Ronda

Ronda
Originally uploaded by private idaho.

This is my best friend Ronda, she sent me this stilll shot from an independant film she is currently filming.

OMG Ronda whatever you do "DON'T SAY CANDY MAN, CANDY MAN, CANDY MAN!"

http://www.sevenandahalfseals.com

On another random note:

Ronda

Ronda
Originally uploaded by private idaho.

This is my best friend Ronda, she sent me this stilll shot from an independant film she is currently filming.

OMG Ronda whatever you do "DON'T SAY CANDY MAN, CANDY MAN, CANDY MAN!"

http://www.sevenandahalfseals.com

On another random note:

I tried to make an appointment with a vendor today bu apparentlythe IT world is on hold, as Star Wars fans everywhere watch the latest film. There is a group outing to view the movie. If there was ever an opportunity to hack a system or unload a virus it is today.

It was only a kiss

Friday: Erin running down the street with new friend Mike singing 2Pac as his friend tells me how much money he makes. I wanted to flog him for his stupidity. It's horrible to be 32, attractive, a good conversationalist then to ruin it all by saying, "I make a lot of money"

Not enough to feed your friends. He ate the flower at Komodo's and popped a button on his retro shirt. Funny at first then questionable

Saturday: I rolled out of bed with a head pounding from the night before, unsure if the culprit was the Bullblasters or Whataburger. I phoned D-Love and told her I was on my way. Fabulous - get here as soon as you can.
Barely 11:00 am and they were drinking. Art cars are a anomaly. Strangely fascinating and funny to watch. A large crew had gathered for prefestivities bloody mary's and sangria, toxicly lethal kamikazes. To the parkway for the parade. Political conversations ensued, "Is he going to lower my fucking taxes?" embarrassed and horrified I ran to cover the 5 year olds ears. Baby Jesus can I deduct 2 minutes of my life?
20 versions of Elvis (pssssttt he's alive), ladies taking baths in tubs with wheels, roller girl, Steve stalked the Playboy Bunny car, Jen and I keeping each other vertical as he motioned for us to come in the car . .. . he had candy (I never learned the stranger and candy equation)

Back at the house to replenish:

His back was to the crowd and hers was to him. She looked at me as we gushed over the avocado dip. Smiling and laughing we noticed the pudgy man in the corner can juggle jello. He became aware of our lurking eyes and tossed us plastic containers. I barely caught mine, she laid her hand out as it swept past her fingertips heading for the floor. He was behind her and caught it. His laughter broke AT us as he handed her the jello and promptly went to get us some well needed water.

His eyes said it all and the way they touched, she never turned around, she knew he was there. Dating a year, yes the man should love the woman just a smidge more.

On to the pool 40 or so of us went. I am a hazard to myself - phi beta stupid moment as I dove in 4 feet of water. The scrape on my chin is horrific. I miss the skin, a drunken travesty I am slathering with Neosporin.

Sunday: Babe, it' 10:21 planes to catch and family to hug. Tierra's and boas for her birthday celebration for my niece. I had drunken baby syndrome. Happy Birthday - a year really does change everything.

Table dance

Please update i have moved here
”Sometimes your independent to a fault.” She told me not meaning it as the compliment I took it as. I like to do things on my own and have a problem asking for help. I’m not a soldier wounded in battle who needs others to lean on. I don’t do victim. It’s weak and causes people to look at you as though you need help. HELP! Sometimes it’s a person’s weakness that endears you to them. Once their fixed they aren’'t as likeable. I’m full of dysfunctions and weaknesses. I don’t wear them on my sleeve like a badge of honor. They are the black tape on my arm like a platoon remembering a fallen hero. Dramatic, but not tragic.

We all maneuver our way through the dark looking for the same basic necessities in life. Food, water, clothing, shelter, love and companionship. Each of us unique in our very own way. I love the ME that I am and despise the unglued obsessive needy me I become in relationships. Minutes turn into hours as I try to answer all of the unanswered questions. Wondering when and if he will call or ask to see me. Dashing for my phone after a brief recess when it is not tucked safely in my pocket looking for missed calls. The incessant emails shared between my girlfriends and I hypothesizing his next move. I become unglued and vulnerable. I despise being vulnerable I would rather be single free to be a tourist in my own city than sitting at home waiting and wondering when he’s going to call.

The needy codependent gal is only satiated by him

This is why I will sabotage a relationship. I will flee from a relationship scared of losing the ME and becoming an US faster than the speed of light. You’'ll blink and I’'ll be gone wondering what happened and where things went wrong. At the first hint of rejection I will be lacing up my emotional self ready to sprint away. By the time you notice I am gone I have lapped you twice. It’s a lot easier to wave the white flag and throw a left hook in defense, my weapon of fear.

