I’d Like Second Breakfast
August 31, 2009 at 3:03 pm | Posted in flashback | 20 Comments
To be young, to be a Hobbit
Girl Scout Camp circa somewhere in the 1980s. That’s me to the left of the girl in the yellow shirt in front. That yellow shirted girl happens to be my sister, Dokey. My Mom was our troop leader. All in the family, y’all.
I never did earn my fire badge.
Developing early or just sporting a chubboob?
Why yes, that IS me! The tweenie with the teenie as I like to call it. The beginning of the bodacious rack- you saw it here first!
Hit Puree
August 28, 2009 at 6:16 am | Posted in drivel | 28 CommentsWow, this week here at Sizzle Says has shaped up to be a bit like that scene in The Goonies when Chunk is forced to tell the Fratellis EVERYTHING in the back of their van.*
*I stand corrected: It was NOT in the back of the van but in the abandoned restaurant. Thanks AppleTree- you are the Goonies Master.
**This goes out to you my fellow Goonie lovers: Kerrianne and Loralee.
(What’s your favorite scene in this movie?)
(What’s your favorite line?)
(Please do not tell me you have never seen it. I don’t want to have to question our friendship.)
X Marks the Spot
August 27, 2009 at 6:04 am | Posted in love, processing | 30 CommentsWelcome to Bare Your Soul Week here at Sizzle Says (apparently).
So The Fella and I are trying to be friends.
For those of you on Twitter, at this point you’re all, Yawn! Old News! But the entire world is not on Twitter (gasp!) so I thought I’d talk about it here. (Side note: It was amusing the first time The Fella and I exchanged tweets in the public forum because a bunch of people direct messaged me asking what the hell was going on and if we were back together. We are not back together.)
No, seriously. We are not back together.
After we broke up in March, some shit went down which I attempted to keep off my blog (and still will). Suffice it to say- feelings were hurt on both sides, it was not our finest hour, we’ve both been doing some heavy soul searching (and therapy) and have found ourselves in a mutually agreeable space where being friends feels like the right thing to do.
I was mad for a long time. The kind of mad that makes you clench your fists, throw things (not AT anyone, mind you) and ramble on and on to friends about the INJUSTICE and STUPIDITY and WHYWHYWHY. It was not fun. That is an understatement. (Sorry guys.)
But then one day, quite out of the blue, I woke up. Literally and figuratively. And I was no longer mad. It just so happened that within the next day The Fella happened to walk by my apartment building when I was glancing out the window and so I waved. And he? He totally saw me. And ignored me. Never one to sit quietly back and be overlooked, I promptly texted him. “I waved at you! Good morning!” He played dumb saying he *thought* he saw me and then later admitted that his heart was in his throat and he did not actually believe I would ever acknowledge his existence again so he pretended to not see me.
Oh the silly games we play.
Over the weeks we’ve been forging this friendship, we’ve hashed a lot of stuff out and are getting to know one another again in a new way. It has definitely had its rough spots. How often do we talk? Should we limit the frequency to which we hang out, text or email? How far in advance is practical for us to make plans without it seeming presumptuous? What if one of us starts dating someone else? Uh. . . let’s deal with that one later.
I know we’re both trying to be different. We’re trying to be stronger and kinder and more open- in general and with each other. Rebuilding trust is a very delicate thing. But both parties have to be willing to lay their egos on the table and say: Let’s do this together. There have been times where we have fought- tears streaming and words flailing in a cacophony of emotion- to come to a spent place where there is nothing left to do but breathe. And wait. And see what happens next.
“It’s okay to not wanna go/It’s okay if you’ve got to/It’s okay to be missing me/It’s okay not to/There are things that we can never give/There are things that we never can’t/As much to myself as to you/As much a list of questions as/A list of what to do/If no one believes it, it’s true/As much to myself as to you/To you” -As Much As Myself As To You, onelinedrawing
Three Sided Truth
August 26, 2009 at 6:56 am | Posted in confessional, processing | 51 CommentsWhat you and I don’t know about each other could fill volumes.
I piece together tidbits. I know what you look like though I’ve never stood in the same room with you. I know you have family you are close to and friends who love you. I know you are creative and kind and apparently funny though I have no idea what type of humor amuses you. I know you’re sensitive and a healer. We probably could have been friends. Except.
We’ve loved the same man. At the same time.
I am fairly certain you hate me. I don’t blame you and honestly, I understand. I’ve done things I never thought I would. Felt worse than I ever thought possible. Circled around my truth, hid from it, then swallowed it. Whole. In my own heart I’ve bargained. I’ve walked away repeatedly. Fought to break free so you could have a chance. So I could, too. I am not entirely selfless and definitely not blameless. I am so many things, qualified as good or as bad depending on the seer, but I am always honest.
Ask him. He knows the brunt of it best.
I don’t know what you know of me. Or if it’s you that is checking my blog from where you both live together. I’m not even certain if you know that he talks to me. That he always has found a way back even when I change my number or move or say goodbye. A thousand times, goodbye. That I’ve always said you deserved better. That we all did. Because we all do.
