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I realize I'm not a "people person". I don't, in general, enjoy strangers. I love my friends, have a blast with acquaintances but I can do without strangers. I have a slight reputation for being "that bitch married to the Spacemen guy". I don't mean to come off so cross or unapproachable but that's just how I am. My feelings are always worn on my sleeve, for everyone to see. I say what I mean and I mean what I say. I don't do "fake" well. So you'll understand why I have such a problem understanding people different than myself. I'm beginning to recognize behaviors in people (by that I mean friends, family and strangers alike) which I do not possess; specifically, manipulative personality. Let's go back, way back to my childhood. In the family I grew up in, there was no bullshit. If someone was upset about something, anything, we'd say it outright. "You're pissing me off because you did this, this and this." Lots of words were thrown around, our feelings were expressed and we cried a lot of tears. But then it was over. We'd get mad, yell and by the time we saw each other again, we're long over it. And more times than not, it was never brought up again because it was resolved from the get-go. It's my opinion that this method is the definition of fighting fair. It seems that many people in my life have an agenda, an underlying tone and I'm having serious difficulty coping with it. Manipulative personality confuses me. If you have something to say, say it; please don't make an accusatory insinuation, refuse to clarify and not give me a chance to defend myself. If you're upset about something, let me know so I can fix it. I cannot figure out why people behave like this (I'm just a writer, I'm not a shrink, ok?), I'm sure it stems from their own childhood or whatever...quite frankly, I don't give a damn. Luckily (?), I'm surrounded by manipulative people who are also honest in their faulty fighting strategies and they're helping me understand ways to embrace people with this difficult personality. Do you have someone in your life who's especially challenged in this department? How do you deal with it? Are you one of those manipulative assholes...I mean, friends? Please, friends, help me. How can I work through this?
Ok, so, I'm going away on vacation next week and I'm sort of (read: completely) freaking out. I don't travel well and I haven't flown since 9/11. Not to mention, we couldn't get a direct flight to New England so it will be a 10 hour travel day. With a hypochondriac husband and whiny 6 1/2 year old. Oh fucking joy. On the bright side, I've stocked up on medications such as Xanax and Valium. Plus, I'll get to pick blueberries on real farms, have coffee and cigarettes in the mountains and visit with people I love the most. And 5 days with my family? I'm sure to return with some seriously funny writing material!So, God, if you hear me, (no, it's not Margaret. It's Sophia. Remember me?) please, please make sure we arrive and return from our destination safely. There! Positive thoughts put into the universe and whispered into God's giant ears. If you're the praying type, whisper some more for me, ok?Much love, BITCHES!
Prelude: This post is about boobs. My boobs. I didn't develop at an unusual age-I pretty much blossomed right along with my friends. Except, my boobs kept getting bigger and didn't stop until after I had the Chicken. I always used to read about girls who had animosity towards their chest, I wouldn't describe my feelings as animosity. No, I loved my boobs. I embraced them and put them up on a pedestal (ha!). If they'd had Girls Gone Wild on South Beach when I was actually old enough to be on GGW, I would totally be in one of those videos right now. (The early stages of GGW, people! Not the gross versions now where girls are making out, naked in the shower.) For all the love I've had for my breasts, I hate bras. Rather, bras hate me. I've never found a bra to fit me properly. In fact, I'm not even sure of my own bra size! Go for a fitting, you say? Yeah, can't do that. See, I have an adversity to strangers feeling me up. Oh sure, I've tried to have fittings but every time I go to the fancy department store (read: not Target), the boobie "specialist" was either "training" (which my boobs are not) or just plain creeped me out. My friend, Stacey, has gone bra shopping with me but finding a great bra is like finding the perfect pair of ass jeans. Just not happening for me. Instead of bearing through the dreadful fitting, I continue to buy cheap, ill-fitting bras from Target. Until last weekend. I bought several cheap (read: clearance!) bras from Wal Mart (ha!) that actually fit. Ok, so they sort of enhance the back fat but that's no thing a little camisole can't conceal. This is big news, folks! And even though I seem to have found the perfect bras, I know there's lots of you out there with similar issues. What do you do?
I
spent 6 hours cooking and cleaning for a (very, very) small gathering at our "crib" (I love ghetto) yesterday. Our guests included my mother and her "friend" Susan, Papi Gringo (also known as my wealthy, salsa dancing, Jewish-but-wants-to-be-Puerto Rican brother in law), Young Money (brother in law's 12 year old son who's voice is getting deeper as quick as he's becoming black) and our tiny little unit. It was nice. We had a lively debate about money and how it rates on the "happiness" charts, marriage and sex. You know, usual family discussions. (Oh, not your family? Well, welcome to mine.) We also watched comic Katt Williams-if you haven't seen him, try to youtube some of his stuff...especially if you love the ghetto-like me. Now onto the real reason I'm writing today. I'm sad to tell you that, even though you've received little attention from me this summer, it's about to get a whole lot worse. Big Brother starts tonight and I've already got my live feeds going and basically, I'm a loser. But who asked you? Also, to my real life friends, please don't call me on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 8-10pm. Thank you. Oh, you thought it was a little joke I was writing? I'm not. BB is very serious for me...no one in my house gets any play when I've got live feeds on. In fact, I have the most in-depth conversations only with my mother (a bigger BB fan than I) to discuss strategy & other BB house stuff. It might be pathetic but it's the only TV I'm serious about watching. Give a sister some slack, ok?
I once threw an apple at my husband. Luckily, I have terrible aim and instead hit the soffit way above his head. Last week, he was touching up the walls and cleaned the 4 year old apple stain from the soffit and when I came home, there was a little twinge in my heart to see the missing stain. Every day for 4 years, that stain has been a reminder. A reminder of how bad things once were and a reminder of how we can overcome anything, especially apples.
