With you only an hour away from ending, I have a few choice words for you.
See you the fuck later.
2011 was a year that brought a lot of changes to my life, and not all for the better. There were losses a plenty, and sure a few gains, (very few) but overall I am glad to see this year off and hopefully bring in 2012 with nothing but the promise of a better year.
I lost something irreplaceable. Something that still holds a void in my heart every day. Sometimes even the most minute things cause painful and heartfelt reminders of what could have been, and it's something I have to carry with me forever. And I hate myself for that.
I lost my relationship, only to gain in back and struggle every day to get things back to the once blissful days we knew. To get back the joy the love and the laughter we filled every day with. There have been days that have been amazingly love filled, and others where I feel like the world is ending. I just want it all back the way it was, perfect in our own dysfunctional way.
I moved in with my Love during a tumultous time. A time of huge transition. A compound change. A change that made sense but still, any change is tough.
I lost not 1 but 2 jobs and spent a better part of the year feeling useless and like less of a person because of it. Not able to provide, or to help support the ones I love.
I ruined the credit I had just started to rebuild. Joblessness ruined a lot of things.
I lost my grandfather, the only one I ever really knew, regardless of the blood running through our veins. And I am greatful for his almost 93 years on this Earth, and amazed he was lucid and active up until a month before he passed, but even knowing he was nearing a century in age, his death was hard.
Although, being able to be at his bedside, to sing to him, to share stories and memories with him in his final hours, to give him permission to let go made it a little easier. I wish I had been able to have any sort of closure with the death of my father, maybe then his being gone wouldnt plague me so much every day.
I realized things about myself this past year. Not great things. Things I should have realized and changed long ago, and perhaps things that have hindered my life and left me in a sort of limbo these 32 years.
I have been through emotional hell this year. More so I think than any other year I can recall. Not all bad mind you, but a rollercoaster of every possible thing a person can feel. Up and down and twisted and writhing.
Now as we near the close of this year, all I want is to move forward. To keep those in my life I chose to keep when I weeded out all those that were toxic.
To cut the chains of the past and move forward, free of past wrongs and thinking positive. I want to take the losses I have had, the revelations about myself and I want to use them to make like better for not only myself but for all those I love in 2012.
I resolve to finish my degree, and within the first few weeks of 2012 do I start school in an effort to do so. And I am grateful for my Love for encouraging and pushing me to register.
I resolve to keep my job, a job I just got with a few weeks left in 2011 and to turn it into a career that I not only love but that I can be proud of. And so far I love love love it.
I resolve to be more patient, to try and think more before I speak. (I say this year after year and I still mean it)
To be a better mother, a better girlfriend, a better daughter, friend and colleague. To just be a better person.
I resolve to try to be as positive as humanly possible and try to not let the demons of my past haunt me any longed.
I choose to let go of everything I can't change or control anymore. To steer my life in the direction I know in my heart it was meant to go.
I resolve to spend my life with the Love of mine. Hopeful for that happy-ever-after that doesn't come in fairytales, but more like the ones in soap operas, after a shitload of adversity and strife, and coming out stronger and more in love than ever.
When you have hit the bottom, they say a there is no place to go but up right?
2012, I hope that's the case, I can't take any more of this shit.
(Oh and getting skinny and hot is on the list too.....you know, for good measure.)
I thought I used to know who I was. Sure it was probably heavily coated in denial and completely made up of false bravado, but no one would have been the wiser.
It was all smoke and mirrors. A facade I created to hide how loathsome I felt towards myself. How defeated I was on the inside. Just eager for people to like me, maybe even love me.
I buried those feelings. I hid so much from myself that who I often pretended to be seemed to overtake me. But it was still there, deep inside driving my every move like the Great and Powerful Oz. Seemingly larger than life, but really just a meek persona hiding behind a curtain.
Once I came to terms with myself, shed that outer shell like a snake does its skin, I realized I had forgotten who I used to be. I was so deep inside myself that I didn't recognize me. I was lost.
I became so exposed, so vulnerable. Like a burn victim in the sun, I seethe trying to figure out what is supposed to be now. My new found raw emotion festering and blistering about me.
I feel somewhat worthless. Unlovable. That no matter how hard I try to free myself from those demons who possessed me for so long, that nothing I do will ever be seen as right. As good enough.
I never longed for what most little girls did. I didn't see my future with husband or children or domestic duties. I never looked that far. I skipped over the "living" part of life and only saw what I hoped. I saw my remembrance posthumously. I saw myself writing.
Even there I have failed. I started to blog to share what I thought was the only gift I had. The only voice and outlet I could control. I have fallen by the wayside. In every facet of my life.
I don't know how I became so broken. So horribly misguided. More alone than I have ever felt in a time I should feel completely fulfilled.
Even though I got what I never knew I always wanted, I feel broken....and scared that no matter how much love I have to give, no matter how much effort I put forth, it will never be enough.
They say love is unconditional. They say the past is the past. They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.
They say a lot of things. Who are "They", anyway?
Have "They" walked a mile in your shoes? As far as I'm concerned, "They" can go fuck themselves.
You can pepper your life with cliches, you can quote every idiom you have ever heard, and yet they can still haunt you. The words, thoughts and impressions of others. Those uneducated assholes who think they know it all and are better than everyone else.
These words of supposed wisdom, being older than Methuselah, they linger. They permeate the mindset of so many. Yet are vastly misused and misinterpreted.
How valid are they really? How relatable to reality can they actually be?
The past supposedly shapes who you are today; good, bad or indifferent. You can either learn from past mistakes and grow and move forward, or you can fall into a black hole and never dig yourself out of it.
Sometimes it takes an outsiders perspective to show you that things need to change, but accepting and fulfilling that change is what should matter.
No one is perfect. No one has a life without regret. You can't learn and move forward if you don't fuck up. You can't know good if you've never experienced bad. You can't change if you don't realize a problem.
That should be the true measure of character. The true measure of who you are, who you aspire to be. Who you work tirelessly everyday to become. Not because someone else thinks you should, but because that's what YOU want. (And fuck you for thinking otherwise)
You shouldn't be haunted by the ghosts of your past if all you are trying to do is exorcise the demons and move the fuck on. No one, no matter how much they mean to you should be allowed to make you feel bad for your mistakes. They are
YOUR mistakes. And I am sure they have their own.
Those who point their fingers have 3 more pointing back at themselves. Casting stones from within their glass houses. Glass shattering at their feet, yet still laying blame on everyone else but themselves for their shortcomings.
Its not the road you took that defines you, its what you choose to do when you get to that fork in the road. Do you choose to go back and relive and remake those same mistakes? Do you choose another path, one free of those former obstacles that kept you from the happiness and love you know you deserve?
