Entry 41: Assuming Everyone Else’s Life is Perfect.

A wise friend told me, don’t compare yourself to others, everyone’s got their own issues. 

Seems pretty self-explanatory, something that I know in the deepest corners of my heart, and yet I sometimes find myself forgetting this and getting caught up in what I don’t have, what I’m not doing, or where I’m at in life compared to everyone else.

Social media doesn’t help . Not that I’m trying to blame it or anything, but I can see the toxicity in consuming one’s time in other people’s statuses and photo posts.  While I love seeing updates and pictures of where people have been and what they’ve eaten, I think I tend to subconsciously forget that people generally only post the good stuff that happens and not necessarily the struggles that life brings them. Which I get, I don’t like to advertise the bad shit on the interwebs either, but it doesn’t mean I don’t go through them myself.

What ends up being presented is a partial truth to the reality of life. 

It’s like when I read trashy romance novels that tell stories of  whirlwind romances and sexcapades that leave me with the feeling of – Why doesn’t my husband ravish me like that?!? Or Save me from towers?!?  (Well, because you don’t have a tower,  you do not live in 17th century England, you don’t even like getting your hair pulled, and most of the stuff that goes on in trashy books doesn’t happen in real life. )

So if you’ve ever thought my life is awesome based on all my selfies and social media posts – it is. But surprise. It isn’t perfect. But I need to work on not dwelling on how my life is or isn’t compared to everyone else, but counting the perfect and imperfect blessings that exist.  And if there’s something that’s lacking in my life that bugs me, to ultimately do something about it, instead of dwell. Which is hard, because I’m a chronic dweller.

 

Anyways, I hope everyone has a great week! Nothing exciting is happening to me this week. Does going to Costco count? I don’t know. But … until next time 🙂

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Entry 40: The Louis Vuitton Gym Bag

There’s this lady at the gym that I see all the time waiting for her yoga class. She’s probably in her late twenties or early thirties, a mom – and everyday I see her, she has strapped around her shoulder a Louis Vuitton gym bag.

This intrigues me. Having never owned a Louis Vuitton bag in my life, whenever I see her, I constantly find myself wondering what it must be like to prep for the gym and decide, Hey I’m going to use this expensive ass bag for all my gym stuff.

How do you even decide to get one in the first place? Deciding to get a Louis Vuitton is one thing,  it’s another thing to get one specifically for the gym. I imagine that at some point, said lady decided she needed a gym bag, decided she specifically needed a designer gym bag and while shopping must have been like no, I don’t want a Gucci gym bag.  I want a Louis Vuitton one. No, not that one. The bigger one.  

Or maybe she has 10 Louis Vuitton bags and the bag she was using was one she bought 5 years ago. Since it was so 5 years ago, of course she was going to use it as a gym bag.

But I kind of get it; material possessions often are looked as reflections of our social status. As our society emphasizes the need to succeed,  there exists this secret (or maybe not so secret)  competition to be at the top in the hierarchy of life, with the bigger, more expensive stuff acting as measures of our value and success.

So, if one’s going to be boss with a Louis Vuitton bag, why not be one with a Louis Vuitton gym bag? Just because… that’s even more boss than just having a regular bag.

My current gym bag is a Adidas sackpack from TJ Maxx that I got for $10. Its not boss at all. What it says about me is I bought this bag to carry my shit while I work out, and it was cheap. I don’t carry it with me all the time though; most times I have my wallet and my phone, and I stick it in my sports bra, right in the area between a boob and the armpit.

(I can see your head tilt and brows furrow as your trying to visualize sticking a phone/wallet in your bra if you’re a girl…or if you’re a dude, visualizing a girl sticking a phone/wallet in her bra. Thats kinda weird, you’re probably saying. And it kinda is, but thats how I roll.)

If I do happen to get designer stuff, someone please call me out if I become one of those stuck up chicks who’s like, is that from the Gap? Gross. Those females do exist. I know because one time I was talking to this co-worker, and was admiring her watch:

Me: Is that Michael Kors?

Coworker: Oh no… its Chanel sweetheart.

