What a difference a week makes . . .

Things are infinitely better today than they were last weekend. I have gone a terrific job interview and I am in talks for another amazing job in NYC that I want so badly it hurts. Life is looking so much better for me.

Of course I still have issues. I love my boyfriend so much and so badly that it frightens me (I don't want to end it with him). I have gained about 5-10 pounds in the past 5 months. I am still in debt. I need braces. I can't get to the gym when I want. It's endless . . .

But I feel so much better right now. More in control.

Thanks.

Annabelle Blue feeling a little blue . . .PART 2

I am really getting sick of working at the Club. Seriously. Driving all the way down there is not fun anymore. I like what I'm doing now at the Club and working less there, so that's good. I just have no desire to get all wrapped up in it anymore.

I am embarrassed about only working there right now. People think I don't know what I'm doing with my life and it's true. It makes me feel like utter shit that people think I'm so lost and sad because I'm not making lots of money and super "successful" in whatever sense of the word they use to define it. It makes me wanna cry and if I knew what to do to prove them wrong and still be HAPPY with myself, my God, I'd be all about it . . .but I don't know.

I'm kind of embarrassed around my boyfriend's family because I know how they feel about his career choice and life right now . . .and I'm at the same place he is. I know they like me, but I can't help but get upset at what they might think about my aimlessness in life right now.

I also have something else that is sort of unrelated that has been picking at my brain, too.

I AM SO STRESSED RIGHT NOW! Godddddddddddddddd. I hate feeling this way. :(

Annabelle Blue is feeling a little blue . . .

Hi faithful readers,

So, I'm feeling extremely shitty about things right now. Really. It's been a year since I quit my solid (and grossly unsatisfying) 9 to 5(:30) gig in search of myself, what I truly wanted and freedom. I am WORLDS happier than I was then, but sadly, I've come upon the realization that I'm just as lost. And still pretty confused. Oh yeah, and very, very broke.

My guy's birthday is Wednesday and I want to do something very special because this is an important birthday for him and guess what? I'm broke. I can't afford the things I want to do. He just moved back home with his parents and I'm living at home right now, too, so things are just rough and awkward and hard. Just plain and simply, things are harder and more difficult. (If you know what I'm saying . . .) We live so far away from each other and seeing each other requires spending money on gas, usually food and other things. A lot of times neither of us wants to make the drive and when we end up meeting somewhere to hang out we're usually at a loss about what to do.

He's going through a roughish time right now with figuring out what he wants to do, too. It just can't work with both of us in the same rut. Or maybe it can? I just don't know.

I love him, I truly do, and it's very hard to imagine that maybe if I wasn't in a relationship, I'd be more gung-ho about moving away, chasing whatever dreams I have and what not.

I just feel stuck.

He makes me so happy and I don't want to lose him. But, I just don't know what the fuck I'm doing anymore. Every fucking job I get and apply for makes me unhappy. The only satisfying thing about them is that I'd be making more money and I'd be able to move out. Forget about the bills upon bills that I need to pay. Never mind the fact that I don't really want to live in DC for another two years while I go to grad school here. I love working at the Club I work at, but it's by no means a career and I can't even SUPPORT myself as-is by working there. I just don't know anymore . . .

I still want to live in NYC. I don't know about going to school there, but it is a dream I've had. I love NYC and want to get there. If I could find a job there that I like, who's to say I shouldn't go there? Try it again. Although I still have doubts about that as well.

And grad school . . .really? Will that help me? I want to do it, but at this point, it's financially stupid. Especially without the guarantee that I won't be at the same place I am now. And what am I going to do while I'm working on school. I can't live at home and go to school. I'll have to work full-time again to support myself. And what about my relationship?

Simply put: I have no idea what to do. I'm looking for jobs left and right. I'm applying to a grad school program in Washington, DC. I'm hoping to move out by November. I've got lots of debt (student loan debt, medical bills, car, bills from my LAST apartment). My credit is shit.

God, I just need help. I need guidance. I need money. I need a career. I hate being so needy, but I am right now. Maybe putting this all out in the Universe will help somehow.

