Heavens, me. It's been about three years since my weary fingers have blasted the keyboard with "wise" words from the chuntress. Too much has happened in between and I'll spare whatever four readers I have left the grim details. One thing you must know, my San Fran days are behind me and I'm glad about it. Also, my ridiculous dating chronicles have come to a happy ending. No I'm not married, just done bouncing from one popped collar to the next and thanks to the wonders of technology and the death of Michael Jackson, I was reunited with my first love. It's the bomb!
I re-read my headline today. That thing about being dramatic like xanax and lines and bourbon and such. Funny, stuff. I also started reading some of my posts. I wanted to pour myself a glass of wine, but remembered I'm on this whole body cleanse and can't even think about touching adult beverages. Back to the text. What in god's name was I thinking? Why did I ever stop blogging? The evolution of le chuntress is sheer hilarity. The adventures, the calamity, the diction, it's all there.
Like I said above, a lot has changed. I'm older, more honest, more seasoned and no longer buying into HBO's bull (thanks for the delusions SATC, but you can crawl back into your 90's cave now). And with that, prepare yourself for a fresh setting (long beach), a few new characters, wacky adventures and some quality blogging...
Showing posts with label wisdom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wisdom. Show all posts
Monday, August 02, 2010
Saturday, May 26, 2007
bumming advice (or ciggies)
I know, I know, I have yet to post on New York. I've just been busy. I'll get to it. I went to get coffee from Coffee to the People this morning because the pot that I made tasted like a sailors boot, but before I walked in a homeless "friend" said to me that today was, "Another wonderful day, another wonderful day." Perhaps he was crazy, who knows. But that really doesn't matter. I think what he said is more important.
As you know I'm no stranger to the negative side of things (I'm getting a lot better), so hearing things like that often stick with me. I've been complaining since 3:30 this morning when the thoughtless losers upstairs begain blasting music. I've already complained about my first pot of coffee and I managed to become insanely annoyed by myspace (I don't even know why I deal with that thing when all it does is piss me off). So all that to say this, on that quiet corner of Haight and Masonic it was nice to hear that homeless man say something positive. It is another wonderful day. I watched a guy get hit by a car in that same intersection two days ago, so I should start appreciating each moment a little more. I'm going to start by saying how yummy my Coffee to the People light roast is tasting, right this second.
As you know I'm no stranger to the negative side of things (I'm getting a lot better), so hearing things like that often stick with me. I've been complaining since 3:30 this morning when the thoughtless losers upstairs begain blasting music. I've already complained about my first pot of coffee and I managed to become insanely annoyed by myspace (I don't even know why I deal with that thing when all it does is piss me off). So all that to say this, on that quiet corner of Haight and Masonic it was nice to hear that homeless man say something positive. It is another wonderful day. I watched a guy get hit by a car in that same intersection two days ago, so I should start appreciating each moment a little more. I'm going to start by saying how yummy my Coffee to the People light roast is tasting, right this second.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
sunday psychosis
It's an odd Sunday. I have undoubtly spent my Sunday engaging in what some might label as odd behavior. It is now 2:10pm and I am still in my pajamas. I have cleaned my bathroom, washed every (all 4) dish in the sink, polished my bedroom floor, dusted the entire apartment, swept the hallway and living room and tended to went laundry. I have also successfully read half of the May issue of Vogue, drank two cups of coffee, arranged my underwear drawer (by color and style), and posted one complete (and fairly lenghty) blog entry. I attribute all of my cleaning and organization (there is always more to be done) to my wanting to feel in control. I believe I've touched on this issue in the past. By cleaning, arranging, colorizing, organizing and completing things I feel in control.
I spent the first two hours of the morning looking out of the bay window in the living room (with my coffee & Vogue) and listening to Edith Piaf on le pod. During those moments when I wasn't sipping or reading I was romanticizing thoughts of living somewhere else or just being somewhere else at that moment. I've been doing that a lot lately. Perhaps it's because I have no job so I'm left with a lot of time to entertain potentially lethal thoughts. This is probaby indicative of some sort of change heading my way. A lot of people told me not to expect some great moment where everything comes to me. I consider myself a realist for the most part and I'm not one to wait for "the next big thing." But I guess I can argue that something feels different here. And I think some big thought is brewing in my brain (I just don't know what it is yet). I only wonder when this does happen will I have to tear down my apartment building then rebuild it in order to gain control of all the change?