You kept yourself locked away emotionally for so long, living icily and detached for so long. Allowing things that were not ok for so long because at the time you knew no other way. Because no one had seemingly cared enough to show you there was another way.
You got enlightened. You came to terms with your discretion's. You saw the road you were on wasn't a good one. It was self destructive. And you drastically changed directions.
But its not what you've been doing that seems to matter. Its not the steps you've made to better yourself and the lives of the people you affect daily. No. That's apparently not important.
Every mistake you've ever made, every bad decision, no matter the reason, is tossed in your face like a Slushie on Glee. Doesn't seem to matter if they knew you then, if they weren't a part of your life when things happened. All that matters to them suddenly is their twisted perspective. Their judgemental view on your life prior to them even being a part of it.
They selfishly make your life about them. Well news flash. It wasn't about YOU. It was my life, my mistakes. If I fucked up, that was on me. If I made bad decisions I am fully capable of regretting them on my own. I don't need your help. Your judgement. Your ability to make it all about you.
You should be praising that I acknowledge my mistakes. That I choose to learn and grow from them. That I would die before I ever let myself repeat any of them. That all I want is a better life, for me, for my son, and for those I love.
The present is what I can control, the future. I cannot do anything to change what has already happened, all I can do is not allow any of the mistakes from my past be repeated. To grow up and move the fuck on.
And you may be stuck, digging into things that have nothing to do with you. And you may be miserable focusing on things that I can't do anything about now. But I'm not.
My goal is set. My goal is the now. My goal is the future. And if you can't get over your damn self and you unnecessarily bruised ego, (which again, boggles my mind) than fuck you. And the supposedly white horse you rode in on.
Wow, I have never gone a month with out writing, but it's been a hell of a month.
The last day I blogged, I got laid off (again I know), bought a new car (after the accident and the whole insurance rigmarole) and we decided to have me and Dyl move in with my boyfriend and his kids.
Whole lot a changin' going on.
It's been a transition but a happy one. Lots of packing and throwing the majority of my apartment collectives away. No more mismatched hodgepodge furniture I collected as hand-me-downs from various relatives or yard sales.
I mean, the man bought me a new couch (beautiful sectional we special ordered, la-ti-da!), a new fridge (his may have been one of the first ever created. Light less and full of mystery things I'm sure in the vast dark corners it harbored), AND a new mattress set.
We are starting anew, moving forward together and things that more represent us together than as individuals. He in his testosterone palace (and I say this not because of nudey pictures of Budweiser signs all over his house because thankfully he was never that tasteless, but because it was he and his 2 boys for so many years) and me and Dylan in my picture and clutter laden existence.
I figure I held on to so many possessions because that was all I COULD hang on to. People came and went, jobs hired and fired. I moved a few times. All I had that was constant were what I could tangibly hold. Pictures to remind me of those gone by, of times gone by.
I was like an episode of Hoarders (as my Love and any friends or family have pointed out who have graciously helped me sort through my lunacy). Not trash per say or things that would set off flags to the Board of Health or anything, but stuff that I clearly didn't need or even know why I held on to.
Mail from 6 years ago? Yeah I have no idea why I never invested in a paper shredder because some of the crap I held on to made little to no sense. Old cell phones from 5 carriers ago that are now so obsolete they may belong in a technological museum.
But, I have been on a purge of that stuff. On a lot of other things. Cleaning out the clutter from my apartment also made me want to clean out the clutter of the rest of my life. People I don't need to talk to, a part of my past I would rather not remember. Moving up and moving on. And more importantly moving forward.
It's been nice that it's all happened while unemployed. I mean don't get me wrong, having no income sucks big time, but the time has been phenomenal. I have gotten to spend time with all 3 kids. I have gotten to hone my Suzy Homemaker skills.
I have had a few interviews, one that really wanted me but it just made no sense to take. Would be a 3 1/2 hour daily round trip commute on the subway, plus driving. So I would have ot pay for the train monthly plus parking daily AND then try to pay someone for before AND after school care for 3 kids. Having me get home not long before bed and then starting over again the next day. Yeah no thanks.
So I have had a couple other interviews with staffing firms that place outside and thankfully South of the city. I know the pay isn't as great, but if I can get it within a couple dollars at least and not have a horrible commute, it may all be worth it. Especially have combined incomes.
We have dreams, we have plans. We have a basic and fairly simple road map to our financial future. It's not Rocket Science (at least it doesn't seem that way now) and then we won't have to know struggle. I can't think of a time in my independent adult life I haven't known what its like to get a shut off notice, or to have to rely on some sort of government assistance.
Having a man in my life who is a hard worker and knows what the hell he is doing with his life is so unbelievably amazing. It's almost like a fictional character. I mean we've had our problems sure, but we have come back in such a strong way. In a better way, wanting to bring out the best in each other. Wanting nothing more than to make each other happy for the rest of our lives. Yup, I said it.
Case in point. After cooking dinner the other night, I was cleaning up and attempting to put the leftovers away. There is no Tupperware in this house. (Granted, that is because normally he would go to work and leave the containers behind, never to be seen or heard from again, but that's neither here nor there at this point) Exasperated about having to use zip-lock bags for things to put away, I sort of made a comment about needing Tupperware.
So a little time goes by after dinner, and my Love decides to inform me he is going to Target and asked if I needed a coffee. Do fish shit?! Of course I need coffee.
An hour or so goes by and in strolls my Fella, tossing a bag with a large box inside at me. Inside was a 32 piece set of various Tupperware (well Rubbermaid but who's counting?) containers and a second box with larger ones. I have never been happier to see food storage in my life.
Freaking adorable right?
The kids are transitioning well too. Dylan has his own room, with a brand new bed also courtesy of my Love. It's been like a modern Brady Bunch with way less kids, and obviously no daughters. Ok so it's actually nothing like the Brady Bunch at all. Shut it.
But it's my life and I am unbelievably happy. Even jobless right now I am happy. I get to fall asleep every night in the arms of a man I love more than anything. I get to wake up and see the faces of 3 kids who I love and who are acting more and more like brothers every day. Kids who have known each other since the youngest was 2 1/2. Now almost 7, 7 and 11.
I cook and clean all day and live in the laundry room, and am oddly loving every minute of it. Don't get me wrong though the day I get a job I will be freaking jumping for joy to get out of the damn house every day, but I'm ok for now. I'm not upset about sleeping in and enjoying the days with the kids, and days off with my Love on a random Tuesday.
At least while it's summer. Check back in a month, I may be bald by then from pulling my hair out. But right now, I have a full head of hair and a smile on my face.
My world imploding around me and I feel like an outsider, watching myself and I can't make it stop. It's like an out of body experience. Watching one of those scenes on TV of buildings being brought down to ruble and dust by explosives detonated inside. Collapsing into itself leaving nothing behind but a pile of debris of what was once a solid structure.
