A holiday wish for everyone I love...I hope you make time to laugh this holiday. There's nothing I want for Christmas besides the opportunity to relax and see smiling faces of people I love. I think that's the best you can hope for at Christmas, and I hope you get it!

Start laughing now: It is better to give than to receive. Which is why I regift all those things I get that I don't really want.

Lots of ha ha's, hee hee's, lol's and chuckles (the clown).

Mountains...

We live in a world of excess. Of this I am sure. I feel this way because as of late there is too much of EVERYTHING, and I mean everything, and there is no chance in heck of a scale back anytime soon. The reason I say this is because I feel the excess of things has gone beyond my control.

Once upon a time I believed I had control - I was very young then.

People keep giving me things, requiring things of me, and generating new things that I must have. This is not fair because I am now in a situation where I don't have the luxury of walking away from "the way things are." I have way too much debt and responsibility.

When I am at work, there is WAY too much work to do. So much that I can't imagine a time when anything will ever be done. Finishing a project gives me absolutely no satisfaction, because my to do list still has 30+ items on it. And that's just deadlines for tomorrow.

When I am at home, there is too much to do. Too many emails to answer, too much cleaning, too much laundry, too many unpaid bills and unwashed dishes and unfiled papers and untended projects.

When I am at the grocery store there are too many choices, and far too many children with too many snots dripping out of too many nostrils.

There are too many super germs, and too much fear of catching them.

There are too many people I love wanting too many hours of my time. This one really kills me because I hate saying no, and I hate not doing something I want to do, but sometimes you CAN have too much of a good thing.

I have too many phone numbers. Three to be exact. This is ridiculous, because it's very hard for me to tell people how to get in touch with me.

I have too many email addresses (4), too many online "friend" accounts (5+), too many magazine subscriptions (5) and too many books (3 bookcases full). I also have too many CDs, but I am not counting them.

Today it snowed way more than it should ever snow.

These mountains of things, ideas, tasks, and obligations are growing at a rate that puts plate tectonics to shame. And they frighten me. But what do I do? Stop buying books? Quit my job?

As my favorite video blogger said recently about the excess of Xmas, "I like everything about Christmas that was thought up before the year 1800. That said, if everyone felt the way I did there would be a world wide recession and our economy would collapse." He says this in a snide sarcastic tone that I hope you can hear when you read this, and realize that I am not actually having a nervous breakdown.

I'm just wondering why I'm not.

My theory is all these "little things" we are being encouraged to do to cut back on consumption like buy hybrid cars, screw in whirly-gig lightbulbs and stop buying bottled water is a bunch of crap. If the world's gonna explode, it's gonna explode. It doesn't matter what kind of lightbulb you're sitting under while you drink filtered tap water and read "101 ways to save your ass."

And the majority of humans I know feel terribly overwhelmed with all this responsibility to use recyclable tampons and stop buying paper towels -- or else all the penguins will die!

What we need is an environmental dictator who will take away our cars, our lattes in disposable cups, and our electricity privileges. Then we'll be forced to slow down, stop polluting, and stop shopping at Wal-Fart.

And then I can spend as much time as I want with as many people as I love without feeling guilty about all those stupid things I "have" to do. (And our economy will collapse! ha).

The irony of Christmas

So, if I take it back to it's roots, past the Santa and the tree and "It's a Wonderful Life" and all that, Christmas is really about the birth of Jesus who, according to the story, died so that we may live w/o original sin.

In less fanatical language, he sacrificed himself so others could have a better life. A noble pursuit for any man, right? And darn nice of him.

So, why on Earth are we celebrating Christmas by creating so much waste? We're really blowing the deal here.

According to the US Dept. of Transportation, long distance travel goes up about 1/4 at the holidays.

Over 20 million Christmas trees are cut down every year.

There aren't many statistics about trash out there, but in the UK alone they toss about 8,000 tons of paper and 125,000 tons of plastic following Christmas. And they recycle way more than we do!

Over $2 billion is spent on tech products alone on the day after Thanksgiving.

All I have to say is --- GROSS!

Dude, Jesus was a poverty stricken baby born in a barn. His fancy Christmas presents included incense. Is it a little corrupt that we celebrate his birth by increasing carbon emissions, filling landfills and buying iPods?

