Confession #66: On the blissful accumulation of things I don’t need, my email signature, and something that breaks my heart.

I’m sitting on the couch simultaneously regretting and delighting in the fact that I’m eating a bowl of cereal AFTER I just had 2 eggs, waffles, bacon, and orange juice. Did I mention it’s been a long week? (So maybe I eat my emotions, sue me.)  I also have a crapload of homework and things to think about. *shudder* But for now I will delight in my sheer gluttony, and I will not be ashamed.

Yesterday I spent some time in the Union studying with some girlfriends and I managed to pack so much stuff in my backpack that I ripped the strap off. Well I don’t think I did, but the weight of all the books did. So, I was in search of a new backpack until I stumbled into a lovely Kathy Van Zeeland tote/bag/briefcase that I just so happened to fall in love with. Needless to say, I bought it.

And then I bought a lot of other things.

Among them, an adorable turquoise bag with the word “Laundry” embroidered. My logic: dirty clothes are clothes too!

A matching water bottle for my new pseudo-backpack. BPA-free and only 7.99!

Some headphones because they were ORANGE, and duh, I freakin’ love orange.

A big Rubbermaid container (in magenta) for my shoes because it’ll make me look more organized.

A new clock for our living room, because we used to have one and then it fell and broke into a million little pieces, and it was heartbreaking and the new one was only 3.99!

A new watch for my wrist because my current one doesn’t have a second hand, and it’s also pink and megadorable.

Printer paper because like, duh, I’m totally running out.

So now I have about 3 cents left in my bank account and today was my dad’s birthday so I don’t think it’s a good time to ask for money. Crap.

—-

I’ve noticed that a lot of my peers (the ones in Student Government, at least) have email signatures, like they put their name and title and phone number and such on the bottom of their emails. First, I think it makes them seem super important and LEGIT, and second, I want to be both of those.

Here is one  I’ve considered:

Brenda Olmos

University of Texas at Austin

School of Nursing

Professional Sleeper, Breakfast Eater

Phone: 888-333-444

That’s just an idea. Not sure what other titles I could use. Blogger? Indecisive Cycling Instructor? Specializing in General Badassery?

Enough of that, I’ll have it down eventually.

———

I was at WalMart last night and saw an old(er) man pushing carts. Not only was it 10 pm, but it was cold! I firmly believe that  little old people should be in their snuggly homes at that time. I also think that people over 65 should be able to live off something other than their blue-collar job wages. It really saddens me to see that they can’t afford their medications or that they have to work to support the rest of their family. Oh, it just kills me. I hope I don’t have to see my own parents go through that. I have a fantasy about getting old just like I have fantasies about getting married and having kids and being a great nurse — none of them include WalMart.

——-

I’m off to bed and to the mental hospital in the morning. To take care of others or to be taken care of – I haven’t decided yet.

Confession #65: On the pressure in my chest, the number of hours in one day, and the grocery store “checkout.”

I try to stay away from foul language because I think it’s unladylike, unprofessional, and generally unappealing, especially on a young woman. My momma raised me right, ya know. If there’s anything I don’t want to be or portray it’s trashy. However, sometimes the words slip out without my permission and there are short spurts of awkwardness as I realize that I just broke my own rule. This post may include some of those times.

I decided it would be a better use of my time to ramble on about my oh-so-awesome life than to study because one day I’ll be famous from my wonderful creative writing and my nursing skills won’t really be of any use anymore, now will they? That’s right, suckas! I fully intend to NOT wear scrubs for the rest of my life – for the sake of fashion and oh, I don’t know, OTHER interests. Not sure if I’ve already mentioned this but nursing isn’t the center of my universe. I want the whole world! To conquer it like Pinky and the Brain and look good all along. Not that I don’t like nursing. I just think it’s a means to an end. The end is to be disclosed later on when we get closer and I can trust you.

Now that I’ve fully made an idiot of myself with my crude sass, let’s get to the point. I’m TIRED. No, no, nay nay, I’m EXHAUSTED. This entire week has dragged on and my days have all started at 8 am and ended around 9 pm. I chose this life, I know. But still, who knew that doing 5 extracurriculars outside of nursing school was going to be so. damn. hard? Yes, I do want some cheese with my whine. Yes, I’m throwing a pity party. Yes, everyone’s invited.

I started feeling a pressure in my chest around 1 pm today and I think that’s my body telling me to SLOW THE HELL DOWN. So tomorrow I’m taking a nap and you can’t stop me. Ha. In yo face.

