Checking in

After conversing with some besties on the subject, I think that it's time to give my poor dusty blog some love. I miss writing and, as narcissistic as a blog is in reality and theory, I do have a lot to say. Also, it's free and I find myself rather witty so I should make time.

I've had a number of ideas for posts:
Why I'm finally convinced that Disneyland is loosing it's soul
A nostalgic ode to the Huntington Library and why it defines awesome
My live music addiction
The new addition at work and my new glorious spot under the skylight and reason #4589 why my bosses rock
My new definition of "friends"
My opinion on LDS men and their frustrating discontents
My new-found terror at turning 32
My new abode
The utterly inadequate lighting in my new abode
My amazing new roommates in my new abode
Why life with a dog is different, better, and necessary
My new Life Hacks
My first Las Vegas wedding and my first night in the Paris Casino
My current obsession with Joseph Gordon-Levitt
Why Christopher Noland or Danny Boyle should direct every movie ever
... and a whole lot more.

But for now I think I'll just check in since it's been half of forever.

Firstly, to get that white-hot burning question of yours out of the way - no I am not dating anyone. No one is calling, no one has Facebooked, no one is texting, no one is asking about me and I don't have anyone in mind. I'm an involuntary Mormon Nun in training and there isn't much I can do about it. It makes me sad and I kind of hate talking about it.

Yes, both my visiting teachers are happily coupled girls, one of whom is engaged just in case I needed more reminders of my solo state I'm resigned to being pathetic in the matters of the heart and have healthfully turned my devotions to celebrities, personal hygiene, stray animals, dust bunny mitigation, CostCo deals, and Masterpiece Theater. You know, like every other forgotten 30+ single lady of substance.

I had a Wily E. Coyote moment today when I was cleaning up the dishes from dinner, being home alone. Both of my rommies are currently out of state on their respective summery galavants and I have been sans domestic company. About 3 nights ago when I was warming up some healthful taquitos I heard some shirty meeeowing at my screen door and I almost jumped out of my skin because there, on my porch, in the dusky sunlight was a yellow eyed, grey Persian mixed cat that looked EXACTLY like the cat I had growing up who had passed away a one-eyed, weathered, battle ax of a cat a few years ago. Yet here was her bright and brisky reincarnate at my door saying hello. Well, she was asking for food but I took it as a “hello”. I promptly gave her some of my taquito and we sat on the porch together for a tic. I just finished a book about Egyptian gods and looked at her yellow eyes and decided that The Universe (read: God) recognized that I was sans domestic company (my roommate even took the dog on her galavants. I mean, I know he is hers and all but seriously, leaving me with only fish for company… There was much sadness in the land.) I decided the cat was trying to be my friend and protect me till my people got back home. Cats were pretty badass per the Egyptians and the Egyptians knew their stuff.

Fast forward to my Wile E Coyote moment today… I was doing dishes and had put out some food for Temporary Kitty Friend and I noticed some more furry type activity out of the corner of my eye. Apparently she has a litter of 4 adorable kittens that she had brought for dinner as well. It was sweet for a moment. They’re kittens after all and then *boing* It hit me… the kitties, the conspicuous lack of partner or company, the catching up on NPR while drying my dishes in an overly tiled kitchen – I’d become the Cat Lady. I immediately turned on some obnoxious Lady Gaga or something and raced to my friend’s house but… um… yeah.

Moral of the Story: Don’t be too nice to memories from your Childhood. They could only be there to strap you to the wall of your Worst Fears. Fight the Power and fix your pets.

In other news: Work is going well. We've had a bit of a drop off in traffic on the website but we've learned that it's an industry trend and not just us thankfully. We're still holding strong in the black and the new website www.DesignShuffle.com is taking off well. A bit slower than we hoped but strong things are built bit by bit right?

I recently went shopping with my boss and a few coworkers at the LA Mart and California Gift Show for new vendors for our home goods website www.ArcadianHome.com. We have a bunch of home goods vendors right now but we were shopping for some more textiles and larger dollar items that could bring in more revenue for the same amount of footwork. Throughout the twelve stories of the LA Mart and 3.5 acres of vendors at the LA Convention Center I caught myself drooling over more than one rug or two but saw more pieces of pottery, glass, pot holders, stationary, stuffed whattuzits, curly potpourried whirlydoos and stamped and scrap booked cutsieflangles to do me for a lifetime. I’m convinced now, more than ever, that Americans have entirely too many THINGS, love THINGS, need THINGS, and pay a lot for THINGS and as such the market for THINGS is huge and silly. But it’s what gives me a paycheck every two weeks so I can buy my own set of things that I somehow don’t think apply to the rest of the things that are contemptible. Life is fair like that.

My hair is till red. I still love it. I finally found a girl I trust to do my red that isn’t my cousin that lives a rather inconvenient 800 miles away. She is the best I’ve ever come across but my new girl is also quite good, local, part of a family I adore, and moderately priced. Again, The Universe cares about the details of my life and knows I feel much better about it in red hair so he gave me someone who can do red. Because, frankly, red is not easy. And neither am I so we’re a perfect match.