And the market's proposed solutions to the problems we've created? Spend more money!

Check out the Terra Pass, a fun pass that allows you to be as decadent as you want in terms of energy use, and then correct the effects of your carbon emissions for less than $30.

Or you can go to Network for Good and get people gift cards to give to their favorite charitable organizations. Well, it's better than giving the thoughtless gift of candles, I guess.

I know when I was a kid it was all about presents, sledding, and a week off from school.

These days Christmas equals "the busy season" at work, huge credit card bills, weight gain, stress, an extremely stretched social calendar, and a bunch of odds and ends I now have to make room for in my already crowded house. I'm not sure what got lost in translation over the years, but I seriously want to move to Whoville where Christmas is all about roasted beast and singing that weird "Dahoo-Dorays" song in the center of town. I don't need any junk (as proven by the Grinch). All I need is some friends, some food, and a blessed day off. Oh, and a little bit of recognition of the fact that the decadent celebration of this holiday will soon kill us all.

Thank you.

Praise Jesus.

Amen.

Vanity

Lately, I have found myself in a pickle or two, and been totally disgruntled about having to deal with life's little obstacles. And I keep finding myself muttering, "I'm too pretty for this."

It cracks me up a little, and then I move on.

But really, I am cute. Should my good looks get me the free pass I feel I deserve?

I mean, it seems to work for some people. Tall blondes don't have to wait in line at really exclusive clubs. Paris Hilton didn't have to do that much jail time even though she was guilty. Brittany Spears can open an internationally televised awards show without having much talent left. Tila Tequila can make a room full of men and women fight over her on the daily. Seems like everyone loves a pretty girl, and that entitles them to be as nasty and careless as they want.

Then I thought about my little muttering. And I heard the air of entitlement in it. And I hated it about as much as I hate J.Lo's new perfume. Thank goodness no one ever let me get away with being a creep simply because I have blue eyes, big knockers, and a pretty smile.

Besides, I wouldn't let myself take the easy road when I know I can work for the things I really want...I'm too smart for that ;) ha ha ha ha ha.

Thrilled

I am so proud of the Red Sox. Did I mention that if they win the World Series, the couch I am currently sitting on will be free? Yeah, my roomie bought it during the Red Sox promotion at Jordan's Furniture. So cool!

Lets have a beer and sing Tessie together.

QOTD 10/23/07

"You write intense emails. You're an intense emailer. That's what you do!" - my co-worker, Aaron Chalek, after reading two very intense emails I have sent to men who deserved a little tongue lashing.

Lessons from the professor with pancreatic cancer

I saw a guy named Randy Pausch on Oprah today. He was pretty amazing. He was a professor at Canegie Mellon, an inventor of amazing virtual technology, and he could do push-ups and clap in between.

He's dying of pancreatic cancer, and has been told he only has months to live. But he's in great shape and has an amazing attitude, and advice for life. Below is the original one hour lecture. The Oprah version was only about 8 minutes or so.

Anyways, this guy was amazing. He's the kind of guy who makes you feel guilty for complaining without making you feel like a total loser. There's a part of him that believes a miracle can happen - and that he can live. I love him for that.

At the end of the show, Randy was imparting quick snippets of advice for his kids at the end of Oprah, and the dating advice he had for his daughter is GOOD STUFF.

He said, "Ignore everything boys say to you, and pay attention to what they do." I think if I had known this, I would have made a lot fewer dating mistakes.

Take for instance the man who said he thought I was great, beautiful, and couldn't wait to see me again. That he "liked me instinctively" as if our being together was the incontrovertible result of evolution. Yeah, well, every time we crossed the street together he jumped on the side of me opposite the traffic. He wanted me to die first. I should have known that one wouldn't end well.

Or how about the guy who asked me to marry him...and then showed up as my "date" to a friend's wedding late and high. If only I had realized this meant he had no regard for marriage. Or me.

And what about the dude who said he wanted to be with me forever. I assumed "unconditionally" was part of that promise. And then he got upset with me for being sick and cranky and decided not to call me for three days, despite my 3 worried voicemails and 2 text messages. Apparently there is an expiration date on forever.

