I always notice what someone is wearing. Any particular special occassion I have spent with someone I can picture the event and the person in full detail, down to their shoes. Strangely enough it's like how I hold onto a memory to make it tangible.
I also know the last time someone wore a particular. For this reason, I have established a one week limit to when I can wear an outfit again. Of course I try to go for one month. But sometimes you like an outfit too much to do that.
That is where the one week expiration date comes in. Because I can only remember what other people wore up till a week ago, I am figuring they wil have even shorter memories of me.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
Sappy Chick Flicks
There is no end for my love of sappy chick flicks. And they must be of a certain caliber. They can't be too ridiculous and they can't be too deep.
They must be of the kind (which most ppl hate) where the situation is just ridiculous enough that you hope it never happens to you, but plausible in the Hollywood way. Of course the ending must be good and the twists thrown in must be fresh, yet cliched in their purposes.
I'm talking about 27 dresses, Made of Honor, Ugly Truth, He's Just Not That Into You chick flicks, not your high quality business like "When Harry Met Sally" (albeit that's adorable too).
As for why I love them so much. Truthfully, I don't know. Maybe it's because I want my life to have dramatic moments like that. And possibly because of my love for these films, I create moments like that in my life, so I can pretend it is a movie....and that's my hopeless romantic coming out.
They must be of the kind (which most ppl hate) where the situation is just ridiculous enough that you hope it never happens to you, but plausible in the Hollywood way. Of course the ending must be good and the twists thrown in must be fresh, yet cliched in their purposes.
I'm talking about 27 dresses, Made of Honor, Ugly Truth, He's Just Not That Into You chick flicks, not your high quality business like "When Harry Met Sally" (albeit that's adorable too).
As for why I love them so much. Truthfully, I don't know. Maybe it's because I want my life to have dramatic moments like that. And possibly because of my love for these films, I create moments like that in my life, so I can pretend it is a movie....and that's my hopeless romantic coming out.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
There comes a time...
I remembered when I couldn't wait to choose my career path. I couldn't wait to have a serious relationship that lasted beyond the fleeting moments of a high school dance. I couldn't wait to live on my own, have my own apartment, cook my own food, have late night chats with my roommates.
I hate making decisions. Hate it. All my life I feel like they've been guided along for me by adults, older than me. And they all came out just fine. I knew what I wanted and I told them and they made the decisions for me. Not that I had no control, it was just nice to have someone/thing to rely on. And if the situation came out badly it was not my fault.
Recently, this has stopped. And the results I desire are no longer coming out of someone else's accord. Because things are so tailored to me, no more set in stone, generic issues, I don't know what to do. Well I do. Because the situations aren't that unique. I just don't know what outcome I want.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't love the independence of deciding for myself. It's just I have reached a point when these decisions are mine completely and absolutely and ones I have to take all responsibility. As cowardly as it sounds, it scares. Quite frankly, this growing up business, is just as hard as every cliched "coming of age" story puts it.
I hate making decisions. Hate it. All my life I feel like they've been guided along for me by adults, older than me. And they all came out just fine. I knew what I wanted and I told them and they made the decisions for me. Not that I had no control, it was just nice to have someone/thing to rely on. And if the situation came out badly it was not my fault.
Recently, this has stopped. And the results I desire are no longer coming out of someone else's accord. Because things are so tailored to me, no more set in stone, generic issues, I don't know what to do. Well I do. Because the situations aren't that unique. I just don't know what outcome I want.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't love the independence of deciding for myself. It's just I have reached a point when these decisions are mine completely and absolutely and ones I have to take all responsibility. As cowardly as it sounds, it scares. Quite frankly, this growing up business, is just as hard as every cliched "coming of age" story puts it.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
9 months...
9 months....all it took was 9 months to begin 2 serious relationships (and have them end aprubtly) and two side flings.
Stopping for the next three months? I hope so.
Stopping for the next three months? I hope so.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
The Art of Flirtatious Combat
Flirting, it's fun, it's frivolous and one does it naturally with an attractive guy. But to many extents it's a potent weapon of manipulation. This has been proved a number of times by powerful courtesans, concubines and queens.
Yet it is often rare to run into one's own brand of flirting. When this becomes the case, combat gets interesting. You know exactly what manuevers your opponent will use to counter yours. It's like playing chess with yourself. There's even the same dilemma of whom you want to win.
In one area if you win in your ploy to play hard to get, you don't end up with the other party. Yet you fight in this arena till the end, it's hard to know when to stop. I guess, in this case, you would want the opponent to win in the end, but only because you let him.
In the end it drives you crazy because not only are having trouble figuring out what you want to do. You are having trouble figuring why you even wanted this guy in the first place.
When the war escalates to this level, war for the sake of it, you know you've done something terribly wrong. Not only are you as far as possible from salvaging a relationship, but you also are addicted. You're mind is fixated on fighting and enjoying the dopamine highs you experience from winning a tiff.
Yet it is often rare to run into one's own brand of flirting. When this becomes the case, combat gets interesting. You know exactly what manuevers your opponent will use to counter yours. It's like playing chess with yourself. There's even the same dilemma of whom you want to win.
In one area if you win in your ploy to play hard to get, you don't end up with the other party. Yet you fight in this arena till the end, it's hard to know when to stop. I guess, in this case, you would want the opponent to win in the end, but only because you let him.
In the end it drives you crazy because not only are having trouble figuring out what you want to do. You are having trouble figuring why you even wanted this guy in the first place.
When the war escalates to this level, war for the sake of it, you know you've done something terribly wrong. Not only are you as far as possible from salvaging a relationship, but you also are addicted. You're mind is fixated on fighting and enjoying the dopamine highs you experience from winning a tiff.
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