My Blackberry lost its trackball this morning (again) and I had to walk around ever so carefully so as to not break it even more. I seriously hate having an expensive phone. It makes me seem pretentious (aside from the fact that I may already be pretentious?) and over-occupied with whatever life I may be having on my Blackberry, apart from real people and their real non-busy lives. It’s IS awesome to get my email and check Facebook on it, though. I’m not gonna lie. I’m a hater but a lover. If it was a Facebook status it would be “It’s Complicated” between me and my Crackberry. *sigh*

I had to stop by HEB this evening (after my 4th cycling class in a row this week – I’m pretty sure my right leg almost fell off tonight, that stupid traitor) to buy some Krazy Glue for my aforementioned Shitberry. So I go in there looking all sweaty and wearing my black Spandex capris that I wear to cycle in because for goodness sake, it’s just HEB and it’s 9 pm, who cares what I look like, right?

Well, apparently the doormen and the cashiers and the creepy guys who buy groceries late at night CARE. Apparently Spandex is code for LOOK HERE. Apparently my butt has achieved maximum roundness after all this cycling and it’s just absolutely mind-boggling to some people that I didn’t go to HEB to have my ass stared at, but to actually make a purchase. Now I’m not one to mind a little visual affection – that’s fine as long as you don’t translate that appreciation into anything I can hear. Let’s get it clear, people. “WHOOO!!” is NOT appropriate. If HEB wasn’t a pleasant 4 blocks away, I’d go somewhere else.

I’m done being unappreciative for my physical gifts and complaining about my packed and popular life. Your turn.

Come on, complain with me.

Confession #64: On my secret love for the tortilla man, having fans, and spaghetti for the soul.

I sweat profusely in cycling class today so in the natural stream of logic, I decided to make up for it by eating as many carbs as I can before 10 pm. Genius, I know. It’s part of my “what makes me happy” diet. Once I become famous from this blog, I’ll write a book about it. Just you wait and see, you non-believers!

Apart from being Dora on Facebook (which keeps me intensely busy – the adventures are eeeeendless!), I’ve been intensely busy doing other things like grocery shopping and staring at the guy who makes the flour tortillas (white and wheat, whatever your pretty little heart desires). Every time I pass by his station, I see him and his sensitive baby face and how he is one with the tortilla machine. I always want to say something like, “your tortillas are great” or “will you marry me” but I usually just pretend that I’m having a hard time deciding between white or wheat. I also sneak a sample because you never know, he might have put more love into this batch. I hope that one day I can gather up the courage to say something sweet and extremely attractive and we can have a short conversation on the doughy intricacies of flour. I dare to dream.

I’ve noticed that some of the same people have come regularly to my cycling class. They either have nothing to do at 7:30 pm or they freakin’ love my class. I’d say it’s the latter. I can’t really call them fans because I’d probably need to start a Facebook group to make it legit. This regularity of theirs means that a) I’m a badass, and b) I’m excessively egotistical. I don’t mind if you don’t mind.

I’m working on the second portion of my spaghetti delight dinner and I’m sure I’ll regret this as soon as I lay down and realize that all those carbs are going straight to my butt. But alas, Life’s too short to worry about night-time heartburn or being TOO bootylicious. Am I right or amirite?

Confession #63: On finding jeans that fit (and wondering if this room makes my butt look big)

Since before I can remember, my butt has been perky. At times bigger than others, but even at my thinnest through my hardest years of high school and the even harder years of recovering from an eating disorder, it was always perky and round and generally appealing. I like to think I come from a long line of women with appealing, soft, and sometimes wide bodies. There’s something special about accepting that you, despite what you eat or what you do or how many Hershey’s kisses you don’t eat – you come from a family with a certain shape. While I’m not on the cover of Victoria’s Secret, and I really don’t intend to be or want to be (because I’m hard on myself as it is), I think I come from a lucky line. Pear-shape is the way to go. (In real life pears give me gas. I eat them anyway.)

I stopped by to shop at the outlets today because James is such a grouch when I take him shopping so I can’t count on going with him, and I really don’t mind shopping alone. It’s relaxing to browse through tons of stores and mostly just touch everything that looks pretty or sparkly or in some cases, a little too skanky for my taste.

With the ratio of my hips to my waist, finding jeans is almost as hard as fitting a camel through the eye of a needle, if you know what I mean. I like Old Navy a lot, but sometimes they’re too long (thus enhancing my shortness) or they’re too tight in some places and too loose in the other. Occasionally I find a great pair and sing “hallelujah!” in the dressing room. But it takes work and patience and a lot of self-love. I used to hate that because I used to hate my body, but now I remind myself, “it’s not me, it’s the clothes.” It’s  a cheesy mantra but I embrace it with vigorous zeal. I refuse to believe that my body is at fault when the shirts are made too short! the pants are too long! the arms are too tight! and so on. Shopping is like dating – you have to keep looking until you find the perfect match. And if a guy doesn’t fit your lifestyle or he can’t handle your schedule, is it your fault? Hell. to. the. no.

