and his wing span holds all these girls and guys back while security tells me I need to leave the building.
I laugh it off while I strut to the car, I gloat to my lady friend, “Don’t mess with me!” Then 20 paces away from my car comes all of those 5 angry girls after me. One girl grabs my shoulders and shakes me. She says, “Who do you think you are? You can not get away with hitting my friends! You are going to be so sorry! ” She starts pushing me to the ground while I yell out what that guy did to me in between crying and screaming. She pulls me up and yells, “You’re a liar! He’s my fiancé! I have known him for 18 years! He would never do that!” My lady friend tries to get between us. The girl lets go of one of my shoulders and grabs her arm. Another girl comes up and grabs her other arm. My lady friend says, “She wouldn’t lie. She doesn’t’ lie.” The girl screams back at her, “She’s a whore who dances on tables! Of course she would lie.” My lady friend says, “Okay lets say she’s lying then. She’s a whore who lies. Then you have no reason to hurt her. She’s just a stupid girl who made it up.” There’s a crowd of guys watching now and people saying, “Just let them go.” She lets go of us both as she screams that she’s going to find me and to never come back there again. I get into my car. My lady friend and I both burst into tears when the “wing man” runs up to my car and knocks on my window. I blow him off and drive away.
I believe that in every person I meet, in every experience I have there is something for me to learn from. This may sound like a joke coming from a girl from Newport, but I think this experience allowed me to truly empathize what it’s like to be racially stereotyped. (*No, not know what its like, EMPATHIZE) I mean I don’t know what it was about me, but whether it be my curly brown hair, the way I was dressed in jeans, a pink top and silver high heels, the way I danced with my friends or the volume of my scream when I danced with my friends, but this group of people decided they did not like me. When I did try to make peace with them I was mocked. When I stuck up for myself the situation turned dangerous. I’m reading the Autobiography of Malcolm X right now. Its interesting the parallels I find in that book and this situation. I know I was wrong to attack that guy like that, but I stuck up for myself. And as far as I’m concerned up until the point that I threw that guy into the glass I was keeping my side of the street clean as a human being. I was not intoxicated, I was enjoying a night out with friends and was simply being my fun loving self. But, somehow being “myself” was not okay around these people. I’ll stop making a grocery list defending why I am most definitely not in the wrong and I try to see where I am….
I admit that I am guilty of stereotyping people. I have looked at people and have assumed that I know their back story, their motives and what they ate for dinner. I’ve been on this earth for 26 years and don’t ya know I know a thing or two about people. But, what I didn’t know until the other night at Rudy’s is how harmful and unserving that skill is. It is my goal this week to try to talk to the people I think I would have nothing in common with. Talk to people who I have overlooked and usually ignored. Maybe my prejudices will be somewhat true, but maybe they won’t. What I do know is that what happened to me the other night should never happen to anyone. I can’t intervene in every bar in America and as nice as it would be for every person on earth to read my blog, that isn’t mechanically possible. What I can do though is control myself.
Peace Out,
HonestChitChat AKA”The OC Rocky”
Battle of the Wills in dating…
Battle of Wills: A situation in which there are two competing people or groups, and both sides are equally determined to get what they want.
I once asked my dad, a Los Angeles defense attorney how he could sleep at night knowing that he kept child molesters, rapist and murders on our streets. He casually said, “What if they didn’t do it?” He shoveled a bite of sweet potato in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, took a gulp of wine and said, “Isn’t everyone’s innocent until their proven guilty?” If you knew my father you would toss your head back and laugh at this statement. Considering he’s a cynical, paranoid schizophrenic that doesn’t trust the barista at Starbucks to pour him black coffee without lacing it with Anthrax. You would also laugh at me if I took the term “innocent until proven guilty” and applied it to dating men. But, as the Kanarek’s are we tend to stray from our onlookers predicted direction.
I met Will at ILounge in Newport Beach. He had a great opening line he said, “You look like a fun girl. I’d like to take you out to an Italian dinner. You like Italian?” He had a thick New York accent, wasn’t hard on the eyes and was the only boy in Newport that I had ever met that wasn’t scared of carbs so I said, “Hell yeah!”
