Satisfaction

NotCharlotte's Halloween party on Friday was a good fit...the right number of people, an eclectic mix, everyone in costumes. I noticed a common thread running among all of guests that hasn't really been commented on. Perhaps I only notice it is there because I am aware of it lurking behind my eyes, too. Look into the eyes of any of the revelers that evening and you would have seen a desire...a desire for more. No one there was fully satisfied with where they were at that given moment. I'm not talking about the physicality of being at NotCharlotte's. Everyone had a great time and definitely wanted to be there. It's just that, for some reason, while we were all busy being someone or something else our desire for that unattainable became more visible.

The Dangling Conversation

So last night I had a Halloween Party.
And dare I say, it was a success! The right amount of people came (including the lovely Not Girls, dressed in the best costumes of the night), the right amount of food was eaten, drinks drunk, conversations had.
Toward the end of the evening, around 4am, the conversations got a bit more personal... and dare I say interesting.
Most people had left by then and a small group of us went downstairs to the comfy couches to unwind and sober up.
To the tunes of NotGreatHead's guitar, we inevitably started talking about relationships, and "types."
One guy that had decided to stay was of slight interest to me. NotNY. Due to slight indications that he may be gay, I have simply been observing his mannerisms and relations with my friends. My best friend, NotHusband, was convinced he was gay, and proceeded to hit on him for the entire evening. These two men finally decided to hash it out in the remains of the night, NotNY giving quite convincing arguements to the fact that he was indeed not attracted to men.
NotHusband wasn't quite content with this answer and prodded him into letting us in on the secret that he had in fact "experimented" with men in the past and decided that it just didn't do it for him. He went on to explain that he was so comfortable with his sexuality that if his personality reflects the fact that he acts gay, so be it.
His justification of his personality was so intriguing to me. Being comfortable with yourself is the most important step to becoming who you really are. I simply listened for most of the night until the conversation progressed into what he thought "his" type was. His most important quality? How a woman holds themselves. One of my friends asked him to use me as an example, and of course I didn't object. He said that I held myself so confidently, he knew that I was comfortable with myself completely.
This was kind of a shock to me. I never considered myself "comfortable" with my own body. I have always struggled with the way I look, but I guess I fool people into thinking that I do indeed hold myself in high regard.
The conversation went on and I learned that men happen to think of me as "hot" and "confident," which was either a lie (due to alcohol), or a nice surprise.

It's not that often that I have the chance to get compliments handed to me like this, so I think I'll consider it the latter.

Last night was surprisingly fulfilling, I'm glad that the people who mattered were there, it meant a lot.

NotSkippy you can kiss my lily (okay its not lily) white (okay...its not white) ass!

I wish to indulge in something I try to not do a lot of...passive agressive posting. Because right now I feel the need to vent and this is the venue in which I choose to do it...its either this or put my car through a certain Not character's window.

NotSkippy, oh ye of the issues with women, the issues with me, the self-deprecating way in which you chose to suffer with Boobzilla instead of making me feel good about you having moved on to at least something comparable to me, can kiss my ass.

Oh ye of the, not comfortable with being with me, but not being able to tell me until it gets to a head, despite me having told you at the outset of this thing to let me know so I could reign my shit in, can kiss my ass!

Oh ye of the, not being able to get over the fact that this is 2005 not 1805 or 1905 for that matter and you are your own person, can kiss my entire ass!

Oh ye of the, I don't want to do the right thing because then everyone will be angry with me...*you can't see it but I just flipped off the computer*

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog.

I wore a pink wig to a party and man did I look hot!

I found her!

I found my old persona of NotSamantha Jones hiding in a box of my winter clothes. Up until today she had been wrapped around herself and in a box filled with the remnants of herself, just waiting for me to rediscover her...and the first words that I say to her...

Hello Stranger.

Sadly, there's no one but my roomie's cat to pay witness to this great discovery.

Soft Hair

My hair was so soft. And my Chanel No. 5 wafted perfectly. And I had non-tacky pink lipgloss on that tastes good. And my legs were smooth...

But did anyone know but me? No. I was driving home last night and I started thinking in this weird perspective about things. I wasn't upset about anything that would normally make me upset. I didn't care about things not going how I kept imagining them or the weirdness that occurs every once and awhile with certain people. What I kept thinking about was me...and that noone was appreciating ME to the fullest.

I'm not saying this in a self-deprecating way, I am saying it in an "I am totally awesome and people are missing out" kind of way. My friends appreciate me, of course, but they appreciate different kinds of things. I don't think they notice when I change perfume or when I wear lipgloss that tastes good (at least, I hope they don't). I guess I just started thinking about how I want someone to be a little closer to me and to notice the little things.

