Posts from — February 2010

Post 2! Thanks for reading and commenting. Again, if you’d like to comment but you’d rather not do so in public, please feel free to email me at curvyjones[at]diaryofcurvyjones or mocahgirl[at]gmail.

At the top of this post on the right hand side you’ll see  a directory of sorts. All posts in this series will be tied together. You can view other posts in this series by clicking on the link in the directory.

This is a long entry, I apologize. I was going to cut it but decided to let it be. It’ll be here if you get tired of reading and want to come back later! ;)

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I’ve noticed that both here and my other blog,  I get a message about once a week that people can’t leave short comments. I ASSumed this was a wordpress thing and didn’t dig into it too deeply until I got two messages today about it.

Turns out that WordPress sets the minimum character as 1. Anything else is affected by a plugin (modification, for you non blog running people). Both my blogs have many of the same plugins but I deduced, after some trial and error that the issue was with a spam filtering plugin. Comment spam is a pretty huge problem on blogs.

I use two spam fighting plugins- Akismet and WP Spam Free. The culprit was WP Spam Free. It does not appear to allow for comments below 15 characters. I’ve disabled it for now, to see if I get any spam. Akismet should be fine for the low level of comments and popularity of this blog. If that changes and I start to get a lot of spam coming through, I will have to turn it back on. It just seems to be a bit much and I’d rather get a short comment than none at all.

Please let me know if you find anything else acting strangely. I value opinions and want reading and discussing topics here to be a breeze for all!

Thanks,

The Management

First I have to give a shout out to everyone who was so supportive yesterday. I feared a lot of ‘be thankful you even HAVE a dad!’ and ‘at least your dad wants to see you’, kinds of comments, which, I suppose would be fair to leave but I still wouldn’t want to see/read/deal with them. So thanks for sensing the kind of support I needed and givin’ it to me!

Second, yesterday sucked. I got out of work early on the premise that I was going to see my dad. I went to the salon instead. Well, I tried to go to the salon. It seems like everytime I go, I get lost. I take the wrong exit every fricken time. There are 2 exits to Highway5 in Canton. I always take the first and it’s the wrong one. Or I completely drive past it and end up in freaking Chattanooga. Not really, it’s Woodstock but may as well be Tennessee! [Read more →]

It’s Friday. I ADORE Friday. It’s my favorite day of the week. Right about here is where I’d be excitedly prattling on about my weekend plans. The ones that never come to fruition but at least I make them, every week. There’s my weekly trip to CVS,  laying in bed trying to get myself to get up and go to the hair salon, writing, watching a lot of TV, maybe some movies, maybe some grocery shopping, maybe some cooking, maybe some cleaning. Two glorious days to myself, to do what I want to do, when I want to do it.

Right about here is where I am kind of freaking out. As I mentioned last night, I got a bombshell dropped onto said weekend. An email from my mother:

From: Mama Jones
Re: Your uncle’s 80th birthday party

Your dad is in Georgia for your uncle’s birthday party and to see your Aunt D. Your cousins want to know if you’re coming to the party. Call your dad at [cell number]. I was just thinking, you all live in the same city and you never talk. Was there a problem?

[other random things]

Love, mom

And soooooooooooo. WHAT? [Read more →]

The Easy Stuff:

This is post 1 of a series of posts, simply so that people don’t have to read a thesis on my life– and neither do I, when I read back. There’s a bit of “about me” stuff floating around the Diary already but I have provided some background for better understanding. If I don’t know where I’ve come from, I won’t be able to guage where I am or where I am going.

Edit: My mom sent me an email tonight to tell me that my dad is in town. Until the 10th. >insert blank stare here< I decided to go ahead and post this so that I can appropriately freak out tomorrow and people will have more of an idea of why I am freaking out.

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I wasn’t going to do confessions this week because I took all week to come up with last week’s list and I got kind of confessed out! My list this week was turning out to be lame and ranty, but I am going for consistency, here and if you don’t like it, well whatever, I probably don’t either. Let’s get together and bitch about me, shall we?

As usual, these are my own personal thoughts, un-santized for your entertainment. Wetnap?

