After months of resisting my friends' prodding, I finally caved into the black hole that is Downton Abbey. It took a couple of episodes for me to get into it, but now I must know all details about their lives and have a lonely void in my life since finishing the third season. I also learned a few things about the British aristocracy that I wasn't previously aware of.
Now don't think I'd turn down the option to live a Downton Abbey life if it were (unlikely) offered to me, but I'd do things a bit differently. I would love to have a cook. If anyone knows me, they know that I want delicious food available at all times, and I don't particularly want to put any effort into it myself. Mrs. Papmore can come hang out in my kitchen anytime and make me delicious foodstuffs that I gluttonously stuff into my face.
The problem is the formality of their meals. First off, they wear outfits to family dinners that I'd feel overdressed in at a black tie wedding - which is probably because they're wearing WHITE TIE. I didn't even know this existed. What's the point of being a rich person if you have to be so damn uncomfortable all the time? Why would you wear white to eat? Doesn't anybody spill besides me? To me, having that much money means sitting my ass on the couch in my yoga pants, tshirt, and fluffy socks while people bring me trays of Thai food until I tell them to stop.
I'm rich, I'm fucking in charge. If you want to dress like a fancy asshole to eat dinner, be my guest, but don't be disappointed when I take mine on a tv tray on the sofa. And I might do something as ridiculous as having my iced tea in a 19th century goblet. Fuck you, it's my damn goblet. It's worth $15,000, and I'm drinking iced tea out it, and it tastes delicious. And this whole "breakfast in bed thing" for the wives - it SOUNDS like a good idea, but do you know what I'd do if I ate a delicious home-cooked breakfast in my pjs in my comfy ass bed? I'd fall the fuck back asleep, that's what. It's hard enough to get me out of bed, don't encourage it by bringing my food to me. Why don't you just go ahead and catheterize me too so I don't have to get up to use the restroom?
It would be a little awkward for a maid to get my clothes out and tell me "Ok, Lady Kim, here's your jeans. Which tank top would you like today? One with some sparkle? Perhaps the dinosaur tshirt? And let me go get your moccasins." And I think it would actually be more difficult for someone to dress me, since I'd likely lose my balance standing on one leg and fall into a heap of idiocy and slobbish clothing. Maybe a stylist would be better - someone to help me pick out clothes from the store and make outfits out of them, since I'm pretty incapable of looking stylish without some emergency text to my friends begging them to provide answers to what I wear with my new shirt.
And I'd take full advantage of the hair and makeup process. I have never, in my long life, learned to do my hair in any manner other than "blow dried," so some sort of style might be a nice change. And a professional makeup artist would create the illusion that I'm 90% more attractive than I can make myself out to be on a general day. I've always wanted one of those.
Sure, I'd have Carson make my phone calls, since I despise the phone and want nothing to do with it ever. I'd love to be chauffeured around, mostly so I could nap in the car if I got bored. I also might try out the silly hat thing, but I suppose I'd have to do a wardrobe change if I weren't to look like a complete moron. And yes, get me a lounge chair, a tent, and a bunch of my friends to come talk to me. Why yes, I'd love another mojito. I'll just be right here when you get back. Do you think you could hire an Indian chef for Wednesdays? That'd be super, thanks.
I'm going to have a dinner party! I expect Thai food, gelato, girl scout cookies, and some nice wine, preferably laid out on silver trays that cost more than my car. When I take a cookie, please go rearrange the remaining cookies so that it doesn't look like one is missing. I'd also like Chipotle, but I'd like it to be anticipated before I want it so I can ask for it and it arrives within 2 minutes - seeing as you'd have to go to town to get it. Hell, just buy the ingredients and keep them in the kitchen, then I can have a burrito bowl whenever I want it.
And I don't need a butler. Who the hell just shows up randomly anyway? Stalkers, that's who. And I sure as hell don't want the butler leading them into the parlor where I'm taking my mid-afternoon milkshake while watching Law and Order and have me awkwardly send them away and ask the butler to call the police. Oh, do you live across town? You don't want to drive to Silver-I mean Downton? I'll send a driver. No excuse now, bitches. They'll even keep beer in their car so your ride won't be entirely unpleasant.
So perhaps I wouldn't necessarily do Downton like the Granthams do. Perhaps I'd horrify them into a heart attack, who knows? But dammit, if being rich means being stuffy and uncomfortable, give me mediocrity any day. I'll take my Seamless.com, DVR, and snuggie over wearing a formal gown to an unsatisfying dinner where I'm not allowed to speak about certain subjects or use curse words. Give me curry or give me death.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
BABY ANIMALS > BABY HUMANS
I would say something is hormonally wrong with me, but based on my physical appearance, I'm pretty sure I've got enough estrogen coursing through my veins. I am apparently the only 31-year-old who not only doesn't want kids, but actively dislikes all children. I thought I'd grow out of this, say, when I hit the age that most people become baby crazy (which I deem to be about 28-30), but my distaste for little ones is still going strong.
Honestly I'm concerned. I know I will end up being the only one of my friends who doesn't have kids, and therefore I'll be some form of outcast in my group. No, I don't want to go to your kid's birthday. No, I don't want you to bring your kid to lunch with us. No, I don't want to do anything "family oriented" with you and your kids and other friends and their kids. No, I don't want to hold your newborn, babysit for you, or come pick out children's clothing.
What do people without kids do? Do they have friends? How do they keep close with their old friends who have kids? The lifestyle is so vastly different between parents and non-parents that it brings a great void of conversation. I don't care about their kids, but their kids are their whole world (which means they're good parents, like mine), so what will we talk about? It's already slowly happened with some friends who had kids young, but I fear it happening to my close friends who probably won't have kids for another 5ish years.
