My vote for the most over and mis-used word of this decade: organic. Come on people... your paperwork is not organic. Your song is not organic. Your code is not organic. Stop redefining words to suit your purpose and be original... or organic... for fuck's sake. Sincerely, The Word Purist.
While this book was not epic or life changing, I truly enjoyed it and found myself unable to put it down. I am quite certain that most women of the feminist persuasion will absolutely hate the stereotypes presented in the characters, but I found them to make fora quite fascinating ensemble.
I had mixed responses to this book. Many passages were well written and well phrased. I just found parts of the story to be a little cheesy and predictable. The writer does an excellent job of relating the human experience, but I was really unable to relate to or sympathize with the main character most of the time.
Baby steps. Sometimes, that is all I can do. Maybe that is all I am supposed to do. Sometimes it is hard not to look at my life and feel a vague sense of disappointment. As a child, when I imagined my future, adult self, I sure didn't think that it would feel like this. I thought that I would have all of the answers, that I would question nothing and I actually imagined that I would just take for granted that things would be peaceful and as they were supposed to be. I was confident that being an adult looked just like that; confidence and knowing. But I don't know anything, really. And while I am mostly ok with that, the idea that as an adult, I would know things and wouldn't be living in a consistent state of mystery, was comforting.
I have made vows to a beloved twice in my short life. The first time, they were the standard, by the book vows. The second time, they were modified in accordance with our Reverend's personal style and with our input, and they were beautiful. I don't have any regrets about the promises I that I made to myself or to the men I loved. But one thing lays heavy on my heart and mind lately and that is that I never promised either of them that I would be perfect. How could I? How could anyone?
The thing is, I am a bigger critic of my flaws than anyone. And I make mistakes. Big ones. Alcohol induced tirades and stress triggered breakdowns are my specialties. They are two of the things that I am the best at in the whole world. I'm not proud of this. But this is my truth. If I could make a career out of alienating the people who care about me, I could live forever wealthy. I have fought hard against forgiveness in moments when I felt that deserved to be punished. Those moments are plentiful. But, every now and again, I have notions that I do deserve to be loved, completely and unconditionally. I think about the vows I made. I look for implied promises for perfection and I find none. And I wonder if all of my wishing for punishment and reprimand has come irreversibly true and I wonder... is this all there is?
I've been trying really hard lately to focus on myself and to take care of what I need to take care of, regardless of who might be around me. I try to think about things in a different way, so as not to place any expectations on others and therefore breed disappointment when what I think should have happened, doesn't happen. But I want more. I try to be better every day and sometimes I fail. I don't even want to be perfect. I don't want to be a simple and convenient accessory. I want to be a treasure.
It is one of my least favorite words. I hate having regrets. I always promise myself that I will do my best not to have any, but in this human experience, sometimes it just can't be helped. We are emotional and sometimes irrational animals, fumbling through this world one precarious step at a time. Sometimes we fall off the edge. Sometimes we throw ourselves off.
I think what I am most afraid of is not having enough moments. Or that because of moments past, that if this chain of moments were to suddenly come to an end, that others wouldn't understand the gravity of the moments past and they would say things that they needed to say so that they could rationalize things to themselves, but those things wouldn't be true. And like so many other things, a certain story would be told about those moments that were a fiction. And the truth about the moments would be lost forever.
The truth is that I loved with a stumbling, raging passion that was nonsense and madness. The way love is sometimes. And even though the chain of moments were imperfect, nothing was perfect, and they just were what they were. I wouldn't have traded any one of them for any other experience.
Hiya! My name is Dolly... the volunteer that picked me up from the shelter gave me that name because she said I was a doll... I'm just a sweetie pie and cute as can be, so I guess it's a good name for me!
My last owner did not take very good care of me... they let me get very skinny and then dumped me off at the shelter. I am such a good girl and I didn't deserve that.
But, that's all behind me now and I'm focusing on my future... and future where I am in a home with someone who loves me and cares for me like I deserve. I have so much love to give and I can't wait to have a family of my own to share it with and know what it's like to be a loved and spoiled bulldog!
I get along with other dogs... I'm not sure about cats and I would be best in a home with no small kids. Besides needing to pack on a few more pounds (you can help with that, right?), I am a healthy girl. I'm all ready to go and find my new home!
Are you the one that will give me my second chance at happiness? I sure hope so, I can't wait to start my new life!
The threshold upon which I lose my composure comes earlier and earlier. Last week, I could at least hold it together until 3:30, and then I could pull myself through by telling myself that I only had an hour left. I am doing that thing that John Green talks about so thoroughly in The Fault in Our Stars when I feel it coming, look up, swallow and sniff a lot, trying to choke it back. But it always wins and I always lose.
That heartbreak is only temporary, even though there are moments when you hope that it will just kill you. The irrational thoughts are almost impossible to bear...
...but I loved you
...how could you say those things to me
...but i did this or that for you
...why wasn't I enough
I know the answers to all of these questions, which is why they trouble me so. I know my thoughts are irrational and yet I can't help but think them and sometimes believe them. Everyone knows what you're supposed to do and they aren't shy about telling you what you should be doing. And you want to kind of punch them. Because they don't know how hard it was to just put your feet on the ground this morning. And even if you felt good when you woke up, that it didn't take long until the paralyzing fear came out to play again. And then the worst thought ever comes....
And you can't ever answer it, because there is no answer. But all of your friends keep telling you why and telling you how wonderful you are and how you always deserved better and how you are worth so much more and you nod. But you really don't believe it. And it seems so fucking unfair that everyone else is just going on with their lives while it feels like yours is caving in on you. How can they possibly have the Superbowl when you can hardly breathe?