I really like you
Don’t tell me that
Why? I do
I’ll run, it’s what I do. Show me don’t’ tell me

File under Introspection

Dahhhhling /BS

Maybe it’s just me, but the place exploded like an atom sending dust particles of hem and haw. Drinks were poured and sloshed toasting. Like it was a fad going out of style, emphasis on the Daaaahhhhling. Glasses were broken as the free vodka ran out. A virus of knock off Louis Vitton and cheap Prada were the rage. Like I said, maybe it’s just me, but I prefer my sandals and flip flops to Gucci, Prada, or Louis Vitton it’s all so passé and easy. Like Tiffany jewelry. It’s a safe bet when all the chips are down place your money on the highest ranked. Over priced and unimaginative, but safe. The safety school of style – stick with the basics, even if it’s fake. And smile as the girl who’s dating your ex glares at you from across the bar.
I lied – which I rarely do.

“BABY – so good to see you! I saw your name on the evite. Did you see mine and know I was going to be here?”

Tapping my foot and feeling the breeze across my sandals, “Yes, baby I did.”

I lied

I wonder if I am one of those, which I know I am. We all are. Standing there with our oh so pretty friends, oh him, yeah I know him do you? It’s her clothing line, she owns the store down the street. I am friends with the bar owner. I know the rockets players, yeah him, we used to date. Oh yeah – well….

I wonder if we are ever really happy or if we look for the safety school. Sticking with the basics. I don’t like the basics, they are over priced and lack substance. Mom says, “basic is black and boring – anyone can wear black, it takes style to wear color.”
The routine of life as we strap ourselves in with a harness not taking the chance and betting on the lesser known. He may break my heart and I may not get into grad school but it won’t be imitation or lies. It will be all new full of color and tears, free falling baby – that’s what it’s about.

Don't call me Dahhling

100_0026

100_0026
Originally uploaded by private idaho.

Just thought I would say hi.

Skipping Record

Apparently he works on Quarters, calling every 3 months to see if his lossess have made any gains or future investments. Babe, it's like a 401K you forgot to transfer - time to chalk it up as a loss.

A Year Ago - b/c he called today
Children should be told that a good thing in life will not wait forever.
We spend 6 months of our lives waiting in line passing time waiting for things to happen. Standing there unable to move. Blood racing through our veins, cells mutating, heart pounding, growth and reproduction is inevitable.

But there I stood in my sterile world unable to move waiting.

And I stopped reading the strategically placed emails while my cell phone remained silent. So that any live conversations are postponed until “he is READY” to deal with it. Maybe it is not that he does not love or is being selfish, maybe he just exists in every current moment (why I think I should feel little better). Perhaps he is in love with being in love. Like a child who gets a new toy leaving behind the older tattered one. The new one appears shiny. For that moment, he ranks his trip to gym, or a drink with that woman he said was a buddy a higher priority than me.

Marginal utility of everything around him is deemed equal, conveniently, so that in that make believe equilibrium, it is justified for him to not sacrifice one thing over another, me over others.
For each moment I am spending wondering about what we had, between us I am over-drafting my bank of dignity and self respect. All the while putting it in a bottomless bag of love that I was dying to hang on to, scared to lose, unable to leave behind, and ready to share.

But in the world of love by the selfish and the weak-hearted, we will only be truly missed when we are gone, not being there when in demand.

I did not want to stay around for Mr. Preoccupied while I continue acting cool and aloof.

File under memories

"“What’s your theme song?”"
“"My what?"”
"“Ya know your theme song, the song that describes you and always picks you up?”"

Blankly, I replied, “"You want to know what my theme song is.”"

I visibly rolled my eyes at her. I couldn’t help it, it was inevitable. A theme song? That’s more cliché than identifying with Alley McBeal or Carrie Bradshaw. She waited, glaring at me as though it was a simple question such as, what’s you favorite color?

“"Okay – perhaps I am asking you the question wrong”. A song that picks you up when you are feeling down.”"
"And… it’s supposed to describe my life and the life I want to believe I am living?”
“"Something like that.”"

Looking at her I knew she was serious and wanted an honest response from me. She was sincere in her question, any response I could give would have been grabbing at cultural straws trying and reaching for the answer she was looking for. I was not aware of this cultural phenomenon where I am supposed to allow a repetitive chorus followed by a few guitar solos to define my life.

