I got robbed.

I never kept my car very clean.  It just wasn't important to me.  I used to store things in my car because the mere idea of making more than one trip to 'unload' was unearthly torture.  So mathematically speaking, the amount of crap would exponentially grow until I was disgusted enough to grab some garbage backs and just start throwing shit out.  I rarely kept anything of great value in my car.  I knew better than to leave things like my computer or cell phone for any great length of time.  When I lived further south in the city I very much respected the car thieves in the area.  I knew that if I tempted them they would oblige their greedy need to take what is not theirs.  But, I moved north, to a tree lined street where I parked between fancy cars with foreign names, and I was lulled in to complacency.

I frequently left my laundry for several days at a time in my car, until I had a free hand, or the ideal parking spot.  I often left my gym bag because I would go on my way home from work.  I left my bowling shoes, because, I always drove to bowling.  I left a lot of things in my car.  This particular instance, I had just partook in a completely indulgent shopping trip.  I had bought a beautiful new dress that I intended on wearing for my thirtieth birthday along with a beautiful pair of shoes and completely inappropriate but super fun sandals.  The upcoming weekend was going to be spent with a close friend at a spa and I wanted show off my new wares, so I left them in my car.  I parked my car in the typical spot, across the street from the Catholic school.

Fast forward to the morning.  I was carrying my cup of coffee and work bag.  When I got to my car I noticed that something was wrong, but I couldn't process what had happened.  I never knew that brains could work as slowly as my was, but it took me at least twenty seconds to realize that the broken passenger window and my belongings strewn about meant that I had been robbed.

I didn't know what to do, I had to get to work, so I did my best to brush the broken glass off my seat and headed to the suburbs.  My parents were my first call because I knew they would answer the phone at that hour and help me due to my lack of processing ability.  My dad provided me with appropriately concise directions to just drive home (which is very close to work).  So I headed to the burbs, sans a front passenger window.  Luckily the weather was already very much spring so my trembling hands were only a little bit caused by the temperature.  Slowly the shock began to wear off and I started to be able to take inventory of what was stolen from me.  In no particular order:

Three loads of dirty laundry

Gym bag with gym shoes that had the orthotics in them

New Dress

New shoes

New Sandals

12 pack of diet coke

Bowling shoes

Costco party pkg of 'mixers'

CDs - Pink, Abba, Beyonce, Best of the 80s, 

Grad school text book on Dysphagia

Cell phone charger

Sun glasses

Mail

One check from check book

Pack of crayons

Probably more, but I left the actual list at work, and I cannot remember more

Anyway, needless to say I was in emotional turmoil.  I was feeling super violated.  I was angry at the theieves, but mostly at myself.  Most of my tears that morning were shed because I was so angry at myself for being so stupid.  I mourned the loss of my newest purchases by cyclically moving between anger and sadness.  My parents immediately kicked into parent mode and jumped to my aide as though I was a 6 year old with a scraped knee.  It was appreciated.  My dad drove me to work and told me not to worry about anything they would take it to the shop and get the process going.

Once I got to work, I was shaking.  I was so scared and angry and sad and frustrated and embarrassed and sad.  How the heck was I going to work with small children?  I decided to take the day off.  I had to go to the bank and cancel my checking account, so I borrowed my co-workers car and drove there.  On my way, I called my "friend" (confusing, complicated relationship not integral part of the story) and he said he would be right there to help.

He met me at the bank and we made inappropriate jokes about getting robbed and slowly the shock began to wear off and the defense mechanism of humor kicked in.  After signing a thousand pieces of paper I had officially closed and opened a new account, I was entirely directionless.  My friend asked what I wanted to do and I could think about was replacing my recently purchased items.  So the trek and journey to get them began.  It started at Nordstrom rack in OBT, where I only broke down twice in the store, which made the odd looking saleslady only slightly uncomfortable.  We then drove to the city were one of the pairs of shoes was on hold, and I ordered the dress from a store in Georgia.  The poor lady in Georgia had a difficult time understanding me through my choked up voice and my northern accent, but we figured it out.

The replacement window cost $200 dollars, but getting robbed COST me a lot.  I still don't feel totally comfortable leaving my apartment for more than a few days at a time, for fear that I will really be robbed.  I still get irritated when I want to wear something that was stolen from me.  I take some consolation in that someone actually took the time to steal my dirty underwear as well as a twelve pack of diet coke... odd very odd thieves.  

Gathering Dust

Here's the deal.  I haven't written in a while, for a lot of reasons, but none good.  I suppose writing it down means in some way that I have to process it and acknowledge my current feelings about it.  Well, there have been a few things in the past month or two that I will admit to putting in a box and shoving to the corners of my psyche where they have been gathering dust.  Guess it's time to process, gotta have a clean slate for the big 30 right!!