My hair was really soft and noone knew!

All Hallow's Eve

It's Halloween weekend and all across the country women are heading out, looking like sluts. Sexy nurse costumes, Vampire hookers, etc...you know the drill: It's the one night of the year women can dress in pleather and fishnets and not be judged. I myself have taken part in this tradition in past years as I have dressed up as a Candy Strip(p)er (damn, that uniform is short!), a sexy spy (pleather mini included), and even a herion addict one year (herion chic?).

Costume parties allow us to take on another identity, to put on the mask of another personality, to be someone else for one night of the year.

This year, as my weekend of celebrating witches and ghosts begins, I can't help but think of doing the opposite: taking the mask off and letting it all out. Not hiding behind a certain way I want to be perceived. Not trying to hide my true feelings and certainly not worrying about my soul being sucked out because I did something I knew was necessary. I will go out tonight in my costume (not slutty, but very funny) but I am still going to be me. In fact, I think more of "me" is going to come out tonight than it has in awhile.


Happy Halloween! (Night 1 of 4)

(Just kidding about the soul sucking out thing...MUHAHAHA!)

Chick Lit is not a square of candy-coated gum...

I love books...good books, smutty books (especially these), books with or without pictures, but lately, I've discovered that there is a book that I hate with a Foamy-type squirrely wrath. And that would be chicklit.

Now, don't get me wrong, Jennifer Weiner's and Sandra Cisnero's are what I really love about chick lit. What I hate about it is the candy pink or flourescent (sp?) green books that scream out to you from the shelves with stories of a shopper with no money and no means to stop her own bad habit getting the guy, who just happens to have oodles of money with which to continue said bad habits; or the girl who moves to another town only to fall into the same bad habits that lead her leaving the first and finds love with some sap.

I crave the intelligent wit of women who have sort of discovered what they're looking for, who shy away from their bad habits, who can stand on their own two feet before being swept off them into the arms of the male character. In short give me some substance with my chicklit...because otherwise it may just as well be a piece of candy-coated gum that will leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Happening Endings...

Something's come to my attention over the past few days.

I've discovered that I like happy endings. The girl gets the guy or vice versa, big kiss on the lips, everything is tied up nicely with a bow and the world is a happy shiny place in the end kind of happy endings. Don't know why exactly I just do.

Which probably accounts for why I only read romance and stories where I'm pretty much assured that the resolution at the end will be a good one. Books where people have to suffer throughout do not appeal at all.

And which probably accounts for why I place feelings on things, people, places, etc. that don't actually belong there. I'm still waiting for my happy ending...and I'm sure I'm going to get it...if I wait long enough...

*taps foot*

Okay, this waiting crap is for the birds, looks like I'm going to have to hack it out on my own.

Suffer in Silence

I've been feeling very "lusty" lately. I've also been doing a lot of thinking about what my "type" is.
There is this guy in my English class that I am lusting after. He's the scruffy, tall, sort of chubby indie type that I have loved since I started listening to Indie music.
I think I've talked about him before. But still.
Lust. It's the only word I can use to describe this feeling. And it's weird how non-sexual it is. This is the emotion you feel when you can't have something you're yearning for. It's the simple fact that I would like to have an interesting conversation with him about art is enough to satisfy my lusting. It's like NotCarrie's previous post about having a friend crush. I need/want/have to have him as my friend. And of course, if something more were to happen, I think I would be on cloud nine.

Now, as always, I just wait for either this feeling to subside or I find someone else to curb these cravings.

Addicted

I have an addictive personality. I'm not even sure if that's an accurate psychological assessment, but in my mind, it accurately describes my tendency to latch on to things I like. For example, I am addicted to Diet Coke. I have written poetry about my love affair with caffeine. For this site, it's probably more relevant to talk about my addiction to the idea of love. You see...I haven't been in love in a long time. So, while not being in love, I've developed an addiction with the idea of love. Movies and TV (hell...even books) simply fuel addictions such as these. As "chick flicks" crowd your local cineplex, you can bet there are millions of girls like me watching and calculating when Richard Gere will ride up and save them from the virtual whoredom that is their lives (hello....Pretty Woman). How can we break this fascination for wanting what isn't real and start searching and dealing with what is? Maybe this is just me, but all too often I find a small part of me wanting to be more in the movie than in my own life (think love/romance/men, not life in general).