It's a very weird position to be in, honestly. Recently discussion of maternity leave in the US vs. other countries has come up, and how little paid time off you get when you have a kid. This kind of information washes over me in the same way a lecture about "what to know if you're moving to Iceland" would. I don't even get the slightest tingle in my body that this might ever apply to me. While people at school are considering what they will want to do when they have kids, i.e. balancing a career and family, I have nothing to think about but getting married and having a rewarding career. For the next 30-40 years.
One of my teachers was discussing a psychological experiment done to test whether or not someone is a sociopath - gauging their reaction to different pictures. Some of the pictures would be graphic and gory, and some would be as mundane as a chair. The sociopaths showed no difference in brain activity between the types, but normal people did (obviously). While you showing me the police photo of Rhianna's face after Chris Brown beat the shit out of her would cause me to recoil in horror, you showing me a photo of a sleeping baby would get about the same response as the aforementioned chair photo.
I'm not a complete heartless sociopath - my voice gets 6 octaves higher and I get all giddy when I see something like a basket of puppies or a kitten cuddling with a teddy bear, but this is the response of "normal" females when they see a baby/toddler/child. And of course there are significant advantages to not having kids: a recent study showed marriages were happier when the couples were childless, regardless of their age. I won't get fat against my will, my boobs won't sag before I'm 45, and I'll have this thing I've always wanted...disposable income. And free time. And a good night's sleep, every night (depending on my job, of course).
I love weddings, and I love when my friends get married and I get to be a part of it. Weddings are fun. They're parties to celebrate starting a new chapter in your life with the people closest to you. Bachelorette parties are also quite fun...you don't get those when you have a baby. You get a baby shower, which I will attend but likely not enjoy. I see only the utilitarian aspect of baby showers - you're going to need a shitton of clothes because likely your kid will piss or puke on itself multiple times a day, and it'll grow out of each size in about a week. You need certain appliances, furniture items, and other household goods to care for a baby. It'd be ridiculous if you had to buy all of that yourself. Knowing that I made someone's life a fraction of a point easier by adding to their baby's wardrobe or bottle collection makes me feel good, but really that's it. And I really hate it when people bring their babies to a baby shower. It's the last time we get to talk to this person without having a kid around, so let's USE IT WISELY.
So seriously, what's wrong with me (SPECIFICALLY relating to this, I'm not opening all doors here assholes)? People are always like "oh, you'll change your mind." No, I probably won't. I'm at an age where I should very well know whether or not I want kids because I have only about 9 years left. The most rational people think "I want kids, but I want to do X, Y, and Z first." But to me, even after I do X, Y, and Z, kids still don't seem appealing. I have the best parents ever, who were there for me all the time, always attended my games/recitals/school events, encouraged me to do what I was passionate about, and I think they raised me to be open-minded, thoughtful, and curious. They've supported me emotionally and financially through tough times, and I can call them any time. So why, if I had such a good childhood experience myself, do I not want kids of my own? Why can't I at least appreciate friends' kids because they are, well, FRIENDS' kids? Why can't I be like one of those people who enjoys kids but knows they don't want their own?
Honestly, do you know anyone else like me in this regard? I really don't think I've ever met someone with the same views as me. Close, but never the same.
Honestly I'm concerned. I know I will end up being the only one of my friends who doesn't have kids, and therefore I'll be some form of outcast in my group. No, I don't want to go to your kid's birthday. No, I don't want you to bring your kid to lunch with us. No, I don't want to do anything "family oriented" with you and your kids and other friends and their kids. No, I don't want to hold your newborn, babysit for you, or come pick out children's clothing.
What do people without kids do? Do they have friends? How do they keep close with their old friends who have kids? The lifestyle is so vastly different between parents and non-parents that it brings a great void of conversation. I don't care about their kids, but their kids are their whole world (which means they're good parents, like mine), so what will we talk about? It's already slowly happened with some friends who had kids young, but I fear it happening to my close friends who probably won't have kids for another 5ish years.
It's a very weird position to be in, honestly. Recently discussion of maternity leave in the US vs. other countries has come up, and how little paid time off you get when you have a kid. This kind of information washes over me in the same way a lecture about "what to know if you're moving to Iceland" would. I don't even get the slightest tingle in my body that this might ever apply to me. While people at school are considering what they will want to do when they have kids, i.e. balancing a career and family, I have nothing to think about but getting married and having a rewarding career. For the next 30-40 years.
One of my teachers was discussing a psychological experiment done to test whether or not someone is a sociopath - gauging their reaction to different pictures. Some of the pictures would be graphic and gory, and some would be as mundane as a chair. The sociopaths showed no difference in brain activity between the types, but normal people did (obviously). While you showing me the police photo of Rhianna's face after Chris Brown beat the shit out of her would cause me to recoil in horror, you showing me a photo of a sleeping baby would get about the same response as the aforementioned chair photo.
I'm not a complete heartless sociopath - my voice gets 6 octaves higher and I get all giddy when I see something like a basket of puppies or a kitten cuddling with a teddy bear, but this is the response of "normal" females when they see a baby/toddler/child. And of course there are significant advantages to not having kids: a recent study showed marriages were happier when the couples were childless, regardless of their age. I won't get fat against my will, my boobs won't sag before I'm 45, and I'll have this thing I've always wanted...disposable income. And free time. And a good night's sleep, every night (depending on my job, of course).