There is a lot more going on but I’m sleepy I need to save some of my modestly entertaining life to blog about later.

But for the time being, think on this…

Who was the first Cat Lady? How did the idea first get it’s stigma? I’m at a loss.

Veritaserum

So I've admitted my absolute love for Quarterlife in previous posts and my gusto hasn't really subsided since then. The first season is over and I miss it a lot. So much even that I've gone back and rewatched episodes. About once a week actually. OK - so I'm hooked! It could be worse... It could be Rock of Love or something totally demeaning to the human race. Right? Right?!

There are two episodes in particular (18 & 19) that I absolutely love and I finally just realized why.

It's slightly embarrassing, but mostly because I tend to pride myself on how I've avoided teeny-bopper status on things. Like, I never liked the New Kids on the Block, I've only ever seen 3 episodes of 90210 (though Luke Perry did find a place in my heart for a bit - but I've always had a soft spot for the Rockabilly type), I never got on the DiCaprio or Johnny Depp band wagon either. Pretty much if anyone ever made the cover of Tiger Beat they were off my radar. However, Jared Leto (who graced that cover more than once) remains a facet of my adolescence because of My So-Called Life (which is now on DVD and my birthday is a short 4 months away..... *wink wink*). He's still tucked away in my heart. Even his obtuse 14 minute kung-fu music video with his (barely passable) band hasn't disqualified him. That's love man. That's the kind of fan I am.

It's all about the love.

I loved that show. Love loved luuurveed that show. Still do. And, like I said before, Quarterlife is from the same brain trust so there we go.

I uncandidly identify with angsty, brainy, socially stagnated, passionate female characters and I adore the male counter points they write for them and one of the things that I've realized from Quarterlife (among the many) is that I really want someone who is steely enough to fight with me.

Well firstly, and this is the veritaserum part, I think I just desperately want to be Dylan. I've always wondered what it would be like to be a 5' 2" 90 lber and to have a brain to boot. Being 5' 9" since 6th grade can give you a complex.

We also have a lot in common:
- We have similar coloring
- She wants to be a writer
- She has the tendency to be able to see into the heart of people and things but tends to feel completely invisible most of the time
- shes so busy talking she can't get out of her own way most of the time
- she has a fairly insane mother
... and the list goes on and on.

Have I made the point that she is a solid character and worthy of deconstruction yet? And!... And - and... therefore I'm not a completely hopelessly silly girl for loving her and the show so much? I hope I'm being that transparent...

Not to mention that Bitsie Tulloch is a great actress and holds a Harvard English Lit degree... That just adds to the cool I think.

Anywho -

One of the things that's different about Dylan that I want to be like is that it takes her 30 seconds to be self aware enough to say what shes really thinking (after the preliminary buffoonery in those situations where she talks too much etc). Yay for television magic. It usually takes me longer, years sometimes, to get to those kind of honesty points. And all of this usually comes out in the form of fights with Eric (love-interest-boy. aka - Mike Faiola. aka- Var Handsome Man).

My adorable, wise and learned friend Hannah (aka - the Queen of Australia) one told me about this series of books by Elizabeth Peters called the Amelia Peabody Mysteries. That's where she got my nickname (Indie-Poppins - cause I'm an Indiana Jones/Mary Poppins hybrid apparently). We were talking about healthy relationships and the marriage that the protagonist Amelia has with her husband came up. Hannah said, being inspired by Amelia Peabody that "a good marriage is a stalemate". Like you should both be each other's equal and therefore every battle is a good one, but a draw. You shouldn't be afraid to speak your mind and should be able to trust that the other person will most definitely speak theirs.

Slightly Irrelevant Aside: Maybe that's why Queen Elizabeth I totally fell in love with Walter Raleigh. He was one of the few men she met that was truly her equal. I mean, golly, she knighted him just to get him to stay in England a little bit longer. I would have for someone who would fight with me. For someone that would speak plainly to me and understood what would come out of my mouth no matter what it was, and there was someone that I wouldn't have to dumb things down for or rephrase or soften up. *sigh* - how marvelous. How truly romantic...

But back to Quarterlife and my escapist tendencies -

So - yeah - I would love a guy who I could fight (fairly) with.

I had one once. We still talk every once in a while and when we do it almost always includes moments of heated, tension filled (usually playful) bickering. I used to find this annoying but I've come to realize what it means and at one point this last week when we were going at it, via text, I finally told him that I missed it. I missed fighting in real life. How utter ridiculous is that? I missed the rush and the attraction/tension and connection. I miss feeling truly challenged by someone that close to me. I just missed it all.

I feel pretty confident in saying this because I'm fairly sure that this individual doesn't read my blog. I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know that I have one actually, at least I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't.