And lets not forget they guy who told me he was in love with me, and told me he didn't want me to date anyone else. I thought he was romantic. But, when I got a new job and suddenly became twice as busy, he assumed I was lying and that my job couldn't possibly be that hard, so I must be cheating on him. He wasn't romantic. He was possessive and paranoid.

Randy, you've given me a new lease on life. You've made me realize my life is only as good as I make it, my power only as finite as I believe it to be, and that my intuition truly is my best guide. Every time I feel like complaining, I'm going to try to remember you, and shut up and work harder instead.

And next time I go on a date with a guy, I'm not gonna listen to one single sweet nothing he tries to whisper in my ear. Because "nothing" truly is the best word for those meaningless things men try to tell you to butter you up. I'll remember actions speak louder than words.

THANK YOU! You're awesome and I wish you much health and happiness.

The dark side of fundraising

Again with the magazine articles that drive me crazy.

There are so many wonderful websites out there where you can make informed decisions about making charitable gifts. You can become a microfinancier at kiva.org, you can give of your money or your time at the Network for Good or you can buy your Christmas presents and give a little to charity at the same time at igive. You can even go over to my organization's website and help provide amazing empowerment opportunities for youth in Lowell through your PayPal account.

In fact, I would encourage you to go do any of those things right now. Any one that makes you feel good. Any one that you think makes a clear, measured improvement on society in some way. Which is what a donation or gift is supposed to do.

I am more than pumped about foundations, giving, and fundraising for worthy causes.

Which is why www.myfreeimplants.com really pissed me off.

I read about this site in ELLE magazine (really, my favorite fashion mag) about a month ago. This site is sort of the match.com for poor women who want bigger breasts, and the men who would like to fulfill some really strange knight in shining armor fantasy by paying for them. A woman can start an account, and tell her sob story about why she can't live without Double Ds or whatever. A man can open his own account, and chat with as many ladies as he wants for $1.20 per email. The majority of the fee goes into an escrow account for the female. She in essence needs to hustle, keep mens interest and make them keep emailing her so she can earn her "goal amount." She can also do photos and videos (naked or not) for extra bucks from these fellas.

All the money in the woman's account is tallied by the site, and then given directly to her plastic surgeon of choice. She never actually sees a cent of the money she "earned." When she gets the implants, she gets to tell her "success story" to her many donors.

This is so messed up in so many ways I can't begin to count them.

What bothers me so much is that our society is so hell bent on the perfection of women's bodies (apparently big breasts = perfection....I, one of the "lucky" well-endowed, have some very different views on this) that poor women will hustle not to put food on the tables, but to attain the body of their dreams, with the assumption that this will make her life better. This seems very similar to the internal argument of the yo-yo dieter, and those with body dismorphia. That thought that, "I can have everything I want when I finally lose weight."

And men are somehow so taken with the idea of building the "perfect woman" that they're willing to empty their pockets to indulge in the fantasy of doing so for a woman they have little to no chance of ever meeting, seeing, or touching.

With all that non-profits go through to raise the cash to make the world a better place, it just burns me that someone has created a system where the haves can give to the have-nots for the sole purpose of adding fake body parts to women.

I guess, if I am being fair, I should take a step back and say, "to each his own." But why the hell do I need to be fair? This is absolutely asinine. There are so many problems in this world we could put our time, energy, and money into solving. I for one am embarrassed and ashamed that this type of thing is what happens in America when people have too much time to focus on themselves, and more money than they know what to do with.

When you look at this site and see the stories of the thousands of dollars put towards the inflation of a small number of body parts (bodies that are just going to age around the saline) that could have gone towards teaching children to read, protecting the women and children of Darfur, or cancer research....it just makes me sad.

But then, who am I kidding. That money wouldn't have gone to a charity. If it started in the pocket of some twisted individual with a God-complex, he probably would have spent it on a gas-guzzling SUV or porn, or some other self-indulgent toy. So, maybe this is the best thing he's done with his money in a long time. Hopefully, the ladies benefiting from this "charity" will put the donations to good use, make some of their own money with their new found assets, and think about giving their hard earned dollars to someone in need - except maybe they could give towards another young woman's education. So she can learn to take pride in and earn a living from her mind as opposed to her boobies. Ladies, it would be much appreciated.