I love weddings, and I love when my friends get married and I get to be a part of it. Weddings are fun. They're parties to celebrate starting a new chapter in your life with the people closest to you. Bachelorette parties are also quite fun...you don't get those when you have a baby. You get a baby shower, which I will attend but likely not enjoy. I see only the utilitarian aspect of baby showers - you're going to need a shitton of clothes because likely your kid will piss or puke on itself multiple times a day, and it'll grow out of each size in about a week. You need certain appliances, furniture items, and other household goods to care for a baby. It'd be ridiculous if you had to buy all of that yourself. Knowing that I made someone's life a fraction of a point easier by adding to their baby's wardrobe or bottle collection makes me feel good, but really that's it. And I really hate it when people bring their babies to a baby shower. It's the last time we get to talk to this person without having a kid around, so let's USE IT WISELY.
So seriously, what's wrong with me (SPECIFICALLY relating to this, I'm not opening all doors here assholes)? People are always like "oh, you'll change your mind." No, I probably won't. I'm at an age where I should very well know whether or not I want kids because I have only about 9 years left. The most rational people think "I want kids, but I want to do X, Y, and Z first." But to me, even after I do X, Y, and Z, kids still don't seem appealing. I have the best parents ever, who were there for me all the time, always attended my games/recitals/school events, encouraged me to do what I was passionate about, and I think they raised me to be open-minded, thoughtful, and curious. They've supported me emotionally and financially through tough times, and I can call them any time. So why, if I had such a good childhood experience myself, do I not want kids of my own? Why can't I at least appreciate friends' kids because they are, well, FRIENDS' kids? Why can't I be like one of those people who enjoys kids but knows they don't want their own?
Honestly, do you know anyone else like me in this regard? I really don't think I've ever met someone with the same views as me. Close, but never the same.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
I LOVE FOOD... BUT I'M NOT A FOODIE
I love food. Like I really love it. I'm constantly thinking of what will be my next meal, or shall I say, what I WANT to be my next meal. The more ethnic the food, the better. Ethiopian? Yes. Persian? Yup. Indian? Hells to the yes. If I haven't had a country's food, you know I want to try it, because bland food makes me cry and apparently everyone has more flavorful food than America.
I will eat any animal. I will eat a vegetarian meal. I'll eat tofu, raw fish, anything pickled or fried. I do have my weird things I don't eat - hard boiled eggs, lettuce and other raw greens, fruit mixed with dairy, organs of an animal - but really my list of won't-eats is quite short. My idea of heaven is an $8 super authentic Indian buffet that makes my nose run from spice. This is making me hungry right now actually.
Food, while it used to be "nourishment," is now "trendy." Sure, a few random items added to a hamburger to make it "gourmet" can be delicious, but it damn well better fill me up. Fancy restaurants used to serve you a delicious steak and sides, but now they give you 100 plates of tiny bites of random shit. How about a 1 inch scallop seared and drizzled with a teaspoon of some sort of "confit" and stacked a foot tall on greens and other vaguely inedible items so that it looks more like Picasso than food? That'll be $45.
When I was a kid, and we got appetizers, there were enough for each member of the family to get a decent sized bite. Now, you order an appetizer and it comes on some giant plate with fucking sparkers but the actual food you get is the proper portion for a baby possum. Ohhhh I can taste the harmony of the flavors, it's like a fantasy rainbow wonderland in my mouth. Shut the fuck up. It's pretty damn good, but it'd be better if there were 6 of them on that plate.
Restaurants have now gone Lady Gaga on us, making things as weird as possible, if not weirder. Meals used to be "maple glazed salmon with a side of sauteed green beans and mashed sweet potatoes," now they've jumped over the fence to "human thumb covered in fermented bat guano mixed with raspberry puree along with a funnel-cake battered fried lamb eyeball." Even if that was your thing, they aren't going to give you enough eyeball, guano, or thumb to make you feel even CLOSE to full. It will be stacked in a 3x3 square taller than your wine glass with a little fucking flag at the top.
"Would you like the rare ahi tuna for your entree? It comes with two slices of tuna about the size of a bandaid." NO. I WANT A WHOLE GODDAMNED PIECE OF TUNA. And it better come with some sides, not just A TINY POTATO AND A SPRIG OF ROSEMARY. This is not an art gallery, I came here to EAT my food, not just LOOK at it. And if I'm paying you $100 for one person, I sure as hell better leave this restaurant feeling like I have adequate nourishment to make it to the next meal.
No, I haven't been to the newest restaurant in town. No, I haven't heard of it. No, I won't be going there. No, it's not just because I can't afford it. If Thai food happened to be $50 an entree, I'd crave it and love it and get excited about it too, and I'd actually go there for a special occasion, because that's worth my money.
I went to a trendy, nice restaurant a few months back and ordered bouillabaisse. I figured there was no way they could turn that into a miniscule portion. I was right - kind of. It appeared in a decently-sized bowl with a comfortable amount of broth and vegetables...and ONE SHRIMP and ONE MUSSEL. But it's COOL because we left the head on your shrimp for you. That cost an extra $12. Wasn't it worth it? Oh, the presentation!
I see things on the Food Network and in people's Instagram photos and think, what IS that? Sometimes the combinations sound and look absolutely repulsive. But if you eat bone marrow ice cream, you're cooler than everyone else because it's so gourmet. No, it's just fucking disgusting. And while you were spending $400 last night on dinner, I got groceries for a month and paid my car payment. Whatever happened to spending outrageous amounts of money buying shoes, or cars, or professional sports teams? At least you can use those more than once.
I will eat any animal. I will eat a vegetarian meal. I'll eat tofu, raw fish, anything pickled or fried. I do have my weird things I don't eat - hard boiled eggs, lettuce and other raw greens, fruit mixed with dairy, organs of an animal - but really my list of won't-eats is quite short. My idea of heaven is an $8 super authentic Indian buffet that makes my nose run from spice. This is making me hungry right now actually.