Finding a good pair of jeans (or any pants, in my case) can be one of the most frustrating OR rewarding experiences in a girl’s life. You either go everywhere and everything makes you look like a sausage or every store ran out of your size, OR you happen to search for a while, and then the denim gods send their blessings down upon you, AND the jeans are under $50. I honestly can’t stand in front of a mirror and bask in my own self-esteem and not believe that God exists. I’m just a good Christian like that.

I’m not exactly sure where I was going with this, I just know that it’s something that a lot of girls struggle with (regardless of butt size/shape/width/height!), and I’d like to hear some suggestions on what jeans fit you, and why you love them. I tend to hear that a lot people read this thing, and I’d like to see the comments show it. Apart from denim, I love attention.

Bon weekend!

Confession #62: On the ancient commonsense of things.

Again I am eternally sorry that I’ve neglected my dear blog. I have no excuse but life itself, life and all of its little life things. Life babies! Ha! School, mostly. Work, partially. Keeping my sanity, absolutely.

My space bar is having some problems – it feels like there are crumbs of Ritz crackers under there, so I apologize ifsomewordsarejammedtogetherlikethis.

School is back in its normal flow and I’m trying to stay ahead of things as much as I can. Socially, it’s been a bit odd at school. I’m just not sure where I fit in this group of 80 girls. As usual, I’m having a terrible time pleasing everyone, and what the hell is that about? I need to quit trying to be everyone’s BFF. Like Nisreen would say, Heavens to Betsy! I need to focus my energy on being genuine and just letting people who like me, like me. (And people who don’t can eat poop!)

There’s definitely a lot of “chi” or “zen”or whatever it is that makes a place feel harmonious and comfy in my living room. I’m enjoying this couch time, I feel at peace with the softness and molding. Mhmm, I’m such a sap.

It’s almost 10pm and I ate a donut 15 minutes ago. This is the story of my life.

Confession #61: On taking inventory, cooking, and how apologizing really sucks.

I’ve been absent for a while because I’m frantically trying to put my life back together. And by back together I mean DOING SOMETHING. And by something I mean MANY things. And by all that I mean that I’m tired on the night before school starts. *sigh*

I think about the earthquake in Haiti and my heart aches. I donated money but I don’t feel like I’ve made any difference. I’m just a wildly fortunate spectator. I am so incredibly blessed.

I figured it’s been almost 2 months since Thanksgiving and it’s time to notice everything I have: a family that loves me so so so much, a warm place to live and eat and pray and laugh and most importantly – sleep …a car, an education, tons of silly friends, a few pairs of stylish shoes, all my teeth, and the breath of each day. I have it all.

In other random news: I cooked one day and it was the only day I cooked. Ha! But really, it took me an hour and a half to cook something that lasted me about 3 days worth of meals. I don’t ever want to eat it again. Despite that, it was good and healthy and colorful. I see myself NOT doing this more often, unless I want to live in some fantasy land where there’s always time to cook. Unfortunately they don’t have BSN degrees in fantasy land. I checked.

Let us dub this "Healthy Day 2010"

Apart from my eating habits, I’ve been slightly inconsiderate and insensitive and selfish lately. And I’ve also stood up for myself and said what I wanted. However, as much as I tried to steer clear of it, I’ve had to say “I’m sorry” and “I shouldn’t have done/said that” and “I do care about you.” It is SUCH a pain in the ass, but at the end of the day, it works, right? And that’s life – you do what works. I am genuinely sorry, I do care, but I’m not going to deny that it was hard to put my pride aside. I am just a big ball of hot pride.

In decorative news, we got a new couch! Thanks be to Bridget! I bought a cover today and it looks fabulous. Our living room has been transformed and I heart it.

Let us dub this "the couch."

I am off to do my laundry at my friend Melissa’s house because HEB doesn’t have a machine that changes your dollars into quarters and to be bitterly honest with you, I’m just lonely.

Confession #60: I’ve accepted that you probably don’t care (and I examine the lovely).

Whoa, baby! 60 Confessions ALREADY? My head gets exponentially bigger with every post I write, because every post means about 25 more views (on average, some days it’ll go up to 40!).

I was (and still am) going to write about how lovely my days have been recently, but I decided I should step back and be thankful for it first. *take a deep breath*

*thankful moment*

Alrighty then, on to the main entree!

