The phillies are world champs! As if you didn't know already! (you did know...didn't you?) The parade is today, but i'm sure the festivities well continue on well into the weekend, a weekend filled with trademark rudeness(did hear the fans booing the mlb commissioner...and the MAYOR? i shouldnt laugh but lol) in addition to our gastronomic treasury of cheesesteaks, soft pretzels, yuenglings and wooder[sic] ice. The staples of a true philadelphian - we didn't earn the fat rep for nothin! *rubs distended belly*
Have a good one everybody!
The Roots - Do You Want More (philly music is appropriate i think)
(warning: this is one of *those* entries. girlie, harangue-ey and shamelessly lacking substance. You know the routine, read or click the x. Its up to you.)
you'd think that something as trivial as buying clothes would be easy to do right? its not. its an agony to itself, peculiar to women (and an assortment of beau brummells) and should only be attempted when sound of mind, physically confident, and not retaining water. At the moment, im totally neither. In fact i'd venture that the allies had an easier time setting the terms of the treaty of versailles then i have been having shopping for new threads. My punishment for flouting the rules.
As you may not know, my grandparents 60th anniversary is on the horizon. In celebration of this momentous occasion, their children have conspired to throw what is turning out to be a gala event. (i could have said party but gala sounds much more festive wouldn't you agree?)
for the last month I have been dress shopping in preparation for this affair. its been a month of utter disappointment, aggravation, and exasperation. Iced with a dollop of despair. A result of me not being able to find anything to wear.
what fits on top doesn't fit on the bottom.
what fits on the bottom doesn't fit on the top.
it makes me look fat.
it makes me look old.
its too "styled."
its too long.
its too short.
its too revealing(not trying to have cougars see all that titty)
ITS TOO MUCH!
This all bears out the idiocy of procrastination. I knew about this event for months, yea, over a year, and still i waited until the last minute to find something decent to wear. The pressure is high, and if i am being honest, more than a little self imposed. If i had gotten the outfit together before now i wouldn't be having this problem.
On top of everything else i seem to have a latent dromedary gene. Whats that you say? Well I get rid of/minimize fat in one location only to have it appear somewhere else. My lovely lady lumps are no more than fat conduits."Oooh baby, My lipid game is tight!" Is my rallying cry, but really no matter how much i spin it, its still a revolting development. (I'm not sure which of my antecedents i have to thank for this affliction, though i have my suspicions.) While i'm sure this "advantage" would be beneficial in the sahara, its not what's up in the mid atlantic.
Dress code is formal and so far I have found nothing I like that would also be flattering on me. I'm going for a sleek simple look, and the gowns that I find absolutely stunning are those that would look perfect...on a 5'9 120lb woman. I'm 5'3 and my proportions are...dubious. At best. I have um...lots of extra-curricular activities about my person, and as much as I love shopping, its an exercise that brings all my insecurities to the fore. Its as excruciating as it is enjoyable. I mean really, there are so many insecurities to explore and exploit! like how grizzled i look under unforgiving fluorescent lights. Or how my my thighs are "whey" gross. Or why my upper arms are so flabby. The humiliating experience of the rheumy eyed jewish lady, aromatic with the fragrance of shalamar, coming in the dressing room and asking me if everything was ok, and did i need to her to get me a size up? At this last indecency its was a wonder that I didn't run out of Saks, singletary-eyed and screaming like a banshee.
Of course I could wear something I already have, but what's the fun in that? The "ing" in shopping stands for acquiring you know. Why scorn an opportunity to build up my wardrobe? Besides its a pretty big deal this anniversary. There will be attendees from here(where they lived for 40 years) and SC, where they live currently. On such a stage who wants to look fug?
you see I have lots of excuses for buying something new, i just don't have the cojones to face the reality that is me when it come to putting this stuff on. Its like everything blows up in the time it takes to get from my house to the store. I leave my home a size six and arrive at my destination a size sixteen! Then i look in the dressing room mirror, and my reflection is all "why bother?" Bulges heretofore unseen, eroding what what was left of my confidence. Its a cruel world, an unforgiving world. A world that can only to be weathered with mood lighting and foundation garments.
?mark asylum - Hey look away ( the swan song of the fug :P)
(I usually don't blog during the day, since i have to focus on my work my mind being in too many places for me to string coherent thoughts together, but since its friday i decided i can bend the(self imposed) rules a bit. )
So i'm usually immune and/or ignorant of cultural phenomena. Especially with regards to television, since i don't watch it much, and what i do watch tends to be educational. Not that i have high standards or anything. In fact my threshold for sub standard tv is pretty high, as evidenced by my reality tv addiction. In a shameful display of my gaucherie, i bought season one of newlyweds on dvd.("chicken of the sea? fish or chicken?") I also plan on buying the kardashians (that kim is SOOO ca-uuuute!) and the hills(ooh that spencer pratt is such a douche!)No, its not because i have standards. Just for reasons unknown, most shows that took/take the general public by storm I haven't seen.