Childless Spinster

In a recent issue of Ladies Home Journal (really) I came across the following:

Are Kids the Key to Happiness?

Women who've never had children are just as content at midlife as mothers of the same age and in the same circumstances, according to a study from the University of Florida. Whether a woman gives birth seems less crucial to her well being than such factors as education, work, and earnings, as well as relationships with family and friends. When children make their appearance is key, though. The study found that women who gave birth before the age of 19 were the least happy.
*****

Ok, now. For my entire life people have been ramming down my throat (more after I hit 27) that, "OMG, you need to have babies. You're eggs are drying up and dying! Don't you want to have this amazing experience?"

Apparently not.

I have great relationships with my family and (awesome) friends (more awesome than yours). I have a Master's degree. I have an amazing career. I take multiple vacations a year, etc.

I'm just wondering why the "make babies while you still can" party line gets so much publicity all over town, when apparently, I am already as happy as I am gonna get. And this news gets 2.5 x 4 inches on page 20 in Ladies Home Journal. Good thing I caught it.

I'm not saying kids aren't great, and bully to those who have them. There's something about the trauma of caring for a child that really bonds you to that creature. As a former nanny, I can attest. And love for a child is like no other.

But I really take issue with people like Gwyneth Paltrow who say asinine things like, "My life truly began after I had kids." No it didn't. You were a stellar actress with an amazing career and great reviews. Have a little pride.

I know being a mom is hard, and I know it's very fulfilling and yay for you, but do we seriously have to degrade the things we did before we had kids as unimportant because being a parent is sooooooo much more important than everything else we've ever done? Because everything in life that one accomplishes is seemingly less credible and deserving of praise than raising a child?

Someone raised you to be something great. And you are. Take a little pride in THAT. Have a little self-love. It will be the most helpful thing you could do for your kids and their self-esteem.

Now, to end my rant, please enjoy a video performance from one of my favorite childless women, Dusty Springfield. You can't tell me she doesn't look happy in this clip!

Boobs are unfair and Netflix SUX!

Thanks to my good buddy, el Single Gal, for sharing with me a bit of wisdom from MSNBC. Boobs jiggle a distance of up to eight inches during exercise and traditional sport bras don't help. Also noteworthy, boobs don't just move up and down, but also side to side and in and out. That last part makes me feel a little sick.

The first thing I thought when I heard this was, "This warrants a flippin newsflash? I could have told you this when I was 15."

My second thought was, "Who is the perv who designed this study? I bet he was all, 'Lets attached this device to your boobie and then make you run around! Fun!'" Then I read further to see that this study was conducted by a woman. Joanna Scurr, a biomechanics professor at the University of Portsmouth in England, to be exact. So at least I know it was a sister, with my best (or should I say breast) interests at heart.

What I found most interesting was that Ms. Scurr says a dual cup bra is more effective for stopping breast movement than a traditional sports bra which simply compresses the breasts. I did not know that!

Now Scurr-y is working with clothing manufacturers to develop the bra of the future. As an absolute hater of sports that require equipment I have to pay for, and someone with large breasts which often get in the way of my desire to jog or jump up and down, this at once excites and annoys me. However, I look forward to what science produces. Because what I paid $35 for at Modell Sports just ain't cuttin it.

Finally, I don't know if you, like me, fell for the new Netflix commercial that tells you you can instantly download movies onto your PC and rants about "5 movies for $5!"

I thought (mistakenly) that this meant I could go online and pony up $5, and download 5 movies. I figured they'd be streaming and I wouldn't be able to keep the files but whatever, that's fine. But no, that's not even close. You have to sign up for one of their plans and then you have a limited number of hours allotted to you to watch online movies, and there are a limited number of movies available online.

Dude...that's not what I want. I hate Netflix. They're evil because the service they provide is so good, but honestly, so unnecessary.

One of the best songs ever. (I'm gonna kill you)

Super Sensitive to Rejection? So is everyone else...

Today I read Psychology Today for this first time. Particularly this article.

The premise of the article is that we are genetically programmed to hate rejection because back in the old days, people relied on a very close knit group of others for survival. So if your group started to hate you, you'd die pretty quickly. So when you got rejected, your brain would make you feel physical pain, which would kick in your "love me now" obsessive craziness, and you'd win their hearts back.