By all turns, I am the other woman. I do not fool myself into believing any different. I’m the personification of a deeper problem. I’m a fantasy escape programmed in his mind’s speed dial. But I’ve participated in a lie that is not my own which makes me party to the masquerade. And that is not who I am. Not in every other place but here. And here should be no exception.
How much do you want to know?
You and I have never spoken though you’ve told him we have. I get the desperation that drove the lie. Maybe you’re hoping to finally get the whole truth. I think you already know but the mind can guard against the heart’s worst fears. I do not know your intimacies, your inside jokes, your years of knowing him in ways I never have or will. I do not know your heart. But I hope you know that truth is the very least of what you deserve.
What you do with it is your own.
“This is a story of loaded glances and leaning in too far/this is a story of vague advances and confessions in smoky bars/so now I am walking down the sidewalk/and I am singing to myself/and I’m going to leave it all behind me now/’cause I don’t need this, I just don’t need this. . ./some fantasies are never meant to be realized at all/ and some regrets could be prevented/if you read the writing on the wall. . .” -Burning Bridges, Chris Pureka
What the hell is she talking about? No one knows.
August 25, 2009 at 6:31 am | Posted in living out loud, my neurosis, processing | 27 CommentsI’m pretty much fed up with cowardice.
You know how everyone has their breaking point? Their personal triggers, if you will? Well one of mine is lying and in particular, lying out of cowardice. The save-your-own-ass kind of cover up. The lying-to-yourself-so-you-are-lying-to-others scam. Is most lying out of cowardice? I’m pretty sure 90% of it is motivated by fear. Are cowardice and fear cut from the same cloth? Does this formula even compute?
Man, I hate word problems.
I am a very sympathetic person and tend to put myself in another person’s shoes to try to comprehend where they are coming from. . . but I am also guarded and judgmental. I do not like that I am but admitting it is part of the healing. I understand fear. I even understand cowardice though I have zero tolerance for it. Being a coward about your feelings around me is a recipe for disaster. I would rather have hard truth than tip toeing around. I had enough of that in my childhood thankyouverymuch. I think that’s why I am so frank now. I’ve just seen what not speaking your truth can do to a person. It can make you shrivel up and die (in different senses of the word). It’s a horrible thing to watch and worse, to feel.
I’m kind of an intense person. I’ve been told I am somewhat intimidating- though most of the time this statement has come from a man who I am dating/breaking up with who is not my emotional equal. Correct me if I am wrong but shouldn’t someone who supposedly loves you not ask you to be less than who you are just so they can feel comfortable with their self-proclaimed inferiority complex?
I digress.
And I am not being very nice.
And I have no idea how to tell you succinctly what the hell is motivating me to post this. For the past year I have been surrounded by relationships that are breaking apart because of infidelity. That’s one thing. For the past few months I have been struggling to feel sympathy for people who have completely lost sight of their own integrity because they have fallen into a dark hole of self-loathing. That’s another thing. For my entire life I have been striving to be an empathetic person who encourages people to be authentic. And what I have come to realize is that our fuckedupness, our humanness is so complicated and constantly shifting that I will never get a handle on it. That the best I can do is ride the wave and maybe, sometimes, remind people to:
Just speak your truth.
Just be yourself.
Just stop hiding.
That’s the big thing.
We’re all just so lost, just trying to be found.
“The little cracks they escalated/And before you know it is too late/For making circles and telling lies . . .” -Lies, Swell Season
Saucy Little Minx
August 24, 2009 at 7:41 am | Posted in fun & frolicking | 23 CommentsLet’s talk about boys.
You know how when you’re all on this ‘focus on me/not dating’ kick and then all of a sudden ex’s come out of the woodwork? Please tell me this does not just happen to me. I’ll be going along my merry way when I am bamboozled with random texts or calls inquiring into my “availability.” It’s not even that straight-forward actually. It’s more like heavy handed flirting laced with innuendo.
How strong are my pheromones? Jeez.
I’ve been actively non-dating and rather, focusing on myself. Except for the flirt texting. I admit it. I succumb to it. I am weak when it comes to the texting and the flirting and the exs.
At this point you’re probably all: How many ex’s does Sizzle have? And is she going to tell us the juicy details?! And I will tell you here and now: I have many ex’s but I am only referring to two (ok, three) at this given moment and hell no I will not tell you the details. I might be a broad but I do not text and tell.
That, my friends, is called DECORUM.
I have a lot more to say on this subject but it will have to keep. Because it’s Monday and I have the day off which means I’ll be damned if I’m going to spend it in front of the computer.
“Almost blue/Flirting with this disaster became me/It named me as the fool who only aimed to be…” -Almost Blue, Elvis Costello
Poolin’ Around
August 21, 2009 at 5:36 am | Posted in family, fun & frolicking, health | 26 CommentsDokey: Mom, are you doing it right?
Mom: Yes! It’s easy to do when your stomach sticks out.
Me: It doesn’t look like you’re doing it right. You need to look up and lean back.
Mom: I am doing it my own way.
Me: Do you feel the crunch?
Mom: I do!
Me: Where do you feel it? If you feel it in your vagina, you’re doing it wrong.
