Come Along With Me

I woke up in a (much-needed) fantastic mood this morning. To be perfectly honest, I had the most romantic dream about Elvis last night. I don't even remember what the dream was about specifically, just that it was filled with all of the fine, intimate details that I loved most about him: his hands and his smell and the way we could walk, side-by-side, in a perfect, synchronized stride. It was a whimsical, dreamy dream and I'm so happy to have had it. 

Although I never would have admitted it at the time (and even still hesitate), I was in love with that kid. Maybe it's just me viewing the past with rose-colored glasses, but I can't help but think that under different circumstances we could have had something lasting. I am still coping with not having him in my life anymore, but I have to believe that it's in everyone's best interest that it worked out the way that it did. 

Anywho...let's talk Dragon*Con. Cause I totally went this past weekend and it was totally bitchin'. Well, sort of. The convention itself was amazing, but my experience was tainted by my wretched mood and for the entirety of the weekend, I was overwhelmed by anxiety and depression. My cousin flew in from Pittsburgh to go to D*C with me, but we did not have very many panels that we both wanted to see together, so I spent a vast chunk of time by myself. And I don't know if you've ever had that "alone in a crowded room" feeling before, but it's the worst kind of alone. 

However, I did manage to bust out some pretty rad cosplay this year. I went as Finn from Adventure Time:

I even used this blog post as a basis for the Demon Blood sword that accompanied my costume. Of course I had to tweak as I went along, but I was pretty happy with the outcome:

All my shitty anxiety issues prevented me from taking many pictures, so I didn't even manage full ensemble shot, but trust me when I say I was totes legit and fuckin' adorbz. 

Let Your Heart Play

Memory is a cruel and fickle thing. It locks away your most prized-possessions, but despite their importance, their meaning, their affirmations, your mind manages to alter them. It loses bits of information here and there. Mends the gaps with things that may or may not be accurate. Your brain fills it all in, a little at a time until, is that really what happened? How much of what you remember was a reality? The moment is always a detailed, vivid masterpiece. Your memory is little more than vague outlines and smudges of color.

I, myself, have an exceptionally poor memory. Dates and events and details elude me. I've struggled for the entirety of my life to remember my father's birthday, and I still couldn't tell you--with any amount of confidence--what it is if you asked me right now (is it February 16th? Or 18th? Definitely not the 12th, right? It's some even number of days before or after Valentine's Day. Or is it odd?). It's not for a lack of caring, as I love my father to the Moon and back, but I just can't make myself remember. I can't help it. Maybe I need more Omega-3s in my life. Who knows?

That all being said, are you ready for me to get even more sad and deep on ya? Cause I'm gonna.

Let's talk about Jordan. Jordan was my first love, and my boyfriend of nearly six years when he was killed by a reckless drunk driver (that's the express version of the story, anyhow). And one of the first things I remember being overwhelmingly concerned about after his death were the memories. I remember sobbing to my therapist (the one and only time I went, actually) that I was panic-strickenly terrified that I wouldn't remember him someday. Not to the extent that I would forget he existed, since I'd only be able to manage that feat with full-on amnesia, but that I would forget all of the little things. His voice. His laugh. The weight of his hand in mine. The way my lips felt pressed against his. The pressure of his hug (did he always have his arms on top, or did I; or did we do that weird side-ways hug sometimes?). Inside jokes. Just how blue his eyes were. The way it felt to hear him say, "I love you."

I feel like I'm getting to the point where Jordy is starting to feel like a distant, foggy dream and it honestly scares the hell out of me. What do I have to show for his life? For our life together? Some trinkets, some of his clothes, and my [faulty] memories. Memories that become less crisp by the day. I remember I used to lay in bed at night, safely snuggled into the crook of his arm, and just watch him. I would try to memorize the curves of his silhouetted face, the pace of his heartbeat, the sound his breath, the way he smelled (Oh, and if you don't think I don't know how creepy that sounds, you're wrong. I do. Supes creepy). I guess it was a comfort, though. I used to think that I did it so often that I could probably draw his face with my eyes closed. I thought that I did it so often that I'd never be able to forget, not even the tiniest freckle. But I was wrong. And now I can't remember if he even had any freckles, or where they might have been, or how many. I know that might seem like something really insignificant and small, but every little piece of him that falls out of my head like that is devastating. A little more of him fades. A little more of him dies, a little more of me dies.

So, in the spirit of being super depressed about this fact for the past few days, I decided to post some of these little strips of paper. For one of our anniversaries (or Valentine's Day, or his birthday, or something, probably; see how bad it is?!), I cut a whole bunch of tiny little strips of paper and wrote things on them, individually replaced the strips you find in Kisses candies with them, packaged 'em up real nice like, and handed them over to my boy. Merry Freakin' Whatever Celebratory Event It Was, baby! I initially wanted to make three-hundred-and-sixty-five of them, so he would have one each day for a year, but decided halfway through to fuck that plan (I couldn't come up with that many, and it was really hard to write on all those itty-bitty things, and you probably shouldn't keep candy sitting around for a year before eating it anyway, right?).  He must have been impressed because he saved all of the strips of paper that I wrote on and kept them in a little Altoid tin that I painted on for him. And thank goodness he did because I read through them last night (sobbing hysterically after each one) and found myself remembering so many things that I have already forgotten. So, anywho, I'm hoping that by posting them, it'll help me remember him a little better, remember why I wrote some of these things, and why they were important at the time. I'm going to post more over time, but this is a good start, I think. This is a good start.

