NABLOPOMO: FREE STYLING

{Image found via Google Images.}


I am addicted to this stuff. It is so delicious
and a great soda replacement. Yeah, I had the
brilliant idea of quitting soda during nursing school.

I am a smart cookie.

NABLOPOMO: What movies have you turned off in the middle, and why?

I love shitty movies.
Especially in an MST3K format.
And they are even better drunk.

There are only two movies I ever walked out on (or turned off). The
first was A Clockwork Orange, and that was totally for a booty call.

Sex > Kubrick. (Sorry Kubrick fans!)

The other was Paul Blart: Mall Cop. I was up at the Avenues,
drunk from my martini dinner, looking for a way to kill a couple hours.
Now, I love Kevin James. One of my boyfriends in high school kind of
looked like Kevin James. Despite my dislike of Will Smith, I went to see
Hitch solely for Kevin James.

Anyways, I needed to sober up, so I bought a ticket and popcorn, and
settled in. The movie was so terrible, I didn't last until halfway.
Shit, I didn't even make it until the first twenty minutes.

I still have no idea what the hell happens.

NABLOPOMO: How do you feel about not finishing a book once you've read a few chapters?

{Snap of a stall at a local bar.}


I usually have three books going at a time (thanks ADD!) so I lose my mind if I don't finish a book. However, I don't believe in forcing myself to finish a book if I hate it and am halfway through. If my attention and soul haven't been captured by then, nothing is going to. I've started so many Grisham novels, thinking, "Well maybe this time..." and keep getting let down.

Then again, after Lincoln and Child, I've been spoiled on churn-them-out authors. Danielle Steele, anyone?

NABLOPOMO: What is something you recently started that you know you won't finish?

More than likely it'll be

NABLOPOMO: What have you recently started that you know you'll finish?

{Image found via Google Images.}


Dinner!

NABLOPOMO: FREE STYLING

Friday was a stressful day for paperwork completion. I blame procrastination and crazy hormones. The best part of the day was chowing down on a Big Mac in front of the Heart Center at the hospital. Ah, I felt so American.

NABLOPOMO: Which do you enjoy more - the start of a book or the end?

I enjoy the build up to the end of the book. The biggest trouble with that is with book series. Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings were my crack growing up. I loved the LotR series so much, I read them in freaking Spanish. Every single time there was a new Harry Potter release, I'd go to the midnight party, and read the book in twelve hours. Then I would be on pins and needles until the next one came out.

The grown-up version of that are the Pendergast novels. Son of a bitch. I've spoke about these before, and you Twitter followers have seen me slowly dissolve into insanity the week before and after a new one is released. My buddy Fantasma introduced them to me, got me hooked, and that jerk hasn't read the last one yet. Who else am I supposed to freak out at about Judson and Helen and Corrie?! I blame A Game of Thrones. (Which he also got me addicted to.... Thanks, pal.)

Anyways, the authors are so masterful at the build up and suspense, that when you finish the book, you have the satisfaction that there were many questions from previous books answered, but there are also exciting promises for what is to come. That is what keeps me coming back.

NABLOPOMO: FREE STYLING

Just a few snaps from my night out with the laydeez. I need to take my camera out more. I like making these photo spread thingies.

:)

NABLOPOMO: FREE STYLING

{Image courtesy of Google Images.}

I am very open about my sexuality and sexual drive. That isn't to say that I throw it in people's faces, or flaunt my body for the sole purpose of advertising my availability. There are people who are not as expressive or out with their sex, and I don't want to make them uncomfortable. But if I'm asked, I'll answer honestly.

The evolution from shy Catholic schoolgirl to brash, sexual woman was a very bumpy one. Lots of weird mutations. (Darwin, holler!) Where I am at right now, I owe mostly to my rape counselor. She helped me take the times where I was most vulnerable and hateful of myself, and guide me to embrace and celebrate my sexual being. Without her, I know right where I'd be, because it has happened.

Before seeing her, I was an out-of-control flirt who was almost daring a man to try and pick me up. I went home with a former lover one night, one who I knew how he would treat me, who was gentle, and sweet, nothing like what I was fighting. On the way to the hotel, I broke into uncontrollable sobs, puked my guts out, and bailed out of the car. I called a girlfriend and begged her to come find me. It took hours for the tremors and crying to stop. The fear stuck around for weeks.