I spent the first two hours of the morning looking out of the bay window in the living room (with my coffee & Vogue) and listening to Edith Piaf on le pod. During those moments when I wasn't sipping or reading I was romanticizing thoughts of living somewhere else or just being somewhere else at that moment. I've been doing that a lot lately. Perhaps it's because I have no job so I'm left with a lot of time to entertain potentially lethal thoughts. This is probaby indicative of some sort of change heading my way. A lot of people told me not to expect some great moment where everything comes to me. I consider myself a realist for the most part and I'm not one to wait for "the next big thing." But I guess I can argue that something feels different here. And I think some big thought is brewing in my brain (I just don't know what it is yet). I only wonder when this does happen will I have to tear down my apartment building then rebuild it in order to gain control of all the change?
affecting the effect of conversation
Anyone can tell you what interesting thing happened to them last Tuesday, they can tell you what they ate for lunch two hours ago, they can tell you why they chose to wear a purple hat with a large brown plume that tilts to the left, or they can tell you all about how they ended up in this very spot talking to you. However, there is a skill that one must possess when telling these little diddies. I prefer to think of it as an art. It's known as the art of story-telling (with which I'm sure you are familiar). And in this latest phase of my "oh so fabulous" (HA) life, I learn that fewer and fewer people are skilled story-tellers.
I guess after spending the second half of my university (sounds more fancy than college) career in workshops critiquing, analyzing, admiring, sneering, and scoffing at other people's work I developed a true disdain for the unnecessary. I, in fact, became rather candid about my dislike for unnecessary information during these workshops. It's something that I religiously tried to keep from doing in my own work. While I do believe that back story has relevance and is often needed to understand the tale ahead, I do not need to know every single detail.
Hmmm detail. It's important to pepper a a tale with detail, but there is a limit, I believe. I've encountered a number of stories as of late--most presumably a result of people being in their twenties and wanting to do nothing other than talk of themselves (is this not the narcissistic nature of my blog as well? yeeeeesss). These gruesome moments have unfortunately required my ears to become exposed to every nuance of their life. I'm forced to know why they think this or that about global warming, why they have or have not reacted to an odd phone call from last night, how long they have known about the mold growing in their bathtub, the t-shirt they were wearing when they began the sixth grade, what their dentist smells like...I'm beginning to exaggerated but I'm finding that people are so fixated on filling me in that the initial thought becomes lost (both by me--because I stop listening and by them). They have veered so far from their point that I don't care anymore and often become frustrated with them and their happening.
I'm pretty much saying discretion should be used more often. Invidiuals should really select their topics with choice. And any skilled linguist knows you can certainly veer off topic, but be smart about it, know how to jump but be able to keep your
audience engaged or know how to bring them right back to your original thought. It's really a skill. I have a habit of jumping off topic (just read this blog), but I think with each entry I'm learning how to keep your interest and not bore you with insignificant detail. It goes without saying (or not)I'm not interested in why you are crying about the cost of sprouted wheat bread when we're talking about why you haven't called your best friend in over thirty days.
I guess after spending the second half of my university (sounds more fancy than college) career in workshops critiquing, analyzing, admiring, sneering, and scoffing at other people's work I developed a true disdain for the unnecessary. I, in fact, became rather candid about my dislike for unnecessary information during these workshops. It's something that I religiously tried to keep from doing in my own work. While I do believe that back story has relevance and is often needed to understand the tale ahead, I do not need to know every single detail.
Hmmm detail. It's important to pepper a a tale with detail, but there is a limit, I believe. I've encountered a number of stories as of late--most presumably a result of people being in their twenties and wanting to do nothing other than talk of themselves (is this not the narcissistic nature of my blog as well? yeeeeesss). These gruesome moments have unfortunately required my ears to become exposed to every nuance of their life. I'm forced to know why they think this or that about global warming, why they have or have not reacted to an odd phone call from last night, how long they have known about the mold growing in their bathtub, the t-shirt they were wearing when they began the sixth grade, what their dentist smells like...I'm beginning to exaggerated but I'm finding that people are so fixated on filling me in that the initial thought becomes lost (both by me--because I stop listening and by them). They have veered so far from their point that I don't care anymore and often become frustrated with them and their happening.
I'm pretty much saying discretion should be used more often. Invidiuals should really select their topics with choice. And any skilled linguist knows you can certainly veer off topic, but be smart about it, know how to jump but be able to keep your
audience engaged or know how to bring them right back to your original thought. It's really a skill. I have a habit of jumping off topic (just read this blog), but I think with each entry I'm learning how to keep your interest and not bore you with insignificant detail. It goes without saying (or not)I'm not interested in why you are crying about the cost of sprouted wheat bread when we're talking about why you haven't called your best friend in over thirty days.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
je besion de s'enfuir paris
This is my 100th post here on Chuntress...exciting, huh?
Well it's odd that today, I'm my 100th post, I'm feeling the most numb. I've been going on for a while now about how I should run away. Well I haven't publicly stated this on "le blog," but I've made mention to those in my immediate friend circle. I think running away would do me some good. I'm at a strange point where I love my lifestyle some days, but other days I hate it--the partying, the emptiness, the loneliness, the bad finances, my decisions, my living situation, my new found objectification of men--all of it. I stand by previous posts, I, Black Swan, will run away to Paris.