Well shit I thought. Excuuuuse me. 

She gave me a look that told me she wouldn’t be caught dead in a Michael Kors anything; she was better than a Michael Kors, and thus was cooler than me.

Yea, I don’t want to be that person, so call me out.

Anyways, that’s all for now. I hope everyone has a great week, and if you have one of them designer bags that cost a couple regular people paychecks, I hope you’ll still be friends with people like me who shop at TJ Max and Target.

(Note: I first wrote this whole post spelling Louis wrong and had to correct. God forbid someone reads this and is like…. Hey, you spelt “Louis” wrong.  I wasnt high cultured enough to know, but now I know. )

Until next time.. ..

Entry 39: When a Lady Goes Ape Shit at a Park

The other day, I was at a park that I frequent quite often with my dogs. It was  in a very family-orientated community where there’s a dog park, a skate rink, a swimming pool, a fire station next to the park, and a school right across the street.  I generally go there to walk/run around in the grassy areas of the park with my dogs and keep on top of focus exercises and commands… so if they see a gecko, bird, or squirrel – they’re focus is still on me, rather than other distractions.

Anyways, at the park…I was getting out of my car and a van pulls up right beside me. An older guy in his 40s comes out.

“Hi,” I said as I made eye contact. (If there’s one thing that ‘s changed about me living in the desert, is that I say “hello” a lot more to strangers.)

“Do your dogs have leashes?” he asks.

Behind my sunglasses, I had a look of confusion. Of course I had leashes. This isn’t an off-leash dog park.  I even have poop bags to pick up poop because I’m not a jerk.  I like to think I have the look of someone responsible who is doesn’t break rules, because I feel like I’m a rule follower, but maybe he didn’t see me as such.

A lady pulls up in another vehicle and asks, if I was leaving. Behind my sunglasses, another look of confusion. She then proceeds to yell at him.

“Get my fucking dogs back in the van.  She has two fuckin pitbulls in the car!”

It was 9 in the morning, and while I had been awake for a while and already gotten a morning workout in, it was taking me a while to process what exactly was going on. So she knew this guy? And those were her dogs? But she’s in a different car? 

“I don’t care,” the man tells her. By this point he’s already gotten his dogs… or her dogs out of his van, meanwhile my dogs were still in the car, as I was right outside of the passenger door, waiting to see if I should bring them out.

“Get my fucking dogs back in the van!” she yells to him

“Why do I care if she has pitbulls?” he responds. “I have a fucking gun!”

At this point, she goes ape-shit upset crazy upset and fanatically screams at him with no self control.

“I don’t care if you have a fucking gun. Get my fucking dogs back in the van!! I don’t want them near fucking pitbulls!”

How to describe ger frantic screaming…It was like how you would imagine one of those popular teenage girls would yell at their squad when finding out that someone in their who they thought was their best friend/ side-kick (but really they were using them) stole their prom date and was nominated for prom Queen, when she wasn’t….

But this all happened within a span of a few minutes, and to be honest, I didn’t know how to respond to all of it so I pretty much pretended to ignore. They eventually left, but it left me a little sad: she didn’t know my dogs and she reacted based on whatever experience she had or whatever she had heard on the news.

In owning dogs that are a breed that has a bad rep, I’ve come to understand that there going to be people who have their fears and stigmas, and that’s completely fine. We chose to own our dogs, and with that we are bound to encounter people who don’t agree with our choice of dogs. In owning them and deciding to love them, there is an even greater responsibility to defend them, and go above and beyond to ensure that they rise above whatever bad reputation they have.

But like I said, I understand that it’s hard not to evaluate situations, things or people and react based on what we read. Random:  one time, husband and I were at one of those condo sales pitch, and the sales guy pointed me out and was like … you! You like to shop! Which, it’s true, but for some reason it bugged me because I’d like to think that there’s more to me than the fact that I like to shop.

Maybe it’s all part of our nature, I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing, but I don’t think it should be the only thing. Like if I were to only generalize the people at the park who went ape shit over my dog, my first thought about them would be… white trash, these guys are white trash.