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I wanted to point out that I’ve added an archives page that is easier to navigate than going month by month. It was annoying me, to have to dig through it so I can imagine if anyone was trying to read back, that it was not pleasant. that’s all fixed now and you can visit the archive by clicking on A Likely Story.

I am in the process of having a theme designed for this blog. Hopefully that will stop the theme schizophrenia that has been rampant, here. I’m always on the lookout for something that is ‘me’ and while I like this theme, it is a bit more pink than I like. Mostly, this template is ported from a version designed for a much older version of wordpress. I’ve had to do some code wrangling and some things just aren’t going to work with this theme, as I think some of the code is deprecated. So, at some point within the next week or so you will see a neat new theme here. I’m excited about it! :)

I am going to be posting that series of posts that I was talking about the other day, likely tomorrow? Or… over the weekend, I don’t know. I’ve been writing for 2 days and I haven’t really got to where I want to go. ANYWAY, I know that I blog for me and there are things I need to say and come back and read over and over and over again, but I also want to share these things with people.  It would help me to talk about it. maybe it would help someone to read it.

I also want people who regularly read this blog for the funny, snappy, sarcastic to not be blindsided by the seriousness of these posts. Just know, you’ve been warned!

Same thing we do every day, Pinky. Try to take over the world.

Yesterday, during my pre-work ritual, I realized that I was squeezing the tube of toothpaste completely flat and doing that thing where I have to squeeze with both hands to get a sufficient amount of toothpaste out of the tube. Which means, of course, that I need toothpaste.

Naturally, the only place to get toothpaste is the $100 Store. Target.

I am totally excited that it might be warming up soon and spring might be on the way and it’s above 19 degrees outside. I feel my body prepping. My mind is already there. This happens every spring– I get all…giddy, and then I get all… girly. While I was at Target I got a few things to take care of my appendages– hands and feet, because OY. My fingernails look like I tried to scale a mountain with them. Thankfully, they grow fast. My toes are begging for open toed shoes.

Alas, it shall not be for several weeks.

I am one of those people that when I want something I want it now. When I decide I am ready for something, bring it the hell on. So I decided, since it was 47 degrees outside that it was warm enough to not wear a jacket. I had a thick cable-knit turtleneck sweater on, dress pants and shoes. And that’s it.

Dammit, it’s still cold outside. I am ready for spring. BRING IT THE HELL ON.

While I am waiting, I need a salon appointment and a spa manicure and pedicure appointment. I need to spend some time at the MAC counter. I saw these gorgeously bright thigh length trench coats at Target (that won’t fit me, but whatever) and I so WANT. I love bright colors. I’ve just at this very second realized I have been wearing black, brown and grey all winter.

How droll.

I love being a girl!

And I got a new toothbrush! My shiny teeth and me are gonna be happy.

Do you have any springtime rituals? Who’s coming out of hibernation?

I don’t normally (or I try not to) blog twice a day, but I didn’t want to wait to post this!

The Blogosphere has recognized my greatness and bestowed an award upon me. This award comes to me from Heart and Hairspray, one of my fellow LadyBloggers. Gaze upon it:

I’d like to thank Jesus, my momma, my manager, and the 238 people  searching for blackberries that keep finding my blog.  WTF, I have ONE post on my blackberry.

According to the rulez, I have to state 7 things that people might not know about me. And tag 7 people. Uh. Okay.

1. I never tag people. *eep* I know, I’m a rebel.

2. I am a military brat. I have lived in OK, TX, CA, SD, IN, WA and GA. Most of those places I lived before I turned 12. My father retired at Fairchild Air Force Base in Spokane, WA. I left Spokane 15 years later and moved to Georgia by myself. Best thing I could have ever done.

3. I have been at my current job the longest I have ever been at a job… since 2004. Technically, it’s with a family of companies so while my job title has changed, I’ve worked with just about the same people for 6 years. Wow. I think I am an adult, or something.

4. I graduated with a degree in Interpersonal Communication Studies. That means I can ask, ‘would you like fries with that’ with a deep compassion, understanding, and deference to other cultural, gendered, or nationality or relational differences. I was supposed to be an English teacher. I got to college, looked at the main coursework for an Ed major, said “eff that, Comm Studies looks fun!” And it was. I loved loved loved Communication Studies. I wish I’d opted for a more specific track like Public Relations or Journalism. I could have, but with IP you got to take all of the classes with none of the Internships. I regret not doing an internship.