“"Come on now I’ve read some of your blog, – you must have a song.”"

I wanted to blurt out and say, “Baby, I am a lot more than my blog and a fucking song.”
Instead I replied, “I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

Do most people have a theme song?
After going for my run this evening and realizing the one song I tend to loop on my IPOD is "Express Yourself" by Salt N' Peppa -its a little old but has lots of rhythm

Wallowing

It’s the start of spring and I am sick. My body is here attached to the keyboard while my head floats around the office aimlessly. I am pretty sure if I stare out the window long enough I will have an out of body experience flying around Houston checking out all of the construction. I’ll wrap my shirt over my head and do my best Flying Nun impersonation. –weeeee here we go I’m free!

I just touched my cheek, it brought me back to reality. I am no longer doing impersonations. It’s alive –mughhhahaha! Sitting at my desk, my eyes are so tired they are trying to hibernate while the phone keeps ringing and office mate won’t stop yelling. I want the comfort of my couch and my rose colored fleece.

Swallowing feels like a frog is playing ping pong with my uvula. When I talk my eyes droop and my head is hung low. I feel like a cross between yo sammity sam and bugs bunny. What’s up doc? The stuff isn’t working I feel loopy, cartoon like.

I am starting to be able to breathe out of both nostrils again but DQ, my boss, is heading this way and he might start to wonder why I am braiding the carpet and making rubber band balls. It’s the meds boss I swear.

Command the Chicken

Not sure if this is freaky or funny


Command the Chicken

UM

I hadn't planned on blogging today a friend attacked me for being lazy when it comes to dating. YUP I AM - bored of it that is.

Email began:

HIM:
Dating does suck.. I agree with you completely or may be I am just your typical serial dater. Seriously, either you are too picky or just not looking for the right type of men or just looking too hard or attracted to losers or players or looking for perfect. Single or otherwise, life's about
being happy with yourself first which from the look of things you do (at least on the exterior). And personally, you got very little competition amongst your gender when it comes to dating men ! I don't know a single guy who does not like a nice, attractive, funny, outdoorsy, cultured girl.

ME: (big sigh) We all have our own faults – I know mine – and wear them like a scarlet letter. It’s the whole thing of trying to be whom we want others to see us as game. I don’t put myself out there like I should, as a lot of us don't. Sometimes it’s easier to sit at home and read filling my head with useless knowledge than to play Paris Hilton.

We all have our ways of not dealing with dating, why didn’t we talk to the person who was giving us the look from across the bar or the guy in the corner? Instead we are left with the perpetual "“What if”" and "“I wonder".” We shoot ourselves down before anyone else has the opportunity to. It’s a sick and twisted game which is lazier than a man sitting down to pee.

Where are my caffeine pills?

Runaway

Ever have one of those weekends where the whole thing feels like a brand new adventure? Only you are not paired up with one of your good friends for the journey. Every turn you take – you take alone. Instead of being timid or shy of what’s around the corner you charge full force ahead. Directionless – but laughing the entire time. Flashbacks of Goonies ready for the next challenge.

That was my weekend. Except . . .

I disappear on people –
It’s a habit I have always had.
I’m independent to a fault.

Friday started out simple enough going to a friend’s birthday party (Mom if your reading you should stop reading now before you start fearing for my safety). At the party, I ran into a good buddy of mine who was with 3 very good looking guys. Just by looking at them one could tell they were the right kind of wrong but with a Three Stooges personality. Fingers snapped and I was in a cab with them on my way to another bar.

I never said good-bye to the b-day girl

30 minutes later

My phone rings – hey it’s M – I am up the street a bar that just opened next to BW3’s

I can walk there right?

I never said goodbye and walked up the street

The layout was nice, clean wide angled edges with a crisp sharpness to the bar. I quickly found my friends but something was very out of place. My friend was wearing a shirt underneath a shirt. I like the layer look but - it was a tattoo shirt, the bottom shirt is supposed to make it look like you have tattoos on your arms (M – if your reading this – you’ll never live it down, your still a bad ass – minus the tattoos.)

After a good hour there I was outside making new friends when the birthday girl called. Feeling like a child who ran away from home, I hailed a cab and jetted back to the original bar.

I never said good-bye to M.

It’s dangerous to disappear. On the nights I perform my vanishing act I will wake up the next day to numerous miscalls and J – WTF – WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? Those that know me are accustomed to the tried and true ritual of me disappearing into thin air. I don’t do anything I shouldn’t do, I don’t go home with strange men and I’d like to think I could drop kick someone’s ass if they tried to hurt me,
(like to think).