Today marks 5 years we have been married & this September, we will celebrate 9 years as a couple.
Our relationship is a little tricky. There are certainly logistical challenges we face daily (one being a 14 year age difference) and sometimes, I'm not sure if they ever get better or we just get used to them (or not). People who see us together aren't always sure of what to make of "it". There's a lot of ribbing, insults and fat jokes thrown around in regular conversation and it can put people off a bit. What they don't often realize is the love that runs so far beyond me leaving the water out (on purpose) or him farting without spraying Oust. It's so deep, it cannot be seen with untrained eyes.
I hardly admit this to him (except, you know, now I am because I know he reads this blog. GO AWAY, DANNY!) but he's changed my life in ways I will never admit to. Aside from the obvious ways he's made me a better person, I truly owe my life to him.
dB, you took me out of the ghetto and helped shape me into the person I've become. You've helped me form the life that I've dreamed of since I can remember and without you, I'd be nobody. (The same goes for you, homie. After all, I do take 1/2 the credit for Communion's lead line.) I proudly stand behind you in every endeavor of our lives and your career; there is no one more protective than I. You stuck with it through my late teens and now my 20's because you knew the true person I was inside and in part due to you, that person has flourished. I love you for every risk and sacrifice you've made to allow me to become me. I have loved you since the very beginning and I'm so grateful I grew on you. And even though I'm slightly dented, I know you'd never trade this Rolls Royce. (Because I get half.)
Happy anniversary, stinky.
I'm going to spare everyone the back story of my sister and me and briefly mention that we came into each other's lives when I was 16 and she was 24. For the record, we are biological sisters and share a mother. (Confused yet?)
I'll never forget the first time I met her, I thought "we look nothing alike". We didn't need looks. We instantly have love. And the first time I talked to her on the phone (months before we met), I clearly remember standing in the kitchen after hanging up the phone and feeling like a small hole in my heart had just been repaired. I could have had any freak for a sister, someone who was opposite of me, who didn't "go" with me or frankly, didn't want anything to do with me. Instead, I got a sister who wanted me as much as I wanted her, who bonded with me in an instant and even though we weren't mirror personalities, I loved her fast. Later, people would comment on how great it was to have found each other and comment on the strong similarities, not in looks but in disposition. "You two sound exactly the same. You both talk fast and in the same rhythm. It's amazing." Those words came from the mother who raised her. Everyone around was surprised. And I was proud.
We were lucky enough to share pregnancies and she came to me, 6 weeks postpartum, to share in the labor of my daughter. I shall forever be indebted to her for her long 11 hours at my bedside (and ballside, rockerside and all the other fucked up positions they made me try). She shouted at the nurse when I was unhappy and shot looks at the doctor who suggested I couldn't do it. And she promised me it wouldn't hurt when they broke my water (she didn't lie).
Growing up, I was often the one in my family who was "strong". This was status quo for everyone from distant relatives to my mother. I carried many people at an age that I shouldn't have even been carrying myself and I never had anyone whom I could go and share my worst fears and deepest secrets. When my sister came along, she lifted a part of the burden. The burden of myself. She would allow middle of the night phone calls and irrational conversations. She continues to let me be myself in all of it's glory and misery. She lets me be the helpless child.
Within the past 9 years we've endured the roller coaster that traditional sisters ride. But inside the big picture, she tells me that I'm a great mom when I don't believe it and swears that I'm a good person when I'm in worst form.
In the past, my sister has credited me with many, many wonderful things. She announces to the Internet that often, I am her inspiration and has written words about me that not only caused deep emotion but rendered me speechless for a long time (a feat very few have accomplished).
Carianne, it is one of the greatest honors to be your inspiration. But truly, it's you that's inspired me to be much of who I am. You came into my life at a point where I was a very lost child and you guided me, showed me how to be a good person and mother by example without even trying. It's you that makes it look effortless and it's been my desire to be just like my big sister.
We may not have grown up together but I honestly could not have chosen a better sibling. Our connection and my admiration, love for you runs so much deeper than the blood line we share. I look forward to the rest of our lives where we'll always be making up for lost time.
So, thank you, for letting me be your little sister.
P.S. Top this one, bitch!
How come it's not "Captain Crunch"? This is really bugging me now. Whatever, the point is, I've rediscovered my love for this cereal. Yummo. I know that I promised two additional blogs this week and I haven't delivered but I don't think it's actually been 1 week so I still have some time (hours). I'm trying to write about my sister and as I've said before, I start in my head and I'm just not sure how much to tell & how much to withhold. She said I could say anything I wanted but for me, it needs to be some of my best writing. I like her that much. Plus, I'm not really sure what to call her live-in lesbian lover girlfriend. I call that person my sister-in-law but what's the PC term? In the meantime, I've been stalling by filling out some myspace surveys which I happen to know that the people on my friends list find very annoying. Hey assholes, you don't have to open & read them, ya know? Control freaks, I tell you! But perhaps I've been wasting my wit & charisma on those silly questionnaires. A couple of updates: It looks like we're getting that big contract at work that I wrote about before. They promised me the contract this week...I didn't get it in my hands yet but I believe I will. THE COMPANY WILL GO ON! Second, there are a couple of Trip Theory shows coming up in the South Florida area. I'll post more information when available. Lastly, I have a really great story in my head about a friend of mine (and by friend, I mean really annoying person that gets on my nerves so I avoid at all costs) but she may or may not read this blog so I cannot post. But if you want to know, email me & I'll tell you the story. Check again, soon. Sister story is coming, I swear! AND, I'll post a picture of us. That will be worth the wait. She's just as pretty as me.
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