Last year, my New Year’s resolution was to be nice to Xtian for the whole year. Well that lasted I think an hour…maybe less…for no real reason really, maybe because I just cannot help myself. After a discussion this weekend about my blog, I decided to take a look back and read all my entries and it seems that even online I manage to be a total shit to the love of my life. Le sigh, le sigh.
Truth be told, despite the fact that he travels constantly and works even more (I work like a crazy person too so this is a bit of an unfair statement) Xtian treats me like a doll. He spoils me rotten, goes out of his way to give me everything I want even if it means he doesn’t and when I talk to any of his friends, work colleagues, et cetera they all tell me that he spends all of his time talking about how wonderful I am. So how do I act? Like a total jerk. I feel a little like one of those rotten children who kick their dotting parents in the shins as the parents proceed to tell you how adorable their child is.
So with all of this I will revisit my new year’s resolutions and modify them to state that one of the main focuses this year will be to be nice to Xtian. I am officially starting today and I think I have done pretty well so far. Because he does deserve an equally doting girlfriend...one that does not kick him in the shins as I have been known to do...oops.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
Open Letter to Christian
Dear Christian,
According to many bad made-for-tv movies and wikipedia, one of the steps to recovery of any addiction is accepting you are an addict or as they put it so eloquently “admitting that one cannot control one’s addiction or compulsion.” Today I have come to recognize that I am addicted to spending money on fancy shoes and you, my good sir, are a financial bad influence in my life.
You with your fancy salary and your even fancier shoes and your suggestions as to what would look SO FANTASTIC on me has pushed me over the edge into a downward spiral of money spending that can only end up with me in the proverbial gutter of some fancy department store purchasing the last patent leather Choos that are 2 sizes to big to me just because I have to have them.
Like a drug pusher, you gave me many a free “hit” to ensure my addiction from the onset and now I spend every free moment on shopping sites trying to get my latest fix. But no, no more! I refuse to end up a fashion statistic in this cold cruel world.
So after my shoe binge today I scoured the Internet to see if I could get some help and low and behold I found some steps on my path to recovery.
6 of the 12 steps because doing the full 12 is too much effort
According to many bad made-for-tv movies and wikipedia, one of the steps to recovery of any addiction is accepting you are an addict or as they put it so eloquently “admitting that one cannot control one’s addiction or compulsion.” Today I have come to recognize that I am addicted to spending money on fancy shoes and you, my good sir, are a financial bad influence in my life.
You with your fancy salary and your even fancier shoes and your suggestions as to what would look SO FANTASTIC on me has pushed me over the edge into a downward spiral of money spending that can only end up with me in the proverbial gutter of some fancy department store purchasing the last patent leather Choos that are 2 sizes to big to me just because I have to have them.
Like a drug pusher, you gave me many a free “hit” to ensure my addiction from the onset and now I spend every free moment on shopping sites trying to get my latest fix. But no, no more! I refuse to end up a fashion statistic in this cold cruel world.
So after my shoe binge today I scoured the Internet to see if I could get some help and low and behold I found some steps on my path to recovery.
6 of the 12 steps because doing the full 12 is too much effort
- admitting that one cannot control one's addiction or compulsion;
I think I always knew I had a problem, which is why I made a new year’s resolution to myself not to spend more than $100 on anything including shoes. 23 days into the new year I spend way over an entire paycheck on 2 pairs of shoes. Shoes, mind you, you were supportive of me getting…pusher. - recognizing a greater power that can give strength;
God, are you there? It’s me Gravy Train. According to the numerous religious paraphernalia that adorn my house, Jesus does not wear shoes on the cross so, as such, what would Jesus do? Well, not spend copious amounts of honeys on shoes that would still make his feet hurt I’ll tell you that much. - examining past errors with the help of a sponsor (experienced member);
I must find a sponsor but, like most addicts, I surround myself with other addicts, enablers like you if you will, which is why it is so hard to get better. I want to get better, I do, but I feel helpless in this cold cruel world. - making amends for these errors;
Dear bank account, sorry there are not more zeros behind the numbers that are thankfully still in black. I am also sorry to anyone else who I may have hurt in my crazed shoe obsession, and by hurt I mean accidentally stepped on because the shoes never hurt anyone (is this denial)? - learning to live a new life with a new code of behavior;
This is probably the hardest part of all of this and to be honest I don’t know how I can cope. You must learn to support me as I become frumpy girl in the payless shoes…okay, wait, no. I take that back Don’t ever support me in that endevor. - helping others that suffer from the same addictions or compulsions.
Babe, sorry but I have to tell you, you have a problem a shoe problem. We must get help together…I wonder if they have shoe rehab?