5. I minored in Teaching English as  Second or Foreign Language, spurred by my experience with  a Japanese roomate my freshman year and working with English Language programs at my University.  While I excelled in it, my ego was trampled upon when I applied to work abroad and didn’t get the job. All my co-workers did, though. I pretty much figured I sucked at it, and decided I didn’t want to teach. Because being an Executive Assistant is so where it’s at, ya’ll. :|

6. Watashi wa nihongo ga sukoshi dake hanashimasu. Translation:  I speak a little Japanese. I took a year of it in college. Got a 4.0. I’ve always loved languages- I took 3 years of Spanish in high school. Sometimes when I watch Telemundo, I can almost understand what’s going on. When I go to the Dominican salon to get my hair done, sometimes I eavesdrop. I’m nowhere near bi-lingual or multi-lingual but being curious about other languages has come in very handy. And I can also say, excuse me, which direction is the bathroom (Ano sumimasen ga. Oteari wa dochira desuka?), which, you know… is a phrase people should really learn in any language  Ah, I miss Japanese.

7. Man, that elusive number 7. It should be a good one… let me think, let me thiiiiinnnnkkkk. I have no idea. Uhm. I like underripe bananas? Especially if they’re really cold.  I don’t know, people! The pressure. I buckled.

So like I said, I normally don’t tag people, let alone 7 of them, but I think Tex and Green Eyes and Becky would actually do it. SO DO IT.  And link back! YAY.

*curtsy*

Well, I jinxed myself last week. That’s that thing where you say something hardly ever happens and the second you get it out of your mouth, it starts happening.

Saturday, I woke up with a headache. How does one wake up with a headache? I don’t know.  Typically,  a headache means that

• I’ve been wearing a pony tail too long (tension);
• I need to change my glasses prescription;
• I haven’t eaten (or I’ve eaten the wrong thing, i.e. sugar);
• I haven’t slept enough.

Dissecting my Friday, I remember that I had  sugar (puts a hex on IT guy who brings Dunkin every Friday), and dinner was really light,  and I may have skipped breakfast and lunch, so that was probably the culprit. I know, I’m bad. I’m flogging, I’m flogging. I woke up at 6am with a light drum beating against my temple. My stomach was already twisting and I hadn’t even sat up yet. Unfortunately, I had recently finished the bottle of pain reliever I had a few weeks ago and never bought another bottle because I don’t get headaches, right?

Wrong. Poundy. Poundy. Poundy.

I had to get up and toss on some clothes and drive down to the convenience store on the corner and get some drugs. I looked for candy coated Advil, Sarah, but I didn’t see them. I don’t know if they’re different from regular coated Advil, which is what I got.  Candy coated would have put a smile on my face, I’m just saying. They probably have them at Kroger but either Kroger I could choose from are ghetto enough without going there before the sun is even up. I bought a little bottle so when I next grocery shop (in the daylight) I’ll look for those. In a BIG ASS BOTTLE. As far as pills go, Advil aren’t that bad. They go down smoothly and for future reference, don’t stink.

I have a point, I promise.

So, as I stumbled out of the store into the pre-dawn glow of morning with my plastic bag containing a single serving bowl of Cheerios (heeee!) and my meds in one hand and a piping hot cup of gas station coffee in the other, I recognized a sound that sent my spirits soaring.  In the trees behind the store, there were birds. A LOT of birds. And they were loud, all Chirpy McChirpersons at 6:30 in the morning. I didn’t think anything of it at first, until I went to get into my car and my head was POUNDY and the birds were CHIRPY and then I thought……. wait… birds! Chirping! That means… that means… wait don’t tell me….that must mean spring is on the way!

HUZZAH!

YOU GUYZ. I can’t wait! Spring and summer are my fave seasons ever, but spring in Atlanta (you know, before the pollen hits) is just about the most gorgeous time of year, except for fall, when the leaves start to turn. It’s when I am most in love with this city and feel so blessed and lucky to be here. It’s been such a long, hard, cold winter. I can’t wait for it to be gone!

