Gold Diggers think twice…
Some very interesting comments for Gold Diggers can be found here….
http://www.hegnar.no/nyhetsoversikt/article231162.ece
made me laugh.
xoxo,
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
Trust Your Gut…
It was around this time of year 2 summers ago that I was offered the job as an Editorial Assistant at the LA Times…yes, you read me right I said it THE LA TIMES! For a writer that is one big-flammin’- habanera- chili -of a big deal. I remember being mesmerized during my tour of the Times building. Did you know that just like the different sections of the newspaper the building is segregated by the writers for each section? Yup! There was the Business Sections, which was a bunch of grouchy old men in blue shirts and ties, with stacks of papers piling as high as the smoke from the bong they have probably never touched by the looks of the serious play by the rules scowls on their faces. There was the Sports section, decked out with toned men from 21 to 40 watching the 8 flat screen TV’s on the wall showing every important game going on in the world. As I passed by I ( no joke) saw pop corn flying in the air as someone on the right team, made the right score at the right time. Classic! The Style section was so clique it made me smile. Stick thin girls, with freshly flat ironed hair, and run way duds, hovered around a large Mac as they grew sweat beads trying to decide whether or not to pick the picture of the model with bangs or without. But, I think the area that took the cake for me was of course the FOOD section. Did you know that the LA Times has a full blown professional kitchen just chillin’ in the middle of the office to try out new recipes? Its like “Hello Welcome to William Sanoma the LA Times Branch” WTF?
I was blown away! The LA Times was so exciting. It was a little city of people within the city! It was the opportunity of a lifetime. I got so excited thinking about being apart of this environment and hanging out with such an eclectic group of people. I bargained with God that if hired I would never again be late for anything in my life and would talk about Jesus so much that they called me “Freaky JC Girl” Anything to have THIS JOB!
Well eventually I was hired at the Times. And a week later I turned down the job. Why? Because my gut told me to. Trust me you’re not the only one who was baffled by my decision and my gut. EVERYONE was baffled…even my therapist said, “Are you sure you’re not going to take it? What are the feelings behind this.” It’s never a good feeling when someone wants to psycho-babble you out of decision. So what was that feeling I had about my dream job that I passed up? It was this powerful, nauseating, gut feeling that as promising and exciting as the Editorial Assistant job looked the timing was all wrong for me to move to L.A. and accept the job. I had this feeling that if I was to take the job I wouldn’t be following the path God wants me on. That I would be doing what I wanted to do, what sounded fun and cool for the moment, but wouldn’t benefit me in the long run. It wasn’t an epiphany. It was a hunch.
A hunch that followed me all the way to San Francisco. While I was brewing over whether or not to listen to my gut my sister and I were walking down Oak Street in San Fran on our way to Bikram Yoga. She told me, “You have to take it! NO ONE turns down the Times! Don’t be stupid!” I grew anxious with how loud the voices were on the outside of me vs. the loud voices on the inside of me. Just then right there in the middle of the sidewalk was a laminated card. It was a stick figure cupping his hand in order to hear better and the big black words above the image said, “LISTEN.” I stopped and picked it up. I told my sister, “This is a sign. I need to listen to my gut and not take the job.” She said, “This is not a sign. This is someone’s lost belongings you crack head!” My sister isn’t very spiritual, but she makes up for it in sarcasm.
Well the moral of the story is I trusted my gut and didn’t take the job at the LA Times. I still live in Orange County, work 3 very fulfilling jobs that I love, live in the most perfect living situation, am surrounded by the strongest women on earth and live 5 minutes form the beach. Two years later I can completely see how right I was to trust myself and not take the job.
There are still times I don’t trust my gut. Like a couple months ago when I was making plans to hang out with a guy I just met. He wanted to hang out at midnight and asked me to bring some beer with me. I hung out with him (sans beer) and lets just say one of the most memorable calls of my life has been getting a call from him the morning he got out of JAIL!!!! Yeah, I wish I would have trusted my gut on that one. I’m young, I make mistakes, but I think the biggest mistakes I make come from not trusting myself. Not trusting my own instincts and feelings. Straight up…I’m a weird girl….in the sense that I don’t do things or live my life the way a lot of 20 something’s my age do. It’s easy to become confused and listen to other peoples opinions of the way life should be lived, but its far more satisfying to live authentically. Trust your gut guys. Its so worth it!
Xoxo,
OC Rapper APOETNOMADALI, Who does that dude think he is?
