a girl's journey through life while being distracted by people, things, places, myself and....oh hey look at that!
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Birthday Suits and Hair Removal
So last night my roommate witnessed a full on nude lady walking the streets of Brooklyn. Butt naked! Well, completely naked except for the shoes she had on. Heels to be exact. She was seen walking across the intersection of Smith and Bergen, arm in arm with a fully clothed woman. And for whatever reason, I am so intrigued by this. I had so many questions that I desperately seem to need answers too. Who was this woman? Why was she naked? Where was she coming from? Where was she going? Who was the fully clothed lady? Was she crazy? What did her hair look like? Was she wearing jewelry? Did she have makeup on? To my despair, my roommate gave the "I don't know" answer to most of these questions. COME ON!!! You can't drop a bomb that you may or may not have had a run in with a nudist in New York City and not have any more details for me! Or at least elaborate and lie to me just for the heck of it! So for all my friends that I know want all the juicy facts, so we can later conspire as to what actually took place on a Wednesday evening, here they are:
There was a lady, in her 30's, dressed nicely, average prettiness, walking arm in arm with a lady in her 40's, who was naked in heels. The said nude person acted as if not a single thing was out of the ordinary. She was not talking loud, or drawing any more unnecessary attention to herself. She seemed unbelievably normal, besides the fact that she was wearing her birthday suit out and about. She was neither overly skinny, or fat by any means. My roommate caught the backside of her and said she looked pretty good considering her age. And for reasons I'm not even too sure of, this mysterious naked woman instantly became my idol! I mean, how can you not cheer for some naked 40ish year old woman walking the streets like she straight owns them! The confidence on her! Bravo, naked lady, BRAVO! I fear I maybe have one or two (maybe) more dimples on this backside of mine than what would merit a body deserving of showing off to to the Big Apple.
And this is just a side bar, but does anyone else get extremely angry or find it hysterical when you are getting your eyebrows done (either waxing or threading) and then they ask if you want your upper lip done too? What are you implying here? Are you saying that my upper lip is somewhat resembling that of a hipster wannabe? Wha?!?! Sometimes that comment ruins my day and other times it makes my day. But mostly I want to shout HECK NO you are not going to thread my peach fuzz!!!! I would rather have nails driven under my nail beds. A part of me thinks that my new naked idol friend would sit her cheeks in that chair and take it like a champ that she is......
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
An Affair to Remember
Confession: I have a love affair, every year. More precisely, every winter. For whatever reason, whenever this love of mine comes rolling back into my life, I easily get wrapped up in it. I can't help it, I. Am. Addicted. I can be going on with my life as normal, and then with just a sudden shift in the atmosphere and magically, once again, making an appearance in my life in all of it's white, glittery, goodness that is my love: SNOW!
Ever since I can remember, snow and I have had a thing going on. I feel as if I was born with some kind of snow radar. My body senses when snow is on it's way. I can count a handful of times when I have woken up in the middle of the night just knowing that it was here, and sure enough I would go to the window and see it in the midst of it's first glorious and beautiful fall of the year. Can anything be any more breathtaking than a midnight snow falling? I think not. It makes me so happy. I get angry when people complain about how much they hate snow. That is like saying how much you hate, puppies and their adorable little butts, or baby giggles, or if you are Kia-any baby animal in a diaper. Snow is wonderful, and amazing, not something deserving of hatred. And if you hate it so, why in the world do you live in an area that has it 3-5 months out of the year? You don't like it? Fine, you don't have to live here.
I am always so sad that snow does not immediately come on December 1st. But when it finally does, I feel as if it has arrived just for me:) It makes everything better. It blankets over all your worries, and concerns with it's wonderful fluffiness and assures you that all will be okay. It gives you a white, blank canvas to start over. I am in desperate need for my one true love to make it's way back into town and into my life, quick! I want to fall into it and be swept away the only way that snow can.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Exhaustion From the Depths (Or How a Non-Cryer Has Spent 2+ Weeks as a Weepy Mess)
I have come to the conclusion that there are times when life is just so not fair. Now I'm NOT talking about when you want to throw yourself a good ole fashion pity party and have a big tantrum about how life is just so unfair to a little beautiful princess like you! (gag) However, I am referring to those crystal clear moments when the sun hits everything just right and for but an instant you see how blindingly unfair and complex life can be. So basically, to fill you in, I went back home, not for me, but for my family. I went there so I could, to quote my mother, "You need to come here to encourage your Dad, and John, and me! We NEED you here!" And so I went. I went to live up to the role I so stupidly assigned myself as The Protector. I went because my family seemed so desperate for me to be there. I went because this is what I do, Amanda goes and holds it together so everyone else can fall apart. I went because I am an idiot. The only reasons that I went for my own selfishness was to see my brother, and to go through all my crap that was still there. (Sidebar-I am happy to report that I officially have nothing left in Michigan!)