I missed the whole "the wire" thing, I've never watched heroes or lost(they always seemed like the same show to me), have never seen more than 20 mins of sex and the city, and -im pleased to announce - I've never once watched flavor of love, or any of its spin offs. Now that is one show that i refuse to watch, low standards or no. The idea of a show featuring flavOR flav as some sort of lothario offended every one of my sensibilities. And the spectre of witnessing him slobbing down a woman at any time was just too much. No thanks. I decline. Speaking of which, is it me or does "New York" look like that muppet janice? And whats up with that show with bret michaels? "Rock of flavor of i love new york" or...something. Never seen any of them. In fact, "the office" is the only "new" show of recent memory that i actively follow. I love the office. By the way i hate that the writers got pam and jim together, it ruined the tension. But other than that and the sprinkling of the reality shows that are my weakness, I'm not up on whats happening in the world of TV.
But mad men sounds interesting. Interesting and promising given that i've only i've heard and read glowing reviews about it. But those glowing reviews are enough so that i feel almost compelled to see what all the fuss is about. I have no idea what the storyline is (they're men...who're mad?) but I do know that I love the 1950s inspired attire. I mean really, can you deny the appeal of men and women who dressed, not just for special occasions - but all the time? Thats partially the reason i love old movies so much, its a visual respite from the nonsense i see today, where people seem to take pride in looking as unkempt as possible. Anyway, the plan is to go online later on and see if i can find a few episodes and learn whats up. Brylcreem and bad boys. Yumm.
So i finally decided to send a caption for the New Yorker's weekly "caption this" contest. I've been a subscriber to the New Yorker for a minute, and ever since they instituted the "caption this" segment, i've toyed with the idea of making a submission. However my insecurity at not being funny or abstract enough would usually prevail, and i'd change my mind at the last minute. This time i decided to follow through. There isn't a monetary prize, but you do get the signed picture with your caption - and of course your name in the New Yorker. This could be my big break! lol Send out positive vibes for me will ya?
In other news the man Stephen Hawking will be retiring from his post as lucasian professor of mathematics at Cambridge. Let us take a minute to absorb this information. Do you know what this means? This means he'll be free. This means he'll have a lot more time on his hands. This means, that i need to stop playing and begin composition of a billet doux - such as the world has never seen - and state my affections, lest some piece of fast baggage get him. Special shout out to my homie Rashad for doing me the ultimate solid and apprising me of this information.
Happiness is... five different crayons catching a firefly
setting him free
- Happiness; You're a good man Charlie Brown
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
So, I was in Chubb's blog earlier reading this entry.
It struck a chord within me.
I haven't been happy in a long time. No wait. Strike that. That's NOT what i mean. I have been happy. There have been moments of utter euphoria that if it was possible to bottle them up i would - just so that i could keep them forever. Take them out, pet them, polish them, make them as new as they day they came into existence.
But. Even in my most ecstatic moments there is a hint of dolor; my feelings on the daily more of contentment than true happiness. At least happiness as i think it to be.There is always something in the back of my mind - a concern, an issue, - that doesn't allow me to fully enjoy andbe. Even in my most blissful moments.
One friday afternoon, when I about 11 years old, my parents surprised me and my brother with Nintendo. Not only Nintendo, but the power pad AND the gun! After months of begging and pleading and accusing our parents of wanting us to be laughing stocks of the community(because everybody else had one. typical ploy of a child) we finally got our wish! My brother and I screamed -well, i screamed, he just smiled really hard. (boys) - when my parents presented us with the bounty. And to top it all off, they uncharacteristically allowed us to sit in front of the TV and play till our heart's content.( i think i got up to level 5 of super mario bros that night.) Their gift was so unexpected, so generous, so fantastic - that we were continually pinching ourselves, in reassurance that it wasn't all a dream. For the remainder of the weekend I walked around with a smile on my face. My spirit one of joy. I was happy.
That's the happiness I'm talking about. That's the happiness I haven't experienced in too long.
Happiness not accompanied by caveats and codicils. Happiness not burdened with worries and fears. Happiness that isn't borne of relief that the worst hasn't happened. Happiness that is only because the alternative is not an option.
Does that kind of happiness -happiness in its purest form - only exist in the psyche of the child? The other day i was walking to the local bodega, and the children from the nearby daycare were out playing. There was so much laughter and squeals of joy that i stopped in my tracks on the way home to watch them for a moment.(no pedo) They were the cutest things! Their giddiness rubbed off on me and i smiled the rest of the way.
Is it silly to think that as an adult I could experience that kind of carefree exuberance once more? When I think about those children playing and my own moments of boundless joy - those experienced as a child and young adult, its makes what I now call happy seem so hollow in comparison.
Part of pilates - and yoga too i assume - is breathing. In general most humans are shallow breathers. These shallow breaths keep us alive, but not in optimal health. Our lungs have a far greater capacity for taking in air than most of us realize. It is the instructors desire to not only get you in shape physically, but to get you to utilize your lungs to the greatest extent. Breathing correctly also gives you the added bonus of being able to perform the exercises better. Funny that learning how to breathe was more difficult than the exercise itself. Breathing, an activity i do all day, everyday, as involuntary as blinking and swallowing - was a challenge. (there's a message in there somewhere i'm sure.)It felt strange, these deep deliberate breaths. but once i had it down, i realized exactly how beneficial it was. My thoughts were clear, i had a greater attention span, i was better able to focus. Immediately i began to wonder how in the world i was functioning before.
And so it is with my happiness quotient. I have a greater capacity to experience than happiness i use. My joie de vivre has suffered from my shallow "breaths." Is it possible to get the magic back?
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