Just Checking In . . .

So it's around 3:00pm on a Saturday which I still find myself in bed. I didn't get home from work until 2am last night and had another late night the night before, too. It's weird how one night of work until 2 or 3 can mess me up for about two days afterwards. My sleep/energy level is so particular.

Today my only mission was to hang out with one of my friends and write an article. So far I've got none of those things accomplished. I was on the phone talking to a few friends for a couple of hours, went to the bank and took a nap. Now I'm going to try to eat a little lunch and write.

I can't wait until my contract is up with Verizon and I get a new phone. I'm looking at the Samsung Glide. I want a Qwerty keyboard really bad. I'm also looking at the LG Voyager. I love LGs. They're awesome phones.

On another note, I am still job hunting. I think I'm going to FINALLY get around the dream board I've been meaning to create for months. It's been so long since I had a low-key Saturday alone. :)

'Till next time . . .

i wanna start a magazine for girls and women to read and not feel bad about themselves. i don't want it to be all about sex, starving yourself and buying shit.

i want it to be something i woul dlike to read.

i don't want my readers to feel like they have to change themselves. basically, i want an "o" magazine for younger people like me. to inspire. to help. to enhance.

something i wish i could have read or still read even.

i know what makes me happiest.

a crackhead's opinion of my blackness

The other night as I was walking outside of 9:30 Club on the night of the George Clinton and Parliament Funkadelic show, a crackhead proclaimed the following after hearing me talking with my co-worker:

"SHE TALK WHITE!"

He said so in a very, very, disgusted tone. I kinda laughed to myself and stopped talking to see if I had heard correctly.

"She talk white! You heard me! She sound white!"

My co-worker and I shared a laugh. "Don't listen to that guy," my black co-worker advised.

"Oh, I don't care. It's whatever. It's funny because . . ."

"You're better than him. He's ignorant," my co-worker continued.

"No, it's not even that," I replied. Truthfully, it's not anything new. It's not earth-shattering news to me that some random crackhead (and many others) may think I talk white. If this were back in middle school, I'd have internalized it and made myself feel shitty and not good enough over it, but I'm 24 now and I truly, honestly, positively, don't give a shit anymore.

It's like people who have a problem with who I date. Does dating a white guy make me, by default, hate black guys? Am I a race traitor? I can understand the jealousy that might come from black guys since I'm dating someone else (who just happens to be a skinny white kid) but I don't think it should mean I'm any less black in their eyes. That's what bothers me more than anything else, I guess. But I don't let my blackness define who I am in any way. I am nothing and everything. I am just me.

So shall I not enunciate properly and throw more slang into my vocabulary? Shall I mix up the tenses of my speech a little bit and inflict a "black" tone? That will surely mean that I'm black, I'm sure. Because it's very important to be black. Then maybe I can get a pass for my other indiscretions such as liking people for much more than the color of their skin and not caring who they are banging in their bedroom or laughing with on the street.

why so serious?

i had such a great weekend. i worked, i relaxed, i ate, i loved, i visited.

so "The Dark Knight" was awesome. see it. watching Heath on screen was sad because he can never reprise his role. it's SO sad. it was like seeing a ghost. i'm not one for writing reviews, so i won't write one, but i can say that i loved it and will probably see it again.

i'm heavily researching grad schools again. i've got a lot of decisions to make, but i'm making one very soon. i can't take it any longer. this blog is making it even harder.

i'm also looking for full-time jobs very intently so that i can become an adult and move the fuck out. and probably sell my lovely car so that i can save money and pay some bills.

trying to keep it positive as usual. it's easier said than done.

until next time . . .

gossip and other less likeable traits

i hate gossip and yet somehow i'm always involved in it. i do it without thinking and sometimes without even knowing what i'm doing is qualified as "gossip." i also have a problem with opening my mouth at times when other more evolved people might keep their mouths closed. i have never been good at keeping shit to myself . . .or being the cute quiet girl.