In other news, I've discovered a new love in music, Amy Winehouse. She's soulful, retro, real, and peculiar all at the same time. I suggest you give her a listen. Her music has made me nostalgic for a life I've never lived. I really don't think anything is wrong with wanting to revamp your life. Why not now? I'm on the brink of my mid-twenties (and I feel it everyday), I have no real commitments, and I should do as much as I can in this life. I'm starting my change next week with a haircut...minus 2 inches. Methinks this will be tres chic--indicative of a new me.
Happy 100th post to me, le chuntress...
Paris will receive me well (HA).
Well it's odd that today, I'm my 100th post, I'm feeling the most numb. I've been going on for a while now about how I should run away. Well I haven't publicly stated this on "le blog," but I've made mention to those in my immediate friend circle. I think running away would do me some good. I'm at a strange point where I love my lifestyle some days, but other days I hate it--the partying, the emptiness, the loneliness, the bad finances, my decisions, my living situation, my new found objectification of men--all of it. I stand by previous posts, I, Black Swan, will run away to Paris.
In other news, I've discovered a new love in music, Amy Winehouse. She's soulful, retro, real, and peculiar all at the same time. I suggest you give her a listen. Her music has made me nostalgic for a life I've never lived. I really don't think anything is wrong with wanting to revamp your life. Why not now? I'm on the brink of my mid-twenties (and I feel it everyday), I have no real commitments, and I should do as much as I can in this life. I'm starting my change next week with a haircut...minus 2 inches. Methinks this will be tres chic--indicative of a new me.
Happy 100th post to me, le chuntress...
Paris will receive me well (HA).
Sunday, January 21, 2007
fertilize all ye eggs
I read an article this morning in the February edition of Elle (one of my favorites) on egg donation. It was interesting that I should read an article about this, as I had a lengthy conversation regarding this issue back in December. I had a friend who donated and she went on and on about how she was glad she did it and the recipients were so happy blah blah blah. Then she told me what she got paid, and me being the financially challenged individual that I am, jumped at the opportunity. I had planned the next day to get online and start researching. I even called Ralph and we began to talk about what I could buy with my earnings. With the holidays and my busy social schedule I had completely forgotten about this until today.
The article addressed a lot points that I never thought could play into choosing a donor. I should mention the article was written by a woman seeking a donor so she and her husband could have a second child--a sibling for their naturally produced offspring. I was shocked to find that some donors request as much as 50k and have waiting lists. People are pretty much trying to create the perfect child. If you go these donor sites and sign up you get asked wild questions like your SAT score. I hate the SAT. Who cares about the SAT??? Whatever the case it's amazing the lengths these people go to in order to have a child that carries the father's DNA. The women mentioned that as she watched the donor's egg meet with her hubby's swimmers she felt like an affair was going on. Weird, huh? In the end this woman spent all of inheritance her mother (who died a year prior) had left her only to end up with nothing. While they gal the couple selected was prime ---in the eyes of desperate parents--she went to UCLA law, good test scores, ambitious, well-written, well-spoken, athletic, few family health problems blah blah blah--she had "poor eggs." No baby.
Yeah, so after reading this I realized what a hypocrite I would be if I did donate my eggs. Yes I could potentially be helping a family who really really really really wants a baby, but do I want my DNA floating in god-knows-where? Yes, I could take the earnings pay off credit card debt, have a nice savings, and even walk away with a new bag, but is it worth it to know 18 yrs. later someone could knock at my door? Though the biggest turn off for me comes when I think of all of the children who need to be adopted. Adoption can be a lengthy process, but isn’t assisted fertility? I don't know I just would feel right giving up these good or potentially poor eggs when there are a number of omelets to choose from.
UPDATE: thanks to an anonomyus reader I can provide you a link to the article
http://www.danishapiro.com/egg-donor.html
The article addressed a lot points that I never thought could play into choosing a donor. I should mention the article was written by a woman seeking a donor so she and her husband could have a second child--a sibling for their naturally produced offspring. I was shocked to find that some donors request as much as 50k and have waiting lists. People are pretty much trying to create the perfect child. If you go these donor sites and sign up you get asked wild questions like your SAT score. I hate the SAT. Who cares about the SAT??? Whatever the case it's amazing the lengths these people go to in order to have a child that carries the father's DNA. The women mentioned that as she watched the donor's egg meet with her hubby's swimmers she felt like an affair was going on. Weird, huh? In the end this woman spent all of inheritance her mother (who died a year prior) had left her only to end up with nothing. While they gal the couple selected was prime ---in the eyes of desperate parents--she went to UCLA law, good test scores, ambitious, well-written, well-spoken, athletic, few family health problems blah blah blah--she had "poor eggs." No baby.