Will had serious game cause he hooked me fast. Needless to say when you don’t realize that 4 hours have gone by while you have been talking and laughing with someone you’ll want to bite onto them. And in all pathetic honesty I sincerely felt that I had hit the jackpot with Will. He was great conversation, took me out to dinner, threw compliments at me by the dozens, opened doors, called to make sure I got home okay, called me to tell me he enjoyed our dates and called days in advance to set up new dates. We talked about politics, life and families. Joked around with cabbies, with random people in the park and played football, went to the gym and even sang along to the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. What can I say, in 4 years of dating he was the first guy who made my girlfriends shutter, “Wait….did you say you actually LIKE HIM?”
If I was an investigative and hard working attorney you would definitely have found me arguing that my client was an honorable, honest and chivalrous member of the male dating community. I would even have asked the Dating Queens and Heiresses to dub him a “Royal Catch.” But as we all know there is always another side to every story and another argument to be presented. Granted the other side showed up on a Wednesday afternoon when I had Will over to my house for lunch. Now, I know Will had been sick for the past week but I am not aware of any cold or flu that leaves the patient anxious, bouncing like a 2 year old, becoming oblivious of all manners and spewing cutting and cruel things by the mouthful. If you know of the illness here is a warning to what you have coming. Will walked in my house and opened the cabinets in my home and joked “Can I look through your stuff.” Rudely asked me, “Can I get something to drink around here?” and went through my fridge. Found some writing I was working on and mocked it saying, “This is laced with estrogen isn’t it?” At one point I tried to play with him and make him relax. I stood in front of him blocking his path, he picked me up and said, “That took a lot of effort.” Then when he grabbed his sandwich and started chowing down on it he mentioned the juice I took by his house when he was sick. He said “Oh by the way that drink you brought by my house was awful. Disgusting. But thanks I mean I appreciated it.”
You know that awesome ditzy and confused look that Jenny McCarthy does?
Yes! That one! I swear it was written all over my face. The rest of the “Will saga” was just more of the same jaw dropping, shocking and rude behavior. The worst part occurred when I had to take a deep breath and realize the truth: 1. Will just decided he didn’t like me. 2. Instead of telling me he showed me. And 3…. I…(gulp)….I was the one who defended a guilty client.
Now, in the world of heterosexual, 20 something dating we suck it up, we stand up straight, we replace their names in our phones with the words, “DONT PICK UP” and press on to the next guy. But, before I was ever a 20 something, I was human. And before I was human I was part of my dad which makes me part stubborn, Jewish attorney. And I must say I feel foolish. Foolish that I gambled my time and emotions on a crooked man. I’m angry and pissed. My poor little ego is deflated like a popped water balloon in the middle of a hot street in August.But, the one thing that I have that always consoles me at the end of the day is knowing that if things don’t go my way then maybe “my will” just wasn’t right? I have encountered several disappointments in my life, but in retrospect I can see the blessing in the losses of those battles.
I figure that Will was just on the opposite side of the spectrum of the Will for my life. Yeah, it feels like crap to have someone treat you like crap, but sometimes we need a hard, pointed dagger in our side to get us to move in the opposite direction. A lot of my days are still pretty tough, I want to control my life, I think I have the big smart ideas on whats right for me and for others, but the truth is I don’t. I am but a feeble 26 year old human being. Who has had some pretty jacked up thinking for many of those years really. The truth is I can’t trust my will, so I trust the will of God. I ask for divine direction and hopefully I follow the route. The moral of the story is when it comes to dating and relationships sometimes our verdict isn’t the last one…sometimes there is a far bigger and better plan that out does an attractive, Italian from New York….sometimes I deserve more than I think I do…..maybe you do too.
“For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill.”
-Sun Tzu
Courting a Woman is all about “THE GAME” – Book Review
When I first picked up THE GAME by Neil Strauss it was because this guy I was dating lets just call him Mr.39….(details later) claimed it was his favorite book. As I started to read the book I started to bite my bottom lip and breathe heavily as my stomach turned and moaned in hatred for the writer and anything without a vagina.