Anyways, that is all for now. Hope everyone is having a great week.

Until next time 🙂

Entry 38 : The Fear of Wrinkles

I don’t know when people generally start having mid-life crises’, but around a month before I turned 33, I started having this fear of getting wrinkles. It started with a conversation I had with a friend who casually mentioned her skin routines involving facial masks and exfoliating which led me to be filled with this feeling of oh shit. I am 33 years old and I haven’t moisturized daily, ever. Or exfoliated or done facial masks. I am going to wrinkle!

Since that initial freak out, I have found myself perusing the skincare aisles of every store (particularly Target) and stocking up on preventative wrinkle care.

I suppose there’s nothing wrong with taking precaution, but it has led me to think about why I find it so important to not age. Aging is inevitable, people are bound to wrinkle and develop puffy circles are their eyes and grey hairs. But why was it so important to me?

That is where it hit me : my self worth.

I am by no means a supermodel, but I’ve been called pretty and take pride staying in shape (or at least trying to) . But I suppose that is all I can see as being worth anything. I know it’s no use to mope around with that sort of mentality, and ultimately I have the power to change my life to make it something I’m proud of; it’s all in a matter of actually doing it.  While its really hard to break free of that when beneath those layers, there is that lack of self-confidence, I’m going to try to make it my resolution this year to snap myself out of that. … on top of fighting wrinkles.

Anyways, until next time.

 

Entry 37 : What’s Your Story?

Have you ever been asked the question What’s your story?

My immediate reaction is always like : What do you mean what’s my story? I don’t really …have one. Whats YOUR story. Then based on their answer, I answer the question.

To be quite honest, I don’t think my life is all that exciting so I’m never quite sure how to answer. When you think of stories / movies, they usually consist of a plot – sometimes with twists, turns, and an apex to the plot  – and my life has none of that. Its just, ordinary. To me its awesome, but ordinary. I mean, I cleaned my spare bathroom yesterday. This happens once a week. And then after that I folded laundry.  And then I grilled hot dogs for dinner.

If you want to go into the depth of my character, well – some might find my interests boring. I like to read, get lost in Michaels, word puzzles and regular puzzles, and binge watching The Great British Baking Show. I got into a Games of Thrones debate with the produce guy at the grocery store the other day. I hear any sort of Game of Thrones reference and my ears just perk up. He was talking to the other produce guy about the battle scene from last season and I just joined in like  I know right!?!  That was friggin crazy!

Some people think my personality weird. In high school, when I first started dating my high school boyfriend, this girl asked him Why are you dating her? She’s weird. At the time, it kind of hurt my feelings, but then I was like, wait a minute – she’s right. I am kind of weird; not in the bad socially-awkward way, just in the- I used to humm while i brushed my teeth -kind of way (true story. i dont do it anymore though, i swear…. ) and some people find that weird. I used to hope that girl who called me weird was losing in life, but I’ve gotten over it and have come to embrace the “weirdness” as part of why I’m awesome

Back to my story. This makes me realize how grateful I am not to be dating, just so I don’t have to answer that question. The very thought gives me anxiety. I would probably be rejected by waves if I was like I like puzzles, but it’s something I would say because it’s true.

I’m glad my husband didn’t think I was too weird on our first date. After we ate, I started making a sculpture with tortilla chips and poured water over it, saying its called art, you wouldn’t understand. I’d like to think he was just like Yea, shes a little weird, but super hot so I’ll let it pass. 😊

Anyways, until next time….

Entry 36: Now that Lent is Over….

Easter is over, and so is my fast from social media. I’m sure you all were wondering why I hadn’t been posting constant status updates or instagram posts on the happenings of my life (Because my life is so interesting), but rest assured – I am alive and everything is okay.  I had just given up social media for Lent.

I know what you’re probably thinking, social media? really? Jesus died on a cross and you chose to give up facebook for 40 days? Geez,  well,  now that I say it in my head, it sounds really lame because the two could never equate in suffering, but at the time I thought it was a great idea… and before I get judged – its my Lenten journey ! I do what I want!