Food, while it used to be "nourishment," is now "trendy." Sure, a few random items added to a hamburger to make it "gourmet" can be delicious, but it damn well better fill me up. Fancy restaurants used to serve you a delicious steak and sides, but now they give you 100 plates of tiny bites of random shit. How about a 1 inch scallop seared and drizzled with a teaspoon of some sort of "confit" and stacked a foot tall on greens and other vaguely inedible items so that it looks more like Picasso than food? That'll be $45.
When I was a kid, and we got appetizers, there were enough for each member of the family to get a decent sized bite. Now, you order an appetizer and it comes on some giant plate with fucking sparkers but the actual food you get is the proper portion for a baby possum. Ohhhh I can taste the harmony of the flavors, it's like a fantasy rainbow wonderland in my mouth. Shut the fuck up. It's pretty damn good, but it'd be better if there were 6 of them on that plate.
Restaurants have now gone Lady Gaga on us, making things as weird as possible, if not weirder. Meals used to be "maple glazed salmon with a side of sauteed green beans and mashed sweet potatoes," now they've jumped over the fence to "human thumb covered in fermented bat guano mixed with raspberry puree along with a funnel-cake battered fried lamb eyeball." Even if that was your thing, they aren't going to give you enough eyeball, guano, or thumb to make you feel even CLOSE to full. It will be stacked in a 3x3 square taller than your wine glass with a little fucking flag at the top.
"Would you like the rare ahi tuna for your entree? It comes with two slices of tuna about the size of a bandaid." NO. I WANT A WHOLE GODDAMNED PIECE OF TUNA. And it better come with some sides, not just A TINY POTATO AND A SPRIG OF ROSEMARY. This is not an art gallery, I came here to EAT my food, not just LOOK at it. And if I'm paying you $100 for one person, I sure as hell better leave this restaurant feeling like I have adequate nourishment to make it to the next meal.
No, I haven't been to the newest restaurant in town. No, I haven't heard of it. No, I won't be going there. No, it's not just because I can't afford it. If Thai food happened to be $50 an entree, I'd crave it and love it and get excited about it too, and I'd actually go there for a special occasion, because that's worth my money.
I went to a trendy, nice restaurant a few months back and ordered bouillabaisse. I figured there was no way they could turn that into a miniscule portion. I was right - kind of. It appeared in a decently-sized bowl with a comfortable amount of broth and vegetables...and ONE SHRIMP and ONE MUSSEL. But it's COOL because we left the head on your shrimp for you. That cost an extra $12. Wasn't it worth it? Oh, the presentation!
I see things on the Food Network and in people's Instagram photos and think, what IS that? Sometimes the combinations sound and look absolutely repulsive. But if you eat bone marrow ice cream, you're cooler than everyone else because it's so gourmet. No, it's just fucking disgusting. And while you were spending $400 last night on dinner, I got groceries for a month and paid my car payment. Whatever happened to spending outrageous amounts of money buying shoes, or cars, or professional sports teams? At least you can use those more than once.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
FIVE YEARS
So much can change in such a short time. In middle school, I had a Garth Brooks CD that I listened to over and over, which may come as a surprise to anyone who knows me now and my extreme dislike for country music. There was a song on there that always resonated with me - "Unanswered Prayers." True, I don't believe in god or prayers, but the sentiment was the same as dreams or wishes that don't come true. Perhaps then I didn't have real life experience with anything major like that, but that song is more relevant right now than ever before.
Five years ago this Friday (yes, I remember the exact date), I was dumped by the person I thought I was going to marry. Yes, I'm lucky that this has been one of the very very few traumatic events in my life, and I'm grateful for that. But at the time, it was the most earth-shattering thing that could possibly happen. I had just passed the Texas bar exam, was almost 26 years old, and my friends were getting married left and right (it was Texas, that's what they do there).
I'd planned out my life in my head - I'd be a state prosecutor for a few years, then I'd move up to be a US Attorney, marrying this guy and having a wonderful life. We'd discussed moving wherever the first one of us got a job. It was my first "mature" relationship and the first one I actually thought, more than just hoped, would lead to marriage. When we broke up, my world fell to pieces. I hadn't thought of what could happen if we weren't together. I hadn't planned on being single at 26 while all my friends were married or with the person they were going to marry.
Within a week, I had to move to a job I didn't want in a place I didn't want to live - a job I'd applied for only because he said he'd move with me. But a job is a job, and people weren't exactly throwing money at me at the time. I can't say that I wasn't on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.
In the back of my mind, I had always known I wanted to get back to California. It was one of the most important plans of my life. In fact, I had signed up for and paid to take the California bar exam when I met my ex, and because of him I paid the late fee to take the Texas bar and stay there. California would have to wait.
My job turned out to be one of the most horrific experiences of my life, with legitimate harassment, bullying, and emotional distress on the part of the other attorneys who targeted me because I wasn't a republican and a Christian. It got so bad that after a year, I had to quit. Like "I have a legitimate case for hostile work environment and would win a lawsuit" had to quit. I had nowhere to go, so I moved in with my parents in Missouri.
Hindsight is 20/20, and now I see exactly how lucky I was. Had we continued to date, I couldn't just up and quit a job and run away like that. I'd have had to stay in the same small legal community at least and deal with people I'd dealt with before. I couldn't have moved to Missouri, taken that bar, and gotten a job in Kansas City. And when I realized law wasn't right for me, I couldn't just up and leave for LA with a Honda Civic full of nothing but clothes and toiletries.