THE GAME is a very detailed, full proof strategy of how to mind screw insecure women into sleeping with you. If you are one of the many BOYS that have googled, “How to court/get/date/make a woman fall in love with you” and have clicked upon my blog you have found your manual to do just that….or have you?
So one Sunday night Mr.39 and I were eating some Lavash and Nutella and having a very heated discussion about sex and relationships. Well it was heated on my end because I was appalled at the size of the hole Mr.39 was making for himself. After talking to Mr.39 for awhile I discovered he has his own Google sponsored website teaching men how to pick up women. He’s been in 17 different relationships, slept with 39 women and his favorite book is THE GAME. Like any woman that jumps to conclusions without asking first I felt like just another warm blooded broad he had a strategy to mount. I told him my dislike for his “number” and doubted his motives since he’s dated and slept with so many.
He then asked me, “Have you finished THE GAME yet?”
I said, “Don’t change the subject! And, yes! I hate it! It’s for insecure men who can’t get girls themselves!” [cross my arms in fury]
Mr.39 [Tilts his head up and smiles] You didn’t finish the book did you?
HonestChitChat: [Only read half of it at this point] I read it! It’s bull!
Mr.39 [Winks at me and says] Finish it. I know you’ll like the ending.
Sittin’ pretty and pouty in my pink nighty I read the rest of the book one night. Low and behold…I did like the ending. The ending of THE GAME takes the ultimate twist while we watch the main character,” Style” meets “The 10 of his life” AKA ….”The one.” He does every trick in the book on her and she doesn’t give in. The rules that applied to the thousands of women he has picked up and slept with didn’t work on this one. Having come to terms with his defeat he forfeited his mind games, plots and perfect strategy and flew the scary white flag of surrender that says, “I’m just gonna be myself” The happy ending is that when Style decides to “be himself” he lands the girl.
Now hold it fellas….before you go out there and start being “yourself” and try to land a chick you gotta take in the other half of the equation of this story….the good part of every story….the part that makes a movie worth watching….the better half of society….the part that makes all walks of life “coo” when its small and “ah” when it grows…..The girl.
The girl that Style ended up with wasn’t the type of girl that just fell for any of his games. She was confident, she was secure and she was just waiting for him to man up and be the same. She stuck around long enough for him to stop the B.S. and be the nice guy he was. What I’m saying is you want to date a confident woman then this mind game stuff is just going to make her run. A woman knows her value. A woman knows she is to be respected and admired. Like attracts like. Little boys attract little girls and confident and secure men attract and KEEP confident and secure women.
I think men and women can take away a lot from this book. Like…
1.) Men- Sex with tons of hot girls won’t fulfill you. It will only make you feel lonely and empty.
2.) Women – Sex with tons of hot guys won’t fulfill you. It will only make you feel lonely and empty.
3.) Men- You can get a girl by poking jokes at her and making her feel stupid and small. Of course you will only do that if you feel stupid and small and need to make her feel the same way in order to sleep with you.
4.) Women- You are not Samantha from Sex and the City and you are not a man. The bio-chemistry of your body will never allow you to have casual sex with someone who doesn’t care for you without you feeling like crap afterward. As they say, “You have to have love to make love.” Proceed with caution.
5.) In order to be “yourself” you have to “know” yourself. That means knowing how far you want to go with someone you’re just dating. Knowing how to stick up for yourself when someone crosses the line. Being honest about your beliefs, wants and needs in life. Not exaggerating or minimizing your opinions just to get along with someone.
So Mr.39 and I are still friends. Over time I have gotten to know more about him which has explained his website, his number and his obsessive compulsive relationship habit. The verdict? He just wants to find “The One” AKA…he just wants to be loved for who he is. He much like you my reader and even myself has/is/will look for love under every rock, tree, coffee cup and blond until we find it. I know men love “the chase” and I know women love being chased. But, if there’s one thing I have learned in my short life is that you won’t find love under a rock, tree, coffee cup or blond until you fully, truly and completely for better or for worse love “Yourself.” And if you got all the way down to the bottom of this article I think “yourself” is the one you should be chasing.
“Courage is not the absence of fear. It is having fear, but doing it anyway.”
-Unknown
Suicide in Paradise….
