Pissed at Love

One of my favorite things to do is go Thrift store shopping. It's a hobby I picked up after I met my college roommate. She was the Queen of labels and had the most gloriously stocked closet I had ever seen and her secret was the Goodwill. Since graduating and moving back home I'm saddened to say that my thrift store shopping days had been mildly put on hold and I'm ashamed to say that it is mainly due to the fact that after living in Newport Beach I became a bit of a Thrift store snob. The rags of the wealthy are far more stylish than the rags of the...well, not so wealthy.

However, all of this changed when I discovered an amazing store called Eco Thrift. All of a sudden I was surrounded once again by J Crew, BCBG, Abercrombie, American Eagle, Express, even Target's Massimo was an exciting label after such a severe drought. I was on the clock when I found my new friend and only had a few minutes to look around but today I went back. And while I was trying on $72 worth of Thrift store clothes I witnessed something that made me decide I had to start writing again.

The dressing rooms at Eco Thrift consist of three small rooms with faded green curtains for doors. You're allowed to take in three items at a time but you are not permitted to occupy a room for more than five minutes. The average cost of each article of clothing I bought was $2.98, if you divide that into 72 that's roughly 24 articles of clothing and let me tell you right that I didn't purchase everything I tried on. There was no way I was making it in and out of any dressing room in 5 minutes nor was I going to abandon my findings and allow them to be preyed upon while I tried on a mere three items behind a curtain. So, I did what any self respecting thrift store shopper does; I used the mirror outside of the dressing rooms and tried on clothes to the full viewing 'pleasure' of all who were in Eco Thrift. I was mildly embarrassed but not ashamed and my embarrassment faded quickly as it became quite apparent that I was not the craziest shopper that day.

Directly in front of the three curtained dressing rooms and to the left of my mirror is the glass counter cabinet that holds electronics. A man came up and asked to view a laptop. No big deal. But then his significant other appeared to his left. They were in the middle of some lover's quarrel and she wanted to go. He did not. She asked for his truck keys so she could at least wait in the car. He said no. She asked why. He didn't trust her with his truck.
"Dick"
"Well, we all got one"
"Everyone but you," were her last words before storming off. He seemed un-phased other than to complain to an Eco Thrift employee about how this woman never stops talking.

The fight as interesting as it was for the few seconds it lasted wasn't what made me start this post. I continued trying on clothes for maybe 5 minutes, maybe 10. Honestly I don't know. Thrift stores are my beautiful abyss. Regardless, it wasn't long before out of the corner of my eye I saw a poof of white tool disappear behind a green curtain. A little while later the poof reemerged from behind the curtain. It was the bottom portion of a wedding dress and it was in the arms of the woman who had just told her presumable boyfriend that he lacked male genitalia, the same man who didn't trust her enough to sit in his truck!

I've been accused often enough of having a skewed version on love. An optimist, an idealist, a girl who shoots unicorns and rainbows out of her ass. But if what I witnessed in Eco Thrift today is any semblance of normalcy when it comes to love than I want nothing to do with it. I think people have seriously screwed love up. What woman would want to marry a man who doesn't trust her enough to sit in his car?; how could she even deem it a possibility? I honestly don't think he's going to be popping the question any time soon. Love makes you stupid. It makes you believe things that aren't true. I am just pissed at love.

When I first started this blog it was for a school assignment. I wrote about how falling in love was like going to the movies. But when love leaves its more like when the DVD comes out. I saw the movie with the man I love but now its been out of theaters for awhile. I bought the DVD and replay scenes over and over again. He didn't think it was worth the money. He's probably at the theater now but he's watching something new, someone new, and all I can do is sit here and wish that there was an alternate ending to mine.

Don't Give up on the Train

It’s Christmas time and that means decorations, presents under the tree, homemade goodies, ice skating in the city, cold winds and warm fires but in my house it also means one more thing: cheesy Christmas movies on TV. And thanks to the invention of Tivo and such channels such as ABC Family, Lifetime and Hallmark, we have enough taped to fill every second of the season with heart warming, made for TV moments.
I make fun of them, grumble and roll my eyes every time I walk into the living room but the truth is (and you have to promise to keep this a secret from my mom) I actually like the cheesiness. And to be completely honest, every once in a while some of the movies take the typical plot line and surprise you with a pretty good story.
That being said I watched one of these ‘gems in the rough’ yesterday about a little boy who thought it was pointless to wish for something as big as a toy train under the Christmas tree. The wise reply he received after sharing his woes film was this: “if you don’t have dreams they can’t come true.”
I don’t know why but that one sentence keeps playing through my mind as if my brain and not just my TV were Tivod. Play. Rewind. Play. Rewind.
And the more the phrase runs through my mind the more I wonder about the dreams we stop believing in, trains we put out of our mind: a job, a spouse, a family, a business, finally seeing the world, whatever it may be, because it would be too disappointing not to see them under the tree.
The point, I suppose, is this: in the spirit of Christmas and in hope of a better year than last, dream again. You should know the little boy in the movie got his train. And although I know that life doesn’t have quite so many happy endings as Hallmark movies sometimes good things do happen to those who believe.