somehow people always feel comfortable with confronting me instead of other people when it comes to stuff like that because i guess i give off the sensitive, apologetic doormat vibe or something. it makes me a nervous wreck and really sick to think i'm the very thing i hate in other people.

i'm also trying to be less self-aware and apologetic, traits which i've been accused of by more than one person in recent times. hello, this blog is riddled with my overanalyzing of every-fucking-thing. that's what i do.

along with my acute hypochondria which has also been passed down the line by the women of my family, i'm a "hot mess." and yet somehow people still like me. somehow i still have friends.

no one's perfect. everyone has their thing. i just hate feeling like i've always done something wrong. the guilt in itself makes me feel guilty for having it. my head isn't so pretty on the inside sometimes.

so i've given up gossip blogs. too much negative karma. i'm also going to work on being positive. time to focus on me again.

Let's play pretend . . .

Is everyone just pretending?

This is all way too personal . . .but personally I don't care.

I find myself wanting to write about things that are way too personal on this blog. I could just write it in a notebook for no one to see, but somehow, and for some unknown reason to me, I feel compelled to write for all to see. I feel the need to get it out there . . .for better or worse. Truthfully, I could say anything about myself because I don't care what anyone reading this thinks of ME. My loyal readers have seen me at my worst. This blog is about me figuring stuff out professionally, personally, financially, mentally, etc. so doing that I could write whatever I want and justify it somehow. For what sake . . .I don't know.

The problem is, what about me wanting to blog about other people? And what do I do when/if those other happen to stumble about this and knows it's MY blog? What if I hurt them with how I think? Who knows how this could get in their hands?

That being said, I think one of my friends has an eating disorder. I believe she had one a year or so ago and I never confronted her then. I tried to confront her last night, but I felt GUILTY and WEIRD about it.

I wish I could be really thin like her sometimes. Everyone thinks she's "so pretty" and she gets far more attention from boys than me. Of course, the guys she gets attention from are generally guys I wouldn't want attention from. And I can't force a guy to be interested in/attracted to me if they're not, so what's the point. There have been times when we've gone out and a guy I WAS attracted to was obviously in to her, but I have a healthy attitude toward it all. It doesn't REALLY bother me.

So by me confronting her, I feel weird. When we go out and she eats nothing but lettuce and a little bit of oil and gets a calorie free drink at Starbucks, which is her right and perrogative, while I get a bacon and cheese topped chicken sandwich with bread (and fruit instead of fries) and a cup of coffee with skim milk . . .I wish I could be healthier. I wish I could CARE more about being skinny, but I don't and in some sick way, I'm jealous that she the willpower and the desire to be really thin. And I feel horrible about feeling that way.

But I know she's not happy. I want her to be happy. I know enough about eating disorders to know that it isn't about food or body image. It's about something else. She admits she has "nothing better to do" than diet and exercise. She, at one point, was going to the gym TWICE a day. In the morning and after work. That isn't healthy and even she knows that. She doesn't have a boyfriend to occupy her time, she says, so this is it. She can rationalize it that way and it's hard for me to disagree with her, but I just KNOW it isn't right.

So I don't know what to do. I'm worried, but sometimes I worry that I'm worried for the right reason.

my current meditation

just because i'm happy
doesn't mean i don't grimace at certain photos of myself,
am not extremely sensitive to people's opinion of me,
wonder if my significant other might want another,
get annoyed by my own actions and reactions,
have anxiety about what i'm (not) doing with my life,
find myself inexplicably depressed
want to be all alone

because happines isn't an emotion,
it's just what i am
it cannot be altered by a passing thought.

"She's Come Undone"

Just finished Wally Lamb's masterpiece "She's Come Undone" for the second time since I was fifteen or sixteen years old. It has touched me in places I've forgotten and that are pretty painful to revisit. The optimism and positivity that ends this book is more powerful to me than I remember it being. I've gotten so much more out of this than I did then, but that's not to say that it didn't deeply affect me as a teenager because it did.

Anyway, the title of the book always signified doom and gloom to me until this reading. The whole book is about all these terrible experiences that Dolores Price (the protagonist) goes though and yet the ending is so uplifting. I can relate more than I understand.