While I've had some hard (financial) times out here, the last 2.5 years have been the best of my entire life. I live in a place where I can be myself, where people understand me, where people share my point of view, where open-mindedness is the norm. I couldn't have made the career change I did and go back to school, taking out more loans, if I was attached or married. I'm with my closest friends - people who always have my back - and I am back at USC. I'm redeeming myself for having left after one semester. I'm going to be an alum, finally, of a school I love and am proud of. I look out the window of my living room and see the Hollywood sign. I can go to the beach whenever I want. I live in the most beautiful place in the continental US and have the best friends in the world.
If he hadn't broken up with me, chances are I'd be married, still an attorney, and still in Texas. And I would be fucking miserable. As much as I wanted to and thought it would happen, he'd never leave Texas. I'd never have gotten here, to this point in my life that I'm so grateful to be in. I started to become who I am when I was in law school, but I didn't finish until I made it out here. I'm not the same person I was 5 years ago. I'm...happy.
All I wanted for so long was to be with him. But if it's not right, it's not right. I haven't talked to him since March 2008. While I know what he's doing, because of mutual friends, he's honestly just "somebody that I used to know." Every morning when I wake up and I look out my window, I think about how lucky I am. How I'm exactly where I want to be, and it's exactly as wonderful as I'd hoped. And how none of this would have been possible without me having to experience that heartbreak. As good of a person as he is and as much as I loved him at that time, I am eternally grateful to him for ending it. I will always remember, from then on, to be grateful for "unanswered prayers."
Five years ago this Friday (yes, I remember the exact date), I was dumped by the person I thought I was going to marry. Yes, I'm lucky that this has been one of the very very few traumatic events in my life, and I'm grateful for that. But at the time, it was the most earth-shattering thing that could possibly happen. I had just passed the Texas bar exam, was almost 26 years old, and my friends were getting married left and right (it was Texas, that's what they do there).
I'd planned out my life in my head - I'd be a state prosecutor for a few years, then I'd move up to be a US Attorney, marrying this guy and having a wonderful life. We'd discussed moving wherever the first one of us got a job. It was my first "mature" relationship and the first one I actually thought, more than just hoped, would lead to marriage. When we broke up, my world fell to pieces. I hadn't thought of what could happen if we weren't together. I hadn't planned on being single at 26 while all my friends were married or with the person they were going to marry.
Within a week, I had to move to a job I didn't want in a place I didn't want to live - a job I'd applied for only because he said he'd move with me. But a job is a job, and people weren't exactly throwing money at me at the time. I can't say that I wasn't on the verge of a complete mental breakdown.
In the back of my mind, I had always known I wanted to get back to California. It was one of the most important plans of my life. In fact, I had signed up for and paid to take the California bar exam when I met my ex, and because of him I paid the late fee to take the Texas bar and stay there. California would have to wait.
My job turned out to be one of the most horrific experiences of my life, with legitimate harassment, bullying, and emotional distress on the part of the other attorneys who targeted me because I wasn't a republican and a Christian. It got so bad that after a year, I had to quit. Like "I have a legitimate case for hostile work environment and would win a lawsuit" had to quit. I had nowhere to go, so I moved in with my parents in Missouri.
Hindsight is 20/20, and now I see exactly how lucky I was. Had we continued to date, I couldn't just up and quit a job and run away like that. I'd have had to stay in the same small legal community at least and deal with people I'd dealt with before. I couldn't have moved to Missouri, taken that bar, and gotten a job in Kansas City. And when I realized law wasn't right for me, I couldn't just up and leave for LA with a Honda Civic full of nothing but clothes and toiletries.
While I've had some hard (financial) times out here, the last 2.5 years have been the best of my entire life. I live in a place where I can be myself, where people understand me, where people share my point of view, where open-mindedness is the norm. I couldn't have made the career change I did and go back to school, taking out more loans, if I was attached or married. I'm with my closest friends - people who always have my back - and I am back at USC. I'm redeeming myself for having left after one semester. I'm going to be an alum, finally, of a school I love and am proud of. I look out the window of my living room and see the Hollywood sign. I can go to the beach whenever I want. I live in the most beautiful place in the continental US and have the best friends in the world.
If he hadn't broken up with me, chances are I'd be married, still an attorney, and still in Texas. And I would be fucking miserable. As much as I wanted to and thought it would happen, he'd never leave Texas. I'd never have gotten here, to this point in my life that I'm so grateful to be in. I started to become who I am when I was in law school, but I didn't finish until I made it out here. I'm not the same person I was 5 years ago. I'm...happy.
All I wanted for so long was to be with him. But if it's not right, it's not right. I haven't talked to him since March 2008. While I know what he's doing, because of mutual friends, he's honestly just "somebody that I used to know." Every morning when I wake up and I look out my window, I think about how lucky I am. How I'm exactly where I want to be, and it's exactly as wonderful as I'd hoped. And how none of this would have been possible without me having to experience that heartbreak. As good of a person as he is and as much as I loved him at that time, I am eternally grateful to him for ending it. I will always remember, from then on, to be grateful for "unanswered prayers."
NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS
I suppose I should call them "goals" because "resolution" implies more determination than I'm willing to give this. But here we go...
1) Do not end up in Chinese prison.
2) Gain some muscle back that was lost in my mass exodus of weight beginning with poverty and ending with the realization I'm lactose intolerant.
3) Get all As or A-s in both semesters of school - that B in research really pissed me off, not that it wasn't expected.
4) Don't spend so much money on eating out (I'm looking at you, Lemonade, for being so convenient, delicious, and having vegetables so I believe it's worth the money).
5) Learn enough Mandarin so people in Shanghai are impressed with how well a dumb blonde American can communicate.