. . . And SCENE.
*Overheard by a male lifeguard. He was totally laughing.
**We were supposed to be doing crunches for tight abs.
***Our regular instructor was out sick which meant class sucked.
****Three separate people asked if my sister and I were related. That might be a record.
*****My Mom knows the words to “So What” by P!nk. We discovered this when we looked over at her in the pool and she was rocking out instead of working out.
Tough Love
August 20, 2009 at 7:35 am | Posted in letters, light bulb moments, my neurosis, processing | 20 CommentsI’m pretty good at a pep talk. The rallying cry. The YOU CAN DO IT speech. Just be prepared- I don’t really beat around the bush. Like, ever.
I was thinking about all the “advice” I’ve dolled out recently and it struck me: I should heed my own words.
Such as:
“The longer you keep up this failure talk, the longer you are going to feel like you are alone and suffering.”
Or:
“Do you honestly believe that is how you deserved to be loved? To be left? To be emotionally cut off? To not be chosen? To not be fought for? To not have a person you have given everything to not return that in kind? To have a person NEED you but not actually ever make you feel wanted? . . . Love yourself better than that. Love you first! Love you best!”
Um, yeah.
So here is what I am telling myself today:
Dear Self,
Quit succumbing to your old pattern of pleasing everyone first and thinking about yourself second. Stop with the I-am-less-than and prove-it-to-me mentality. It’s boring and not useful. You’re always trying to be one step ahead of everything- knock it off. You’re too damn hard on yourself. Maybe if you’d just shut up for once and LISTEN, you’d finally get it.
You get to choose. YOU! Own that power and wield it wisely.
Love,
Yourself
In Validation
August 18, 2009 at 6:28 am | Posted in everyday frustrations, my neurosis, processing | 35 CommentsI was having a day yesterday. A Motherfucking DAY. You know the type.
Everything was off, bad timing, grumpy-making. It started in the morning when I forgot my cell phone and had to come back for it. Then when I went to post office and the line was so long that I walked in and turned right around, giving up. By then I was late for work. Then my lunch sucked. Stupid leftovers. And I got in a pseudo-fight with someone. Okay two someones. Maybe three. I lost count and I hate math getoffmyback. And I did that thing where I invalidate my feelings and say it’s okay when it is totally not okay because I don’t want people to be mad at me or get their feelings hurt but somehow it is okay if mine get hurt.* WTF with that bullshit? Then I went to another post office on the way home and they were closed. Fuck this stupid package. Then at the grocery store I realized I forgot my list so I was just winging it trying to remember what I needed. I was in line when some lady cut in front of me for a refund on some soda deal which then gave her three 24 packs of soda and everyone knows no one should drink that much soda. She apologized to me and I was not that nice. . .as in I kind of rolled my eyes and pretended to pray with my hands up to my face and everything. That’s when I realized I forgot to get wine THE MOST IMPORTANT ITEM ON MY LIST(!) but my cart was already unloaded. I had a moment where I thought, I could just walk away from this entire situation and get in my car. Leave the groceries on the conveyor belt and just fucking bolt. But I didn’t. I endured it with a vacant, half-smile plastered on my face.
I spent the entire day feeling small and wrong and less than.
I hope today is nothing like yesterday.
(*About that invalidation thing. . .below the jump I go into more detail.)
Sometimes I Like to Fantasize I Live There
August 17, 2009 at 6:13 am | Posted in adventures, blogger meet ups, fun & frolicking | 30 CommentsWhenever I visit Portland I fall more in love with it. The adorable Craftsman style houses. The fantastic restaurants. The artsy, funky, friendly vibe. The people. If I didn’t love Seattle so much, I’d move there. (You hear that Seattle? Work a little harder at making me love you.)
I had an awesome weekend visiting the birthday girl, Jenny Two Times, who had her moment of fame when Long Story Longer asked her, “Are you Jenny TWO TIMES?” Oh yes. Indeed she is THAT Jenny. (Her blog is soon to come!) Long Story Longer, Iron Fist, Kerrianne and TSM all took the time to join us for some drinks and grub Friday night at East Burn which was a total blast.
The Gang (Jenny Two Times, TSM Oregon, Long Story Longer, Kerrianne, Iron Fist)
IronFist & Sizzle: : Secret Lovers
Long Story Longer & Kerrianne: Secret Lovers
Later some incriminating photos were taken. There was a lot of alcohol involved. I met a waiter named Kent who was wearing a belt buckle that spelled “fart”.
Kent Fart: My other secret lover.
I can’t make this shit up.
He also gave me 12 umbrellas in my vodka tonic when I really only wanted one.
Umbrellas Galore!
Long Story Longer makes me feel FRISKY.
Throwing gang signs or coppin' a feel. You decide.
Jenny might want to eat my face. I am tasty. What can I say?
The Face Smush
Kerri claims she was given virgin vodka drinks. I feel like this is a falsehood.
Sizzle & Kerri: Who is drunk? ME!
I swear it won’t be so long until I return again to visit- Portland, you temptress you!
P.S. Remind me to take the train. I HATE TRAFFIC.
P.P.S. My eyeballs hurt.
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