On the surface it looked like any other building around. Solid, nondescript. It didn't stand out as overly flashy. It wasn't coming apart at the seams. Inside, it was falling apart. Torn apart and barely standing. Emotional termites eating away at integral beams that were holding it all together.
Scars of the past ripping away all that was good and was decent. All that I tried so hard to hold on to for so long. Not able to let go of a life I never wanted, a way that infected my soul. Made me lose a part of myself. Made me numb to things that most people would balk at. And I should have.
I should have seen outrage. I should have never let people do or say things that they did to me more than half my life. I was always treated like I wasn't a person. Like an object. I was only good for one thing, and treated as such. Talked to as such. And I let them. Oh why god did I let them?
I was never respected, I was never valued as anything other than that. I was raped, I was sexually assaulted. I was talked to like all anyone wanted was one thing my entire life. Treated objectively and never like I was worth shit. And I would let people. I would laugh it off as though it were normal. I would feed back into it like it was normal. Like it was everyday water cooler conversation. I was in abusive relationships. I let people berate me and treat me like emotional garbage. I was never good enough.
I knew no other way.
I tried to do anything I could for other people. I tried so hard to be a good person, to seem like I was a good person. I threw myself into charities, maybe thinking that the more I did for others maybe it would negate the horrible way I felt about myself. It would counter act perhaps how awful I felt about myself.
I was never pretty enough, skinny enough. I always felt like I was being judged. Being ridiculed. The only compliments I got were in THAT nature. The only positive reinforcement I got. My own family often made me feel so inadequate. I never finished college, I always needed rescuing. I was a fuck up.
All my friends were happily married, they were successful. There I was, child out of wedlock with a drug addict criminal, in and out of court, barely treading water in life. I was a disaster. I was the one people whispered about. The one that was the butt of jokes.
I hid behind sarcasm and sexuality. I didn't know how to react to people treating me like a human being. It didn't seem to happen often.
And when I finally had someone who loved me, put me on a pedestal and loved me for everything I was, I didn't know what to do. And in the beginning it was an hard transition for me. It was confusing and I didn't know what to do, and back then we broke up. We ended and I realized I was batshitcrazy.
I loved him. LOVED him. I was possibly screwing up the best thing that ever happened to me and I couldn't let that happen.
And shortly after we fixed it. Or moreover I fixed me. In part. I recognized that I needed to not be afraid of him, but to cherish him. To let him know I loved him. To let down a lot of the cynical walls I had built up. And I tried. I loved every part of him. I did everything I could to show him I loved him.
I just failed miserably at trying to find anyway at loving myself. At still feeling like I was worthy of him. I was struggling. I was still that broken shell of myself inside. Still that battered woman who wasn't worth the love of such a man. And I was so screwed up inside. I wish I knew why. I wish I knew a lot of things.
I was that building. I looked stoic and structurally sound, but inside I was condemned. I was con-caving into myself and I had no idea. I turned a blind eye to myself. All I saw was how happy I was with him, how much I loved him. Never how much I hated myself. And I WAS happy with him. He was perfect. It was never about him, never about not loving him enough. God knows I love him more than anything.
Like a knit sweater caught on a nail, I was unraveling. It was me that was falling apart.
I hate being broken. I hate myself for some of the decisions I've made. I hate myself for the pain that I have caused because of my own insecurities and inner fucked-upness. I have been drowning in a vat of my own self loathing. Falling deeper into an abyss that I can't get out of.
I want to fix it. To fix myself. To make everything be ok again. I want to be whole.
I want my life with the man I have been in love with long before I ever admitted it, even to myself. I want to be with him until there is no longer breath in my body. I want to raise our children together. To come home from work and cook dinner and ask "how was your day dear". I want that simple, easy, happy, seemingly boring, loving life. I only want it with him.
The man who melts me with one look in his hazel green eyes, with lashes that go on for days. Who has been making off the cuff sarcastic remarks and inside jokes with me since 2007. I want it with the man who I have gone to with everything for the past 4 years. To me there is no life without him. I can't picture my life without him.
I ache if I try.
And I'm sorry that I'm a failure as a human being. Sorry that I am so damaged. Sorry that I am who I am. Sorry I am not worthy of your love.
The challenge was to do a post a day with the music thing and I failed. Miserably.
I haven't touched the blog because my mind has been a chaotic disaster. Should have been fodder for blog after blog, but I couldn't even wrap my head around my thoughts let alone my words.
So the last days of disco for the music challenge I suppose I can wrap up and get it over with. In true slacker fashion, just so I can finally say I completed it. So I know that I actually did what I set out to do. I may have taken the long way, and not exactly followed the actual rules of the challenge, but I did it.
Day 23: A Song You Want to Play At Your Wedding
There is only one song I know I need. One song that I know I have to have, and that's mostly because of what it means to me, and that is also because of who it is I want to spend the rest of my life with. No one else needs to understand it or like it. It's ours.
Day 24: A Song You Want to Play at Your Funeral
Short of Will Farrell singing Dust in the Wind and shouting "You my boy, Blue" I don't think I can imagine my own funeral.
I can't think of myself dead. I don't know that I can see anyone mourning me aside from my family, which is obvious.
I never had those thoughts of wondering who would show up and care if I died. I guess I assumed that no one would really bat an eyelash. But I guess I would want to know that I was loved. That I was forgiven for anything I may have done to anyone. I would want to know that the good I did outweighed anything else. That people remembered I did try to make them happy as often as I possibly could.
Whatever people are reminded of when I'm gone is what they're reminded of. I just hope it's all positive.
But if there are a couple I could think of
This one always makes me think of my dad
Day 25: A Song that Makes Me Laugh
Glad to be off the funeral topic. Especially since I miss my dad more than ever right now.
But songs that make me laugh there are a few.
You can't go wrong with Lonely Island!
Day 26: A Song I can Play on an Instrument
Bet most of you don't know that I was a drummer. Not like a tattoo covered rock badass like Tommy Lee or anything, but I was played all those cadences you used to hear at football games and in parades back in the day.
It wasn't ALL I did in high school, I was also a cheerleader, played soccer, did every club known to man. It wasn't all white and nerdy. Day 27: A Song I Wish I Could Play
I inherited a piano when my grandmother died. Now granted she wasn't my biological grandmother (my mom's mom died before I was born and my dad's mom lived in Florida most of my life so we weren't as close) but she was basically the only grandmother I ever knew.
I used to tinker and play and what not, and I can read music and stuff, but I could never quite tickle the ivories the way I had always wished I could. My piano now sits at my cousins house, since I haven't lived in a place with enough room for it since being an adult, but someday I hope to have it in my own home, and have the ability to play at least ONE song well.
Day 28: What Song Makes you Feel Creative and Inspired?
