rosevalleygERL
make like a tree and leaf
Greener Pastures
This isn’t a relationship blog. Oh readers, you’ve heard me say that before. However, just because this isn’t a relationship blog doesn’t mean I cannot pass along excellent advice or at times, discuss my own.
Go Sounders!
My one year anniversary with My Other was today and as always, with milestones, you look back and reflect. Evolution is a natural process, moving at a pace that we have no control over (no matter how much we think we do). Without evolution (or in spite of it) most things wither and die. History is littered with failed attempts and has beens and as a modern women, that certainly applies to my relationships.
When I first started blogging, I had come across a post by This Fish. I was struggling after a very messy and painful breakup. At some point in every adult’s dating career (folks, let’s be honest, dating IS work) you have that one relationship where it dawns on you how much you don’t know and the lucky ones will figure out how much there is to learn and embrace that. They’ll evolve. Stumbling upon that post allowed me to move forward…and despite everything, I wouldn’t have changed a single thing. I lived an interesting life then, made two amazing friends and learned so very much about myself…in many ways I grew up as far as relationships were concerned and realized the rules of high school and “young love” no longer applied, that this was a very different animal from the happy relationship my parent’s enjoyed.
Since that time I’ve dated here and there, some longer than others and experienced some interesting but necessary growing pains (my heart has some odd-shaped scars for sure). I’m lucky as I now I find myself in something very committed and I know I’ve said this before and that ended up biting me in the butt. However this is different, and the BOTH of us know it. And while it isn’t marriage, it has the makings to become that.
Recently, while listening to Mark and Brian in the morning, they were discussing an article they had read dispensing marital advice. After reading it myself, I felt it wasn’t just limited to ‘marriage’ (that word certainly doesn’t mean what it used to) but to all people rounding the bend and looking down the windy road of long-term commitment with one another (or those already on that road trip). I encourage you to read this because it is honest and refreshing. When’s the last time those two words were in a sentence together (or for matter that in a sentence, period)?
A year ago today I attended a Sounders game at Qwest Field (now CenturyLink Field) with my mother, aunt and niece. It was Kasey Keller’s last regular MLS season game; one I’ll never forget. All it took was a backwards glance and a single text message and away My Other and I went. In our 365 days together we’ve experience more than I could have ever imagined, and I’m proud of how we’ve evolved as individuals and a couple.
If you were to ask me at this point for any relationship advice, it would be this: the grass is always greener where you water it (but remember to be thankful for the rain). I’m looking forward to fall, its forecast to be a wet one.
Making Mountains Out Of Mole Hills
They say you shouldn’t judge someone unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes. I’d like to amend that statement. You shouldn’t judge a woman unless you’ve lived a day in her breasts. As this subject matter is close to my own heart (pun intended) and recently in the news, I felt it was time my breasts and I told our story.
I was a late bloomer, a very, very late bloomer and found myself looking like a 12-year-old-boy in high school instead of a developing young woman. One instance that stands out in particular was me being asked by a Senior to Prom (at the time I was a Freshman). My mother and I hit three different malls (taking all day) to try and find something that would compliment my petite figure. Dress after dress and nothing fit. I’m short (5’2″) and at that time, I was very flat-chested so the dresses were too long for my height, cut wrong (if they were short) for my shorter torso (hello Stumpsville) or gaping at the bust. Oddly enough, at an import store we found a ruby red Mandarin-style dress that worked perfectly but the gauntlet of inadequacy I had gone through that day in one dressing room after another left me feeling very low and wish for a body other than the one I had.
Side note: I had a great time at Prom, however post-Prom, I learned that the Senior that had asked me out had only done so because he thought I would sleep with him as a thank you for the invitation (in his brain I think he thought it was a privilege and honor). He was pretty pissed when he found out he had to take me home as I had no interest in the hotel room he’d booked for the two of us – needless to say, my father was equal parts proud of me for sticking to my guns and ready to go get his.