The title is misleading . . .

" 'Undone,' I write in the journal- stare at the words, turn it over. Jack Speight undid me, then I almost undid myself. But I've undone some of the bad, too, some of the damage. With help. With luck and love . . ."(page 463)

And then Mr. Pucci's last revelation:

"People waste their happiness - that's what makes me sad. Everyone's so scared to be happy." (page 456)

I find myself afraid of happiness all the time. I feel bad about enjoying myself. I feel guilty about being selfish. I feel guilty for being really happy. I sometimes create my own drama and difficulty. I'm afraid of stability. I'm learning though. I'm becoming undone.

Positivity.

Full

My boyfriend is always telling me how refreshing it is that I eat. Like it's something unique that not many women do. It makes me happy that he likes how I stuff my face around him. He thinks having an appetite is sexy. He thinks watching me eat is sexy. It's hot to him. He likes it. He thinks I'm sexy.

Who'd have ever thought the bigger girl, the chubby girl, the "fat" girl would be such a turn on?

He's always hungry and eats more than anyone I know . . .and he's skinnier than anyone I know. It's refreshing to be around him.

He's not the first guy who has thought eating was good, that I was good, that they thought I was fine the way I am . . .but he actually LIKES it.

He likes that I don't really care about my body being perfect, but at the same time, I'm healthy. I workout. I try not to eat too horribly. I care about being healthy, not about being skinny.

I tell him I'd rather be 10-20 pounds overweight, happy and showing signs of having indulged in good food and a good life than be super skinny and starved . . .

I'm full.

I'm full of a lot of different things, depending on who you ask. But, I'm full.

"You don't have to be all little and petite to be beautiful," he says. And I'm not, but I am.

I will always remember his words and tell girls (and my future daughter down the road) about what he thinks when they ask about attracting a boy. I'll tell them what it's about. About being happy in their own skin. About not living up to some ridiculous ideal of beauty that floats around like an airborne sickness.

Yes, I'm full.

24

I can't sleep. I fell asleep watching earlier "Sideways" tonight and now I can't return to sleep. It sucks.

So I have been thinking about life a lot since I turned a year older a couple of days ago. 24 feels womanly. It feels whole. Complete. Old, but nice. 23 was a GREAT age, but 24 is feeling pretty sweet, too.

I wanted to write some deep, philosophical essay right now, but I'm re-reading She's Come Undone by Wally Lamb again and it's calling me right now.

Live. Laugh. Love.

Getting older

I'm sitting here with acne cream smeared across my itchy, breakout-prone skin and thinking . . .

My mother turned 50 a few days ago and told me that she hasn't had her period since January. I couldn't find a joke in it except to say, "Aw, no more little brothers or sisters." To which she smiled and laughed. No, no more. She is getting older.

I notice the squinting lines around her eyes and the frown marks on her forehead that won 't go away. When did all of this happen? Her mortality is forcing a previously undiscovered grossly unselfish side of me to emerge. I want to be nice. I want to enjoy.

And me, I'll be 24 in a few days. Nowhere where I thought I'd be at this age and yet somehow I never thought I'd be anywhere. My body's changing, too. My hands seem more weathered. My body more like a woman . . .eagerly anticipating the motherhood that awaits somewhere in between "not for a very long time" and "being a youngish mom."

I found a gray hair, definitely not my first, but not any less alarming. I stared at the gray root that grew into black. I stared for a good minute or so at the lonely hair in my hand and realized time goes by. This hair follicule will never grow my natural black hair again.

And I've had acne since I was 14 or 15. Nearly a decade I've dealt with it. A sign of youth, but my mother still breaks out. Hormones, they say. It's strange, looking at the Mom Mirror.

When I got my first period, she was closing in on her baby-making years. She's finished her last period and I'm closing in on the baby-making years.

The timing is timeless. It happens all the time.

And twice today, women named Adrienne were mothers. Once on a soap and once in a book . . .right when I was thinking of one day becoming a mom. Weird timing.