So there, there you have it, my wallet on my sleeve and I ask for your help during long drawn out recovery (at least until the spring lines come in).
Cheers and love,
Gravy Train
Friday, January 18, 2008
2008 New Year’s Resolutions
I work pretty much non-stop from November until the second week of January. As such I don’t really count any of the holidays nor make New Year’s resolutions until all the madness is done.
So after countless hours on my feet, numerous expensed breakfastes, lunches and dinners (and let’s face it cocktails) and a serious lack of sleep I am ready to hang up my tradeshow badges and officially start 2008.
What better way to kick the new year off then with new year’s resolutions? The drum roll please.
In 2008 I will:
So after countless hours on my feet, numerous expensed breakfastes, lunches and dinners (and let’s face it cocktails) and a serious lack of sleep I am ready to hang up my tradeshow badges and officially start 2008.
What better way to kick the new year off then with new year’s resolutions? The drum roll please.
In 2008 I will:
- While at home, spend less time on computer and more time socializing with the rents.
- Given the gift purchase of a Nike+ system, I will officially become a “runner” knees willing (see impressionable).
- Become more positive at work because as an account lead I need to set an example for my colleagues. Speaking of work, I need to get promoted or else.
- Lose 20 lbs and get my parents to lose 20 lbs apiece.
- Take up yoga again because I have missed it so.
- Become more focused in all areas of my life with a special emphasis on health and work.
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!
Beware of Dog Nappers
Alternate title for this post: Get Your Hands Off My Bitch, Bitch
Editors note: this is an old post I wrote but forgot to post because I had no power.
Well here is a hurricane touching down in San Jose and as such the power has gone out to my house. This means no Internets, no computer (as it is I only really have 45 mins left of juice on my laptop) and as such no work. So I took this opportunity to make a cold lunch for my mom and I since we could not cook and discuss the hurricane going on. As we are discussing I see my two dogs out in the back yard just hanging out in the rain, they had escaped through the dog door in our garage since they love the rain.
Anyway, not 5 minutes pass by when all of a sudden I hear both my dogs going ballistic in an area that sounds like the front yard of my house. So I go and the sitchu out when low and behold I see my German Sheppard, Bono, in attack position ready to pounce on God knows what. As I survey the scene, I see a green Ford Taurus with all of their doors open as well as the trunk parked at an angle in the middle of the street. Then I see this old fat lady kinda crouching down to the floor with something in her hand (in the middle of the hurricane mind you) and my little Chihua, Pizza, totally going ballistic yet kinda going towards this lady with the open doors. That is when it hit me…SHE WAS TOTALLY TRYING TO STEAL MY DOG ala a perv in a made for TV movie.
I storm out of my house, guns blazing, in my house slippers and wild and crazy hair to find out what the hell is going on by screaming a number of obscenities and calling the dogs into my house so a) Bono would not maul her…I would rather do that and b) so secure Pizza’s safely. As I am careening towards her, she stammers out that she thought the dog was a stray and wanted to find out how it belonged to as she slams her doors and screeches out of my court. WTF?
I then go survey how the dogs got out in the first place and either the wind knocked our side door open or someone pushed it open. Scary.
Editors note: this is an old post I wrote but forgot to post because I had no power.
Well here is a hurricane touching down in San Jose and as such the power has gone out to my house. This means no Internets, no computer (as it is I only really have 45 mins left of juice on my laptop) and as such no work. So I took this opportunity to make a cold lunch for my mom and I since we could not cook and discuss the hurricane going on. As we are discussing I see my two dogs out in the back yard just hanging out in the rain, they had escaped through the dog door in our garage since they love the rain.
Anyway, not 5 minutes pass by when all of a sudden I hear both my dogs going ballistic in an area that sounds like the front yard of my house. So I go and the sitchu out when low and behold I see my German Sheppard, Bono, in attack position ready to pounce on God knows what. As I survey the scene, I see a green Ford Taurus with all of their doors open as well as the trunk parked at an angle in the middle of the street. Then I see this old fat lady kinda crouching down to the floor with something in her hand (in the middle of the hurricane mind you) and my little Chihua, Pizza, totally going ballistic yet kinda going towards this lady with the open doors. That is when it hit me…SHE WAS TOTALLY TRYING TO STEAL MY DOG ala a perv in a made for TV movie.
I storm out of my house, guns blazing, in my house slippers and wild and crazy hair to find out what the hell is going on by screaming a number of obscenities and calling the dogs into my house so a) Bono would not maul her…I would rather do that and b) so secure Pizza’s safely. As I am careening towards her, she stammers out that she thought the dog was a stray and wanted to find out how it belonged to as she slams her doors and screeches out of my court. WTF?