As of late, Lady Gaga has received a great deal of attention; but not for her fashion, rather for her figure. There’s been criticism about her weight gain prompting her to start a Body Revolution. In an article detailing her struggles with her own body image, she said (referencing high school):
“I was fifteen to twenty pounds heavier than I am now, ” says Gaga. “I would wear shirts that were low-cut and the teachers would tell me I couldn’t wear them, and I’d point to another girl who was wearing the same thing. ‘Well, it looks different on her.’ It wasn’t fair.”
Picking up where we left my 16-year-old self, fast-forward a decade (give or take) and I’m in my mid-twenties figuring out who I am as an adult. My breasts decided to grown then to my delight and I found shopping so much more enjoyable and was proud to finally feel more like a woman. However I learned an interesting lesson in regards to the professional world (one which I was starting to enter career-wise). Skirts and button up shirts, blazers and slacks became part of my wardrobe from 8-5 each day but I noticed that my button up shirts would gap or pull in the chest area (ill button placement – tank tops as layered were often employed) and that sweaters showed my curves a great deal more. One day at work I was wearing a grey long-sleeved turtleneck sweater, black tights, skirt and flats and was asked by my boss to step into her office. Apparently the Office Manager had complained, she’d felt I was dressing too provocative at work, that form-fitting sweaters (despite covering nearly all of my upper half) were too suggestive (because I had larger breasts, 34C but a smaller figure). I was shocked more than anything and was too naive to understand that this conversation was very inappropriate and discriminatory. Now what had been such a joy for me, something my 16-year-old self had wanted so badly years before as I sat crying in a dressing room with discarded dresses mocking me from every corner once again became an inadequacy or rather an over-abundance. It wasn’t fair.
Side note: On my last day at work, I wore a black, figure-fitting, long-sleeved, turtle-neck sweater with a silver playboy bunny logo running across my chest. Call it my Holy Hand Grenade that made the Office Church Lady hopping mad.
Fast-forward again a decade to present day (and my mid-thirties) and I’m at work reading an article about Christina Hendricks of Madmen. Her red hair actually inspired my color-change a few years ago and her beautiful curvacious figure makes me proud of my sex, proud that someone wasn’t willing to change despite Hollywood’s obsession with youth and perfection (often times courtesy of Photoshop) and the painful trend of the fashion industry to employ models that are nothing even remotely close to the average woman’s shape (and many of them suffering from eating disorders to remain that way). The article was interesting because it sang praise for those such as Christina that had ample breasts and weren’t afraid to flaunt them on the red carpet, in this instance, at the Emmys.
“The amount of cleavage on display was not just a sexual statement but some kind of dare, an act of confrontational femininity that challenged viewers to reevaluate any preconceived notions they might have about large breasts and their impropriety.”
It seems that the beautiful Christina took what Jennifer Love Hewitt said to heart:
“I just accepted them [my breasts] as a great accessory to every outfit.”
Shouldn’t we all?
I’ve found the perfect balance of exercise and healthy eating (good habits that will help carry you into old-age gracefully) now that I’m in my mid-thirties and though I’m thin, my breasts remain large. I’ve come to terms with my body and know that I’m perfect each and every day no matter what figure the scale shows (in fact I don’t even own one) or how curvacious a sweater may make me (impropriety be damned) and as for formal wear, I’ve learned that a good tailor can work wonders.
So, whether you have mountains like Christina and my now 32Es or mole hills, make the most of them. They’re yours.
Word Play
We all have those words that make us cringe. For some it is the sound of a word, how it ‘feels’ in our mouth when we say it or more legitimately, the negative connotations of a word, such as racially or sexually derogatory terms. I read an interesting article on HuffingtonPost.com (see link below) discussing our physical aversions to certain words which had me pondering my own cringe worthy speech.