I'm still not totally past the experience, but I can function and succeed in my life. I've had lovers since my time with her, and have even managed a relationship or two. I think that because of my experiences, that I see the power and importance of owning your sexuality, before others try to define and use it for their own ends.

They won't be as careful of it as you will.

NABLOPOMO: FREE STYLING

During one of the Harry Potter midnight release parties prior to my freshman year at USF, this book caught my eye. Not the exact cover, but this book. The bold, red "BITCH" leaped out at me and demanded attention. Oh, did it ever get it.

I spent the rest of the night ignoring the rampaging children and bequeathing of the books. Elizabeth Wurtzel was my all-consuming literary crush; She still is.

While falling into my depressive spiral in Tampa, I remember obsessive reading of Wurtzel's catalogue, chain smoking clove cigarettes, constant tunes from The Who and Mudvayne, rampant drug use, unintended sexual conquests, and many solitary mornings reading at the art building. Of course, I wish things had gone differently, but those horrible, dark despairing moments were buffeted by the evocation and eloquence I felt reading this book. Grasping at her words like a drowning woman desperate for salvation.

Even going back, now that I'm back on the strait and {relatively} narrow, teaches me new things, or offers a different perspective than I previously had. The idea that any woman can be someone's idea of a bitch really resonates with me.

It would seem that I'm in good company.

NABLOPOMO: FREE STYLING

One thing I've always found beautiful are tattoos. They have held a strong fascination over me since I was six, and I would spend hours planning out my future ink. Full sleeves of the butterfly or bottle fly metamorphosis, hibiscus growing over my hips, an old school sparrow for each new birth, full back of spirals designed by a friend, peacock with tail feathers spreading down thigh. The only ink I have is the Capricorn symbol on my ankle, and a prison star on my wrist.

I got the Capricorn one two months after my grandmother died. Her birthday was two days after mine, so we were both Capricorns. Also tied into the symbol are the numbers 6 and 7. She was 67 when I was born, so I thought that most appropriate. My star was the result of alcohol and boredom. I wanted a star to commemorate Dorothy Parker, so I used a sanitized needle and India ink to tattoo it into my wrist. Hence why I call it my prison tat.

Every time I look at my ink, or someone else's ink, I feel that wistful longing. With just a taste of the body as canvas, I'm completely hooked. Currently, I'm trying to convince a friend to draw a hibiscus I can get on my hips. Large, bold, red petals. Proud stamen. Unfurling across my pale flesh.

I can't wait for the next appointment.

NABLOPOMO: Tell us about the first time you were in love.

Ugh, love. The greatest and most awful human emotion, in my opinion. I don't believe that anyone would or could ever love me, and I don't know where that conviction stems from. Either my crippling social awkwardness during puberty, the low self-esteem I carried for most of puberty, or my irrational fear of being abandoned.

Despite my wild-child, devil-may-care approach to "dating" and relationships, I've been in love with two men. Actually, that isn't so surprising for someone who prefers casual sex to commited relationships. If I don't have sex with someone I have an emotional investment in, then any betrayal or breakup will hurt less. My views on love and how to relate to people are absolutely not healthy, and do cause quite a bit of issues.

The man pictured wasn't my first love, but he does hold the distinction of being the only other man I loved. He passed away over three years ago, and I found out about his death from my first love. Yeah, that phone call will be forever memorable for myriad reasons. Needless to say, I didn't handle it very well at all.

Falling in love, for me, was dreadful and horrible. The lack of rationality, the inability to control my emotions and actions around the individual, and my superpower of over thinking everything, makes it a control freak's nightmare. It's a struggle I constantly am battling, and I'm not so sure that letting love win is worth risking the relationships I have.

I'd like to think so, but I'm too scared to find out.

NABLOPOMO: Tell us about your earliest school memories.

I mentioned in the last post that I was enrolled in a Lab School as a child. The basic gist is that the teachers were there to help our young minds blossom to their full potential based on various theories proposed by child psychologists.I remember a bunch of tree climbing and role-playing, with a couple nap times and snacks thrown in.