I went dancing on Monday with James and Monica and some other friendly people whose names I don’t remember. We ate at Chili’s first and I realized that indeed, I love mainstream chain-restaurant food! In general, I love food, but I had some excellent penne pasta that night.

I had a temporary lapse in memory as to my resolution to not eat out. Oops.

On Friday, James, Josh, and I went out on the town (read: drove around aimlessly) and found a swell little coffee shop in which we acted a fool. Playing JENGA and drinking Cafe Mochas is a good Friday night to me.

Big mugs = happy mugs.

The guys got into it - here is Josh foreseeing a collapse.

Saturday was James’s 21st birthday (read: PARTY) and we went to Dave & Buster’s (arcade/restaurant) to watch in awe as he purchased drinks from the bar (or from the completely apathetic waiter who talked with his mouth closed). (James was the only non-minor of the group.) I have a couple of pictures of him but I won’t embarrass him. Instead, look what I won with my tickets!

I see many snuggly nights ahead of us, Bevo.

Beside having a sweet and pleasant time, I’ve been doing laundry, complaining about tension in my shoulders, rubbing on my own shoulders, and hoping that someone will fork over $50 so I can go get a massage.

What’s lovely in your life  – what’s worthy of a *thankful moment*?

Confession #59: If I were on a dating website, this is what I’d say.

So obviously I’m not busy at work – let’s get that cleared up before you get all “how do you manage to write crap at 10 am?” on me. I secretly think they hire me to just sit here and look pretty, but I can’t say that out loud because oh, that would be sooo egocentric! I do make the occasional copy and file some papers- I earn my wages, alright? *shaking the haters off*

Anyway, I read something about how beautifulpeople.com is kicking off people who gained weight over the holidays (and are now less hot than they were before, because fat is always bad bad bad! shame on you for enjoying the holidays! you piggy pig!…okay, I’ll stop). Not that I’d ever join a dating website (because I obviously have GAME dripping out my sweet delicate ears), but if maybe, just maybe, I was hot enough to be on beautifulpeople.com, I came up with a blurb about myself.

And by “blurb” I mean an extensive paragraph of everything I’d want someone to know before they even considered being interested in me.

I’m 20 years old with a sarcastic chip on my shoulder. I sing in the car at volumes you don’t want to experience. (Or maybe you do? Eh?) I am in nursing school, and although I see myself being a nurse, I don’t see myself only being a nurse. I’d like to write for a newspaper one day so I can splatter my worthy opinions all over the 5th page that no one ever really reads. (If newspapers still exist in the future, slim chances to none.) I’m learning French because it makes me feel sophisticated and classy. I like to think I’m classy. I like to salsa dance but I can follow a lead on any other types of dance, and I mostly do it to dress up and impress (and to burn calories, hello!) I enjoy a skinny vanilla latte or any other Starbucks product as long as you’re buying. I have medium-high self-esteem on most days, and I have great skin. I don’t stick with anything for long – I’m a woman of short attention span. I’ve never gone on one, but I don’t think I’d like a long walk on the beach. Too much sand in the toes. I have an (illegal/underage) affinity to Texas Teas and Mexican Martinis (sshh!!). I sing silly advertising slogans in my sleep (“I want my baby back, baby back, baby back ribs!”) and I’m not ashamed. I plan obsessively and get mildly upset when things don’t go my way. I have a lot to learn.

So there you have it – I managed to get through it without saying “I like to have a good time,” “I like to hang out with my friends,” and ‘I like to listen to music.” Be proud of me.

Nisreen insists that I say she is awesome, thank you for the idea, you’re the best, you’re so beautiful, blah blah blah.

Confession #58: I have some of my own.

As cheesy as it may be (and I have nothing against cheese, y’all know that), I think it’s worthy to have resolutions at the beginning of the year. At any time of the year, really, but the beginning is when people start to get real introspective (and whiny!).

For the first time in a long time (err, something like 7 or 8 years), my resolutions do not include the dreaded “lose weight.” For the first time in a long time, I’m not plagued with the desire to be smaller around my hips or waist or face. I’m settled with being me, right here, right now, jiggle and all. But that didn’t come easy. I remember nights praying that if I couldn’t make my body different (and believe me, I tried), that I could at least like the body I have. And voila! A few rounds of the clock later, I am here. I have arrived!

Now for some real commitments, because Lord knows that I love to make promises: (in no particular order, except numerically)

1. Get stronger. In my muscles. In my bones. But mostly in my muscles. I can only recall about 3 weeks of 2009 that I lifted weights, and to my inner gym junkie, that’s a wittle disappointing. I want to do push-ups up on my toes, not on my knees. I want to lift 20s on a shoulder press. I want to put these thunder thighs to work! Hear me roar, I’m going back to the weight room!