Snow White (written after taking an ambien chased by a glass of wine)

Recently, fairy tales have become quite trendy and popular, specifically Snow White.  Two different feature films will have two different takes on this story as well as a quaint prime time television show feature this story.  So, with a glass of wine in hand and my old copy of my Disney's Snow White, I reread a very familiar childhood story.

It certainly looks different now that I an adult.  Firstly, I'd like to start the the beginning of the story.  Snow White's mom is infertile, while sewing she pricks her finger and causes blood to fall onto the snow on her ebony window frame, which causes her to beg for a daughter, "with skin white as snow, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony."  Soon, after ol infertile Queenie finds out she is knocked up, here is the real kick in the pants, after waiting for so long, negotiating with fate, she has a daughter that fits her exact specifications, except now, mamma dies.   Seriously?!  I guess the message we are telling expecting parents here don't set the bar too high or the price you pay is your life?  I imagine that if mamma knew that she would have bargained for less.  Perhaps she could have as for just a few freckles peppering her skin throughout life, endure a couple of zits during puberty, and perhaps a bout of roscea as she ages.

None the less, mom does die.  Pappa King can't be a single daddy, and he probably is getting a lil horny round the castle so he takes on another wife, who become Snow White's step mom.  I don't imagine that the German/Disney writers could ever possible take into account how incredibly relevant this story is to current family dynamics... but I guess they can as there are two movies and a prime time television show about it.  

Somehow without a lot of drama, pappa king disappears from the story.  The Queen jealous of Snow's beauty becaue very jealous, Real Housewive of OC style jealousy!  The Queen went' off the edge, she attempted to have Snow white assained.  A young huntsman was hired for the job which was completed - ish.  Because Snow is so beatiful the huntsman didn't/couldn't kill her.

I believe I passed out on my computer right about here... Perhaps next time I decide to pop myself an ambien chased with some wine I will finish it.  It made me laugh at my ridiculous ramblings!

What just happened... twice?

I can't believe I am about to tell this story... here goes nothing!

I am an avid believer in taking chances because whatever happens happens, you can't go backwards!  When it comes to dating, I am pretty willing to try anything.  I have dabbled with online dating in the past.  It has typically ended up with more silly memories and funny stories than second dates.  So, in my 30 before 30 journey, I wanted to stretch myself again, put myself back into the online dating arena.  I signed up for a free service, which is risky because there is a greater chance of people looking for hookups, but I understood that reality, and still wasn't motivated to pay.

My profile was pretty straight forward.  I am not a girly girl, and I think that came through on my profile.  I did not have pictures that would be considered sexy by any stretch of the imagination.  My pictures were like my profile, straightforward.  I was looking for the joe next door.  The challenge with online dating is that so much of it is based on looks alone, but I knew what I was getting myself into.

In the beginning it was a fun hobby, it something I did as I flipped tv channels or listened to music.  I found a couple of guys that I was interested in, so I messaged them.  With my experience I know not to get hopes up, not to get too excited and certainly not to wait for one guy.  A couple of the guys responded and we started to email.  We emailed back and forth, as I waited for him to ask me out for an actual date.  While I am up with the times of online dating, I still prefer the gent to do the asking out, guess I have some old fashioned gal still left in me a little.

One Friday night after a long week of work, I sat down with a stiff cocktail and my computer to shop for dudes.  Well apparently I wasn't the only one doing this.  A cute gent asked to chat with me.  Hell ya!  So this guy was overly sarcastic, I fancy myself witty, but overt sarcasm with a stranger is a turn off.  With the alcohol giving me a confidence, and online dating giving me a degree of anonymity, I called the guy out on his BS.  I expected him to stop chatting with me immediately, instead just the opposite happened, I think I turned him on.  Suddenly he started asking me explicit sexual questions. Let me pause for a second and explain that I am quite comfortable with my sexuality and add a couple of drinks into the mix, what the hell.

Without any explanation or warning, we were a tumble in a virtual sexual interlude.  Filthy positions were being discussed, bouncing of my body parts was described at length, as was the length of other things.  Suddenly the word thrust was being used.  Ummmm?  What was happening?  While I was typing, I certainly was not participating outside of the computer as I imagine my friend on the other side perhaps was.  I lied like so many women in reality do, then I bid my friend farewell.

I was uncomfortable, uneasy, I downed my drink and made myself another.  When I got back to the computer my gent friend that I had been emailing with wanted to chat.  YAY!  During the discussion we decided to go out for a drink for an undetermined time that weekend.  Somehow we started talking about sex.  It started off slowly, again, I didn't realize where it was going.  I couldn't put the brakes on things immediately cause it happened so quickly, I was suddenly in the middle of a SECOND online sex interlude!!