A song in and of itself doesn't make me feel creative per say. Maybe the thoughts provoked by it or the sentiment. The particular person who it makes me think of that then inspires me. It's a cycle.
Right now I'm inspired to make sure someone knows how I feel about them. Because I mean every single word.
I'd go hungry, I'd go blind for you...
Day 29: A Song From Your Childhood
Hands down.
Day 30: A Song that Makes You Want to Help the World, the Environment, End poverty, Help Society...
What the??
Ok seriously, this is where all the cheesy cliche's come in right?
Between a crazy work week with a new intern starting and having to make all kinds of meetings just "happen" (because you know that's how badass I am) to Physical Therapy, Dylan's counseling last week, a weekend of squeezing in Relay for Life stuff (since it's this coming Friday and my car accident sort of derailed our campsite making getting started on time) on Friday night with a couple members of my team, 2 family birthday parties Saturday afternoon, an outing with a girlfriend that had been planned weeks in advance (since I had been a basic reclusive shut in as of late due to stress and all kinds of hectic life chaos), my little cousin's graduation from high school and subsequent party on Sunday followed my MORE Relay making time with another team member.
I am friggan pooped.
This week may just kill me.
Ok, not kill me, but after Saturday I will likely feel like I could sleep for a week.
So today, after work, I get to meet up with some members of my team again to get our campsite going (it's gonna kick ass by the way, we haven't won "Best Campsite" 3 years running for nothing you know...). It's been hard to get everyone together each day so we've had to do some people one day, others another. All doing what we can between everyone having jobs and kids and what not. It's been our team in spurts, which is fine by me as long as it's ALL done by Thursday night, since the Relay is Friday!!
But since I am also a Relay Committee member, I have THOSE commitments too, so I have to be at our bank night, which is when teams turn in their cash and check donations, get their team t-shirts etc. I help organize that so I have to be there tomorrow night. I mean my team could hypothetically work on things while I am there, but me being the slight control freak that I am I like to see how things are going. I just want to make sure everything is perfect and all goes off without a hitch, although some of my team mates are seasoned and can handle it, I am a little over neurotic I guess.
Wednesday is Dylan's graduation from kindergarten (which I anticipate being freaking adorable), after that more Relay work, then a quick break for him to see his counselor and then back to the grind to make our site kick ass. I hate that it's all so last minute and that I don't have like a week of vacation time to dedicate to it, because I would be a LOT less stressed out. Although I tend to do good work under pressure, even though my blood pressure is probably through the roof right now.
I really feel like I may pull my hair out.
Thursday is the last day we can get all the things finalized and packed up and then Friday morning I am at the Relay site with the Committee at the butt crack of dawn, setting up for the masses to arrive, including my team. Once they get there, it's set up my own campsite and then I have to run over to help with the opening ceremonies, help with the Cancer Survivors dinner, and THEN I can hang with my team for the night, walking all night for the money we raised for the American Cancer Society (until Saturday.)
I somehow got my friend to get us an Army helicopter to land as part of the closing ceremony and am petrified something is going to fall through and it's going to ruin the whole thing for everyone, so I may also give myself an ulcer this week.
I get so harried the week of the Relay. I work so hard all year fundraising and raising awareness and I just want everything to be perfect. Just at the graduation yesterday, my cousin's mother-in-law is battling cancer and it just makes me that much more passionate about trying to find a cure for this disease. I'm not a scientists or a doctor, so all I can do is raise money so that they can use it to put their brilliance to work making it happen. I have lost a lot of family to this disease. A lot of close friends family members. Watched my best friend go through it. It's something that means a lot to me and I get a little tunnel visioned when it comes down to the wire like this.
Although, on a positive note, since my car accident I have dropped like 11-12lbs and my family kept commenting at the graduation party how skinny I was so that's a win! I guess not all stress is bad if it can be an effortless diet right? (Any nutritionist friends out there, please don't shake your fists at me)
Anyway, I am exhausted just thinking about it all.
So I have clearly slacked on my challenge. I think I left off on Day 16, which was on the 7th, so I have some catching up to do. So here come Day's 17-22.
Day 17: A Song You Often Hear on the Radio
Well, as I said in a previous post, up until the little asshole destroyed my pretty car, I had Satellite. I could listen to all kinds of music, not the repetitive 12 song repertoire of Top 40 radio stations.
That being said, I am glad they keep playing a certain song, on basically every channel because this woman is fabulous. I have loved her since she was "Chasing Pavement" and covering the Cure. She is amazing, and no matter how many times I hear it, I'm not sick of it yet. Perhaps because it has angry chick anthem written all over it and will go down in the books with "You Oughtta Know" like Alanis, who knows.
Day 18: A Song You Wish You Heard on The Radio
A song I would LOVE to hear on the radio, I can't get you a video to. Why you ask?? Because he's not famous. It's my pseudo brother-in-law Ed and his band of hooligans Lonesome Red. So fun. Quirky and folky and like a Bob Dylan-esque way. My favorite song is called "I'm Not Falling", and it has cult classic written all over it. (It takes talent to be able to play guitar, harmonica AND a Banjo)
They have a MySpace music page (YES! people still have MySpace, at least musicians...)
So click on over to this link and have yourself a listen, because I heart them. They play in seedy little Irish dive bars in Boston, and really, what's not better than that?? Lonesome Red
Day 19: A Song From Your Favorite Album
Well, I would have to first PICK a favorite album. I have a couple, but different artists. There are very few albums that I love every song on. Which is why I think the download generation sort of ruined music and helped it at the same time. People no longer buy an entire album JUST for one song, and then sort of explore it and see how it goes. They download that song and move on, at least those who aren't music junkies. I still generally like having the whole thing. I figure if I like one song by an artist, I am going to like the rest, but I digress.
So, to pick a few from albums I could listen to beginning to end, here we go.
I love Coldplay. (Waiting for the 40 year Old Virgin "Know how I know you're gay..." jokes to start) I have never heard a song by them I didn't love, but this song, and this album is brilliant and I adore it.
Eminem is incredible. Seriously. The man, all dysfunction aside is a modern poet. And his Recovery album is absolutely amazing. And of course, my "song" from that album has it's own meaning to me, but last summer it held a lot of weight. And I could still listen to this from beginning to end. On repeat.
Jewel has been a hero of mine since I first saw her. It was her "Who Will Save Your Soul" video on VH1, her in a bathroom stall back in like 1995. No one I knew listened to her, liked her or even WATCHED VH1 for that matter, but somehow I saw her. I learned she wrote, poetry as well as music. She was a kindred soul to me. She was all I aspired to be. Her voice was great, but not in that every day Diva way like Whitney or Mariah. She was on the cusp of rock and folk and country and I fell in love. I think I even wore out my "Pieces of You" album my playing it too much. This song was always one of my favorites on that album.
There are so many others , but I have other days to catch up on damnit!!