The first time I heard APOETNOMADALI was at 3 am at the Marriott in Philadelphia. We had just turned in from a night out in Philly when my lady friend busts out her laptop and checks her MySpace page; such an OC girl 
A few seconds later I hear a killer beat and see a brunette in her jeans and bra thrashing her hips side to side as she sings the words to “Orange County Disorder” I start to loosen my belt, but I’m stopped by the stabbing reality brought to light in the lyrics written about the region formally known as Orange County, California (AKA my homeland. ) Lyrics like, “She got O.C.D. Orange County Disorder. Her moms got it too in fact she gave it to her daughter. She don’t eat carbs and her breasts are fake. And she a fake blonde and no you not from L.A. Claiming that she all mystic man the only thing mystic about her is that “mystic tan” I know this girl she about 16 and nothing sweet about her except her HumV that her daddy bought her, and he like dummy, cause she crashed it, cashed it and she bought an M3. Her boyfriend drive a truck and he spikes his hair and walks with a stick up his @$$ and drinks beer. He like the UFC and he lives in the gym. He got OCD, but don’t tell him. He wear tighter pants than his girlfriend does and when he have a few drink’s he’s all, “Dude I’m buzzed.”
After hearing the song I was 25% offended and 75% impressed which made me 100% intrigued. I walked into the foyer and said, “Whose that dude think he is? And when can I see him live? ” And alas my “#1 Groupie” status of APOETNOMADALI was conceived.
Now let me be quite straight here, I am by no means a music connoisseur. I don’t write songs on my acoustic and sing them at open mike nights. I don’t wear vintage flannels and drink cocktails with limes and stand around Detroit Bar comparing the melody of this band to the lyrics of that one. I have never earned a sunburn from Coachella and I once fell asleep in orchestra seats while listening to John Mayer play live. So why would you give a Tweety Birds feather on what I have to say about APOETNOMADALI? For ONE reason…
I myself am an artist. For better or for worse I am a full blown, analytical, synapse skipping, serotonin depleted artists on a whole lot of “Don’t-get-crazy-and-kill-anybody-pills” Granted when it comes to art I am a pretty tough critic. So even though I don’t follow the “music scene” of mainstream music, doesn’t mean I don’t follow profound art when I see it. I honestly don’t care about John Mayers wonderland of exploring 18 year old virgins and if I have to be forced into a room of Emo kids wearing flannel shirts that cost $110 a pop and drinking cocktails I think I just might start titrating off my crazy pills (and trust me, we don’t want that.)
So heres the deal McNeal…APOETNOMADALI got a highlight on my blog tonight not because I like shakin’ my Latin rump to his tunes (which I also do) but because his music does not just fall into the category of “rap” but first and foremost falls into the category of “art” Personally, my favorite art isn’t just a nice Ansel Adams piece that keeps the feng shui in the room aligned. My favorite kind of art gives the viewer a brutal beating to the mind like a Mexican Piñata on its last leg. Amazing art slaps us across the face, pulls our hair, throws us down on the bed by the neck and screams at us until we scream back. It offends us and gets the blood flowing back in the brain that has been on pause with a tourniquet from the machine called “society.” Artist like APOETNOMADALI make us ponder, “Why do I feel the need to spend more money on clothing, toys and accessories than what most families spend on food?” “Why do I spend half of my life in the gym?” “Do I do anything in this world except care about myself and my own agenda?” “When is the last time I actually did something for someone else?” “ What is my motive behind flat ironing my hair?” Profound ain’t it?
As a woman who was born and raised in one of the most affluent cities in Orange County I must say that when I first heard the album, Orange County Disorder I was a tad offended. Why? Cause no one likes being called on their shiznick! Yes, I have gone fake tanning. Yes, I have been on a low carb diet. And you know what I feel when I hear this stuff? Ashamed. I feel ashamed of the fact that I just might be as spoiled and self centered as the manufactured Barbie and Ken dolls POET speaks about on his album. I’m offended by APOETNOMADALIS work and thus I am IMPRESSED. I don’t know who APOETNOMADALI thinks he is, but I think he’s an artist at his best. One I deeply respect and enjoy following.
If you want to see if you can stomach the brutality of APOETNOMADALI and are in Long Beach or Fullerton this Wednesday and Thursday night check him out:
Wednesday, June 3rd 2009 @ The Blue Café in Long Beach
210 The Promenade N
Long Beach, CA 90802
(562) 983-7111
www.thebluecafe.com
Thursday, June 4th 2009 @ “CHURCH”in Fullerton
101 N. Harbor Blvd.
Fullerton, CA
(714)773-1664
www.rawartists.org
I hope I see you kids there!