Today, when we meet new people all the time and are constantly being thrown into new situations, our little psyches just can't handle all the change. Or all the inevitable rejection. And so we freak out about being rejected by everyone...which is pointless (because we're not going to DIE if some dude doesn't call us back) and unhealthy.

Stats like, "Major depression, a condition tightly linked to rejection sensitivity, has been on the rise among all age groups except the elderly for well over a decade," simply made me sad. Does that mean I am a statistic? Majorly depressed?

Anyways, what the article said was all kinds of things feed into our rejection-sensitivity beyond our hard wiring. Like parents who over-praise, parents who rejected their children's need for attention, and basically parents. And some other stuff too. Like trauma.

And so, we're all really depressed, and really sensitive, and then someone calls us at 6:30 instead of 6:00 and we think the world is coming to an end and they don't love us any more. Literally, says the article.

This kind of freaked me out, because I feel like I've spent 10 years of my life whining about rejection with my girlfriends. If I had read this article when I was in college, think of all that whining time I could have spent learning to ski or something. I'm only now coming to a place in my life where I can see rejection for what it really is; someone else's problem, not mine. And apparently, I'm not the only one who felt like I was living in my own personal hell when the cute boy I dated in Winter of 1999 told me he didn't think our relationship was going anywhere (and thank goddess, because he was a total loser, living in his parent's basement, working a crap job and wearing ugly shoes).

The scariest part of the article by far was the part where they said people's rejection sensitivity could lead to bringing about the thing they most fear: rejection. Apparently the craziness induced by rejection sensitivity is more crazy than your average Dick or Jane can handle. And imagine if two rejection sensitive people get together. They'd be joined at the hip and pissed off every time one of the pair had to go to the bathroom. Though better being pissed off than being pissed on, my Dad always says.

Anyways, I hope you find this article as empowering as I did. Enjoy!

The kind of love I want? Cake love.

I've gotten this question alot lately: "What kind of relationship are you looking for?" And I have an answer. And then I remembered this song, by Cake. I am changing my answer to this:

I don't want to wonder
If this is a blunder
I don't want to worry whether we're going to stay together 'til we die.
I don't want to jump in unless this music's thumping
All the dishes rattle in the cupboards when the elephants arrive.

I want to love you madly
I want to love you now
I want to love you madly
I want to love you, love you, love you madly.

I don't want to fake it
I just want to make it.
The ornaments look pretty but they're pulling down the branches of the tree.
I don't want to think about it
I don't want to talk about it
When I kiss your lips I want to sink down to the bottom of the sea.

I don't want to hold back
I don't want to slip down
I don't want to think back to the one thing that I know I should have done.
I don't want to doubt you,
know everything about you.
I don't want to sit across the table from you wishing I could run.

I want to love you madly
I want to love you now
I want to love you madly
I want to love you, love you, love you madly.

Right now

I am thinking about balance. Moderation. Choices. Compromise. Regrets. And...pepperoni.

I've spent too many hours working this week, and it's left me kind of hung over. Or maybe that's from the beer. In any case. It's a long weekend, so I get to make up for it by taking a break from my computer, hanging around outside, eating, drinking, running around and having fun.

Is there a perfect balance? Or do balance and compromise have to go hand in hand. So that "perfect balance" is just a euphemism for "accept 1/2 of what you really want" and we say it's perfect to kid ourselves into thinking its what we really wanted in the first place. I am not sure why I am thinking about this so much right now.

I've come to all these junctures in my life where I feel like I see the light, and the light sometimes conveys something pretty depressing. To the effect that: it never stops, you're never done, you just have to find a place where you can sort of be relaxed, and enjoy the ride amidst the chaos. If you learn to love the chaos, all the better...but your "perfect balance" generally means you learn to savor those moments in between the craziness. Because there will always be craziness.

My married mom friend said to me the other day, "Being a mom has its good moments. But it also has its bad months."

I think you could say that about alot of things. I also think she's a comedic genius.

Vision Quest

SO I just started this web course for non-profit professionals about finding yourself and visioning your future and reaching new heights and stuff like that.

And one of our assignments is to try to create a vision for our future. The way we do this? By imagining our funeral.

I guess this is normal.