I am ready for brunch on restaurant patios and a Caramel High Rise from Caribou Coffee on Peachtree while I sit outside and tally the number of Mercedes Benz that drive by. I want to sit out by the pool (which I never do but I can, if I want) and read.  I want leisurely walks through Piedmont while I watch people run their their dogs, and push their babies in strollers, and watch shirtless roller bladers pretend they’re really out there for exercise and not just showing off that they’re shirtless, and get all ‘haughty’ that they have to skate around me.  And I want to feed the ducks!

I’m ready to be social and get out and about. I’m ready to shake off winter and enjoy the sunshine. Bring. It. ON.

*claps* So excited!

In other news, I spent the weekend dissecting our health plan. We just switched providers  Feb 1, and I just knew my company was going to go uber cheap and not pay for anything worth covering. To my surprise, mental health benefits are covered. When I last researched therapy, the cost  was $119/hr and I did not have mental health benefits. Uhm. I will stay slightly mad for that price, really. So I’ve been waiting, and it’s been a couple of years since I seriously looked at it and I am pleased with my findings. I did some research on doctors near me and cross referenced ratings and backgrounds at healthgrades.com. Quite helpful. I feel a little more informed and I now have a short list to choose from.

All that’s left is to make the appointment.

*Procrastinates*

So, this guy walks into a bar…

Ha, no seriously. I have a list. It is handy. When I am ready, I will call. I feel like I want to focus on a couple of things first and figure out where I am and where I want to go.  If I don’t, I will feel lost and that’s frustrating to me. I’m very much a preparer and an organizer. Things have to be ‘just so’ or I can’t deal. Things aren’t quite ‘just so’ yet.

I may be writing a series of posts that seem really self involved, because they’re for me. I need to say some things to myself. Remind myself of things. Figure some stuff out.  As I’ve mentioned a few times, a few things have been swirling around in my mind and I need to find a way to put them into words.

And as long as I’m paying for the webspace, may as well get good use out of it.  Welcome to the Freakshow. Try the veal, it’s delicious!

I love commercials. I used to say that I watch TV Shows for the commercials. I love the brilliant, the funny, the nonsensical. The song and dance numbers, the tricks of the eye, the sleight of hand.

Some of my favorite commercials are milk commercials. For years, these have kept me rolling in laughter, especially the one where Mom is telling the kids about how drinking milk makes them strong, and the kids protest that the old neighbor guy that lives next door never drinks milk and he’s strong. Cut to the neighbor, who is mowing his lawn and his arms come off. Then the kids gulp down some milk.  Gut level laughter, from the first time I saw it.

My other faves are Starbucks commercials. There’s the one where Survivor sings to Glen, Hank gets a cheer (the guy doing the worm gives me LIFE), and… okay there’s one I probably watch once a week. I love the beginning, from the chick that can’t quite pick up the steps to the guy in the long black coat who is gettin’ down. He is serious about his Starbucks Double shot!

That commercial makes me wanna run out into the street and dance badly yelling WHO DA MAN? YOU DA MAN! If I still worked in Midtown that probably wouldn’t be a bad thing, but out in the burbs it’s not a good idea.

By special request, I have to post this, because YES. Cracks my stuff up:

“Oh nooooo. Yer tahr’s all flat n’ junk!”

The voice, by the way, is that of Dayci Brookeshire. Though, I hear Alicia Silverstone. I’m just saying. “Cause I’m a pot hoooole???”

Recently, Volkswagen changed their ad campaign from the “Sign then Drive” to “PunchBug”. I think. Well, it used to be called Slugbug. Nothing is funnier, to me, than an entire commercial of people punching each other.

Do you remember playing the Slugbug game, where everytime you saw a Volkswagen bug you got to punch someone? Yeah, I hated that game. My dad owned a 1974 (people, I was born in ’74) orange VW Bug, so of course everytime we saw the car, one of my siblings would punch each other. Or me.

As we got older, we started just pointing them out, because… ouch. The punching was getting pretty serious. I saw the Volkswagen ‘Slugbug’ commercial on the other night, and laughed so hard, remembering childhood. I wanted to call Big Mike and just yell SLUGBUG!! I refrained.

But then I got a little sad. The Slugbug game was one of JoeJoe’s favorite car games, second to pointing out classic cars on the road. That commercial brought back memories of road trips when we were little, and then when we were older, driving Joe and his friends around and taking them to car shows and seeing a Bug on the road and him yelling out ‘SLUGBUG!’ and because I am a flincher, he’d tap me twice for flinching.