He's Her Lobster

As much as I love Luke, from Gilmore Girls (and I do), I think I want a Ross. Ross as in Ross Geller, Ross and Rachel, FRIENDS! I caught the episode last night where the gang watches Monica and Rachel's prom video, aptly titled, "The One With The Prom Video." This is one of my all-time favorite episodes of one of my all-time favorite shows. I love it because it has it all: laughter and romance which , go figure, is exactly what I want in my significant other.

Ross has it all: he's intelligent, ambitious, funny, adorable, cute, kind, giving, devoted, loving, quirky, and about 100 other positive adjectives. The end of TOWTPV gives me goosebumps every time. Rachel sees how Ross has been in love with her since high school and would do anything for her. She walks over and...*oh my gosh*...kisses him! It is so romantic and passionate and I melt everytime. It begins this amazing, yet complicated, connection between the two. They are soul mates...they are each other's lobsters! They are...fictional.

But you know, even though they are fictional characters there is reality in there too. Ross loves Rachel. He does for YEARS and it takes him forever to finally tell her. They go through things that non-tv people do, too. I think that's why Ross seems so ideal at times. I think it's because I have met people in my own life who are a "Ross." I am never going to be Rachel (aka perfect) but the possibility of finding a Ross? Those chances are good.

I want a Luke

Between catching up on the last couple of weeks of Gilmore Girls and talking to NotCarrie about some of the older seasons she is making her way through, I've come to realize I want a 'Luke'. I'm not tossing out the term Luke to mean that I want a boyfriend/fiance/cute guy to bring me coffee. Luke simply illustrates certain characteristics I want in a man. To begin with, he is a man (as opposed to boy). If I were better at the "quote" game, I would post a number of my favorite Luke-isms, but I'm afraid I need to leave that to the better quiped NotCarrie. What I do know is that he is sarcastic and surly. He is funny and caring and thoughtful and independent and hot. He reminds you of the kind of man who will be in it for the duration. This is what I want. This is what I deserve.

Blast From The Past

I accidently got really drunk tonight. And then, instead of calling who I really wanted to talk to, I called my ex-whatever. I knew if I called who I wanted to call I would end up saying a lot of stuff that just shouldn't be said over the phone or while drunk. So I called NotRoger...I'm not sure why but I'm so very thankful that it went well. It was kind of weird because I told him about my current situation and he told me about his: He's involved with a married woman. How does someone go from ME to a married woman with a kid? I really do hope things work out for him though and he expressed the same sentiment for me. We reminisced about the first time we made out and we both remembered it exactly the same way. I'm glad though that we didn't remember how things ended.

It's been a long day and a little over 12 hours ago I was driving home unable to hold back the tears. Having the day to myself and spending the night in the past really helped to put things into perspective. I'm not sure how but I'm in really good spirits right now. Optimistic.

And really....really tired!

Guardian Angel

Last night I got a lot of checkmarks down.
I had a date. (check)
With a guy from myspace. (check)
That I had never met before. (check)

NotGerman. He and I apparently know some of the same people from Germany, so there was an instant bond.
Not to say I wasn't nervous about meeting him. NotMiranda had to talk me into it about 5 times. I kid you not.
But I pulled up the courage and picked him up at the metro (after NotMiranda's suggestion that I do not, under any circumstances, pick him up at his house) and after he got in the car I started to feel better.
He smelled really, really good.
So we went to a movie. He paid for everything, which I normally have a problem with, so I argued with him about it but he just wouldn't let me pay. Hmph.
So we watched the movie and I think he was a bit disappointed that I was so into it because he kept inching closer but I'd kind of ignore it.
This is for several reasons:
1. We were watching Elizabethtown. I absolutely LOVE Cameron Crowe.
2. It was our first date. No moves on the first date, especially since I had never met him.
3. I'm sorry to say, but I'm just not that into him.

I didn't realize this last part until I was driving him back to the metro. He invited me out to this party in the city, but before I knew it, my mouth was making up the ol' "I'm tired, busy day tomorrow" excuse.
He was just too damn nice. And he agreed with EVERYTHING I said. There was no space for arguement, which is a big part of my Italian heritage.