But that's not the point. The point is ----- That......

1)I'm a really silly girl.
2)Finding your equal is no small feat and
3)keeping him is a downright miracle. I don't have knighthoods to hand out or a script to save me or tell me what to do next.

It's blind sailing and tugging your heart strings to steer, and, honestly, that's OK.

Paper Snowflakes and Pipecleaner Stars

Introspection is a Hydra of a virtue.

And the meatiest food for it are times of transition. It's a scientific principle. Activity on the surface of a body of water causes all of the particles or impurities settled at the bottom of the system to surface and I feel like I'm in a wind storm.

Graduation
Grad School preparation
Realizing that I have to take the GRE in 6 short weeks
Looking at transcripts

I feel like everywhere I've tread lately I've had to look pretty intensely at myself and I have to say that I have found myself very *sigh*ordinary. This is the one thing that I've always wanted to avoid. There is very little luster and excitement in being ordinary. And its a bit of a shock because I've always thought I had a little bit of amazing tucked inside my back pocket. Some sparkly diadem that I kept in the corner of my character and that I could pull out and remind myself that I have a Queen's name and a Hero's destiny. And to a small extent I think I still do. I know there are contributions that only I can make and that I fully intend on making, I always just thought I'd be in a sparkly ball gown making them. But the more I've honestly looked around me lately I've realized that I'm not walking through life in one of Carol Channing's best, I'm in my standard by flip flops, jeans and a tee shirt and always have been.

I'm not the first person all of my friends call to hang out. I'm probably not even the second or third. I'm not the one people talk about when "who they want to be like" comes up. I'm not "statuesque" and I'm not the girl they want their brothers to marry. Not their first choice at least. There isn't someone across the room that has been hopelessly in love with me since childhood. I don't have a wild romance just waiting for me somewhere and it's just a matter of time till I find it or it finds me and I'll probably never have stories of suitors crawling underneath the doors and in the windows like mother does. I know I'm lovable and that I will settle down with someone. It just won't be on the jumbo tron with a Tiffany ring.

I used to think I was funny - like the hilarious kind. Like it was only a matter of time till people were writing down my every twist of phrase for publishing and YouTube glory. But I've come to realize I'm not. I'm not a bore but I'm not really funny. I'm not even the funniest in my group of friends. I do have downright hilarious friends though. Like, I wonder why they're all not famous and hope they'll remember me when they are. And don't even get me started on how amazingly hilarious and witty my family is. I can hang, but I'm not leading the pack.

I used to think that my life was fascinating. That if people didn't want to hear my stories then they were just too boring to understand. But as my blog has given me evidence I am not a journalist documenting my efforts for peace in Israel, I'm not an amazing mom raising a fascinating child, I'm not a vogue editor keeping a blog to satirize my insane world, I don't have a THING in my life that is so all-encompassing that I can find enough material and thought for a whole blog. I've just spent way too much time at the movie theater and in my own head to realize that, to see anything beyond the end of my nose.

I used to think that I was brilliant. And, honestly, I have had a few moments where my professors have sat down with paper and pen and asked me to repeat what I just said and told the class to do the same. But I've come to understand that it's not a general condition and it never was. It was a moment. Just a moment where I was my best and other people were there to share it with me.

Tyler Durden says that a moment is all we can ever expect from perfection and that we're not unique snowflakes and to just lose hope in everything because that's the only way to ever be free. I can't even tell you how much I don't agree with that. But I do agree with this -

"We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off. "

The boys get pissed off and they want to fight each other and bleed like Brad Pitt to vindicate that they don't feel in control of their lives and destinies. Us girls have watched the same shows and commercials and we don't want to beat up other people, just ourselves. Because, honestly, its my fault. It's my own fault that I'm ordinary.

I mean - doesn't every saucy English Major have a spot on Oprah's couch? Do I need to get through school without limbs and a weight problem to qualify? Well I'm half way there I suppose.

I think I'm a very lucky girl because I am surrounded with the extraordinary. I live in the best place in the world. I have one of the world's most brilliant and good looking families. I have magnificent friends and good books to read and tons of places to explore. I have a laptop and Google to help me find them and amazing people to take with me. I've got this blog as my own little corner of the universe to pour my brain out into. I have plenty for the B student that I am and I am fully aware of it.

Will I ever rid the ocean of trash? no - Do I still want to? Absolutely
Will I expose the true perpetrators of 9/11 and bring them to justice? Probably not - Do I still think I should? Absolutely
Will I ever be on Oprah's speed dial? Probably not. Is it still an awesome idea? Of course
Am I going to turn 30 and be everything I feared to be when I was 18? Probably. Is that necessarily a bad thing? The jury is still out.

It's still out on a lot of things and a life can change in the blink of an eye. So for tonight, right now, this is were I am. This is who I am - and frankly ordinary isn't half bad. And I hear those sequin gowns are really uncomfortable anyway.