I then go survey how the dogs got out in the first place and either the wind knocked our side door open or someone pushed it open. Scary.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
A Taste of Married Life
When Xtian and I were engaged we agreed that we would move up to the city and live a fabulous city life. So given that his worked moved to the city we he thought it would be the appropriate time to start to look for a great place to live where we could be young and fabulous. So off we went and found this fabulously fantastic loft in the city that we could call home once we are married and he moved in and I stayed in the fabulous San Jose because I actually like living at home and hanging out with my family.
So given that I had to work in SF all week long on behalf of a client of mine and what better way to test the waters then to stay at the loft with my amour for a week to see how things go. Well, as I predicted life is exactly as I imagined…I am alone…constantly alone. Xtian travels…all the time…and although last week I was promised a full week without travel things, as always, changed and he is gone. Granted he was here 2 nights out of the 4 but still I went to bed alone because he worked all night long as I tossed and turned alone in this big bed that was meant for two.
Going to bed alone, coming home to an empty loft, eating dinner out of a box alone…is this really what I signed up for? I mean take away the bands and add a cat and isn’t this what being single in my 30’s would be about if say I were not getting married?
It must be nice to come home to someone, to have someone around to talk to and to laugh with and eat dinner with and perhaps this is why Xtian really wants me to move in. But as this “married test week” goes, I have spent more time alone than I have ever cared for and I feel terribly lonely and needy and I don’t really like it.
I know I am probably being unfair because he is a very generous man who truly adores me beyond my wildest dreams, but seriously, isn’t there something wrong here? Am I missing something?
So given that I had to work in SF all week long on behalf of a client of mine and what better way to test the waters then to stay at the loft with my amour for a week to see how things go. Well, as I predicted life is exactly as I imagined…I am alone…constantly alone. Xtian travels…all the time…and although last week I was promised a full week without travel things, as always, changed and he is gone. Granted he was here 2 nights out of the 4 but still I went to bed alone because he worked all night long as I tossed and turned alone in this big bed that was meant for two.
Going to bed alone, coming home to an empty loft, eating dinner out of a box alone…is this really what I signed up for? I mean take away the bands and add a cat and isn’t this what being single in my 30’s would be about if say I were not getting married?
It must be nice to come home to someone, to have someone around to talk to and to laugh with and eat dinner with and perhaps this is why Xtian really wants me to move in. But as this “married test week” goes, I have spent more time alone than I have ever cared for and I feel terribly lonely and needy and I don’t really like it.
I know I am probably being unfair because he is a very generous man who truly adores me beyond my wildest dreams, but seriously, isn’t there something wrong here? Am I missing something?
The Night I Fell In Love with a Musician
I am a firm believer that everyone has a type of “person” they will 9 out of 10 times fall for. A friend of mine will almost always fall for hottie pro footballers (not American football but real football) that will never compare to normal guys, another good friend of mine will almost always fall for toxic quick witted hipsters she will later despise. Well I am no exception, 9 out of 10 times I will fall for slightly (or rather overtly) arrogant men in well tailored suits who, once I have committed, will semi-ignore me for most of our relationship yet try to compensate by buying me ridiculously expensive baubles and whatnots…it happens.
Well tonight this has all changed for me…as tonight I have fallen in love outside of my comfort zone. Yes, It is official…I, Miss GT is in love with a musician. A young classic rocker who plays the guitar like an angle and who wears eyeliner, fabulous jeans and talks with a raspy voice. I will say that unlike most musicians I did not see any visible tattoos which made him in my opinion even hotter since I think tattoos are vile…I digress.
So let me start from the beginning. I am in PR - a job that has many perks including access to random celebrities such as musicians and athletes that my client is heavily involved with. So tonight, for shits and giggles, we threw a concert with a pretty well known rock band for a bunch of press at a trade show. What was meant to be a standard let’s-rock-out-the-tell-me-what-you-thought-about-the-show kinda thing The band began their sound-check before our event and as I walk in from a rather tasty lunch I am confronted by one of the most gorgeous men I have laid eyes on in quite some time. And that was it all it took was one look and I was a goner.
I sat there watching him sing day dreaming about our one bed room flat in SF or NYC…him strumming away on his guitar singing to me the latest song he wrote about how quirky yet impossibly lovely I am and me sitting on a musicians stool wearing his band t-shirt with quirky yet impossibly lovely tousled hair. And in an hour it would all be over, my fabulous day dream, would end with loud applauses and me ushering media out.