Xoxo,
Your favorite blogger in the whole wide world… HonestChitChat
Religion or Pigeon?
I ain’t a big bird watcher. In fact the closest I usually come to the things is while I’m eating them with lemon, garlic, couscous and steamed veggies. Yet, they say “You are what you eat” right? Well today, I think I have come to grips with the fact that I was born a “pigeon”. Ya know how pigeons always got that neck jolting thing going on? They look like funky little creatures with turrets, always doing the Running Man and just pecking along, lifting one foot at a time, eyes wide open looking, searching for a morsel of bread. Now, when it comes to religion I’m a pigeon. Sometimes I do the head bobbing in agreement , sometimes I walk to another park bench in search for better “bread”. My eyes are always wide open watching out for what’s going to drop next. Bottom line?…. I’m defined by my constant searching. I guess its just that one commonality of all creatures on earth….we all need food (and all need to get laid. Oops! How’d that get in there? ) Seriously though. We are all in search for something that will fill us.
Now, you like parties right? Well, right now I’m gonna throw myself one..a pity party…. I honestly think being a writer makes life so screwy sometimes. Writers are freaks dude. We’re like the pigeons. Freaky little creatures that are running around always wondering, analyzing, thinking, pondering. It’s exhausting. We’re these incredible, soft and feathered things that can fly to Tibet carrying a message, but instead we choose to wonder the same area and peck for the answer.
My brother in-law is a pretty die hard conservative, a God fearing family man with red Republican blood running around his hard working bones. I remember him telling me, “You’ll get more conservative as you get older.” But, honestly I find that I just keep asking more questions. I grew up Catholic. Did the whole Baptism, Communion, Confirmation thing. Then I converted to Christianity. I was baptized, served on Mission Trips, volunteered in Children’s Ministry, tithed at church. I’ve attended a Mormon church, a Mosque, Temple, 12 Step Groups, Yogi gatherings…..yada…yada… Yet as much as these faiths and spiritual paths have taught me I still keep on pecking…I’ll tell you what gets me….It’s the troubling fact that each group believes all the other groups are wrong. I have found each group to have a message with the foundation of Love and Acceptance. However, the followers tend to become so devoted that they consider anyone outside their group to be misguided or ignorant. And something about that just sounds f’d up.
Now, I have lots of Christian, New Age, Spiritual, Jewish….(whatever) friends that read this blog…I’m pretty sure that they will be a little disheartened to hear that even today I still question after so many long talks and debates. I mean I’m personally a pretty big fan of the “Big J.C” (Jesus Christ) I think His teachings on love, forgiveness, kindness, healing and courage are ones that I want to adopt for myself. Its just when it comes down to convincing someone else that their philosophy on their deity is wrong I would rather turn to the place of “Love and Acceptance” Yet I am told that “Real Jesus fans” preach a message of “Surrender” to non believers. So I guess my question is, if I’m not willing to put up a fight that Jesus is the one all and be all for all humans of all walk of life and I’m not willing to break friendships and fight for the sake of being right does that make me less of a Christian? Does that make me a sell out?
As frustrating as it is to be an open minded pigeon I think its also an incredible ride in trusting God that I’m cool right where I am. I admire people who have a belief and stick to it, without a shadow of a doubt. But, for me I like that I question and dabble and taste test the whole menu of “bread.” I’ve learned what I do like. Like I found the Christians are kind of right on about the whole Pre-marital sex thing….. Mormons totally know how to cultivate a strong family unit….I think the 12 Step Programs totally know how to facilitate reliance on God from day one…..But, I don’t think I would make a very happy Jew without my Sunday morning bacon (by the way I would love to read Charlotte’s Web to a bunch of little Jew Jew Bean Children. If there are any takers out there just let me know.)
Maybe one day I’ll have all this stuff figured out…and maybe I won’t. For right now I enjoy being a pigeon. For right now I choose Love and Acceptance as my primary religious faith….If my religion is one of cruisin’ like a pigeon then so be it….Maybe I was meant to spend time with all the nice people who enjoy giving out pieces of bread and sitting in the sun with the trees and the flowers. Being a pigeon isn’t so bad. We’re a pretty loving crowd of critters.