The anniversary is coming up. Two years now that he’s been gone. I was trying not to be all ‘never forget’ about it, but it just seems like my mind starts to change, and I can’t figure out what it is until I remember. He died in March of 2008. The Year of Firsts passed, and we really thought things might get a little easier to handle. It seems like the longer he’s gone, the more there is to handle. And I feel really okay until my dad calls me and I hear the emotion in his voice. Or I see his son, and it’s like looking at my baby brother all over again.

Or I see a “Slugbug”, even in a commercial,  and start to cry.

I normally try to end the week on a high note– it’s Friday, after all!  I will most definitely be looking forward to 4:59:59 and getting the heck outta dodge until 8 am Monday morning, but something that came through the grapevine has made me stop and think about a few things. I felt a need to try to organize my thoughts and since that’s what this here blog is for, I’m gonna go for it !!

I don’t know if it’s the new spring season that seems to be taking its own sweet time coming (at least in Atlanta, where it’s nearly unheard of to still be in the 30′s in February), but it seems like much of the Blogosphere is talking about doing some Spring Cleaning of the Mind. Tex posted yesterday about Better Living Through Chemistry. Green Eyes and I have been chatting about changes we want to make to better ourselves. I had an enlightening conversation last night with a twiend, Wildchild, about the recurring theme of self discovery and how that leads to choosing a mate and being the right one for someone else, as well as realizing that the thrill is gone and it’s time to move on, not desperately hanging on to what we have because we don’t want to be alone.

Last evening, while avoiding doing things I said I’d do,  S sent up a link to the Chicago Sun Times and Roger Ebert’s blog. He shared his behind-the-scenes thoughts on a recent article in Esquire Magazine. Both pieces were great, and tear inducing but not in a sad way. He spoke about Gene Siskel (whom I still miss- Ebert and Roper just never caught on for me), his illness, his life, his dedicated and cherished wife.

My first reaction was shock at the photo covering one entire page, because I was unaware that Ebert was ill. As the writer from Esquire, Chris Jones, so eloquently put it, “Ebert is dying in increments, and he is aware of it.” Four years after losing his lower jaw and the ability to speak to cancer, Ebert is still at work. He continues to write. He still watches movies, still reviews them. Still tells us the good parts without spoiling the film. He’s still detailed and precise, splicing a film almost scene by scene, seeking a deeper meaning, analyzing technique, drawing out the story. His notepad and pen, keyboard and mouse have become that authoritative voice I think of when I picture film critics. Well, that and Jon Lovitz but that’s a whole another post.

I think what always amazes me about survivors is their spirit. If I get a hangnail, I am sure to whine about it for as long as I can milk it. I sprained my ankle — badly– last year and I will still complain about it, if you give me space and opportunity. Ebert doesn’t seem to be at the place I would be, after losing my jaw. It seemed like he just went back to work. There were movies to watch and critiques to write, and Ebert went back to work.

Something really struck me, in Ebert’s blog and was the brainchild of today’s post. He writes, “Resentment is allowing someone to live rent-free in a room in your head… If we think we have physical imperfections, obsessing about them is only destructive. Low self-esteem involves imagining the worst that other people can think about you. That means they’re living upstairs in the rent-free room.”

Can I just say that that sentence brings tears to my eyes? What a statement. Low self esteem involves imagining the worst that other people can think about you. He just put into words my entire thought process on a daily basis. I call it ‘being realistic’. It makes me wonder how many times a day I look at myself and do just that. Imagine the worst. And then say it first because if I say it, it doesn’t hurt as bad when/if others do.

My head is full of squatters. People living rent free in rooms, taking up all the space and using up all the hot water and making a mess and running out of paper towels and not replacing them and leaving like, a swallow of milk in the jug and putting it back in the refrigerator. They’re rude and inconsiderate and dirty. They need to get the eff out.