At first it was pretty hard. My daily instinct was to usually go on social media, see what so-and-so was up to, or see where so-and-so went (because everyone leads such interesting lives)  To not have the ability to go on social media created a sense of anxiety that needed to be distracted by other stimulation.

A few weeks into Lent, I watched this Anderson Pooper 60 minutes piece on the effects of being on mobile devices for too long. He interestingly goes into the science of how you become anxious when not on the mobile device and how ‘checking-in’ releases this chemical in your brain to ease anxiety.

Holy shit, I said while I watched this episode. Luckily I hadn’t given up swearing. This is me!

Towards the end of Lent, I definitely felt less of a need to check my phone on a constant basis, less of a need to see that so-and-so checked in on Facebook to let everyone know they had to take shit in the bathroom of their own house, less of a need to let other people know what was going on with me, and less a need to figure right then and there the answer to whatever obscure question popped up in my head. Like, How tall is Jake Gyllenhaal. There was a time where we would ask these questions, and just be like…. huh, I don’t know.  and that would be that.

Sidetrack : If you really want to know the answer to this question of tall Jake Gyllenhaal is, there’s this awesome podcast called Mystery Show where the hosts investigates random questions, including this one. It’s super funny, and from what I remember she ends up actally talking to Jake Gyllenhaal (Jake Gyllenhaal is like “why does everyone keep asking me this!?!) and finding out how tall he is.

I definitely more focused on the here and now. And now that Lent is over, I’m trying to be more careful about not letting myself become as consumed as I once was and  I’m much more cynical over what I post. I mean, I think it’s great to share things about the cool stuff one experiences in life, but for me – my life isn’t really that cool. I’m not curing cancer or saving babies in Africa. I’m just in bed, with my glasses on, crusty’s in the eyes.  I don’t have deodorant on (yet). I plan to like meal plan today…. and then..yeah,  not that interesting or relevant.

But anyways… Until next time…

Entry 35 : Social Media De-Compress

I haven’t been on social media as of late, not providing consistent updates on the happenings on my life,  including the fact that I am going to bed because I am tired, or shared a picture of a most recent zit on my nose, or notified you all on my most recent cravings for fortune cookies. Because well, my life is all that interesting and when I fail to “check in” to the bathroom of my home to notify you that I’m going to take a shit, that is cause for concern.

What happened was…. well, Lent happened, and for Lent I decided to give up Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.

It was hard at first My constant impulse was to go on these social media forums and see what so-and-so was up to, and to let people know I had seen a squirrel, or share a picture of Europeans in speedos. So to prevent myself from going on successfully, I signed out of everything in order to create a roadblock for myself.

Well, everything except twitter, mainly because I never go on twitter and I forgot that I even had a twitter account when I was signing out of everything. I go on twitter an average of once or twice a year and have 1 follower (my husband).  A few days into lent, I received a notification on a witty Anna Kendrick tweet that she liked cake, or something to that effect and it made me laugh, because well… I too like cake.  So I ‘liked’ her tweet, and forgot all about it. A few hours later, my husband messaged me, asking me if I went had gone on social media that day.  I backtracked as best as I could, recounting the events of the day and replied with an adamant no.

Being my one twitter follower, he mentioned he had seen that I had ‘liked’ an Anna Kendrick tweet.

Me:  O_O Oh shit, yea I did. I forgot. But it was a funny tweet!

I got called out, but in truth, I never use twitter and had completely forgotten that I had been on it for that brief moment. I soon after signed out of my twitter account to prevent future logins by impulse.

Since then I have fasted from social media, going on only on Sundays, as Sundays don’t count in Lent. So if you’re like, What the Hell Winter! Didn’t you know that I was at Dairy Queen on Wednesday? I checked in on Facebook and tagged you because I know you like cookies and cream blasts! … or I told the world I was gay on Facebook last week, and you don’t know?!?  Sorry, I’ve been out of the loop. But to be honest, its been refreshing to not be so consumed by the need instantly let people know everything  I’m up to, which is usually something along the lines of going to Home Depot or grocery shopping, or helping to fix a toilet flush valve. Please, try not be envious.

Anyways… until next time.