6) Find an age-appropriate male to fill the long-vacant position of "boyfriend."
7) Spend more time at the beach. I slacked in 2012, but I think that had to do with being too poor to drive there most of the year, then too busy once school started.
8) Between my internships in LA and Shanghai, figure out what the hell I might want to do with myself when I graduate.
9) Raise my credit score from "are you fucking kidding me" to "eh, not that bad."
10) Take down the Christmas tree I'm staring at right now as I blog and don't take it down.
11) Go to bed before 1am every night.
12) Find Indian food close to me, because I'm starting to have withdrawals.
13) Remember to drink enough water so I don't randomly end up in the hospital again for dehydration.
That's good enough. 13 for 2013. I have a feeling it's going to be an awesome year, provided I don't get caught using Facebook in China and end up in Chinese prison.
1) Do not end up in Chinese prison.
2) Gain some muscle back that was lost in my mass exodus of weight beginning with poverty and ending with the realization I'm lactose intolerant.
3) Get all As or A-s in both semesters of school - that B in research really pissed me off, not that it wasn't expected.
4) Don't spend so much money on eating out (I'm looking at you, Lemonade, for being so convenient, delicious, and having vegetables so I believe it's worth the money).
5) Learn enough Mandarin so people in Shanghai are impressed with how well a dumb blonde American can communicate.
6) Find an age-appropriate male to fill the long-vacant position of "boyfriend."
7) Spend more time at the beach. I slacked in 2012, but I think that had to do with being too poor to drive there most of the year, then too busy once school started.
8) Between my internships in LA and Shanghai, figure out what the hell I might want to do with myself when I graduate.
9) Raise my credit score from "are you fucking kidding me" to "eh, not that bad."
10) Take down the Christmas tree I'm staring at right now as I blog and don't take it down.
11) Go to bed before 1am every night.
12) Find Indian food close to me, because I'm starting to have withdrawals.
13) Remember to drink enough water so I don't randomly end up in the hospital again for dehydration.
That's good enough. 13 for 2013. I have a feeling it's going to be an awesome year, provided I don't get caught using Facebook in China and end up in Chinese prison.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
MERRY CHRISTMAS, YOU ENTITLED SHITS
I always find myself with fantastic blog ideas right around the time when I should be doing other things, so the fact that I have 2 group projects due in less than a week means I'm feeling damned creative and am ready to procrastinate the fuck out of this evening.
While driving across town at 8pm this evening to get my hair cut in someone's living room, I did a very dishonorable, embarrassing thing - I listened to KOST 103.5 for their 24/7 Christmas music extravaganza. Generally it's the same songs, Mariah Carey or Bing Crosby, but not tonight. No feel good warm fuzzies for this drive. Immediately upon turning on the radio, an 80s-ish sounding song comes on. I listen to the words, since it's not a traditional Christmas song...and suddenly David Bowie or who the hell ever starts singing about how there's no food or rain in Africa, and do they even know it's Christmas?
First of all, this is quite contrary to what I know about the rains in Africa - I bless those rains. Second, WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO DEPRESS ME? Seriously, the whole song was like "everything sucks, people have no food, it's a drought, we're so angsty, Africa is full of sad dying people, do they even know it's Christmas?" all with cheerful-sounding sleigh bells in the background. Come on, KOST, just because the song says the word "Christmas" doesn't necessarily mean it's a cheerful holiday tune. (And for the record, it was "Do they even know it's Christmas" by "Band Aid" - some random charity shit I remember vaguely being made fun of on SNL in the early 90s)
Why do you think I listen exclusively to KDAY? I don't want to hear about starving people, I want to hear about that Maserati you bought with your drug money and all the hos you got up in your grill. That's some happy shit right there. Cristal poppin in the stretch Navigator... how's that NOT UPLIFTING? But I digress.
Luckily Whiney McSadness was quickly followed by Little Drummer Boy, which took me off suicide watch, but also got me thinking. Christmas songs are fucking stupid. Hey, I'm a poor kid and I want to bring you a baby gift, but since I can't buy anything, how about I show up at your house while your baby sleeps and BANG ON MY DRUMS? Sound good? Sweet, because that's what's gonna happen. Babies love loud noises, this is going to go over great. I'm going to show up in my friend's hospital room someday with a drumset after she gives birth and take great offense when she tells me to get the fuck out, because obviously Jesus thought this was a cool ass gift.
And "chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." Has anyone ever even eaten a chestnut? I know they must exist, if only because of that song and the fact that things like horses and wood and hair can be chestnut-colored. I've had walnuts, peanuts, Brazil nuts (that'd be a good song), pistachios, macadamia nuts, almonds, I can keep going here...seriously, name me a food that has chestnuts. Tell me the last time you ate one. Why on earth are they associated with Christmas? If they were so awesome wouldn't they bust out the chestnuts in early November right along with the canned pumpkin and egg nog? Can't they just change the song to smores? I know that's not Christmassy, but it's the only believable thing that can be roasted on an open fire, unless you want to go all out with a whole pig or something. But, for simplicity's sake, we'll do smores.
I've already expressed my displeasure with the leaping lords of the 12 Days of Christmas. While a friend on facebook explained the symbolism of all the gifts in the song, she failed to find an answer for why the hell the lords LEAP. Despite my relatively small bank of knowledge on British aristocracy, I'm pretty sure "leaping" wasn't something lords did frequently. Perhaps it's a German thing. But then it probably would have been "kaisers kicking," which I'm actually pretty sure kaisers would do on occasion, whether it be small animals, servants, or their wives. Couldn't lords loiter? Or just lord, perhaps? I mean, they let the drummers drum, so why get all complicated. Lords can lord over their serfs. Done and done. But fancy Christmas song man would prefer they leap. Because of this I request a video of the House of Lords in a spontaneous group leap.