“Those who are not looking for happiness are the most likely to find it, because those who are searching forget that the surest way to be happy is to seek happiness for others”
-Martin Luther King
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
Joe, the wise man from the gym…
I’ve been going to this gym in the OC bubble for like ever. From my observations I can safely say that when it comes to encounters with deep, thoughtful, spiritual and wise men one ought not go looking for them in this setting. Of course, God always likes to prove me wrong when ever I think I know something for sure. So on this particular day I was not “mildy” surprised, but “caliente” level surprised when I met Joe at the gym.
My encounter went a little something like this: I was sitting on the benches waiting for my girly girls to get off the stair climber from hell and reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Joe sits down next to me and says, “Hey whats that book about?”
I say, “I’m not sure yet. I just started it, but so far the writer is a bit eccentric. I like it.”
Joe said, “Eccentric people are disturbed.”
I laugh and say, “Eccentric people are just trying to cover up something that they don’t want people to see. They use it as a distraction.”
Joe says, “All men are evil.”
I laugh and give Joe a puzzled look that says “are you joking or just crazy?” He looks at me blankly. Yup, he’s crazy. This is where I decide that “I” have been given the opportunity to educate this poor and ignorant human being on how “The world works.” I smile and look Joe up and down for any artillery or hand held weapons. Joe is unarmed. He’s a tall boy, brown hair, attractive and sweaty from acting his part like a hamster in the lab (gym.)
Joe says, “Man wages war, man kills, man hates and steals. All men are evil.”
I lean back and smile, thinking to myself how fun this is going to be, “I say, I believe its in the heart of every man to do good. It’s when they don’t listen to their heart that they get frustrated. When they pursue careers for money rather than doing what they enjoy. When they marry people who are attractive and good in bed rather than marrying a person for who they are. Eventually people get so angry from not listening to their heart that anger and hostility start to brew in their bones and because people are “good” they can’t harbor all that anger in their bodies so they have to get rid of it by lashing out and hurting people.”
Joe says, “No way, I don’t think so. I’ve done some shady things. I am definitely evil.”
I cross my arms (all therapist like) and say, “Really? So lets say you can do whatever you want all day, everyday for the rest of your life. Anything you want. What are going to choose to do? Is the first thing on your list to buy a gun and kill people?”
Joe says, “If I could do whatever I want I would play basketball all day and take care of my mom.”
I smile and say, ” Well the way I see it you want to do that because thats what you were created to do. The thing is people don’t ask themselves the question if I could do anything all day what would it be. Instead they ask what will make me the most money or what does my family expect me to do? People dont listen to their hearts enough. If they did there would be a lot more peace. I believe that everyone holds a piece of aid to help the world and they can retrieve it by listening to their heart.
Joe laughs and says, “No way. How is my playing basketball and taking care of my mom going to change the world?”
I say, “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll become a basketball coach and mentor kids or somethng. Maybe by taking care of your mom she’ll be in a better mood and won’t cut anyone off in traffic and then the person she didn’t cut off in traffic won’t go home and beat their kid and the kid won’t bite the kid next door and wage war between the two neighbors? Don’t you see the trickle down affect?
Joe says, “Yeah, I guess I get that.”
I sigh and say, “Lifes crazy ya know. The whole thing. Coming here (referring to the gym) always freaks me out. Everyone here is always sizing eachother up. Were all paying to be like hamsters in a cage running in circles and somehow we signed up and paid for this deal.”
Joe says, “You know actually I like the gym for the same reason you don’t like it. I like watching the people here. Like look at all the people on the treadmills. (I look over) Some of them are here to lose weight. Some are here for their healthy. Some are here just cause it makes them feel good and some are here because their just insecure. But, if you look at them, no matter what the reason their working out their all at the same speed putting out the same effort. They can’t change that.”
My jaw drops open. I never thought of it that way. Here I am thinking I am going to educate this guy on the “facts of life” and instead he educates me. At the heart he does think people are good, he just sees it visually rather than literally. He may not even know that he thinks that way , but he does. He didn’t need me to teach him, he already had it.
I think to myself for a second say, “Joe you need to have a blog or something. You’re a smart guy. I think people would like to hear what you think.”
Joe laughs and keeps watching the people. My friend Emily walks up. It’s time to go.
Right now I’m just thinking about how funny it is that I just turned 26. I know that some would say that considering the hand of cards God dealt me I have already lived a life time. Yet, I have some excitement in realizing that maybe I still don’t know it all. Maybe I am still changing? Maybe there is more to learned. There is something so reassuring about being humbled by God. I think It’s in the realizing that I am just an itty bitty little spec on the earth. I will not conquer the world. But there is someone out there who has the world in His hands and is teaching and holding me up along the way.