There's no way to end this entry except to say I hope I don't get a pimple this weekend! It's going to be very high-profile one for me. I turn 24 on Sunday! :)

Sex and the City sucked.

(This is essentially what I would like to do to the producers of this movie.)

There's no easy way to put it. I feel like I've been had. The movie Sex and the City sucked. The television series didn't suck, but the movie absolutely sucked.

What happened to the real, intelligent, and genuinely FUNNY writing? What happened to the fucking storylines, for goodness sakes? This movie was just AWFUL. Like an insult to the viewers intelligence kind of awful.

Where do I even begin? Oh, I know. With Carrie and Big.

How UNCHARACTERISTIC and RIDICULOUS was it that Big started having such HUGE doubts after Miranda's comment? We did see him a little stressed prior, but how can her comment really affect him that much? This is BIG we're talking about. I liked the expansion of his internal dialogue, specifically him in the car on the way to the wedding, but it was more like too little, too late.

And maybe Carrie WANTED that big wedding? I know she was being "swayed" by her friends about a big wedding . . .and was she "losing" herself? Do we ever know what really happened?

As I'm writing this, I realize the reason why I don't feel so complete and good after seeing it? Where's the nice little bow that ties all the stories together? Where is her article? What is going on? "Finding love . . ." but I thought she was writing a book on what to do with love once you've already found it? I am so confused!

Anyway, so moving on. CHARLOTTE AND HARRY. So boring. So nothing. So dumb. So minor. So uninteresting. So fucking random.

STEVE AND MIRANDA. Oh, my. WHY DO WE NEVER KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN THEIR RELATIONSHIP? Okay, Miranda is stressed out, short on time, blahblahblah. It's such bullshit. I'd like to see more of what happened between them than a brief dinner scene at the beginning of the movie. What a sloppy storyline.

SAMANTHA AND SMITH. Okay, a tad bit more believable and true to SATC. Probably the most realistic storyline. OH. What about Samantha crying when Carrie tried on the Vivienne Westwood gown? HAHAHAHA. So fake and out of character.

All in all, I think the movie was thrown together hastily and sloppily. Very poor writing. Kinda shitty acting. So disappointing that I had to write about it.

Now I'm off to bed and waking up early to make a 50th birthday breakfast for my Mom tomorrow morning!

Joy and happiness

When other people find comfort and happiness in my writing, or even a "hmmmmm" as a result of something I've said, it makes me feel good. Joy. Contentment.

I have finally been PAID for my writing and I feel joy. Contentment. Happiness.

I've seen my name "in print" online, but never on a page I can hold in my hand, but not printed by me. Published in the old fashioned way, if you will. I want that.

So I know which road(s) I must follow. Easier said than done. But I've done this much so far, the rest should be easy.

"GIRL, YOU NEED TO CHILL THE FUCK OUT!"

So I am like a bundle of nervous energy right now. I have no clue why. It's pretty ridiculous. I am worried about being a good person, worried about time and just about EVERYTHING. I don't know what's going on.

Why do I care so much about everyone's opinion of me? Why is being a "good person" so important to me?

-I'm thinking should I sacrifice the plans I already have in order to work at the Club because they need people? One girl I work with said it's "obnoxious" not to work it. Well, this is a busy weekend for me, so technically I can't. What do I do?

-Yesterday at the gym, one of the instructors was looking at my arms jiggle during some punches I was doing. I SWEAR SHE DOES BECAUSE SHE MADE A COMMENT ABOUT GETTING TIGHTER ARMS BEFORE! It pisses me off. But I caught myself looking at someone else's unfortunate body mishap later in the day and I think they noticed and now I feel SO ROTTEN about it. Ugh. :(

-So this woman I work with is the talk of everyone. They are all saying shit about her not doing her job well and blahblahblah. It pissed me off until I witnessed firsthand how she did things differently. The smart thing to do would have been to keep my mouth shut, but I made an offhand comment to one of my other co-workers about how the lady didn't seem to even CARE that she did little things differently, and now she's telling our manager. WHAT THE FUCK?! So now I'm a tattletale. I don't even know why I said anything . . .I wish it could be some altrustic "for-the-greater-good" shit, but I think it's personal because I'm new and still doing things wrong, so I wanted to feel better about everything or something. And to tell you the truth, I despise gossipy-behind-the-back talk and guess what? I'm sooooooo guilty of it. I do it ALL the time. I'm just, like, so disgusted with my OWN actions.

