I almost had an anxiety/panic attack today, but then I didn’t. I didn’t take extra meds, I didn’t take drastic measures, I didn’t call my parents and worry them. I was in a perfectly pleasant situation, but the panic set in regardless. I took charge, I was strong and I’m okay. Progress.
Hello my lovely abandoned Tumblr blog. I’m really only here to post a quote which I came across while reading The Rainbow, by D.H. Lawrence. Since I really do abhor seeing other people post inspirational quotes on social networks, I struggled for a long time before deciding to post this. My reasoning is twofold. Firstly, no one reads my Tumblr, therefore no one will be annoyed; secondly, I happened upon this passage organically while reading the book, and did not go searching for it to showcase my literary prowess. And now, without further ado, here’s D.H. encapsulating my life right now: “…gradually the cloud of self-responsibility gathered upon her. She became aware of herself…that she must go somewhere, she must become something. And she was afraid, troubled. Why, oh why must one grow up, why must one inherent this heavy, numbing responsibility of living an undiscovered life? In the obscurity and pathlessness, to take a direction! How even take one step? And yet, how stand still? This was torment indeed, to inherent the responsibility of one’s own life.”
I’ve been at work all day, with legit shit that needs to get done, and so far I have:
I don’t know why I can’t seem to buckle down and do work. Could it be because I have to revise a PR Plan for the 700th time? Or that I have to write a new one? Or maybe because I have to decipher hand-written notes on a document and make corrections, because, you know, there’s no such thing as TRACK CHANGES.
Or, maybe, MAYBE - because all the above is SO MIND-NUMBINGLY BORING that I cannot be bothered to even glance at it until 5:30 p.m., when I try to hastily write a few coherent sentences before 6 p.m. when I can leave this freezing, polar ice cap purgatory.
DOWNTON ARBY’S. THIS IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN. EVER.
Whenever I’m looking forward to watching a certain movie or TV show, no matter how much I’d like to watch it with my mom, I always know it’s a bad idea. Not only does she talk to the screen during crucial you-better-hear-this-or-nothing-will-make-sense moments, but she also calls out the plot before they’ve ever shown it. I GET that most things are predictable, but I do not need to hear, “SHE KILLED HIM! SHE WAS THE ONE!” when I’m so fully captivated by the action on the screen.
Oh, and if there’s a climatic romantic moment that is the culmination of two hours (or two seasons) of sexual tension, my mom will ruin it EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. While I’m holding back tears, imagining myself in place of the female heroine and watching the movie with the intensity of a thousand suns, this will be my mom:
“Okay, okay, just kiss her already Darcy! You’ve stringed me along long enough!”
“FINALLY! They have been dragging this out for two seasons!”
I cannot even begin to describe HOW MUCH THIS INFURIATES ME! MOM, SHUT UP! I’m trying to watch and I’m so fully invested and YES THIS IS MORE THAN JUST A MAKE BELIEVE STORY TO ME AND WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND ME!
An Op-Ed piece I wrote for Ianyan Mag. :)
Unless a man is supernaturally perceptive or goes through the same rigors of everyday life that women do in preparation for an alternate lifestyle or sex change, he’s just not going to get why you spend so much time, energy or money on certain things. And I realize all the things I’m about to impart on you concern cosmetics and vanity, and yes, I fully agree that the value of a person isn’t and shouldn’t be based on their outward appearance. In fact, I couldn’t agree more. That said, there is an undeniably positive bias toward good-looking people, and I think it’s fair to say that most women, to some degree or another, strive to achieve the (impossible) standard of beauty perpetuated by the mainstream media.
As a people of the mountainous Caucasus region, we are a hairy bunch. Unfortunately, evolution has not yet caught up with us and we’ve still got a generous pelt of protective hair to help against the elements, since, you know, clothes just aren’t enough. Guys, here’s where the injustices of the world come into play, because while the ladies in your life go through hell and back to groom themselves, it’s perfectly alright for men to let bodily hair grow free and wild – and have it be ok.