The rehab I work at is pretty idyllic. Its a gorgeous Victorian house in Newport Beach thats just steps away from the ocean. The sun shines almost every day, even in the winter, dogs groomed better than most children welcome coos and strokes and the locals say “mornin’ “while their cruising on their bikes. Newport Beach may be a “tad” pretentious, but for battling an Eating Disorder our rehab couldn’t have been dealt a better hand. Unfortunately in the hellacious and gruesome battle against an Eating Disorder a good rehab and a calm climate can only be considered a nut and bolt in the armour that it takes to suit up and combat it. Which was so evident this morning when I went in to wake up Jenn.
Making sure the girls are ready for breakfast at 7:30am is part of my normal routine. I usually find girls fast asleep in their beds. Hair tangled across their face like seaweed clutching on to their pillows. I don’t like to startle them so I whistle at the side of their bed until I get a squint and a smile. But, when I went to wake Jenn up I found a perfectly made bed without a wrinkle in it and a terrified 39 year old women peeking from behind the covers. She was wide awake but frozen. I noticed that her little corner of the room was bare without cards saying, “Keep going Rock Star”, words of affirmations or pictures of family and friends. It was just her.
Jenn is not the usual patient I work with. She is kind, soft spoken and reserved. The patients I have had most interactions with are angry, out spoken and cuss like Courtney Love on speed. But, Jenn is timid, her stature is hunched and her walk is a saunter that defines someone who doesn’t want to make too many waves. In the beginning everyone considered her so sweet, but today that tune has changed to “weak.”
Watching the women at the rehab interact with Jenn today was like watching a Darwinian episode of survival of the fittest. While the women are usually very supportive of each other in preparing their meals and measuring, Jenn got no slack when she didn’t ask for help during breakfast. When one of the girls caught her under measuring her cereal the air of the room changed from peaceful to judgment. When she started tearing up at the breakfast table she was ignored. When she laid her head on the table, eyes were rolled. Alot of girls under measure and cry, but the weakness Jenn exhibits facilitates a resentment that even I can feel. Everyone in the house is there to fight a battle and its as if our subconscious is telling her subconscious, “What? Is that all you got? You call that a fight?”
As a counselor on staff I am the example. Its my job to referee the fighting forces that want to dual this game of strong and weak. My usual strategy is love and empathy, it works every time. Though Jenn may not put on the air that she is battling a fight, that’s all she has right now and the women have forgotten that. Granted even I lose empathy sometimes, but my thoughts changed today when Jenn approached me in tears.
She was having trouble sitting through a 12 step recovery meeting. She said, “I’m sorry HonestChitChat, but I just can’t do it. I don’t want to be in my body any more. I feel as if I am a huge pile of fat. That I have layer upon layer of fat and that I am just carrying around a load. I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t do this.” I held her as she cried. I felt her bones beneath her layers of clothing and felt that I would crush her small frame that barely existed as itself. Her Eating Disorder clearly had the reins in her head.
As I held her hands and told her about my own recovery from this disease I spoke words that I needed to hear myself. I told Jenn, ” I know you feel fat, but this disease is not about your body. It’s about your seperation from God/True Self/Our Core (which ever definition works for you.) Addiction takes on many forms, alcoholism, eating disorders, drug addiction, love addiction, porn addiction, workaholism, etc… but they all come from the same part of the brain and they all root from the same feeling which is, I am not good enough to be on this earth give me a way to either zone out or prove myself worthy. If we had contact with God/True Self/Our core etc… we would know that we are enough just as we were created on the day we were born.”
As I started to share with Jenn how I got recovery from the Eating Disorder which almost killed me I felt as if God came right up to the car next to us leaned against it and smiled. You see I was like Jenn at one point. Not for very long, but there did come a day that I said, “I don’t think I can do it anymore. I don’t want to be here.” The only thing that kept me going was HOPE. Hope that one day I could live a simple life without this disease. Today I live that life, an amazing, spiritual, happy, eventful and rewarding life. It isn’t a fairy tale, but its my paradise. Yet, in my paradise that I have been given I have lately choosen to not sit in the gratitude of “Thank God my disease has left me.”Instead I sit in, “Why isn’t this guy pursuing me?”