Yeah, so after reading this I realized what a hypocrite I would be if I did donate my eggs. Yes I could potentially be helping a family who really really really really wants a baby, but do I want my DNA floating in god-knows-where? Yes, I could take the earnings pay off credit card debt, have a nice savings, and even walk away with a new bag, but is it worth it to know 18 yrs. later someone could knock at my door? Though the biggest turn off for me comes when I think of all of the children who need to be adopted. Adoption can be a lengthy process, but isn’t assisted fertility? I don't know I just would feel right giving up these good or potentially poor eggs when there are a number of omelets to choose from.
UPDATE: thanks to an anonomyus reader I can provide you a link to the article
http://www.danishapiro.com/egg-donor.html
Thursday, January 18, 2007
bye bye broken heart
Last we "spoke" I was going on about how I learn new things about myself everyday. Perhaps this is my week of self-actualization. A veil has been lifted from mine eye and I'm pleased to announce that I have the male species pinned! Ok, I'm exaggerating a bit, but whatever the case I've gained clarity on my relationships/interactions with men.
I think all girls have a general idea of who's who when it comes to men, but it takes years (if you ask me) to accept and embrace this intuition. You know if a guy is good or bad for you within 24 hours. However, you'll justify him in every possible way you can to make him seem "right." You'll kind of mold him--make light of those things that you know are going to burn you in the end, just so you can envision him being "the one."
I've become a bit of a cynic in my old age and more so, I believe I've become hardened to the behaviors of men. Sometimes I get sad about this, because I feel as though an endearing part of me is gone. But on the other hand I thank jebus that those days are behind me. Ugh. No more crying, stressing, waiting, wondering, wishing, hoping. I've learned to take a man at face value. If his demeanor is off when I meet him, or if I'm lead to question more than one thing that came out of his mouth, he's probably just a one-night stand. He could be one of those guys who hangs around for a few months, takes me out, makes me laugh, gives me a reason to get pretty on a Tuesday night, gives me hot sweet love, and says nice things, but I know he's nothing more than that. I like this. I am really enjoying accepting an asshole for what he is. I feel in control and a lot less vulnerable than in days past. I mean did I really think that "Hotender" could be my boyfriend? And what about "Southern Hottie?" Oh and let's not forget "NBF..." All of these experiences were fulfilling in someway and I can now accept that and not want more or go home and cry about that shit.
I'm also beginning to question the idea of "the one." I'm sure he exists and most women can attest to this. But there is a part of me that is content with knowing he'll never show up and I'll just have my two retarded best friends to last me for the rest of my life (I know most of you are cringing at thought of my immaturity never really "dying"). This is not to say that I don't believe in love...I do. Many of my friends have found it and I'm happy for them. My day will come, but I'm in no hurry (I’m so fickle). Some day my "prince" will come. But I wouldn't be surprised if he were a skinny hot gay who really wanted to watch The Hills with ONLY ME for all of eternity...
I think all girls have a general idea of who's who when it comes to men, but it takes years (if you ask me) to accept and embrace this intuition. You know if a guy is good or bad for you within 24 hours. However, you'll justify him in every possible way you can to make him seem "right." You'll kind of mold him--make light of those things that you know are going to burn you in the end, just so you can envision him being "the one."
I've become a bit of a cynic in my old age and more so, I believe I've become hardened to the behaviors of men. Sometimes I get sad about this, because I feel as though an endearing part of me is gone. But on the other hand I thank jebus that those days are behind me. Ugh. No more crying, stressing, waiting, wondering, wishing, hoping. I've learned to take a man at face value. If his demeanor is off when I meet him, or if I'm lead to question more than one thing that came out of his mouth, he's probably just a one-night stand. He could be one of those guys who hangs around for a few months, takes me out, makes me laugh, gives me a reason to get pretty on a Tuesday night, gives me hot sweet love, and says nice things, but I know he's nothing more than that. I like this. I am really enjoying accepting an asshole for what he is. I feel in control and a lot less vulnerable than in days past. I mean did I really think that "Hotender" could be my boyfriend? And what about "Southern Hottie?" Oh and let's not forget "NBF..." All of these experiences were fulfilling in someway and I can now accept that and not want more or go home and cry about that shit.
I'm also beginning to question the idea of "the one." I'm sure he exists and most women can attest to this. But there is a part of me that is content with knowing he'll never show up and I'll just have my two retarded best friends to last me for the rest of my life (I know most of you are cringing at thought of my immaturity never really "dying"). This is not to say that I don't believe in love...I do. Many of my friends have found it and I'm happy for them. My day will come, but I'm in no hurry (I’m so fickle). Some day my "prince" will come. But I wouldn't be surprised if he were a skinny hot gay who really wanted to watch The Hills with ONLY ME for all of eternity...
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