I'm a sucker.
Not gullible, not common-sense challenged, not afraid in any way of confrontation.
A sucker.
I'm an advertiser's dream. Short of buying things off of the TV and texting 'match' to 4469 or whatever that gimmick text-messaging scam is, I'm not a hard sell. If I see Taylor Swift singing her heart out while wearing some Covergirl lipstick, I will google the shit out of it until I find the exact shade of lipstick. The color may look like shit on me, but by then it's too late because by then I've already let my imagination run rampant and seen myself up on stage, crooning to a jam-packed stadium of adoring fans, and BY GOD if I'm not there yet, that LIPSTICK will nudge me the rest of the way.
Right?
I know that I'm not Taylor Swift, and I really have no desire to be famous, sing in front of thousands of people, or even be blonde; I genuinely like being a brunette, for all intents and purposes. But the picture of it all, the entire scene laid out that way and the hint of a promise that I could have it all, it reaches out and snatches me from the doldrums of my significantly less glamour-filled life. Hey, at least I can wear the same lipstick though, that's something. So I'll go to five different stores just to find it, because I've obviously got nothing better to do, like the dishes, or exercise, or figureout what I actually DO have a snowball's chance in hell of succeeding at in the long-run.
Sucker.
When a Target commercial comes on, I will, I kid you not, SHUSH the other people in the room. Even if I'm a guest in their home. They don't even say anything in Target commercials, I swear it's always just some cheerfully covered Beatles song or something. But Target sells me the idea of a squeaky-clean life, where everything exists in coordinating colors, and filth and rubbish and ugly carpet don't exist. Um, duh. OF COURSE I'm listening when they're talking. Target doesn't have bad hair days, they've got every product under the sun to make your hair look just like their models. Target doesn't have piles of clutter and old mail that no one bothered to organize, it has file folders and office organizers.
Etc, etc, every other GD store with a commercial in print, radio, or television.
I know it's not feasible, that nothing I can buy will give me exactly what I want- but they make it seem that easy, so WHY CAN'T IT JUST BE THAT SIMPLE? I just need this or that and everything will be peachy fucking keen.
Sucker.
And finally, when I get in front of the boob tube and there's a show on with meaningless petty drama, pretty dresses, and women who feel entitled to fame because they have too much money and wear too much makeup- I will stare glassy-eyed until the conclusion of the show. I don't know these people, nor do I want to ever meet them. But it's REALLY hard not to get sucked into what they think is crucially important for an hour. Because honestly, their stupid problems make me feel better, and they're supposed to be the ones who have it ALL.
Which is why I'm addicted to Big Rich Texas- where the biggest concern on any given day is who is breaking the rules at the country club and who's daughter has an inappropriate tattoo.
 |
| TIME WASTER |
I will watch the show and then I will NEED to know more. I will find out when the show is on. I will record it. I will walk away when it's all said and done feeling worse about humanity and also about myself for getting so involved. I will vow to never do it again and the moment some similar shit show display of life lived on the shallow end pops up in front of me, I won't be able to look away.
Because I am a sucker.
And you know what, all of this is responsible in large part, for why I practically never turn on the TV by choice.
Xo Sare
First things first, I did actually manage to dig out some pictures of the PB&J fight performance highlighted in my previous post... so look forward to those little gems later today.... if I can tackle the technological demands of scanning/uploading, which is surprisingly more difficult for than me than it should be. I'm typically pretty terrible with any device that requires a power outlet.
My ineptitude knows no bounds!
Whew, ok here it goes. All jokes aside, I feel really good today. In fact, I've been feeling better and better (for the most part) since I started this little project aka my blerg, which actually means a lot to me because I was having some dark-ass times before I launched it. Granted, I often use my little corner 'o the internet to vent my anger and aggression with the Universe and it usually produces some sort of self-depreciating drivel. The way I look at it, at least I'm writing, it's something I enjoy and I think it's a relatively healthy hobby.
Also, it's no secret that this winter was a real cocksucker. Excuse my French. It was often that I lost sight of the little joys I DO have in my life and instead fixated on all the things I felt were out of control. I forgot how to take bites out of projects and problems and so I either tried to swallow them whole or completely turned my back on them. I've been the biggest Debbie Downer I've ever been, which I know has been frustrating for more than a couple of the people closest to me.