I know, it's pretty stupid that I'm being so self-conscious. I just don't know what the hell my problem is lately. I need to CALM THE FUCK DOWN! I need YOGA and quiet meditation or else I might lose my head.

Another scar . . .

The other morning lying in bed with The Boyfriend, I was telling the story of the scars I have, mainly physical (but we all know they're psychological as well), as he listened. He likes my body. I've heard it before, but there's so much wrong with it. Here's a list for all to read:

- I have stretch marks on my upper inner thighs, ass, hips, breasts and upper arms.
- I have cellulite on my legs and ass. Total cottage cheese.
- I have scars around my belly button from allergic reactions to nickle in belt buckles that I wear. (My skin is EXTREMELY sensitive.)
- I have many acne scars on my face.
- I have bike accident scars on the right side of my face.
- I have a scar from stitches on my left eyebrow.
- I have calluses on my toes and the insides of my hands. (Strange, I know. The Boyfriend affectionately referred to them as "Workers Hands" and it made me really self-conscious.)
- I have fat legs.
- I have dry skin.

I could go on and on. I need to love my body thoroughly before I can accept the love of it by another. It's something I've been working on for so long and I think I'm there and then . . .

this. It's stupid I know. As wonderful the compliments I've received about my body are, I still can't help but be reminded of all the mean things that people have said to me, including and perhaps especially ex-lovers. Sometimes I wish I could just escape it somehow.

The vulnerability I suffer from my body is nothing compared to the other vulnerabilities I have made myself vulnerable to with this new other human being I'm becoming vulnerable to and it's scary as hell.

Sometimes I feel so damaged and raw that I wonder if I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and a new scar . . .just as the other ones have began to heal.

On Finding a Job and Stuff

The economy sucks. I've got bills for days. I've got to put gas in my car. And I don't want to get a real job just to pay for these things.

I just finished looking on employment websites for a job and it all makes me sick. Every ad I saw made me want to throw up because they were all things I just don't want to do.

I. just. don't. want. to. do. it.

I'm not proud of this stubbornness or this broke-ness I've experienced as a result of said stubbornness . . .not at all. I just physically, mentally and emotionally CAN'T DO IT.

I try not to beat myself up over it, but it's hard when I'm going to be 24 in a couple of weeks and you still, for the most part, have no set career path. I'm open to getting a good music job with the Club and I'm open to getting a staff writing position. I'm just so damn confused.

I have a part-time day job that I don't hate, but it's such BS and is NO WAY a career. It's a small, friendly office and I do pretty basic things, but my brain is not being challenged at all. To be honest, it's a tad bit insulting to my intelligence when someone has to pretty much remind me of how to alphabetize something.

I don't even want to move out in DC. Sometimes I do, but why would I put up with a shitty job just for the sake of living downtown? I know me. I know I'll be a bad employee and I know I'll be complaining about my job to everyone I encounter. I don't know if I can do that again.

I'm STRONGLY considering grad school. Like, it's probably going to happen. Scary as hell, but it's something I know I have to do. It's something I feel extremely compelled to do. It's something I want to do. I've had this plan for years, but now, finally, two years after graduating from college, I'm going to get serious about it.

It annoys me when people ask me what I want to do. When people think I lack direction. When people think I have no idea what I want or what I'm doing.

I'm so much more than my career choice.

Shit, is everyone as depressed over money and as broke as I am?

I've always said politics matter, but they don't directly affect my everyday life. WRONG! GEORGE W. BUSH SUCKS! THANKS FOR AFFECTING MY EVERY DAY LIFE DECISIONS WITH YOUR EVIL OIL TYCOON WAYS AND LACK OF CONCERN FOR THE LITTLE PEOPLE! Way to fucking go!