Day 20: A Song You Listen To When You're Angry
Well, I suppose I could revert up to the cliched Alanis song above mentioned, but it depends on why I am mad what I want to vent out to. I can think of 2 songs that I can listen to, and if they are cliched well, I don't give a rats ass. That's probably what the songwriters intended in the first place. So there.
Day 21: A Song You Listen to When You're Happy
Well, any song is a good song when you're in a good mood! But there are a couple that make you smile.
Like who isn't grinning like an idiot looking at this Weird Al video right now??
Day 22: A Song that Makes You Sad
Again, this is a topic I could fill a page with. There are different reasons why. The hardest for me are always those Father/Daughter wedding dance songs because I know I will never get to have that. But there are other songs that make me sad for other reasons. Especially in recent weeks.
Here's a couple.
This song kicks my ass.
Another one what kills me because of losing my dad
I'm sure I could dig deeper and come up with more, but I really don't want to make myself sad. In the words of the immortal Willy Wonka, "So much time and so little to do. Wait a minute. Strike that. Reverse it."
It wasn't the food, it had nothing to do with a near-death experience. Nope.
I sang karaoke in front of 1000 people I work with, in broad daylight. Stone cold sober.
Now, anyone who knows me, knows karaoke is pretty much my favorite pastime. I live to go to some seedy dive bar and belt out whatever I can with my friends. I have no shame at all. I have sung at people's wedding's. I used to perform in high school. I've been singing my whole life.
Let's back up. Like Ricky Ricardo says "Lemme 'splain..."
I freakin love my job. No really. Say what you will about "Big Business", but P&G has been an amazing company to work for (obviously when I was laid off it wasn't good, but they did do everything in their power at the time to keep me, and look a year later I am back). It's a place where morale is generally high.
I work in Boston, the Gillette division of P&G, but it's one of the biggest companies in the world nonetheless.
Every month there is something going on. Something to celebrate people who work here, something that's a treat for employees. Even when we do our yearly charity event for United Way (which I have helped out with for 3 years) we thank the employees by letting them get to have pictures and autographs with members of the New England Patriots (who obviously play at "Gillette" Stadium)
They did a lot for Black History month, showcasing heritage, offering different fun activities and little trivia cards on the tables in the Cafe. They just recently celebrated Asian Heritage Month (which I can honestly say I never knew existed before, but hey) and they taught people how to make origami, hosted Bollywood Dancing classes after hours and had great food offered. We even had an entire day dedicated to the Royal Wedding, just for fun.
June is Gay Pride month, so naturally, we are having our very own Gillette Idol.
Now, my work self and my outside work self are two totally different people.
At work I am professional. (STOP laughing) I don't generally crack inappropriate sarcastic jokes like I do with my friends from my "real" life. I do my job, and I actually do it well. (I have awards and happy things written about me to prove it)
So back to the karaoke.
The prize for this contest is a 4 pack of Patriots tickets, to ANY game of your choosing, in the Gillette Corporate Suite. Um, are you kidding me?!?!
Yeah.
So, since the one friend I have from real life who works with me (You know who you are, humpf) was working from home today, I had no real backbone. I didn't have my daily posse I lunch with for moral support. I sat with a couple people I vaguely know from my floor, a former intern who is now full time (so he's a kid) and couple other people I know mostly from passing and from emailing about meetings. Yeah, we're obviously close.
Somehow, they were able to talk me into doing this. I had intended on passing this week. Took some real arm twisting. (insert eye roll here)
I sat and listened first. Took a good while for the seedy DJ to get someone to muster up the guts to be first. I had to eye my competition, there are Patriots tickets involved here!! Soon after the first brave soul got through her attempt at a Madonna song, a couple other people went up.
I decided (in all my apparent cockiness) that I should maybe do it. I thought, "Self, you know you can sing better than the people who sang already, so at least you've got that". (I wasn't trying to be mean in my inner monologue, but if you've ever done karaoke, you know there are some people who put up song after song who just well, maybe shouldn't) But then I thought "Self, what if someone sings better than you after? What if you screw up? You have to see these people EVERY day"
I could literally no longer eat. This was kind of a big deal. This wasn't a couple of drinks with friends and "hahaha sing this!" No. This was 1. for Patriots tickets and 2. in front of a crap ton of people I worked with.
So I finally bit the bullet. I walked up to the DJ and asked if he had a certain song. Nope. Asked after another. Nope. "But I can get what you want for next week, but why don't you pick something else to sing now?". Crap.
So I did it. I put in my selection of what he had that I could sing (his book last updated in 2008, very up to speed) and when he eventually called my name I sheepishly made my way to the front of our ENTIRE dining area, which is set up like a restaurant.
Oh yeah, I had no place to hide.
Now, I know I can sing. I am not exactly Whitney Houston or anything (pre-crack obviously) but I am a far cry from William Hung. So I took a few breaths and the DJ asked if I was nervous, oh yeah. He said it INTO the microphone. To which I replied "This is work" and sort of giggled. Mentioned it being possibly awkward, got a few laughs in and tried to ready myself.
Que music and off I went.
Now the song, I nailed. I know I did. It's one that's been in my karaoke "rotation" for a while. Not an easy song to sing per say, and shows range for those who actually give a rats ass about musicality. Anyway, I hit all the notes, people started clapping MID song I was doing well.
However, the memo did not make it from my brain to my knees because I started to shake. Like seizure like. My voice however didn't waiver (thankfully). I tried shifting my weight from one foot to the other. Just made the other knee buckle worse. I felt like I looked like a jackass.
I have done solo's in high school concerts, I auditioned for American Idol in front of 20,000 other people in an arena PLUS producers and the like and didn't bat an eyelash. I sing karaoke on weekends in public all the damn time.
This was work, this was different.
When I was done, there was loud applause and wooting and what not. I sort of just meekly made my way to where I was sitting and sat for a second. Drank a few sips of water, and still continued to shake.
As I left the Cafe (and not fast enough mind you) I had people telling me how great I did and all that jazz (haha I made a musical reference in a gay Pride post by complete accident, yay). One of the people from the company running it (My company not DJ company) came up to me and was all happy and raving.
Like "Oh Honey you were fabulous!" kind and that made me feel a little better. The Gays on a whole are hard to impress.
I better win those damn tickets is all I have to say, because I now have to feel this for the next few Thursdays and it's going to be torture.
So I have spent the day wrapped up in more and more insurance red tap because of the little asshole who destroyed my Soul (not my ACTUAL soul-soul, like that inner thing that's supposed to live on long after you're gone, but my rapping hamster Soul, my poor beautiful car).
They give you one person who handles the medical side, another who's a field adjuster (the guy who is the only person who physically SEES your poor damaged and maimed vehicle), a miscellaneous team of peons who answer the phone assigned only to YOUR claim, and yet another who oversees the whole mess from some office in god-knows-where.