Teachers for the pre-school aged kids (which was my group) would ask us to play out a scenario like dinner, or home making. We'd go to the costume chest, then play with the kitchen sets and essential act out what we thought adulthood was. Only I never wanted to be the one who was in the kitchen "cooking". I would put on ties and hats and push boys out of the truck to be the man of the house. The teachers never scolded that, but encouraged it.

For "free time" which was what we called recess, I would climb the trees or play on the monkey bars. My socialization level wasn't very good. I didn't get along with kids my age. Crippling social anxiety rearing its ugly head that early? Maybe.

Snack time was much nicer than at Montessori, because no one was scolded for eating before anyone else. I was traumatised by that dress down, and still remember it twenty-three years later. And that's also why hearing Montessori will make my hackles rise.

NABLOPOMO: Who was your first friend?

Growing up with a child psychologist for a mother was a very interesting experience. I had many play dates, joined a number of teams and groups, was enrolled in a Lab School run by child psychologists, and generally had a number of opportunities to meet and make friends.

So I think it's funny that I meet the person I call my best friend by happenstance.

It was the Halloween before starting kindergarten, and I was a hula dancer, mainly because I wanted to wear a bikini 24-7 growing up. While rampaging around the neighborhood, I met a girl who was dressed in an authentic-looking immigrant outfit, standing on her front porch with her brother dressed as a pumpkin. I don't remember what we talked about, but that following school year, I recognized her in my class. Living so close together made play dates easy to plan and we grew very close.

Over twenty years later, I still call her my best friend. We've been through so many heartaches and joys together, I can't think of what my life would be like without her. She's the greatest, and I love her so much.

Thank you, friend, for everything.

NABLOPOMO: PIMPIN' AIN'T EASY

{WHAT MAGIC IS THIS?}

Surprising absolutely no one, I'm already straying from the pre-made prompts. Not because they are boring or unimaginative, but because I really have a problem with not being a smartass. Also, the various memories of my first's are exceedingly embarrassing and possibly still prosecutable. We can talk of those times all in good time, lovers.
Instead, I'd like to share a(nother) loving post on my ginger-haired nephew. He'll be seven months this week! It's almost like he suddenly became this gorgeous little boy, who loves squash, wants to drink from a big person glass, sits up on his own, getting his first teeth, waves, and is a Casanova-in-training. Where did the little sleepy, snugglebutt boy go? It's hard to believe he would fall asleep anytime, anywhere, and now he fights sleep until completely drained of energy. (Just like his Daddy!)

Where did the time go? I can't wait to witness all of his beginnings, but the speed it's going by at is breaking my heart.


One week old
Newborn onesies were so big!
zonked out
snuggles
zonked
snuggles

First Halloween Pumpkin Patch
First Christmas (Poor boy!)

Fist bumps with Auntie
Swinging
Big boy bottle
Two teeth growing in and has been awake all night

I love you, HT!

NABLOPOMO: What is your earliest memory?

I'm three years old, dressed in a little sailor outfit, sitting in my sandbox at home. Eating sand by the handful. Aw, yuss.


{Image found via Google Images.}

NABLOPOMO: Do you wish the start of the year was in a different season? Which one?

I am competitive, so I enjoy the start of the
new year being so close to my birthday. I only
wish that I was born shortly after midnight on January 1st.

Blast!

{Plus, winter in Florida isn't what most people
would call... well, winter. So, overall, it
really doesn't matter.}

NABLOPOMO: What is the hardest part about a beginning?

Finding the courage to go for it. Courage to take a step into the unknown.


I have no other advice or explanation than that.

NABLOPOMO: Are you superstitious about beginnings? Anything you do to start out on the right foot?

I'm not very superstitious, unless it comes to the ritual watching the Packers play. By which, I mean I hide in the bathroom, and shout for updates from my dad, because "if I watch them, they'll lose" mindset stemming from watching Favre blow a big game on my birthday. Other than that, I pride myself on being a (somewhat) logical, rational being.

However, I do have a moderate case of OCD. Do compulsions count as being superstitious?

AN HONOR

I got an email this afternoon, stating that a blog entry I made was going to be posted on BlogHer! I am super stoked. It's an honor to contribute, even in a tiny way, to such a wonderful site for female bloggers. I wrote a brief article on my adoption and how I have tried to find out who I am.

I hope to continue to contribute to the BlogHer family.

(OOTD, and apology post coming up next.)