Its funny. Jenn maybe wanting to commit suicide in paradise, but at the same time my mind is doing the same by dwelling on what I don’t have, my mind is choosing to forfeit paradise. Essentially if I talked to myself the way I talked to Jenn I would realize that my sadness has nothing to do with the fact that some guy hasn’t called me it has to do with the fact that I have put this guy in the “God seat” just like Jenn has put her body in the “God seat.” My solution? I realize that I was born HonestChitChat. As a baby I didn’t have a job. I didn’t have an education. I didn’t have good looks. I didn’t have a good body. I just looked like all the other babies and I was loved just the same. If I overcome an Eating Disorder or I get married it doesn’t matter if I don’t know in my core that I am perfect with or without a Cosmo cover body and with or without a guy that gives me the “You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met” speech. The seasons change. People come and people go. But what remains through thick and thin is just us and just God. Paradise will always be here. It’s our job to wake up and walk outside.
“Why do we write?
To remember we’re not alone.”
- Author Unknown
The helpless, I mean hopeless romantic….
My earliest little girl memory is running around my backyard barefoot in a white dress pretending I was a mommy with four kids. I would set up a little kitchen on the side of our swing set and giggle when my invisible husband hugged me from behind when he got home from work. Oddly my parents weren’t role models of affection toward each other nor did I ever see a romantic rendezvous in the kitchen. In fact they had a pretty brutal divorce when I was 8. Nevertheless I have always known the kind of love and romance I wanted, little did I know the blood of a hopeless romantic had been running through my veins since birth. When I became confused with long division or numb with family drama I would escape into the parallel universe of my future husband and family.
Over the years the setting of my fantasy changed. Sometimes we lived in the mountains. Woodsy people in flannels. I drove a van and my husband a truck. My clan was the cutest lumber jacks ya ever did see. Then there was the yuppy dream of a house on the beach a Range Rover, a Benz, $500 strollers and a personal trainer. Though the material stuff always changed there has only been one thing that has stayed consistent through all of my fantasies. Its when my fantasy husband and I watch our kids playing. I’m staring at them totally oblivious to him right next to me, he looks at me with enough love to take a bullet for me and then pulls me tight with one arm and gives me a kiss on the forehead all while I’m laughing at my son doing imitations of a drunk chimpanzee.
Not until recently have I realized how much that childhood visual fantasy and romanticism has shaped my dating life in adulthood. I have seen my friends date a ton of boys and men. They have so many dates during the week that their grocery bills have been narrowed down to toothpaste and tampons. I on the other hand don’t have the “leave no stone unturned” mentality. I don’t believe in dating just to date, or eating dinner with someone just to try the newest Syrah. My friends are just different, they just enjoy the act of getting to know new people. And I guess what makes me different (and sometimes considered a snob) is that I don’t feel the need to date everyone from Aidan to Zeus. I know what I’m looking for, I know what I want and I know if someone doesn’t have it than that’s okay, because my husband is out there and I’ll find him someday.
I believe that its because I feel so strongly that there is a real life “him” or “the one” out there, I feel the need to really preserve my time for him. I mean I pray for my husband daily, wishing him health, strength and faith. When I meet him I want him to know that I waited for him, that I didn’t preoccupy my waiting time by hooking up with tons of guys and I didn’t kill time by going on lots of awkward unromantic dates. I want him to know that I used my time wisely while I waited, that I was careful and diligent in my search for him. That I built my character, that I stayed solid in my faith, that I didn’t settle for less because I knew that that meant taking a step back from finding him.
Ya know you spend a lot of time alone as a hopeless romantic. Your time isn’t consumed with with text messages, shopping for cute clothes or talking to girlfriends about what he said and didn’t say. But, when the time comes that a Hopeless Romantic does fall for someone it makes the butterflies and analyzing so much more nauseating and the term love sick all too true. I think what keeps me grounded between the alone time and the butterfly time is the comfort that God has my back. God created me with the ache to be a mother, with the vision of being a wife, with the need to express myself through writing and the delight in making children smile. I don’t believe God gives us these kind of desires to simply hold them back from us. I think he allows us to find them within ourselves and then follow Him to where they lie.
Delight yourself in the LORD; And He will give you the desires of your heart.