WHAT!?

Well... I played along.  I figured it was the safest of all sex.  No STDs, no babies.  It was the most anonymous sex, I could just sign off when I was done and never talk to the guy again.  So, while the STDs and baby thing was comforting, the anonymous thing actually bugged me.

Although I quite comfortable with my sexuality, I am no slut.  I didn't loose my virginity until I was ready.  I wanted to do it with someone special.  Again, there's that old fashioned side of me.  Anyway, the idea that I was the object of a stranger's fantasy, that he was imagining me doing filthy things with him didn't sit right with me.  The second gent with whom I had been emailing didn't text or call me for the date on Sunday.  I think I was secretly grateful because I know that I would have been incredible uncomfortable.... we already had 'sex' before we even met.

In the end, I do not regret doing it.  The fact that I ended up doing it not once but twice in one night is rather ridiculous.  I will tell you that I learned somethings:  

1. People can be bad a virtual sex just like they can be bad at real sex, not me (I am incredibly descriptive and anyone who ends up with me will appreciate that quality).  

2. Typing and trying to have fun (you know what I mean) is near impossible and any girl who tells you otherwise is a liar. 

Pin up pride!!

On my journey to my thirtieth birthday, I figured I would take pinup pictures.  Don't they say everything falls after 30?  Now, I recently graduated from graduate school.  It was a stressful process, I had a tendency to eat my emotions.  Needless to say, I graduated with a few extra pounds than I started with, all well earned!!  But, I really want to be happy with my body again.  I want to like myself when I look at photos.  In an attempt to force myself to get to the gym, I am going to schedule a pin up girl photo shoot.

I intend on doing this right.  I have researched pinup girl photos. I know the poses.  Now, I am looking for the costume.  They photography studio says that they have costumes, but there is something skeevey about wearing something that you know MANY other people have worn with only a possibility of proper cleaning.  So... I will be purchasing my outfit as well.  Below are some of the ones that I have been looking at... thoughts and opinions are welcome.

Out of my comfort zone

This week at work we have been celebrating EVERYONE's birthday.  Naturally, my feelings about my birthday have been brought to the surface.  I realize that I am so not ready for this arbitrary milestone.  I started this list to ensure that I would be in a happier place with myself.  It is definitely a journey, and I still have a couple of months to continue on the trek, but it is clear to me that I need to press on.  If I turned 30 tomorrow, I think I would be happy merely sitting on my couch and letting the day go by.  Friends, this is not good.  I LOVE birthdays, but this stupid number scares the SHIT out of me.  Why?  I guess I have a couple of months to answer that question.
Today I continue the trek by going to a yoga class.  I am venturing out of my lil comfort zone to try something that is relatively new.  Continue to spread my wings.  See ya in a couple of months 30.

Control and Painting

One of my goals was to paint a picture that I would be willing to hang.  Well, I'll tell you a story how of how there is currently a painting on my wall of my doing.  My girlfriends and I went to a wine and painting class together.  The idea of it was to enjoy each other's company drink some wine and play with paint.  The instructor gave a step by step process of how to make a predetermined painting.  Well, the painting that was predetermined had a very modern black tree branch with a black bird on it.  It terrified me.

I am no artist.  I am merely an adult stuck in the mind set of a child playing with her crayons.  I dabble with colors, I play with colored pencils, I experiment with oil pastels.  I like to mix colors and shade.  I don't like hard edges, I don't like lines.  I don't like precision when I dabble.  While I play with color like a child, I still have the awareness and control of an adult who doesn't like to make mistakes.  I am keenly aware of when my hand does not move the exact way that I want it to, when a line does not match exactly to what I am trying to mimic.  So, instead of causing myself anxiety when I play with crayon, I just purposefully avoid creating art that requires precision.  The painting that the class was teaching required lines, focus and precision.  No way was I going to attempt that, just seemed stressful!!

So, I started googling sunsets.  I wanted to paint something colorful and serene.  I found a really pretty tropical sunset that I wanted to attempt.  I started with my favorite color, purple and included bright colors like yellow, and orange.  I started to get into it.  When I felt like I made a mistake, I worked through it, I used other colors, I worked with it.  There was no perfection.  I worked with my flaws, I didn't see mistakes.  I let go of my control.  It was freeing.

It started off as an attempt to paint a tropical sunset, but ended up being a forest sunset, such as in Maine or Canada.  It happened because I was having painting a palm tree, but easily painted a pine tree.  In my life, I would have had big problems changing decisions that dramatically, but somehow in art I didn't have any problems.  Is there a lesson here to be learned? Uhhh?  I think so!