2. Stop eating out (so much). This one was a toughie to put on the list because a) eating out is EASY, and b) eating out is FUN. Easy and fun are two things I try not to pass up too often, especially when they come together in a cheesy/spicy/greasy package. However, I just added up all of my eating-out expenses from September to December, and I am sad to say I lost $160 dollars in recreational dining. Bah! That’s like, half my rent. (Not gonna lie, those breakfast tacos I bought on Wednesday mornings were totally, totally worth it.) *sigh* Goodbye to my friends Chili, Madam Mam, Wendy, Starbucks, China Kitchen, McDonald’s….oh, the horror! This one will be difficult, but I’ve considered buying a cookbook. Baby steps!

3. Don’t use credit cards. The first step to this would be to pay off my credit cards. Depressing! I have a lot of nursing school textbook debt and I know I can pay that off by the end of this month, but after that, I’m putting my two credit cards away. They come in handy when I’m in a crunch (3 for 10 sale at Bath & Body Works!) but then I have this gray cloud of debt that follows me everywhere I go. Not good, not good at all. Goodbye Chase, Goodbye Capital One. It’s not you, it’s me.

4. Study in the library. I love to go home and lounge on the couch, grab some popcorn, and flip through my notes. Unfortunately, this is not as effective as sitting in a cold quiet library with other miserable studious people. I only did this a few times in the past semester, and I got done with my schoolwork so much faster but it was just so uncomfortable and somber that I couldn’t bring myself to do it much. The good thing is that UT has some awesome libraries (Life Sciences Library, holla!) and sometimes you can get a soft plush chair to sit on. These moments are the highlights of my academic career.

5. Read the Bible. I have a love-hate relationship with this concept of reading the Bible. I love to think about doing it, but I actually hate doing it. I don’t have a taste for it, I actually think it can be quite boring. For a while I was reading the New Testament with my room mates, and that was enjoyable because it had a social aspect to it (and I love to hear the sound of my own voice, I’m not ashamed). The Bible is God’s language, and the more we read it, the more words He has to speak to us. (See, I listen at church sometimes!) What a lucky guy, he already knows English but I have to learn to speak Bible. Human life is exhausting. Anyway, I still have the schedule to read the New Testament in 60 days, and I’ve asked James to read it with me. He doesn’t dig the Recovery Version as much as I do, but it’s my resolution so he’s gotta follow my rules! This is not a democracy, it’s a faithocracy. Amen!

I think 5 is a good number. I’ll stick with that. I’m sure I could think of other things that I could change (uh, pluck my eyebrows more often), but they’re minute in the grand scheme of life and happiness.

Confession #57: I despise the kissy face.

Considering that it IS Christmas break (feel free to hate me, I have six weeks off!) and although I love me a good mystery novel, I can’t possibly spend all my time exercising my brain in positive ways. Because what is Christmas break if not a time to snoop around Facebook? Perhaps click on someone you don’t know? Jump up in sweet delight when they don’t have privacy settings on their photos?

So sue me, I do this from time to time. And what I’ve found in astonishing numbers, what makes me cringe and slightly regret that the digital camera was ever invented, what makes me groan internally for some real photography (all in the name of class!) is…

the kissy face.

Before I decided to rant about this I throughly searched my own albums in hopes that I haven’t committed this crime, and the closest I could find was this:

circa 2006, blingin' new Prada glasses!

Now for some points in my defense: This was back in high school when Myspace was still cool and I didn’t know better than to take pictures of myself. (Thank God, that phase quickly ended.) Also, I’m going for more of an intellectual look, not so much a “let’s virtually smooch, I have lips and they’re photogenic” vibe. See?

I could totally go through my OWN friends on Facebook and find several kissy-facers but while I’m vicious, I’m not that vicious. In lieu, I’ll google (that’s a verb) kissy face…

This proves that the kissy face is OK if you're like, still in diapers.

This proves that a) Orange is NOT the new tan, b) white girls are usually NOT ghetto (ahem, there’s the occasional exception), c) there IS such a thing as too much turquoise, and d) I just don’t understand why anyone would do this.

*shudder*

And THIS, this proves that the kissy face should be discontinued. Indefinitely.

And while this may be yet another pointless post (APP), I hope you reach the point in your life when you’ve decided that your face is worthy of better poses, that you will only do a kissy face when you have even the slightest chance of getting a kiss in return, and that hopefully these moments won’t be simultaneous with time in front of a camera.

And I could go ON about kissing pictures. I know, I know. I’m such a wet blanket.