Being there, I got to witness first hand what an anxious ball of nerves my father has become. I have never seen him look so old before. He would sit in his chair with his jacket on, hat on, and shoes on-being fully ready to move into instant action IF the moment ever called for it. He would jump at the slightest noise, and scope out every car that would drive by. He would not just relax. The saddest thing about it all, my dad made zero time for me. And zero effort in even acting like he wanted to spend time with me. So my mother pleading that my father "needed me", a lie perhaps? Yes, he did the quintessential him, and drove me back and forth to my ride, but that was it really. Even when he 1st picked me up, we were in the car not even 5 minutes when the phone rings and he picks it up and proceeds to have like a 7 minute non important conversation, neglecting to tell his friend "Hey, Amanda just got in. I'll call you back." Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I get it, I know there is a lot of big, monumental things taking place in Monroe, but you haven't seen me since March, and you complain all the time about how much you "miss" me, and then I am finally right here, for you, and nothing. Even just sitting with you in the living room for those 12 minutes waiting for Mom, you did not have one single thing to say to me except, "I don't know sometimes, Amanda. I just don't know." Well, right back at you Pops! I don't know about you either. And that hurts.
Then there is the complex and fantasy living creature: my mother. Sometimes she has this special way about her that in a matter of moments she can go from the most dramatic to most level headed person in the world. My whole life I have been plagued with the feeling that no matter what I do, my mother will never be satisfied with it. She is un-satisfiable in so many ways. (I have a sneaking suspicion that at times.....I am like that also. Dang it!) She also has the skills to somehow twist and turn everything around, and make it about her. It truly is an art the way she does it. And you just know, right when you are in the middle of it, and you watch it all unfold in front of you in the beautifully tragic way. Somehow you saying, "I can't handle this because of X, Y, and Z" ends up with her in an emotional rant about all that she does and has done and how she is on her last nerve, and you feeling like a complete monster. The truth is, not EVERYTHING is about you. Have you ever really heard what I am trying to tell you? Do you ever just listen to what your children are saying? There are some truths at the heart of it that I think you need to hear.
I love my family. There is no denying that. We all collectively share one heartbeat. But I am angry at some of the things they choose to be and do. I dropped everything in New York to go home and hold my family's hand. Then when I return back to my life in the wake of all that has happened, and I don't know how to register all the things that I am feeling, who is here to hold my hand? Where are you guys when I need you? You were up my butt for like 2 weeks before I came, pressuring me to come, and now that I'm back home, nothing. Not a phone call, not a text, email, SOS, smoke signal, snail mail, carrier pigeon....nothing. The kicker is that I can't even be 100% honest with you, because if I was to tell you, "no, I'm not doing alright", you would not be able to handle it. I realize now that that is most likely the reason why you don't truly ask. You are afraid of what the answer might be. And how do we operate in a world where I do not have it together? I don't know. I've been struggling with that ever since I left. Guess what? I am not okay. I don't even know where to begin fully in all the things that are so NOT okay with my life currently. And the one people that I would like to count on right now, my family, I can't. See, life is so not fair. Hence, why when I start to feel like a confused mess of a stranger to myself, I push people away. I retreat.
When you get broken, it is easier to start seeing the cracks in the foundations all around you. I push because I am scared. I scared at what I may say or do that could potentially hurt you. But mainly, I'm scared that you could hurt me. Such is life to be let down by the ones you love the most. In my mind though, if I keep you at a safe distance, you can't let me down. You can't hurt me. It's funny, because by doing this, to keep hurt away from all players I might add, I still end up hurting people. So on top of everything else, I must now go around handing out apologies to people and promising soon I will be back to normal just to make them feel better, even though I myself don't even believe the words I just said. I am worried that some of the people I considered to be true friends, in it for the long haul, the thick of it, rain or shine or hurricane, no matter what-they are there. They might actually be more like fair weather friends. Only in the relationship when it is most convenient for them. But when you are bottomed out and beaten up and the ugliest version of yourself, they are no where to be found. I don't need people too often, so when I do and they are not there, it stings. Stings like acid in a deep gouge in my chest cavity. I guess pressure is good if for nothing else but showing people's true characteristics. Maybe I just have the habit though of expecting people to be someone that they simply aren't.
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