I didn’t used to be that way. There was a time when I thought I was hot stuff.  I met the Ex when I was feeling really good about myself. I was happy and whole and a complete person before I met him. He was the icing on the cake that was my life. I had a good time with him, and as we got to know each other and I let myself dream of being able to say ‘we’ and ‘us’ and ‘our’, my self esteem soared because I thought someone else thought I was awesome, too. I saw what others saw in me. I thought what others thought about me — the best, not the worst.

I had a whole post here about him and being with him and how I was devastated when I figured out that he didn’t think I was awesome, and it was just as I thought, men don’t want me,   and my self esteem hit the can and hasn’t been seen since, and how I’m not the woman I used to be, and it’s all his fault, dammit. But this isn’t about being attractive to a man, really. This isn’t about wanting to meet someone who’s ready to meet someone and skipping off into the sunset.

This is about all aspects of life. Who my friends are. Who I surround myself with. The people I know. The people that I let know me. The people I let love me and the people I love back. I’ve been thinking a lot about these things the last few days and the posts from the Blogosphere have my mind absolutely reeling with new viewpoints and thoughts to consider, to a point that I’ve been trying to articulate them all week and my words are failing me. I am trying to make sense of what I need to do and want to do and things I have to decide in order to move forward and my mind is in such a jumble that I can’t figure it out.

Is t normal to want to be happy and not know how the hell to get there?

The discussion I had last night is weighing heavily on me. I am going to have to do something I hate doing, be something I hate being– vulnerable. It’s a dirty word, in my book. My walls are high and thick and go six feet underground and six feet over my head.  I don’t let myself get hurt. I shy away from anything that makes me think real thoughts and feel real feelings. I don’t know how I can be a real person, though without doing that work, knowing myself, liking myself. Which leads to happiness. Happiness (not just pleasure, which is fleeting) leads to being able to choose the person that is right for me, figuring out what I need and asking for it, being ready to accept someone in my life and accept that someone could think I’m awesome.

It also means  that I could achieve other goals I’ve set for myself. I could let myself believe that I have talent and skill and I could be published somewhere, someday. I could stop looking at other people and what they’re doing and comparing myself to them and trying to gauge if I am successful or not. I call this Keeping My Eyes On My Own Paper, something I am struggling with , lately.  I can’t be jealous when people get what I want. People work at what they want. They go for it. They don’t imagine the worst that other people can think about them and then accept it as truth and act on it, instead of a completely different reality.

Do not get me wrong. I am living a great life.  I’m living the best life I’ve ever lived and having a ball, truly. I just know that I can do better. I can think better and live better and do better and feel better.

Maybe it’s time for some Spring Cleaning in my mind. Push the squatters out and make the place all shiny and spruced up. Gotta make room for happiness and joy and a positive thought life. And good self esteem.

I hope all of my readers, even the  378 people searching for blackberries who found my weird post on all the blackberries I’ve owned, have a fantastically wonderful weekend. I’m going to try not to blog this weekend. Instead I am going to work on a piece I am trying to submit to a short story archive and maybe spend some time in the Self Help section at Barnes & Noble.

I know, I know. I want to cut myself for even thinking about it. I promise not to buy a book by Dr. Phil.

Maybe.

Disclaimer- My confessions are my real and true thoughts and are not intended to be Politically Correct. If you want me to lie about how I feel, I require dinner first.

I confess that I hate small talk. Ooooh. Hate. I am shy (seriously) and I don’t like having to think of inane things to say. I don’t have a feeling about the weather. I really don’t. It’s cold or it’s hot. Okay. That’s about as far as that conversation is going. I was taught that a conversation is like a game of volleyball– each person is responsible for volleying “the ball” over the net and not letting the “the ball” hit the floor. I hate sports analogies.

I confess I will roll my eyes if someone sends me a video link to YouTube. I don’t want to see a six year old dance to Single Ladies, a talentless hack embarass him or herself in front of the nation and so help me Jeezy, if the link is the cast of Glee even breathing, I will cut.you. [Read more →]

Uhm… regrouping.

Grocery shopping Thursday. Back on the horse Friday. See you then.

I have nothing to blog about. No work tales, no personal woes – though things are happening, I just don’t want to talk about them. No anecdotes or complaints ( complaintless Curvy is knd of sad…). Nothing.

I’m not quite “all blogged out”… just thinking. Like Pooh… Think think think.

Happy Humpday. On which no humping will occur.

How ya’ll doin’?