After I dropped him off, I called NotMiranda, who I then found out was in the exact same movie as we were, as well as in the same bathroom at the same time I was, in the stall near mine and we both were texting each other at the same time. How weird.
So I saved her from drowning outside in the rain and we drove around the city trying to find Al Gore's house and talking about relationships.
NotGerman could be a perfect candidate, we decided, however he would only be the "substitute" person until the right one came along.
So the problem is now, what to do about him. We also discussed the fact that although no sparks were felt on the first date, perhaps it's something that grows in time.
Thing is, I'm not sure if I want that.
This is too tough a decision to make right now. And I think I'm only skimming the surface of my delusional mind. I should just be happy that I had a freaking DATE! :-)

Misplaced Possessiveness

Once I ignored my stomach and nerves I had a really nice time last night. Everything seemed easy, and casual, and just right. Dinner and a rented movie and a really dark room along with a lot of champagne-it was perfect.

Details aren't necessary;) The purpose of me bringing the night up is that one sentence caused everything to spin off axis. It wasn't spoken by me or him but we both definitely heard and then proceeded to ignore it. If either of us were "talkers" we could have talked and laughed about it but we didn't. Maybe I was hoping it was true...or would be true in the near future.

I'm sorry I am being cryptic. I need to keep these things in my head right now or else there will more more variables for me to overthink.

Feel the sting

Intimacy is your uncontested area of expertise. You recognize it in all its forms, from a glance to a heartfelt talk to a hug you know someone needs exactly when they need it. Prepare to pass out all of that and more.

This is my horoscope for today. I'm just wondering when people will begin to know what I need. Maybe it's all in that damned elusive nature of a scorpio. We can give and give but have a real hard time letting people get close.

Butterflies And Steel

My stomach is a mess right now. I am freaking out. I feel like it is a giant knot made out of lead and then there are butterflies flying all around.

I need to not psych myself out about this. Not a big deal, right? Stating the obvious, right?

Right.

I am Woman! Watch me flex...

Doing my part to embody the feminist I want to be, I work out...okay I also work out because I like the idea that even though I may not look it I am capable of tossing lesser beings over my shoulder and into the dirt.

I get up at the absolute butt crack of dawn (read 5:30am) and drag on my workout gear (lots of pink!) and hit my local gym, where I proceed to lift and flex and squat my way into a better more fit me.

Its really fun watching the business geeks who haven't a clue as to which end is up on a Smythe rack as they chat with their other coworkers about the latest office gossip or what stock to buy or what rate they're getting on the mortgage. For me, its about the clang of metal on metal...

However, recently, my domain has been invaded by NotSkippy who has decided that he needs to make a more concerted effort to get into shape and so he joins me here and is beginning to do his thing *snort*.

The really humorous part of this is that I could probably toss NotSkippy over my shoulder and run around with him for a while before I broke a sweat.

That's me, uber woman of muscle extraordinaire...

*snort*

...And Nothing To Wear

An outfit can make or break a day. Whether it be too tight jeans, a sweater that itches or shoes that pinch in all the wrong places an outfit can ruin a day. On the flip side- a favorite pair of jeans that accentuate what you want and hides what you wish you didn't have, the sweater that brings out the yellow specks in your eyes and the scarf that provides the comfort you sometimes need can make an ordinary day that much better.

I am a clothes whore. There, I said it. I AM! I read fashion magazines religiously and even tear out the pages of things I want. JCrew is like the Bible to me and I highlight itto reflect my wishlist the day it comes in the mail. I can't say no to a sale and can think of a million reasons why "I need this now." My problem lies in the fact that I often have nothing to wear. I have an overflowing closet of some things I have never worn and many things I rarely wear. I can't stop going towards my "comfort clothes." It's not that I don't like my comfort clothes or that they could only be described as "blah" it's just that often I get to my destination and wish I had tried something new, put on something else.

I want to change this. I want to start and end each day feeling awesome and wearing something hott. I don't want to ever say, "No, I can't hang out because I wore my laundry day jeans to work." I don't want to think, "I hope I don't run into him because my shirt makes me look washed out like I am sick."

The clothes don't make the woman, we know that. But for me, the clothes can really help turn the ordinary into the extraordinary! And with the extraordinary comes excitement and I never turn down excitement.

Several Arrows Later

This weekend I had a lot of fun. One of my close friends, NotNerd and his roomate NotTwin came to visit from New York. We proceeded to get drunk a lot and have a good, relaxing time.

All throughout the weekend though, I kept getting teased by my parents about NotNerd. In high school we were inseperable; we talked on the phone pretty much every night. We co-edited the school newspaper, so we had to...
That's beside the point. I kept getting teased because apparently he kept calling NotTwin by my name and would compete with anyone who thought they knew me better.
They said that I need to get my claws in him before he becomes a rich and famous man and all the ladies are after him.
Thing is, I've never really felt that way about him. I tried my best this weekend to see if there was anything, but to no avail.

Some guys are just best left as friends.