To be frank I have a horrible habit of swearing. Many think it is unladylike and for the most part, I cannot disagree. However, swear words are in many ways a form of expression. Historically swearing has been associated with the nonreligious and lower-class but I feel you can now add to that list the ‘modern’ adult, the early forty-somethings and thirty-somethings on down (YAs, teens, tweens and humorously, the occasional 4-year-old). I can tell you with certainty that I’ve dropped a few f-bombs in mixed company and seen the physical aversion to such an auditory affront bubble up on someone’s visage. Secretly (or rather as I’m blogging this, not so secretly) I enjoy their response…what can I say, I like making people squirm. But more, I think I like knocking people off their high horse…they put far too much superiority into being human. But then again, what the fuck do I know?
Sticks and stones have broken plenty of bones but at the end of the day, it is just a word and true enough, it had never done anything to you. Redirect that aversion, anger and animosity towards your fellow human beings…they’re the one’s wielding words as weapons.
So, as a girlfriend used to say:
Previously On…
The realization hit in early August of this year (2012) that my online musings had been almost entirely lost.
I cannot describe how upset I was initially. I think the shock of it actually kept me from experiencing ‘upset’ on a much deeper and more physical level. I’ve been blogging off and on since June of 2006 so you can imagine, I’ve had a lot to say these past 6 years. Sure, a good part of it I knew no one was reading despite the deep wish that they would. And yes, I realize that in looking back over what I do have, some of the posts were less than stellar but still, a loss is a loss. And for me, I feel like during various times in my life my blog was the only outlet in which my voice was being heard…a sad consequence of being a very lonely person.
Yet, as with all setbacks and pitfalls in my life, I’ve made my peace. The realization is that though much is lost, not all is. Maybe losing that bit of luggage at the airport of life wasn’t such a bad thing. While there were some good times, there were also some bad and as long as I remember what I learned from those difficult life lessons, I don’t need the weight that comes with it.
So, with a lighter heart and much more wizened soul I’ve decided to repost what I have and leave the rest to history.
All Apologies
This isn’t a relationship blog. Have I mentioned that before? Yet somehow I talk about my relationships because, in fact, they have defined much of my adult life.
I had an unfortunate experience a few years ago with a man that left me wanting an apology. We had a brief fling and for a variety of reasons neither of us were at a good point to pursue a relationship. Due to poor communication (on his part) it ended very awkwardly. As we were part of a larger group of friends, he having a more established presence in the group, I was ostracized which ruined a good portion of my social experiences during that time. Being the mature party, several months later I approached him expressing my feelings (that, despite my better judgement were still present) and looking for answers as to what had happened. My bravery and honesty were met with hostility and accusations and the realization that he had been propagating rumors about me, hence my ousting from the group. I left that interaction feeling very low and frankly untrusting of many of the involved parties.
Time has passed and most of the wounds have healed but due to social obligations I see him from time to time. Things have become less awkward only because I’ve put on the brave face and in some respects he’s found someone that I hope, has helped him on the path to becoming a better person.
I’m now happily involved and living a few hours removed but still, it bothers me to this day that I didn’t receive and apology from him – for how he treated me and for what he did to my reputation. I didn’t realize how much I had been wanting one until I found myself explaining this to my other. Of course, with any realization comes the weird phenomenon of seeing them everywhere (in this case on Facebook – a.k.a. the Social Devil). Of course, it is only fitting that on Facebook I received the answer I was looking for in the form of a post made by a cousin.
“Life becomes easier when you learn to accept an apology you never got.” – Robert Brault.
He’ll never apologize to me. He isn’t that brave or self-aware and I have so many more things worth my time and energy. Unsubscribed and happily better off for it. Next!
The little things…
It really is the little things that make life worth living. How lucky am I that this is the sweet face I wake up to?
Sweetness.
The secret life of bees…
The busy bee has no time for sorrow. ~William Blake
For better or worse, most of my online musings have been lost in a sea of ones and zeros. Whether it was a disconnect between two friends, my lack of understanding in how the world of hosting works or simple fate (and yes, I realize not everyone embraces that last idea) the results were still the same.