When men go to the barber, it’s usually a pretty quick affair. A speedy trim, maybe a nice close shave, and off to the rest of the day. When women go to the salon, that is the day. Between wash, cut, color (and I’m talking only one process) and styling, a women can spend anywhere from two to five hours at the salon. Throw in highlights, lowlights, mani/pedi, maybe a Brazilian blow out and any of the salon’s professional hair removal services and we are talking a full day ordeal. Granted, I’d wager many women enjoy a lovely salon day, however, it would be really great, every now and then, to let it all hang out and only devote a tiny sliver of time to hair care like men do.
And while we’re on the topic of hair – men, have you ever experienced the blood-curdling feeling of having hair in some of your most sensitive areas ripped out by the root? Perhaps the agony of an electrical current surging through each individual hair follicle, or the heat of a laser singeing not only your hair but also the top layer of your epidermis, casting the smell of burning flesh into the air? No? Well, while you complain that you have to shave your facial hair every day, please take note that women have to do any combination of the following on the daily: pluck, shave, thread, wax, sugar, epilate, bleach, and depilate. Also, (ask any honest women) all that effort is mostly for your benefit, so, you’re welcome.
There’s no denying that the significant women in your life do indeed take a long time to get ready. And though it can be annoying when you’re running late, please consider that while you’ve simply taken a five-minute shower and slipped on some jeans and a t-shirt, the women in the house have to go through a ritual which could rival building an Ikea shelf with a flathead screwdriver because you’ve lost the Allen wrench that came in the package. In addition to taking a shower which involves hair washing, conditioning, face/body cleansing and shaving, there’s also a lot more thought that goes into picking out clothes than “this smells clean.”
That, coupled with hair care and makeup application can take the average woman at least a couple of hours on a good day, and forever if her hair is not cooperating, her new foundation is the wrong color or those jeans on which the entire rest-of-her-outfit was based on have a stain. If all these steps seem pretty exasperating, well, they are – for all parties involved. Some girls primp because when you look good you feel good. Others do it for male attention. Either way, if you’ve every overlooked a plain-looking lady for a done-up one, or have secretly wished that your girlfriend would put on some makeup before you guys go out, you should have no problem understanding our motivation.
Of course, there are loads more I could add to this list, and I’m sure men would have no problem creating a list of their own about women. I think the reason that men are unable to fully grasp certain facets of being a woman, such as the grooming-related habits listed above, is because they are largely responsible for creating these constructs by valuing beauty over substance. And, as much as this archaic view of an individual drives vanity, everyone (including women) is guilty of it. Nonetheless, it’s an idea that is cemented in our culture for better or worse. In other words: guys, we get that you like pretty, but please understand that pretty doesn’t just happen for most women; it takes work.
I was born and raised and still live in Los Angeles. However, I’m also a pretty major anglophile and I really really really want to use Brit words/slang in my everyday life. The thing is, I know I’m going to sound so dumb if I do, because not only is American English so bland, but LA English specifically does not have an accent. There’s no southern drawl, and we don’t add character by dropping the “r” in words like car or yard. Here are the things I’d love to say on the daily:
I. AM. OBSESSED. Especially that “hee hee hoo ha ha” part. Gets me every time!
One of the great things about living in LA is that pretty much all year round, there’s large amounts of delicious fruit to be had. That said, at any given time, my kitchen will be stocked with apples, oranges, bananas, pears, grapes, etc. and I will not touch a single one of them. Eventually, if I don’t feel bad and make some sort of fruit filled cake, pie or bread, they will go bad and have to be thrown out, and it’s really a shame.
Oh, but get me in a supermarket produce section and I see PRE-CUT fruit, like a fucking moth to a flame, I’m ALL over it.
Why is it so much more appealing?! Is it the presentation? Maybe the fact that I have to put zero effort in? I mean, I know I’m lazy, but is this hitting a new low?