It's exhausting. Then I have to deal with physical therapy, with follow up appointments, with paperwork up the wazoo. All because some stupid little cocksucker decided he didn't feel like stopping at a stop sign in the middle of rush hour traffic, and felt like taking off. Fucking asshat.
Now I have to deal with getting my loan all over again, with pay-offs and with figuring out GAP insurance (if I have it). With re-negotiating car dealerships and the whole rigamarole of everything. And that's just the car side of it.
It will probably be like a year before I see any of my lost wages, or medical pay outs. The little bastard likely doesn't have a job, since he wasn't on his parents or whomever he lived with insurance to begin with. Oh and did I tell you that after Googling the little asshole (yes Google, the rise and fall of modern civilization) found he assaulted his grandparents?? That he violated a restraining order of some kind and broke into a car and stole drugs? Sounds like a real stand up guy doesn't he?
Ok enough about hate. Well maybe not.
Day 16: A Song You Used To Love But Now Hate
See this is tough.
I don't tend to love them then hate them.
More sort of dig them, then get sick of them because most radio stations play the same 10 songs over and over again over the course of each hour making you at first get uber excited about it, then want to gouge your eyes out with a spoon.
Yet another reason I miss my car. I had free satellite radio for a year. I didn't have that hell of pop radio making me mad by playing that whole repetitive "buy me buy me, love me love me" shit and forcing Top 40 (which was really like top 10 if you think about it because they again, only played the same stupid songs on repeat) down your throats.
So, a couple I grew sick of are (insert drum roll if you wish)
Ok anything Ke$ha. I get it, girl is trashy, daughter of Mick Jagger (or whatever the rumor is). Has no talent. Sure, get me drunk in a bar and I will dance the shit out of her "music" there are beats. But she is useless, and it does NOT belong on a radio, especially every 5 minutes.
I hate to say it, because I am a fan of them, but if I go to a karaoke bar and have to suffer through a bunch of drunk barely 21 year old, couldn't carry a tune in a bucket Prostitots singing this song, I may intentionally hit them with my car when I leave (if ever I get another one)
Another song that's annoying as all hell? Especially when an entire gaggle of *ahem* ladies who you can pretty much guess without the IQ of Einstein WHY they are what they start stampede--I mean running to the dance floor is that Beyonce' anthem from a few summers back. Mocked and You Tubed by everyone, I believe even the Jonas Brothers got in on that one.
I am sure there are more, but I am honestly not up for much more annoyances today.
So a fellow blogger I follow has been going through hell.
I feel for her. I empathize. I read what she writes, her pain in her writing, her brutal honesty.
I have followed her journey since before her heartache and today she posted something, a phrasing that made me stop in my tracks and think. Just stop in awe and wonderment. An "A ha" moment.
Well, sort of. (and not in the Demetri Martin "sort of", an actual "sort of", like gets my mind working in ways it likely hasn't in far too ling like of way")
And what she thought about, what she put into words that made me stop and mentally shut the fuck up was basically realizing what actually matters.
She looked past the bullshit. Past the hurt, the games. Past the he said/the she said. Past the infidelity and past the lies and deceptions. The mistakes and the disagreements.
She looked deeper. She looked into herself.
She took herself away from it all. Literally.
Took herself away from her own life for a few days, away from her husband, her children. Away. No phones, no contact. Away. Away with her thoughts, her memories. Her fears, her misgivings. Her issues, her pains.
And she came back.
She came back because she had a revelation.
She loved him. She found the power to forgive him.
She had a vision of what people go through like the recent Tsunami in Japan, or the recent Tornado's here in the US. Or victims of wars and other natural disasters that take their loves ones. She realized that if something horrible or tragic were to happen, all she would want was HIM. If she was scared or felt alone, all she would want was HIM. All she would need was HIM.
And not out of dependance and not out of habit, out of love. She knows he's far from perfect, and she knows neither is she, but she knows that together they can be wonderful and strong, and that maybe they just forgot that for a brief moment. And she's determined for them to remember. She did it out of that person needing to be the last thing on earth (aside from children you share, biological or otherwise) that you wanted to see on this Earth should anything tragic happen.
So she is putting everything petty and seemingly trivial behind her. They both are. He, not knowing where she went when she "cleared her head", shaking and wracked with fear and shame she may never return, and she full knowing she actually wants to spend her life with someone who is an actual PART of her.
And no, most people can't do this. Most people can't look past the freaking noses on their own faces. Can't look past their own insecurities enough to actually let someone else in enough to let them have their whole selves. Their whole hearts. Most people just live with the hurt, the blame, and then try their best to move on, never again whole, like Humpty Dumpty, cracked and fragile.
But who would you run to (parents and children aside)? If tragedy struck who would you want to spend your last hours with? Who would your first thoughts go to?
Weekend is over. Wish I could say it was eventful.
Ok well it kind of was.
Dylan had his last and final T-ball game (Hooray!) It was A-FREAKIN-DORABLE. Only took him all season to actually make any plays in his short-stop position, but hey, sometimes that's what happens. He got 3 outs at second base and did a great job. He didn't hit off the Tee at all. So freaking cute. And the trophy? A bobble head. Hilarious.
I then attempted to clean. And I say attempted because I am still in absolute agony because of the shithead who totaled my car. Like from the movie Friday, although I actually DID hurt my neck and my back.
I realized by my attempt at Spring cleaning (which basically amounted to organizing and gutting out my front hall closet, linen closet and doing 987 tons of laundry) that I never again have to buy a gift bag for any occasion ever again. I have a Hallmark store in my closet. From baby shower to birthday bags, I have friggan everything. With tissue paper to match. I luckily haven't gotten to the point of mania my aunt has where she methodically untapes and neatly saves and folds and reuses wrapping paper, but I am afraid of what I may become. So feel free to stage an intervention at any time.
I also said my final farewell to my beautiful car. I literally had a slow-motion looking back as if it were in a movie kind of moment as I drove away, and my heart sank. It was being taken away from me. Going to that big salvage yard in the sky. Not even 6 months old. Still in its infancy. So sad. I gathered the rest of my stuff from it, and I left it there, for someone else to take away, never to be seen again.
Stuck in the whole red-tape insurance disaster that is the aftermath of this pain in the ass car accident. I am hoping Karma steps up big time on this one and I get my new car soon, because honestly, I am not a huge fan of the rental, and I am tired of being in pain.
I digress, on to the challenge I slacked on over the uneventful weekend.
Day 13: A Guilty Pleasure
Now I'm not exactly sure how to take this one. According to the Urban Dictionary (because you know that's where you should get all your valued information from) a guilty pleasure is something you shouldn't like, but like anyway.