And because KOST is a family-friendly station and apparently Adam Sandler doesn't live up to that label, my favorite Christmas song, "The Hannukah Song," is never played. It's SO GOOD. It MAKES SENSE. No chestnuts or drumming for babies or leaping lords, just drinking gin and tonnakah and smoking marijuannakah. Have a happy, happy, happy Hannukah...
And people wonder why I wanted to be a Jew when I was a kid.
While driving across town at 8pm this evening to get my hair cut in someone's living room, I did a very dishonorable, embarrassing thing - I listened to KOST 103.5 for their 24/7 Christmas music extravaganza. Generally it's the same songs, Mariah Carey or Bing Crosby, but not tonight. No feel good warm fuzzies for this drive. Immediately upon turning on the radio, an 80s-ish sounding song comes on. I listen to the words, since it's not a traditional Christmas song...and suddenly David Bowie or who the hell ever starts singing about how there's no food or rain in Africa, and do they even know it's Christmas?
First of all, this is quite contrary to what I know about the rains in Africa - I bless those rains. Second, WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO DEPRESS ME? Seriously, the whole song was like "everything sucks, people have no food, it's a drought, we're so angsty, Africa is full of sad dying people, do they even know it's Christmas?" all with cheerful-sounding sleigh bells in the background. Come on, KOST, just because the song says the word "Christmas" doesn't necessarily mean it's a cheerful holiday tune. (And for the record, it was "Do they even know it's Christmas" by "Band Aid" - some random charity shit I remember vaguely being made fun of on SNL in the early 90s)
Why do you think I listen exclusively to KDAY? I don't want to hear about starving people, I want to hear about that Maserati you bought with your drug money and all the hos you got up in your grill. That's some happy shit right there. Cristal poppin in the stretch Navigator... how's that NOT UPLIFTING? But I digress.
Luckily Whiney McSadness was quickly followed by Little Drummer Boy, which took me off suicide watch, but also got me thinking. Christmas songs are fucking stupid. Hey, I'm a poor kid and I want to bring you a baby gift, but since I can't buy anything, how about I show up at your house while your baby sleeps and BANG ON MY DRUMS? Sound good? Sweet, because that's what's gonna happen. Babies love loud noises, this is going to go over great. I'm going to show up in my friend's hospital room someday with a drumset after she gives birth and take great offense when she tells me to get the fuck out, because obviously Jesus thought this was a cool ass gift.
And "chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." Has anyone ever even eaten a chestnut? I know they must exist, if only because of that song and the fact that things like horses and wood and hair can be chestnut-colored. I've had walnuts, peanuts, Brazil nuts (that'd be a good song), pistachios, macadamia nuts, almonds, I can keep going here...seriously, name me a food that has chestnuts. Tell me the last time you ate one. Why on earth are they associated with Christmas? If they were so awesome wouldn't they bust out the chestnuts in early November right along with the canned pumpkin and egg nog? Can't they just change the song to smores? I know that's not Christmassy, but it's the only believable thing that can be roasted on an open fire, unless you want to go all out with a whole pig or something. But, for simplicity's sake, we'll do smores.
I've already expressed my displeasure with the leaping lords of the 12 Days of Christmas. While a friend on facebook explained the symbolism of all the gifts in the song, she failed to find an answer for why the hell the lords LEAP. Despite my relatively small bank of knowledge on British aristocracy, I'm pretty sure "leaping" wasn't something lords did frequently. Perhaps it's a German thing. But then it probably would have been "kaisers kicking," which I'm actually pretty sure kaisers would do on occasion, whether it be small animals, servants, or their wives. Couldn't lords loiter? Or just lord, perhaps? I mean, they let the drummers drum, so why get all complicated. Lords can lord over their serfs. Done and done. But fancy Christmas song man would prefer they leap. Because of this I request a video of the House of Lords in a spontaneous group leap.
And because KOST is a family-friendly station and apparently Adam Sandler doesn't live up to that label, my favorite Christmas song, "The Hannukah Song," is never played. It's SO GOOD. It MAKES SENSE. No chestnuts or drumming for babies or leaping lords, just drinking gin and tonnakah and smoking marijuannakah. Have a happy, happy, happy Hannukah...
And people wonder why I wanted to be a Jew when I was a kid.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
AN OPEN LETTER TO EVERYONE
I have been called many things in my life, and a great deal of them are true. I may be a bit overbearing, sometimes I'm depressing, I can get annoying, I can be a bitch, I might flake on you at the last minute, I procrastinate better than most, I'm self-deprecating, sometimes I make bad decisions, I'm not good with money, I tend to not make up my mind, I have some anger management issues, I'm on a shitton of medication, and often times I don't think before I speak. I may be inappropriate, immature, and not "professional." Perhaps that's because I was required to act like a 40 year old for two full years while putting the scum of the earth in jail. Maybe I need a little bit of a breather.
Let me tell you something. I have managed to go 30 years without being arrested, called into the principal's office, disciplined at work, or getting in a physical fight. I graduated from high school having never had a drink of an alcoholic beverage with a 3.8 gpa, was accepted into multiple top-twenty undergraduate universities, and received a scholarship at the one I attended and a full scholarship to another. I never got into trouble in college, I never got cited for drinking underage, I never even got kicked out of a party.
I've never smoked a cigarette. As stated by one of the members of my sorority in college, "Not even when you were 13 and it was cool?" Nope. Never. With the exception of the 9-0, which barely counts due to a complete and utter lack of following the law, I never entered a bar before the age of 21. I never owned a fake ID. I'm probably one of the only people who made it through adolescence without shoplifting something minor like a lipstick or nail polish.