I'm supposed to think about what 4 people (a family member, a co-worker, a friend and a member of my community) would say about me.

So this is how I think it would go.

First my sister would get up and say something like, "I always thought my sister was a real putz, but she cracked me up, and she was nice to have around." Because my sister is not a really mushy person.

Then my boss would get up and say, "Jessica worked alot. I wish she was still around, because I have something I'd really like for her to do."

Then my scary, damaged friend would get up and say, "She liked to make up really funny song parodies. The time she sang "Wishin' and Hopin'" I almost peed myself. The lyrics were something like, 'hug him, and kiss him, and squeeze, and don't ask any questions, and when you do, you will be his. In a very emotionally unfulfilling way......"

Then the woman who lives downstairs from me would say, "She was a nice girl. Sometimes she left her porch light on for three days at a time, and she came home too late, but she always brought the trash barrels in."

Ok, so I know I am supposed to envision what I REALLY WANT people to say about me, but thinking about it like this...well, it just puts things in perspective. Mostly in the perspective that I need to spice up my life a little bit before I die, or no one will have anything interesting to say about me at my funeral.

Also, I Simpsonized myself. Here you go.

The 3 things men do...

So...there's a bit of a problem. The scary, damaged friend is dating a man who she met on match.com. So she comes home from a date and because I am assuming just wants to look at his sweet mug she gets online (I don't question the motives of my friends) and lo and behold, the man is on match.com!!!!

Now, is this a supreme insult to the lovely date these two have just shared, or is it more like; this dude is a pig, and he's already looking for his next share of slop (eww, that sounded gross, but seriously, isn't that what pigs go after?).

So, I postulated that men really only do three things: eat, jack off, and look at screens of different types (you know, computers, TVs, etc). So this poor guy was probably just bored and confused and didn't know what else to do.

To which my friend replied, Shouldn't men learn to multi-task? Then they could just set aside an hour, turn on the computer, go make a sandwich, grab a bottle of lotion, sit down and then:
check out a hot girl
take a bite of the turkey and the lettuce and the mayo and the mustard
crank it
crank it
crank it
and the turkey
next hot girl
crank it
turkey mayo
crank it crank it crank it
next hot girl
crank it
turkey
turkey
crank it

and on and on.

*sigh* I know there are sweet men out there. Why does one baddie always have to make us question the whole lot?

Women who snap

There's certainly a fascination with women who "snap." There's that show on Oxygen, and last month an O magazine article focusing on the diapered woman of the NASA love triangle.

And reading it got me to thinking - is this something that any woman, under enough stress, is capable of becoming? Or is it more like the Harry Potter theory? "We all have light and dark in us. It's the part we chose to act upon that makes us who we are."

There was an interesting assumption in the Oprah article. That being, women who snap tend to be overachievers - successful career women. Those women who approach snapping, and then don't (although I can only imagine they keep the stats to prove this along with the Dead Sea Scrolls and the Holy Grail) are usually mothers who reflect on how their kids need them. And that tends to get them out of the moment where they would kill someone or drive 900 miles in a diaper.

Being a single career gal myself, this kind of frightened me. I mean, I do have an obligation to water my plants and babysit my nephew, but is that supposed to be enough to keep me from snapping if I catch my BF cheating on me?

Then, in the midst of having these thoughts, I got really, really mad at Oprah magazine because this article, in it's blindered, small-view, tiny window on the world approach to feminism, has made me (smart, successful, funny, happy, awesome ME) question my ability to hold onto my sanity SIMPLY BECAUSE I AM NOT MARRIED WITH KIDS.

Dude, what is this? A century ago it was you can either be smart of have kids: the brain or womb conundrum. Now it's what...have kids or go insane? Of course, this assumes that every woman is going to get cheated on. Which won't happen. But still. I am mad.

Can there be any end to the vast and varied ways women, mothers, non-mothers and feminists are derailed in the public-eye? To have babies makes you a non-player in the working world - but to not have them might make you crazy, or less smart, or whatever.

All these (really terrible) options only seem to serve one purpose. To make all of us women feel even further out of control in terms of our lives, our bodies, our children, our careers, our families, our minds...all that. Leave my uterus out of it!