Who Knows

I’ve been thinking about the meaning of life a lot in recent days. I don’t know why but lately I can’t shake the thought that it’s all meaningless, our existence that is. We live and then die. There’s work, heartache and all those other things like love and happiness but it all ends with a box in the ground or ashes in a jar on the fireplace of someone else who will ultimately face the same end.
I know these are morbid thoughts but as they (whoever ‘they’ are) say, “misery loves company,” and these thoughts are indeed making me miserable. They’ve become leeches to my brain and I’m beginning to think to my soul as well, slowly sucking away my life, burying me alive.
I think it’s only fair to mention that I’m a Christian. We’re supposed to have the meaning of life all figured out but sometimes cookie-cut answers don’t solve the hunger of the soul to know.
I wish I had something profound to conclude with, a surprising twist in the story where I finally have all the answers. The heroine back from her journey ready to enrich the lives of others with all the knowledge she’s obtained. But I don’t.
The only conclusion I have is this: whether it’s pointless or not, life is a gift we’ve all been given. Don’t be afraid to enjoy it because in the end even if it is just the figment of some greater being’s imagination, right now it’s real. Right now you can feel and touch and you are free from the confines of a cedar box or ceramic vase. Free to live and breathe, free to laugh and love and free to make someone else’s breath meaningful if even just for a moment.

An Analogy on Love

I’m sitting here trying to come up with something to write about and yet I can’t help but think of anything other than the man that I’m falling in love with. That may be because of the sappy music playing on my laptop or the dozen red roses sitting on the table next to me. Roses that were sent just because he felt bad he couldn’t be here when I was sick. Mind you I’m not in the hospital; I don’t even have a fever, just the sniffles and a cough.
I just can’t believe that I’m this blessed. I’ve dreamed of love for so long but was so sure that by the time I found it, it would be ridiculously disappointing; like waiting for a movie for months, buying tickets for the midnight showing and then at 2 o’clock in the morning kicking yourself because you could have been in bed instead of wasting your time watching crappy acting and a predictable plot. But there is no more anticipating love, I’m in it. I’m in the theater. I’m completely invested (I mean large popcorn, soda, and a bag of Skittles) and the best thing is, it’s better than I could have ever imagined. No preview could have done this justice. There have been a few disappointing scenes but for the most part I’ve been on the edge of my seat. Excitement and terror exist within me simultaneously as we work our way to the final credits, which I hope won’t run until my last breath escapes me.

A Bowl of Shit?

“Life is a bowl of shit. A bowl of shit with jelly beans mixed in. You always have to eat the shit but every now and then you get a jelly bean.”
These are the words that were spoken to me in a small bar on the top floor of a hotel in Santana Row last weekend. My girlfriends (the chicas, as we’ve named ourselves) had come into town for the holiday and wanted to go out for the night. I was designated driver, which amounted to playing babysitter for three of my favorite people in this world and marriage counselor to a middle-aged Mercedes dealer from Canada. His name was Jerry, a husband and father to two little girls.
He was unhappy in his current relationship with his wife stating that they both knew they were only together for the kids. It broke my heart. I told him to fight for his family, remember why he had fallen in love with his wife, and talk to her as honestly as he conversed with a stranger in a bar. He thanked me for the conversation, I thanked him for the drink (sparkling water in a wine glass) and we both moved on with our lives. Jerry back to the hotel room he was sharing with his business colleagues and me back to my chicas.
I walked into that bar unsure of where I was headed with school, relationships, etc. But I walked out realizing that I still have a world filled with endless possibilities ahead of me. I plan on having a bowl filled with jelly beans. (According to Jerry’s philosophy we all have different amounts in our bowls.) And it is my sincere hope that wherever you are and regardless of the years you have yet lived, you find as many jelly beans as possible and enjoy every bite.