But maybe it isn’t all that bad.
Sure, I’ll be combing through old paper files and copying what I have and at some point, uploading these sentiments of days gone into an archive but in many ways, this is an opportunity for a fresh start. So much has happened in this past decade of my life that maybe it is best that it remains obscure only to be referenced over glasses of wine with friends or when faced with a choice where in the wisdom of yesterday (in the form of lessons learned) can be applied.
If the busy bee has no time for sorrow then I too shall follow that act. Onward.
And We’re Back!
FORWARD: I feel that I needed to include this post though I didn’t want to. I believe to this day that I shot myself in the foot by making such an open declaration of love. But, as I’m restoring those posts that were lost, to not include this found one would defeat the purpose of the honesty of the moment.
Broadcasting to you live from the land of love and I’m happy to report I’m no longer single. It was an interesting start to a relationship and it continues to be interesting…on the daily. J (name abbreviated to protect his identity) is 33, tall, blonde with blue eyes and a smile that bespeaks something deliciously wicked. We met, by accident. We were both in places we wouldn’t have normally been at that moment, he was on a bike, I was in my car and Miley Cyrus was responsible for our eyes meeting that first fateful time.
We just recently took a trip to Chicago, check out photos of that trip here [link no longer works as the photos have since been removed]. They say that traveling with someone tells you a lot about them and this was our first official trip together. I think, that despite the bumps we felt, I have a new found respect for his humanity. And, I came out of it loving him just a little bit more.
The summer was busy due to work (which that’s part of this game we call fund raising events) although I did manage to enjoy a visit of my niece Trinity. Some amazingly cute pictures can be viewed here [link no longer works as the photos have since been removed]. Managed to do a couple of hikes and picked up long boarding which is a blast (plan on getting my own next spring). Have managed to keep the weight off (happily) and what few bad eating habits I did have, I’ve managed to kick.
Well, enough of this boring prattle, consider yourself up to date. As you can see the website has gone through some changes, I’ve decided to change the template up a little. Frankly, I like the arrangement of this one better. Stay tuned. More sharp writing to follow in the days to come!
Nature vs. Nurture, not.
“You are who you chose to be.” A wisdom-heavy statement uttered by a small boy reasoning with a robot built for destruction but fighting those urges, who then ends up saving town and the boy he loves with the sacrifice of his own life, from the move The Iron Giant. This theme is extremely common but I don’t know if people ever really stop and think about what it means. Battlestar Galactica, the Terminator franchise, The Invisible (another movie I love) and most recently, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo all feed into the ever growing dialogue of Nature vs. Nurture.
But I’m beginning to question what that statement means in regards to the ‘versus’. You would think a person like myself, who heavily deals in black and white wouldn’t muddy the waters with grey but I have to wonder is it really a matter of versus? Each of the films I list above take into consideration that idea. The first three movies/films center around robots built to mimic humans, and their interactions with humans, and them learning the idea of what it means to be human and choosing their fate instead of leaving it to their programming. The latter two (both being films base on Swedish books) show us some of the most horrid environments, both emotional and physical, that humans are raised in. Each of these films clearly describes two types of humans that are byproducts of these environments. Those that chose to be weak by succumbing to the brutality of their environments to only then exact this on the innocent and unwilling and those that while they fight brutally (because that’s what they’ve learned) for their lives, also fight for the lives of those that care for them and for the basic idea that there is still something good, whether it be small, in being human despite everything they’ve been shown.
What if it isn’t about Nature vs. Nurture, or a combination of both (which is the other commonly held thought). What if it is about finding the strength in ourselves to nurture the best of our natures? Yes, my environment or Nature as I know it has shaped me but I have a choice, and have had one all along, and I choose to Nurture the idea that we are truly only limited by ourselves. That at the end of the day, we are who we choose to be.