Nap time!!! I love dreamin’!!!
xoxoxox,
HonestChitChat
Come on lets make some babies already!!!
A little over a year ago I shuddered at the thought of marriage. I think I even blogged about it here. I said something about kids and suburbans giving me the hives and the only itch ointment that soothed me was clubs and cocktails. Now at the sophisticated age of 25 and 3/4 (Gonna be 26 in like 4 days!!!) I now am craving to make babies. (Actually its only the MAKING part that should really be emphasized by being capped and bolded, but ya know conservative people read this thing. Wouldn’t want to untie any ones shoe laces by stating the obvious.)
So you say, “Go get em’ girl! Saddle up the posse and lets go lasso you a husband!“
But, I say, “Noooooooooooo!!!!!!”
You see I have always been the girl who has rolled her eyes at the boy crazy chicks on the prowl and the insecure 20 somethings looking for husbands. The chicks that do the whole on-line dating thing, the ones that read those dating books for dummies, the ones that asked you to accompany them to bring a friend mixers. “I” have always claimed that “they” had the whole deal all wrong. I would comfortably sprawl out on their chic couches sip my cocktail and say, “You need to pursue your own life not focus on pursuing someone elses. Beside you’re too young and pretty to be covered in flour and baby mucous….lets go party.”
Now, I’m the chick envying the ones with burp cloths. Martha Faulker! What happened?!?! When did the tables turn and who turned them? Well, I have come to the conclusion that Mother Nature herself is the one messin’ with me and making my biological clock heat up faster than a marshmallow over a fire pit. Except my heat is more like that of a feline cat in the middle of Spring in a dark alley. Ughhhh!!!! I have become what I once mocked!
Up until a few months ago I thought that this need to “make babies” was one of a personality trait, not a physical need. I am shocked to see myself bunched up with the rest of the female population. I thought that I was going to be that calm, cool and collected bachelorette kind of chick who didn’t need any of this shiz that everyone was whining about, but alas I am a X Chromosome (woman.) Well, I can’t mess with Mother Nature, but I know myself and I know I also can’t become a women who:
1.) Monopolizes conversations with friends and make them all about my dates, conversations with cute guys and dress lengths.
2.) Fish for comments that stroke my long, brown fair maiden hair and ego.
3.) Analyze every conversation, text message and G-chat with the Y Chromosomes.
However I can:
1.) Go out more with the ladies and just enjoy the fact that I am blessed to have so many amazing friends.
2.) Work on not sending out the “Snob vibe” to men. (Apparently I do. I’ll work on it.)
3.) Be open to all different kinds of people.
4.) Vow to continue to be true to myself and not change and become a what the flavor of the moment wants me to be.
5.) Forget about the fact that I want to “make babies” and instead focus on “making life” I can “make life” better for my friends by being a friend. I can “make life” better for other women by buying a bouquet of flowers and splitting it up into a bunch of little vases and giving them to my co-workers with a little card that says, “Cause I like you.” I can strike up a conversation with my neighbor and learn their name and probably make their day. Or I can get all ambitious and volunteer at Girls Inc. I can “make life” better by reading more amazing books like Heartbreaking Work of Staggering genius or a poetry by Elizabeth Barret Browning. I can “make life” better by giving President Elect Obama my two cents by visiting www.change.gov. I can at least make an effort to make the chages I want to see different in this country and in the lives of my someday babies.
I think that Mother Nature gives us our need “To make.” But, it doesn’t necessarily have to be babies, but I think so many of us have turned to making babies when the urge arises. Who knew we could use our powers for something else like “making” time to take muffins to a shelter? Or making time to learn a new painting technique? And then teaching it to a group of your friends kids. I think the need to “make” is a beautiful part of the human experience. If at the time that this urge arises (at 25 and 3/4) why don’t we focus on “making” our world around us better. I know sooooooooooooooooooo many amazing woman out there with talent in business, law, fashion, writing, poetry, painting, cooking, managing, design and drafting world peace treaties (seriously.) There is an ocean of possiblity of what these women can make while they aren’t “making babies.
I personally vow to “make”:
1.) Time to talk to my neighbors I don’t know and find out their names.
2.) Muffins for my co-workers at the Art Center.
Until its time to “make babies” I’ll be busy “making life”
What are you guys going to make? (Do something with chocolate and then send it to me! Just a suggestion 
xoxox,
HonestChitChat
You’re voting for who? That sucks now we can’t be friends….