What's the consensus here? I'm not a thief. I'm not a liar. I may make questionable decisions about my finances, about where I park my car, about what I do on any given night, but I am not a criminal. Let me say that again. I DO NOT LIE. Regardless of the consequences, I AM NOT A LIAR. I DO NOT LIE, DO NOT CALL ME A LIAR YOU WORTHLESS FUCK. You can tell me all the things I've done wrong in the past year, and lying is NOT one of them.
Yes, I may have two (.25) degrees. I may be a licensed attorney in two states. I may be back at school for the third time ON SCHOLARSHIP because I won't settle for a job I don't like. I'm sorry I'm older than you and generally more successful. I'm sorry I'm more attractive than you and I get hit on every day by cops and people who come in to the office. I'm sorry you feel you need to be a ginormous bitch because you're a woman and a glorified secretary. I'm sorry that I actually did the work I was supposed to do without bitching despite the fact that I was being paid 1/4 of what I was paid as a contract attorney. I'm sorry I'm doing something with my life and you're stuck in a dead-end job that, without a peace officer's license, will never amount to more than a highly trained administrative assistant. And I'm sorry that I made a mistake that you will not acknowledge IS NOT A LIE. I admit my faults. I admit when I fuck up. I did fuck up, but I in NO WAY lied about it. Why the hell would I tell people if I thought something I was doing was illegal? "Yeah, I've got this meth I'm gonna go sell in the middle of campus, I'll be there in 5, send your friends." I'm not a fucking moron. I've dealt with morons. I was a goddamned prosecutor. Some people are liars, and some people make mistakes. I can tell the difference. Sorry you can't.
You can ask any friend of mine, or any person who knows me. I have faults, I have weaknesses, but I am trustworthy and I am honest. Even people who think I'm a ginormous bitch know I'm honest. Probably because I was being honest when I was being a ginormous bitch. I'm not going to be fake, or pretend to be something I'm not. If I don't feel comfortable talking to someone about something, I just keep it inside, I don't lie about it. I'm not sure if it's jealousy or simply female on female angst, but I know a male in your position would have at least listened to me and not called me a liar multiple times. Call me lazy, call me mean, call me unprofessional, call me conniving, call me vengeful, but DO NOT CALL ME A LIAR, because that is at least ONE THING that you can say about me that is untrue. I hope you're as miserable as you seem to be on a daily basis. Go fuck yourself.
Let me tell you something. I have managed to go 30 years without being arrested, called into the principal's office, disciplined at work, or getting in a physical fight. I graduated from high school having never had a drink of an alcoholic beverage with a 3.8 gpa, was accepted into multiple top-twenty undergraduate universities, and received a scholarship at the one I attended and a full scholarship to another. I never got into trouble in college, I never got cited for drinking underage, I never even got kicked out of a party.
I've never smoked a cigarette. As stated by one of the members of my sorority in college, "Not even when you were 13 and it was cool?" Nope. Never. With the exception of the 9-0, which barely counts due to a complete and utter lack of following the law, I never entered a bar before the age of 21. I never owned a fake ID. I'm probably one of the only people who made it through adolescence without shoplifting something minor like a lipstick or nail polish.
What's the consensus here? I'm not a thief. I'm not a liar. I may make questionable decisions about my finances, about where I park my car, about what I do on any given night, but I am not a criminal. Let me say that again. I DO NOT LIE. Regardless of the consequences, I AM NOT A LIAR. I DO NOT LIE, DO NOT CALL ME A LIAR YOU WORTHLESS FUCK. You can tell me all the things I've done wrong in the past year, and lying is NOT one of them.
Yes, I may have two (.25) degrees. I may be a licensed attorney in two states. I may be back at school for the third time ON SCHOLARSHIP because I won't settle for a job I don't like. I'm sorry I'm older than you and generally more successful. I'm sorry I'm more attractive than you and I get hit on every day by cops and people who come in to the office. I'm sorry you feel you need to be a ginormous bitch because you're a woman and a glorified secretary. I'm sorry that I actually did the work I was supposed to do without bitching despite the fact that I was being paid 1/4 of what I was paid as a contract attorney. I'm sorry I'm doing something with my life and you're stuck in a dead-end job that, without a peace officer's license, will never amount to more than a highly trained administrative assistant. And I'm sorry that I made a mistake that you will not acknowledge IS NOT A LIE. I admit my faults. I admit when I fuck up. I did fuck up, but I in NO WAY lied about it. Why the hell would I tell people if I thought something I was doing was illegal? "Yeah, I've got this meth I'm gonna go sell in the middle of campus, I'll be there in 5, send your friends." I'm not a fucking moron. I've dealt with morons. I was a goddamned prosecutor. Some people are liars, and some people make mistakes. I can tell the difference. Sorry you can't.
You can ask any friend of mine, or any person who knows me. I have faults, I have weaknesses, but I am trustworthy and I am honest. Even people who think I'm a ginormous bitch know I'm honest. Probably because I was being honest when I was being a ginormous bitch. I'm not going to be fake, or pretend to be something I'm not. If I don't feel comfortable talking to someone about something, I just keep it inside, I don't lie about it. I'm not sure if it's jealousy or simply female on female angst, but I know a male in your position would have at least listened to me and not called me a liar multiple times. Call me lazy, call me mean, call me unprofessional, call me conniving, call me vengeful, but DO NOT CALL ME A LIAR, because that is at least ONE THING that you can say about me that is untrue. I hope you're as miserable as you seem to be on a daily basis. Go fuck yourself.
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