A little over a month ago now, I more or less figuratively slapped myself in the face and in true Sara form, and fucking forced myself into forward progress. I just needed to get moving again. It started out literal, with getting my ass out the door and on the running trails again, and it's becoming an entire personal well-being MOVEMENT. And it's working. Even if no one else can tell except for me, I can tell that I'm standing up straighter and singing along to the radio, becoming an actual ACTIVE player in my own life again. It feels good, and honestly, I don't mind if no one else is patting me on the back and awarding me gold-stars for getting out of bed without hitting the snooze six times, thus thwarting a chain reaction that would and HAS involved a mad-dash for the door only half- put-together, followed closely by feeling bad about the way I look at work all day, turning into fixating on how much a hate my job... I should be doing that on my own, for my own peace of mind. The only person I really care about making changes and being better person for right now is ME.
I guess that probably makes me sound inbelieveably selfish. I've got a hoard of friends that I'd take a bullet for, (hopefully in the arm or something and not a belly shot) I've got a loving and devoted Manfriend, and a crazy-albeit-fiercely-loyal and uplifting family that really knows me. I should be trying to better myself so that I can be better for them. But this is an outlet for truth, and in complete truth, I'm worthless to them unless I'm my best possible self, and my best possible self if going to require a smidgen of selfishness and self-indulgence to perfect. Maybe there's some truth to the trickle-down effect, it's easier to be the person I need to be for the people I love when I'm right with me. So, I need to take a time-out and please myself. Ew, not like that. You know, emotionally and stuff.
Don't worry, I'm not going to get all EAT, PRAY, LOVE on you, because E. Gilbert can suck a fat one and during the movie I fell asleep before she got out of India. Move aside, RICH BITCH. As much as I'd love to take a lengthy chunk of time and throw caution to the wind and spend oodles of money galavanting the world, taking in culture, and 'finding myself," I honestly think I'll do better with figuring out what I want and what makes ME happy within the framework of my already very lively and promising life. I don't want to walk away from my problems and greivances with life, that's not how I do things. I meet confrontation, even if it terrifies me, because problems don't go away, they grow and multiply while you're waiting to figure yourself out and grow as a person so you can learn how best to deal with them. I'd rather grow and learn from dealing with those worries that cause me lost sleep and bloody-from-knawing cuticles. I admire Ms. Gilbert and the fact that she took a time-out for herself (a very extended and expensive one) and learned how to just be her, and maybe that journey was what she needed to do to make peace with herself. I want to just be me too, but being me involves dealing with my personal sludge in a different way, right at the source where I can't put it off and pretend it's going to go away. It never does.
I've always been a hands-on learner anyhow.
I've been getting messages from the universe lately, or maybe I'm just paying attention again, and all signs point to "FIGURE OUT WHAT YOU WANT." Radical idea. I feel like so much of my actions and energy go toward expectations from outside sources and not from my own expectations and gut instincts and and that little voice that tells me, "God Sara, you should really learn more about that, it sounds super fly and I bet you'd kick ass at it."
Of course, figuring out what you want is only the first step, and after that comes plans and actions and DEMANDING it. But, that will come later. Right now, I'm still at the very preliminary stages, the starting line. Right now the only task I'm trying to accomplish is listening to my inner voices, letting myself hear what my soul truly has to say. Sometimes that means joining groups, reading self-help books, marathon chat sessions with my friends, watching the sun come up and steam rise over water on a dawn run, or just scream-singing in the car by myself, but it's all important. Especially the remembering to take time to myself. Just me. I mean, I have to live in my body, I may as well really get to know and like myself.
How did I manage to get to almost 25 and still feel like there is so much I still have to learn about myself? Other than the constant change thing, it may be the ability to become a chameleon and just fit wherever I need to thing. But that's okay, it's all part of the mix, and it's all part of the journey.
It has gotten to the point that I've shut my inner monologue down to the series of acknowledgable neurotisms and reactions. REACTIONS? I should be the one creating reactions. If responding to what's happening around me and to me is all I've got going on, then I'm not doing enough.
I feel hopeful. I've got some ideas brewing in my mind and I'm starting to do something I've haven't in a looooong time, building a time frame on things, starting a plan that will unleash more changes, more pride, more happiness.
I'm taking bites again.
I'm drinking the kool-aid. I like the taste; I'm chugging the entire pitcher.
It's going to be a great weekend, because it's a beautiful life.
XO Sara