If you are old enough to celebrate your sweet 16, have learned how to parallel park without hitting one of the two cars and have taken 2nd period American History then you will understand this post. If you are under the age of 16 and reading this blog you’re probably either my 13 year old niece or one of her friends. My instructions for you adorable little things is first read this post and then work your way up to this one. Otherwise my speak maybe way over your side swept bangs. You get me? Good!
I think elections are funny. You got the Republican, all American well call em, “apple juice drinkers” and then you got the Democratic, pro-tutti- fruity “orange Juice drinkers.” You take two very close friends that are one a Republican and the other a Democrat and seat them at a 2 person table top at a coffee shop, bring up “juice” (aka: Politics) and one of the following 2 things will happen:
1.) A sauna like heated discussion of why “My juice is better than your juice!” will take place. Diagrams, detailed graphs, historical references, name calling and the questionable sanity of the opposing “juice drinker” will be brought to the table. All for the glory of proclaiming their “Juice” superior….or…..
2.) Either the O.J. sipper or the apple juice gulper will nonchalantly change the subject to “Have you ever cooked a Thanksgiving Turkey in a pressure cooker?”
These conversations will inevitably end with a sigh of relief because one person has to mail a letter to Santa Clause and the other one needs to buy new pom pom streamers for their bike. Though both drinkers have put down their juice for a moment the tension in the air remains. This tension is the unspoken words of “You’re voting for who? That sucks now we can’t be friends.” Isn’t it ironic that we have a black president on the ballot, the question of legalizing same sex marriage and the great concern over border control yet even as educated and sophisticated people we still fall back on childish emotions that our friend is not the person we thought they were. We feel jipped, cheated and lied to that this person that we’ve trusted our dating sagas with and vacationed with is a bomb carrier from the other side. If you have ever felt this way, then no one understands you more than I do.
I tend to hang with a pretty conservative crowd that is very vocal about the superiority of their “apple juice.” I hear them out, try my best to understand why they feel the way they do, but I can’t help but feel like, “Dang we’re so different. That sucks.” Then I immediately want to remove these people from the pedestal I once had them on (Everyones a little compulsive right?) At the same time it seems pretty well on cue and with the rhyme of life right now. We still have hate crimes happening every day all around the U.S., and minorities continue to be the criminals were after on the 9 o’clock evening news. As a society we are all still living in great fear of that which is different from us. We consider differences wrong, harmful and frightening. It must be one of those cave man modes of survival to distance ourselves from that which is different.
You may consider this a generalization, but take this example into consideration… One of my jobs is working as an Art Teacher at a Fine Art and Cultural Center. Today, I was taking my lunch break in the courtyard right before my next class of adorable little artists. I noticed that the oil portraiture class was also taking a break. There was probably 25 of them in the class. They were all dispersed among 3 tables eating their lunches. I couldn’t help but notice that the brunettes in the group were at one table, the blonds at another and those with Asian features at another table. Now, this could have been a mere coincidence, but for the sake of our subject lets pretend its not. What is it with the segregation going on in the courtyard? Here we have adults expanding and exploring their minds through a 16 week course about fine art portraiture and yet they still gravitate towards those that are familiar to them and thus make them comfortable.
It’s been my thought about the election that though we are making great leaps and bounds in History regarding who and what we put on our ballots, a lot of us are still stuck in 1950. A lot of us still feel the fear that what is different is wrong. I think anyone who cares about politics (and religion for that matter) is not only discussing laws and policies, but they are discussing their heart and their beliefs. I don’t think the world will change when we elect the right president and or veto/pass laws. The world will change when we embrace each others differences and dispose of our own fear.
On that note this topic makes me think of my mom. Whenever I had a problem with a sister, a friend or a over qualified and demanding cheerleading coach my mom’s advice was always the same, “just be yourself.” I always rolled my eyes at this advice, finding it as ludicrous as telling a thirsty alcoholic to go drink some water. I assume my mothers belief was that in being true to the person I was created to be that things would all pan out for the good. Then I think down the road of me saying this to my future children. I think I would say it for #1.) Believing that children are inherently good and have the answers within themselves. But mostly I think I would say it for #2.) I would say it for the hope that when I tell my child, “Just be yourself” that societies response would to them would be, “Welcome. I am so glad you’re here.” I just hope I can help create that world before I have kids.
“I do not want the peace that passeth understanding.
I want the understanding which bringeth peace.”
- Helen Keller