There isn't just one song, but there are 2 songs I can think of. By all definitions are actually annoying as all hell. They make no sense. No really, NONE.
They don't convey any sort of sentiment of love lost or aspirations. They aren't emotional, they aren't even about getting it on. They are just freaking random as all hell, and I love the friggan hell out of them.
Yup, the Ketchup Song. A song about Ketchup.
Don't judge me.
The other one is fairly new, and I LOVE this song. I believe it is my ringback tone as we speak. So I can annoy who calls me. Yeah that's right. I'm that bad.
I am chair dancing as we speak. It hurts like hell, but I can't help myself.
Day 14: A Song No One Would Expect You To Love
Ok, Like I said before, I love a little bit of everything. I meant it. I have run the gammet of musical styles over the years. I honestly have no idea what most people think when they look at me. (I mean do people do that? Aside from the obvious people who run around wearing band t-shirts or pants-on-the-ground home slices walking around like a billboard of the music they like, do people look and try to generalize what one person or another is into?)
That being said I can think of a couple possible tunes I like that people may look at me and go "Huh?!?"
It's true, I've always had a secret little thing for Korn. Since high school. No idea what it is about them, but I love them. They are angry and rough, and yet immensely talented. I know, who knew?
Now on this one, I know I told you all I hated screeching screaming untalented idiotic music. THIS is different. This band had talent. The screaming in this is to prove a point. It's to show the power of the hurt in the song. It was one of those songs I would listen to when extremely pissed off and annoyed in high school on my bright yellow Sony cassette Walkman (remember those?) when I would go out for a run to blow off steam. Yes that's right I used to RUN when I was pissed off and angry and I felt worlds better by the time I got back. Food for thought for myself I guess...
Of course maybe once I am no longer in immense pain, or self crippled by laziness the whole therapeutic running thing could come back into my life. I'm sure my body, and my ass would thank me for it. Hmm...
Day 15: A Song That Describes You
Well shit.
This could take up 987 songs all by itself. It could depend on who I am to certain people. I am a plethora of things to a myriad of people (like how I tossed in some 50 cent words for extra credit?? My old English teachers would be so proud). I'm a mom, a friend, apparently a crazy-ex girlfriend. A giver, a taker. A lover, sometimes a neurotic mess. I'm insecure, I'm confident, I'm a woman (hear me ROAR!). I'm not a midnight toker though (Sorry "Gambler"...)
I'm So Fucking Fabulous I Piss Glitter.
I'll do my best on this one....(and those who know me, feel free to offer up suggestions, as long as you aren't being as asshole about it)
Ok I CLEARLY don't think I'm perfect, I am FAR from it, but this song is an amazing reminder that no matter who you are, no matter what you have been through you are worth everything to yourself, and no one should ever have the power to make you feel worthless, especially yourself.
This is a little tongue-in-cheek. And possibly a matter of opinion. And as I mentioned in a previous post, we know what opinions are like...
I can be everything she says in this song, as can all women. A bitch, a lover, a child, a mother. All of it. It calls to everyone with a vagina.
I will go to the ends of the Earth for my friends. I don't care if I haven't talked to you in months, years. If you need me, whatever I can do I will. I have proved that many times. Ask anyone who knows me. Nothing I ever do is for myself. I probably SHOULD do more for me, but I can't. It's not who I am.
Yup, I feel crazy. Crazy for feeling alone and hurt. Crazy for feeling like I love too much. Le Sigh.
This may have be a little past tense, but this is a hope. What I wish. To be loved for everything I am. The good, the bad, the ugly. The parts of me that may or may not be perfect to everyone, but perfect for that one person. Who see's all of me, faults and all and loves me and wants to stand by me regardless. Who wants to stick things out if things are hard, or things are easy. Who just wants ME. Me to be everything.
I don't care that it's been almost 5 years since he died, I will be Daddy's little girl until the day I die. I miss him more and more every day. I love you dad.
I know this song says it's to a little girl and giving away a daughter and what not, but eff that. I am my son's hero. I do it all alone. I help take care of my disabled mother, and I am a single mom, so yes I AM somebody's hero and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.
Yes folks we're at it again. 12 days in and still kicking (and possibly screaming, but I'll never tell).
Day 12: A Song From A Band You Hate
Now I don't really hate much in terms of music.
Really.
I can generally appreciate a lot. I tend to listen to a little of just about everything from Metal to Opera. Literally. I get it. It's creative, it's an outlet for people, to each there own, and blah blah blah.
That being said...
First, a band that has annoyed the ever living SHIT out of me since high school has to be the Insane Clown Posse. (better known by their ridiculous minions as ICP)
Really? Grown overweight white men, dressed as clowns, which are creepy as all hell to begin with, attempting to be badass and rapping or whatever they hell they are trying to do with their monochromatic Jorts on (refer to my previous What NOT to Wear Post for an explanation on that one).
Clowns?? Seriously??
I mean, I am not one of those Clown-a-phobes. I don't get all creeped out and run for the hills getting the heeby-jeeby's if I see one, having nightmares. (I did however have a friend from high school...true story. The guy was like 6'3 and jacked. In the Army, all rough and tough. We went to a haunted house with a bunch of other friends and a scary Halloween clown came walking through the crowd and he BOLTED, scared shitless through the parking lot. Funniest thing I saw in my life at the time.)
Poltergeist sort of freaked me out a little as a kid, with the clown doll pulling the kid under the bed and all, but that was the extent of my short lived fear, and I was maybe 6 when I first saw it so it was vaguely understandable.
Coming in second would maybe be GWAR. Now I have no idea what the whole acronym is all about. I get it, it's a gimmick. And for some strange reason grown men want to still play dress up and think it's ok, I mean Gene Simmons has been doing it with make up and platform shoes for decades now and making millions. But at least he attempts to sing, KISS has talent involved. They doesn't gutturally screech into a microphone and call it art.
The costumes I can say could be considered artistic, the instrumental parts, maybe a stretch. The vocals? Not so much.
You can obviously beg to differ. The whole "opinions are like assholes" thing.
OK so today is off to a rocky start. I left my house at the same time I do every day to make it to work by 7:30am.....and got here at 9am. Yeah. Traffic day from hell.
I have no idea what kind of mental vehicular Armageddon was going on in Massachusetts, but it annoyed the Bejesus out of me, and I am certainly not caffeinated enough to tolerate it that's for sure.
I mean sure, half of the State was sadly affected by freak tornadoes last night. And we're not like those poor plain states who are accustomed to these sort of things (I mean as prepared as you can be, with sirens and drills and shelters and such) We don't tend to get that kind of freakish weather here. We get foot upon foot of snow, hell even snow in what some consider summer months on fluke occasions, but never tornadoes.
Sadly there were a few confirmed deaths and several injuries. Lots of damage. Nothing compared to what the people of the Midwest and the south deal with, but for an area that doesn't deal with this stuff it was on every channel, interrupting your regularly scheduled programming.