-Psalm 37:4
All I want for Christmas is…who???
Holy creme filled canoli!!! Don’t you just love all the nervous butterflies, fairy dust and sexual tension going on in this elementary school auditorium? Hopefully you’ve already seen the above movie, Love Actually (the best movie EVER) ten times already. The film itself deserves its own blog posting, but right now its the melody in this scene that has been delightfully ringing in my ears this Christmas cookie filled season. If you were born post 1994 then you need to know that the song this adorable little girl is singing is “All I want for Christmas is YOU!”
Now I’m not a big music buff and besides having to admit that I do own “Mariah’s #1’s” I’m not a huge fan of hers. But, there is something really peculiar about this song that has abnormal affect on me. No really, it literally makes me do puppy running in a circle very uncharacteristic things when I hear it. Take the following scene for instance:
I am in the zone writing away at the computer in my room.
My cell phone rings.
I hear the jingle play ”All I want for Christmas is you!”
I look down at my phone lit up with the callers name. It’s a guy. A cute guy. A smart guy. A questionably “cool guy” but still a guy I sort-of-really-could like. A guy who I want to talk to. A guy that I am stoked is calling instead of texting. But, instead of actually picking up the phone and talking to said guy, I instead would rather bask in the jingle of ”All I want for Christmas is….” song. I listen to all the words of the song and let his call go to voicemail.
Now, I don’t know about you, but I usually would like to spend my time ACTUALLY TALKING to someone rather than listen to my phone ring. I mean I’m one of those giddy phone talkers that do little ballerina spins while I am on the phone and make roommates roll their eyes at me. So my question is what is it about this song that has me so intoxicated with oxytocin that I can’t speak? I think it has something to do with the words and what the emotions that are sparked behind the words. Just listen for yourself…
I don’t want a lot for Christmas
There’s just one thing I need!
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree!
I just want you for my own!
More than you could ever know!
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is…
You, baby!!!!
Okay, so it does sound super cheesy when I write it out, but come on….everyone likes a good cheese (Sorry, couldn’t help myself The thing is when I think about why I am so enchanted by this song its that I consider all the things I want in life, today, this second. I am constantly filled with wants whether it be people, food, sex or just a smile from the passing joggers on the street. Some of my wants are reputable….I want to publish my books. I want to be a good mom. I want to travel to India. Others are a little self absorbed. I want to be everyones favorite person in the whole wide world. I want to be more admired than Mother Theresa. I want to be undeniably adored and want people to kiss my @$$. No, reallllly
But, what if there was someone who was dramatically opposite of me and my self absorbed desires? What if all they wanted for Christmas was me and my maladies? I guess its the simplicity in the request that I just don’t get. It seems that people today aren’t satisfied with the simple pleasure of the people they spend time with. It seems that today people want cars, status, houses, money, trips, kids, they want just “You” for Christmas as long as YOU are part of the bigger package of gifts in Santas bag.
Now, I’m not a cynic. I have faith in people and I believe they are inherently good, but lately I have noticed that people seem to be more enamored with following trends than cultivating relationships. It seems that when it comes to wanting “YOU” that they want “You” but they also want the IPhone, they want a cool car, they want the perfect image, they want the perfect body, they want Santas entire bag of goodies, not just YOU. I don’t really know how many people are out there that simply want the company of the ones they love more than the saftety of their material desires that they can sit with and be satisfied that the object wont leave them. Maybe that’s why I would rather sit awe struck by the words of a song than talk to someone who I don’t believe is actually looking to talk to me as much as they are trying to see if I fit into their box of favorite toys. Okay, so now I do sound cynical. Oh well, people aren’t perfect, but I know that I want to be the kind of person that is satisfied with the company of another human being and not feeling less than because my toys aren’t as good as yours. I want to be a human that is at peace no matter how many seasons old my clothes are or how few trips I have taken this year, simply because I have the company of the ones I love and that’s enough.
I believe that someday I will mee someone that will say, “HonestChitChat all I want for Christmas is YOU.” And I hope that when that time comes I’ll be mature enough to say, “I want you too.”
Merry Christmas Cuties!!! xoxoxo
- HonestChitChat