Non-verbal FU: a definition

This was originally written on June 25, 2006 on my crappy MySpace blog:

Do you know what needs to stop? The non-verbal FU. (i.e. I want to break up with you, but I don't want to tell you, so I just stop calling you). Boys, this is not an effective way to make dating easier for yourselves. You are just creating damaged, scary women. Or you are making women who are already damaged and scary MORE damaged and scary. This is not fair to us, or any boys who might try to date us in the future.

Had a conversation with a damaged, scary pal of mine this evening in which she said, "You know, all the terrible relationships we've been in have taught us the lessons we need to learn so that when we find our best relationship, we'll be prepared. But the lessons we've learned have left us so damaged, we're too fucked up to have normal, loving relationships."

I buy this wholeheartedly. It is a serious effort for me to look past bad relationship experiences every time I meet a new boy, and not transfer all my negative emotions about dudes who have messed with my mind onto ones I barely know. You know, benefit of the doubt and all that shizzy.

Because I don't want to be that bitter girl.

But then, every relationship I embark on, no matter how casual, ends with some of these shennanigans. Whether they be someone who seems normal turning CRAZY or giving me the non-verbal FU, or cheating on me, or just treating me like crap.

So how CAN I ever allow myself to drift into a "normal, heatlhy" relationship, or even the semblance of one, when I can't relax - when I can't trust, because I am seriously just waiting for that other shoe to drop. The oh,-you-are-an-asshole-after-all shoe. Because at this point I do believe that all men have this shoe somewhere in their wardrobe. It's just a question of when they choose to wear it.

Lord, I am than bitter girl. Guess I might as well embrace it.

Cruel and Unusual?

Here's a funny story: a man walks up to a prostitute, asks her for a date, finds out she's an undercover cop, and a few weeks later finds himself, per court order, dressed up like a chicken on the local news. Soon the story spreads nationwide and he's on Good Morning America, among others. Now look at this and realize it is not just a funny story.

Is this really legal? To punish people by making them do very strange, embarrassing, public punishments? Granted, being a former college residence hall director, I am of the school of "punishment should be educational, not punitive" and I've never liked the idea of prison. So, maybe it is a good idea, but is it cruel and unusual?

Then the idea struck me, wouldn't it be awesome if when men committed petty crimes against women we could institute some kind of system of public humiliation to which they had to submit? I'd be fair enough to say women would have to do this kind of thing, too.

Here's a few ideas:
1) When proven guilty of committing the non-verbal FU, a person must have 500 business cards printed reading: "I will probably stop calling you in a months time. I don't respect other people's feelings." and he must give one to the next 500 people s/he meets upon introducing him/herself.

2) When found guilty of insulting your partner's appearance, you must walk the streets wearing a t-shirt with a picture of either a) Jessica Alba or b) Johnny Depp reading, "I am not good looking enough to judge other people by their looks. I will never date this person."

3) Cheaters should be forced to eat blenderized fast-food meals mixed with slugs and beetles while being videtaped. In between each swallow they should say: "I am a dirty cheater." The resulting film should be posted on YouTube.

Other ideas? Drop 'em in the comments.

Desecrating the Bill and Ted's franchise

Here is some horribly disarming news. Last month, MGM announced that the third film in the Bill & Ted's franchise would begin production, but that Keanu would not be returning as his agent felt the move might kill his career.

Umm....what? This is horrible, horrible advice Keanu, and I hope you can hear me. While everyone loved Speed and the Matrix, you are where you are, and you have the reputation you have BECAUSE of Bill & Ted. Everyone loves Bill & Ted. Even my 9 year old nephew loves Bill & Ted. This is your bread and butter my friend. So: Eat. It. Up.

I am, at this point, ready to make the argument that no one will go see the movie without the original stars, but I am wondering if this movie will mirror the fate of Dumb & Dumberer (flop) or Starsky and Hutch (mild to moderate success). In any event, I will not see it. Not unless Keanu is there.

Boyfriends - now with 0g of Trans Fat!

If boyfriends were french fries and french fries were boyfriends, I'd be skinny and happy. Why? Because then my boyfriends would be long, lean, hot and silent. And my french fries would be inedible (and truly, I wouldn't want one anyway). This occured to me last night while I was eating a french fry at a pub with 3 of my fun friends.