Except of course the Bruins Stanley Cup Playoff Game, because let's face it, we DO have priorities (even though we lost in the last 18 seconds....but damnit Canada, we'll get you!)
That aside, it's Day 11 of my Challenge. I know, 2 days in a row of actually keeping up with what I'm supposed to do. You should be proud of me.
Day 11 - A Song From Your Favorite Band
Now this again should be a no brainer. BUT I have more than one favorite. I know, a woman who's indecisive. Shocking.
I have my cheeseball favorites, the ones I will get incessantly mocked for and not give a shit for. Because fuck you that's why.
I have my sincere favorites. Ones who's music actual move me, who's every song I can listen to and love.
I have favorites from certain era's in my life. One's that got me through times when no one else could, but their melodies and lyrics stood by me like an old and trusted friend.
So I will go forth and conquer! Ok, that was a bit dramatic, but I will post a few of my favorites, from a couple of my favorite musicians. And you will just have to once again, deal.
I LOVE Bon Jovi. I know I know. This may be my Cheese factor. I have seen him now live twice and they are AMAZING. Like take incredible sound stage presence put on one hell of a show amazing. I love every song I've ever heard. Every album, even the ones other people hated (like his attempt at country crossover)
I don't get all Cougar'd up when I go though and tease my hair up all 1985 and sport a Bon Jovi t-shirt and scream out "I LLOOOOOOOVVVVEEE YOU JOOONNN!!!" like a lunatic or anything. I stand, I sway, I sing along sure. I know every song word for word. I am a fan. I'm just not a fricking nutcase.
Totally different jump here, but I also am obsessed with Staind. I know. Not exactly the same fan base as Bon Jovi, but they are amazingly talented and Aaron Lewis' voice is haunting. He writes in a way that makes you almost want to break his heart so he can immortalize you. Don't judge me.
I grew up loving oldies, loving country. And I LOVE Patsy Cline.
And I bet no one saw this coming, but I have seen the Cure 7 times in my life in concert. My sister was 7 years older than me and a huge musical influence. I loved the Smiths and the Cure and Duran Duran and so many other amazing 80's musical talents because of her.
And obviously my childhood staple. The one favorite that every red blooded New England Tween gal HAD to love. And most of us still do. I have friends who line up and wait as soon as these tickets go on sale (and no, I am NOT one of them) screeching like their former teenage youthful selves reliving their glory days. You got it (the right stuff)
I very rarely do photo posts. I mean, sure I usually find some random stock type photo on the interwebz and have it tie in to my general theme of where I am going (or where I THINK I am going anyway) with my thoughts as I get them the hell out of my head at any given moment, but I rarely just find a gaggle of photos and share them
That being said, I think I need to put out a sort of public service announcement.
Oh yes.
This will be an education for all of you, and I will be thanked later by the masses I am sure of it, as will a lot of you if you willingly share my wealth of information.
This is for the fella's. ADULT fella's. Men, if you will.
This is a compilation of things you should never EVER put on your body. Accessories you should clearly avoid. Hairstyles you should shoot people for attempting to give you. I don't care if you think you rival David Beckham in the looks department, I don't care if you think you have the abs of Channing Tatum. I don't care how cute your mom tells you you are. NO self respecting adult woman wants to see you in ANY of the following situations.
1. NEVER ever on any occasion outside maybe Halloween should a man ever wear a mesh shirt. I don't care if you think you are all Goth and cool (and seriously, there is nothing cool about Goth, maybe if you were all hip and into the Cure in the 80's, but really it doesn't make you different or edgy now, it makes you look ridiculous and like every other kid who shops at Hot Topic)
2. NEVER pop your collar. No really. You DO look like a douche bag. It was never cool.
3. (and maybe 4)SOO many wrongs with this picture. First off, no self respecting adult woman wants a man with hair that could fatally wound her. I have no idea what has happened to the youth of this country that they find ANY of this tasteful or remotely attractive, but it's a no-no. And the shirt needs to be buttoned up a few more. It's not 1976 and you are not John Travolta. Also, being tan...sexy. Being as orange as an Oompa Loompa from Willy Wonka not so much.
5. Let's face it, most WOMEN who wear skinny jeans should not wear skinny jeans. If you have a penis, you should refrain. As a rule. I don't care how trendy you think you are, you are not. This also covers leather or pleather pants. You are not Axel Rose. You look like an asshole.
6. You have a waist. No really. There is even a marker to prove it. It's called your belly button. I used to be a manager at a Tuxedo company for years. I used to literally introduce boys pants to their belly button because clearly they had never met before. You pant waist line is NOT around your mid thigh. This does not give you "Swagger". This makes you look like you just had an accident and you need to go home and change.
7. Don't get me wrong, I love me some cool funny ironic t-shirts on occasion. HOWEVER, if your entire wardrobe consists of them and you are now in your 30's and still dressing like you live in a dorm room, it may be time for an intervention.
8. Chances are you are not a Gangsta rapper. You aren't "Thug Life" (chances are a lot of these so-called famous ones aren't either but whatever) No grown man should wear large obnoxious "Bling" Again, unless it's Halloween, and you are dressed as Mr. T. I pity the Fool.
9. Some guys can get away with an earring lets face it. Its takes a certain look. If you can get away with it, then more power to you, it can be wicked sexy. NOT a big honking ridiculously looking diamond stud. This is NEVER sexy on a guy. If someone tells you it looks good, they lied to you. Give them back to your mom.
10. No man should wear a turtle neck. I mean if you are skiing, and layering and there is some sort of life saving thermal need to have it on, maybe that can be considered acceptable. A short sleeved one just for shits and giggles however? HUGE no-no.
*BONUS Help If you are headed to the beach, I get it. There is a time and place for everything. A flip flop is ok. A sturdy rugged one. Assuming of course you don't have feet like Frodo here. This however, is never EVER ok. Say no to Mandals.
Another bonus tidbit for you, NO man should ever wear capri pants. No clam diggers, Jorts, or the like. I don't care if you think you have sexy ankles. I don't care if it's too hot for pants, yet too cool for shorts. You have testosterone. Don't do it.
Oh, and the biggest No brainer of them all. Denim on Denim. Burn it. Burn it all.
In general, don't dress like ANY of these people. You will be destined to remain in your mom's basement, playing World of Warcraft, and shouting for meatloaf. Bet he likes NASCAR? He Feels Pretty, Oh So Pretty He matches so well, it's easy to pick up the ladies
If you own any of these pieces of clothing, know that we will secretly burn them. The washing machine will mysteriously get bleach on them. The dryer will eat them. Gnomes will come and steal them in the night. You will get suggestions about how much better your hair will look other ways.
Or you will just remain alone for a very very long time.