Granted I am engaged to a very lovely arrogant man in a well-tailored suite who semi-ignores me yet buys me expensive crap all the time, but I could not help but feel that I and “Bill” the musician had a strong connection…as if we were meant to be together forever and ever. Sooooo, in a very random sketch way I gave him my number HA HA, not that he would ever call me and not that I would ever answer but in my old age I have to find ways to entertain myself.
Well tonight this has all changed for me…as tonight I have fallen in love outside of my comfort zone. Yes, It is official…I, Miss GT is in love with a musician. A young classic rocker who plays the guitar like an angle and who wears eyeliner, fabulous jeans and talks with a raspy voice. I will say that unlike most musicians I did not see any visible tattoos which made him in my opinion even hotter since I think tattoos are vile…I digress.
So let me start from the beginning. I am in PR - a job that has many perks including access to random celebrities such as musicians and athletes that my client is heavily involved with. So tonight, for shits and giggles, we threw a concert with a pretty well known rock band for a bunch of press at a trade show. What was meant to be a standard let’s-rock-out-the-tell-me-what-you-thought-about-the-show kinda thing The band began their sound-check before our event and as I walk in from a rather tasty lunch I am confronted by one of the most gorgeous men I have laid eyes on in quite some time. And that was it all it took was one look and I was a goner.
I sat there watching him sing day dreaming about our one bed room flat in SF or NYC…him strumming away on his guitar singing to me the latest song he wrote about how quirky yet impossibly lovely I am and me sitting on a musicians stool wearing his band t-shirt with quirky yet impossibly lovely tousled hair. And in an hour it would all be over, my fabulous day dream, would end with loud applauses and me ushering media out.
Granted I am engaged to a very lovely arrogant man in a well-tailored suite who semi-ignores me yet buys me expensive crap all the time, but I could not help but feel that I and “Bill” the musician had a strong connection…as if we were meant to be together forever and ever. Sooooo, in a very random sketch way I gave him my number HA HA, not that he would ever call me and not that I would ever answer but in my old age I have to find ways to entertain myself.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
I'm Back
There is this great line in the book and ensuing move “About a Boy”* that I often think about when analyzing my own life. While explaining one of his many random philosophies on life the main character ‘Will’ states: “you have to mean things to help people… Me, I didn't mean anything, about anything, to anyone. I knew that guaranteed me a long, depression-free life.” I often feel that way…not necessarily about helping people (just tell me whom to cut a check to and I will) but about other things in life…like doing my nails, volunteering for the holiday committee, saving money, going out with acquaintances and blogs.
I am all gun-ho in the start – almost to an obsessive point – and then I just don’t deliver, finish, show-up, et cetera. It is not for lack of intent because I am full of that, and I want to mean so many things to so many people, but in the end I just it is just don’t really do the things I set out to do. I guess I don’t really mean anything.
Take this blog for example. It started because I am highly impressionable and my friend D sent me her blog that I began to read religiously. Then via her blog I found another blog that like D’s I also read religiously. So inspired I started this blog but after 4 posts I stoped my quick love affair with it and sadly it has been weeks since my last post. Yet I spend my free moments blogging in my head (okay I do this all the time with or without the blog, I journal in my head about random things) yet don’t commit to paper or screen.
Well this is about to change folks, in the words of Elton John “This Bitch is Back” and my New Year’s resolution is to blog more about the randomness that is my life so rejoice dear readers.
*Total side note – I have a random obsession with this book and the character Will. Maybe it is because I am obsessed with Nick Hornby and all of his main characters? Or perhaps because, sans the trust fund account, I was very “Will” at one point in my life? Who knows, but I thought I should mention that’s all.
I am all gun-ho in the start – almost to an obsessive point – and then I just don’t deliver, finish, show-up, et cetera. It is not for lack of intent because I am full of that, and I want to mean so many things to so many people, but in the end I just it is just don’t really do the things I set out to do. I guess I don’t really mean anything.
Take this blog for example. It started because I am highly impressionable and my friend D sent me her blog that I began to read religiously. Then via her blog I found another blog that like D’s I also read religiously. So inspired I started this blog but after 4 posts I stoped my quick love affair with it and sadly it has been weeks since my last post. Yet I spend my free moments blogging in my head (okay I do this all the time with or without the blog, I journal in my head about random things) yet don’t commit to paper or screen.
Well this is about to change folks, in the words of Elton John “This Bitch is Back” and my New Year’s resolution is to blog more about the randomness that is my life so rejoice dear readers.
*Total side note – I have a random obsession with this book and the character Will. Maybe it is because I am obsessed with Nick Hornby and all of his main characters? Or perhaps because, sans the trust fund account, I was very “Will” at one point in my life? Who knows, but I thought I should mention that’s all.
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