Nerd Fighters

This guy is awesome. To see more check out this dude's website or the vlogbrothers channel on YouTube. Nerds are the best thing in the world. Ever.

Tummy rumble

Even though I did nothing out of the ordinary yesterday I wake up to a near inability to move - I am so tired! Coffee is not helping. In fact, it's just making me feel like I need to puke.

Does this happen to you regularly? I am wondering if it's nerves or fretting or general weirdness that cause my body to get distracted from what it needs to do. Whatever it is, it's annoying.

Here's something I've been thinking about, because my Dad set me on thinking about it. About a boy I had met and liked he asked, snidely as only Dad can get away with, "SO how did he get to be 30, fabulous, and single?" Meaning, clearly, "there's something wrong with him. You just don't know it yet."

So you ask, "Why are the good ones all taken?" To this I reply, "Just because they're taken, doesn't mean they're good. " Not that some of the taken ones aren't good. I am sure they are. But I am sure most of them are huge imbeciles, too. I just don't know it, because I'm not married to them.

Closure

I have heard too many people whining about closure in my life. Even me maybe, at one point. And the question I want to ask is, "Who cares about closure really, and is closure ACTUALLY what we're looking for?"

I don't think it is. I think looking for closure is simply an admittance that what has in fact happened is not what we wanted to happen at all, and now we want someone to answer for it, and perhaps make it appear as if it didn't actually happen. Or we are waiting for some magician to unmake it happen. Or we just want to wake up from a dream like Dorothy and realize we've learned an important lesson, but all the people we love are still actually with us, among the living.

The sad truth is, closure of any kind, in any situation, cannot come from without. It can only come from your own, very personal realization that you are OK with what has happened, you are strong enough to deal with it, and that you don't need anyone else's presence/approval/collusion to go on with your life.

I know it might sound insensitive, but you don't need to have the "last word" to deal with a break-up, you don't need revenge to deal with a slight, and you certianly don't need retalliation to deal with a wrongful death. Those types of things will only further a misunderstanding which will lead to more unnecessary hurts. Don't you remember the reason why Romeo and Juliet died? A feud between the Capulets and the Montagues. One that was so old no one really knew what the heck it was about.

So my message today, to myself and anyone else who might care: the only closure you need is the closure you give yourself when you say, "It is OK to close this chapter on my life and move on. It is okay for other people to remain hurt and angry if that's what they need, and it is okay for my plans to change. There is more happiness for me, and if I can't move past this experience, I will never get there."

I know the person I want most to read this probably never will, so I'll just send it as a wish to him.

Numbah One

I have been blogging on MySpace since January of 2006. I decided that MySpace was a rotten forum and decided to move here. I will start blogging afresh and posting some of my MySpace greatest hits on here as the mood strikes.

My favorite topics:
1) Stuff I did recently
2) Dating and relationships
3) Making fun of stuff
4) Pointing out cool things

I can also talk about:
1) Office politics
2) How working in non-profit means you will never make a profit
3) Living very close to where your parents live.
4) Travel

If you haven't noticed, I like lists. Let me present you with a brief history of me. I am a woman. I grew up in Massachusetts, went to school in W. Ma, and got a grad degree in NYC. I love media, and now fundraise for a non-profit. One of the cool things about this is I work at home about 75% of the time.

I've been working with youth is some capacity or other since 2001. Ways include: teaching video production, nannying, volunteer reading, managing a freshman residence hall, helping to run a youth center.

I am totally single, never been married, no kids, no baby Daddy drama, and I have a wonderful sense of humor about the fact that although I am awesome, I never seem to be able to keep a boyfriend for very long.

I have a nephew who is the center of my universe, and I would do anything for him. He's 9.

I love to write, but I have found that I enjoy writing short commentaries more than long term projects, so I might never be a novelist. My sense of grammar is mostly improvisational, but I do like to spell.

I am a reading fiend, and I really like Oprah and her show and her magazine, and any other type of media she produces.

I like to work out, but no team sports, and nothing too typical. Yoga, belly dancing, and a little kick boxing are my faves.

I get sick all the time, so I frequent the doctor's office. I cook real good. I can talk for hours.

I like commentary, so don't be afraid to tell me when I am being a loser.