Listless

I've always been a big fan of lists. I kind of need them in order for anything to get done. Lately, I've been lacking on my lists, and hence, on getting anything done. Which sucks. A lot. Because instead of making lists, and getting things done, I worry. I worry about everything. I worry about what I could be doing and should be doing. I worry about what I've forgotten I need to be doing, and I worry about how in the hell I'm going to manage to remember those forgotten things. I also really like making lists of pros and cons. It's helpful to me to have the facts laid out in black and white, especially when I so often allow my emotions to cloud the obvious.

It's so funny, because even as I write this, I know the truth. I know the answer. I just choose not to acknowledge it (remember those damned emotions I mentioned earlier?). I don't need a list to know how my heart feels.

I started this post because I wanted to make a list; a list of positives and negatives for Elvis. Remember how I said we broke up? Well, we did. Sort of. I don't know how everyone else deals with break-ups but, at least for me, it isn't that easy. I don't really know how to quit people. I don't know how to see a frown and not pull out every weapon in my arsenal to turn it into a smile. I don't know how to give someone a gazillion chances, and once those chances are up, give them just a few more. I just don't. It's not in my genetics to give up so easily, especially on people, even when they don't deserve my time or my love. I wish I knew how to follow this:

Here's the thing: Elvis is not right for me. Plain and simple. He isn't Mr. Right, he's just Mr. Right Now. I do know that, I just need to completely accept that it's never going to be anything more and stop fighting it. I don't think that there is anything wrong with having fun for now, but I don't want to go trying to complicate things any further. So, screw lists for today, I already know what needs to be done. ♥

Androgyny Part Dos

As I was perusing the ol' information super highway this afternoon, as I tend to do while bored hard at work, I came across this stupendous collection of androgynous models, and you all remember how much I love androgyny, yes? I swooned for an absurd amount of time over Willy Cartier:

And Andrej Pejic:

But, really,  as far as I'm concerned, none of them compare to the endlessly mesmerizing Jana Knauerva. This chick is beyond fierce, yo. 

Girls and boys? Prepare your boners:

SCHWING. This last photo just fucking KILLS me. It's so perfect that it makes my brain feel like shutting down. Too much beauty, cannot compute.

Okay, I'll stop gushing...for now. 

I Don't Know What I'm Saying, But I Mean It

I got schooled on some really inspiring music yesterday and I can't stop listening. If you've never heard of George Watsky, as I hadn't prior to yesterday, you should go check him out. I've been playing "Wounded Healer" more or less on repeat since. It speaks to me, what can I say?

I want 2013 to be a big year for me, guys. I really do. And I think that it's entirely achievable if I embrace it. If I fight for it. And fight hard. Most days I don't think I could possibly do any more, but no one ever got anywhere without sacrifice. And I'm hoping that when the time comes, I can step up. I need to. I have to. 

That all being said, I've been supes depressed lately. I'm certain that the excessively gloomy weather has been a contributing factor, but I also can't seem to shake this sense of oppressive anxiety and overwhelming loneliness. 

I spent nearly two years away from dating, and in many ways, I wish I could just go back to that time. I was at a point where I was lonely, but at least I could handle being by myself. I accepted my own company and it was manageable. I didn't have anything, so there wasn't anything to miss, really. Because, here is my problem: I wrap myself up in guys. I let my head get all screwy and clouded and then I don't know what I'm doing. I get overly attached, and because I crave the attention, I go out of my way to get it. And I do this by way of going above and beyond any "normal" standard of kindness. I am kind to a fault. I'm constantly being exceptionally too nice and it's really just a reverse tantrum of sorts. No, I'm not screaming and crying and pounding my fists on the floor, but basically everything I'm doing is so that attention will be paid me. And while I truly, whole-heartedly, 100%, without-a-doubt, LOVE to do things to make others happy, it's nearly always a waste because it is a rare quality indeed to find a man who wants to reciprocate that kind of genuine thoughtfulness and affection. I give too much, and don't get enough in return. Or, even worse, get metaphorically bitch-slapped for all the ways in which I'm still not good enough. 

I don't know how to be someone who makes me happy. I don't know how to find someone who would make me happy. Alls I know is that I'm not happy now and I'd like to change it. 

I'm definitely going to start this by nurturing my current relationships. Really sit down, establish who the important people are, and try to cut out the riff-raff. I need those strong pillars in my world to keep me up when I feel like crumbling. I say that I want attention, but I immediately turn around and don't pay enough to those who truly deserve my affections. It's not fair, and I think that if I focus on making important people more of a priority, I'll be happier. 

Loneliness is just a word and people are just people. I'm going to stop letting either of them get the better of me. 

Surviving the Apocalypse

So, I don't know about anyone else, but I'm feeling pretty outstanding for surviving 12/21/12. If nothing else, I can put that one down in the win column for me. Although, I put so many things off prior to that infamous date that I'm feeling extremely overwhelmed these days. I mean, seriously, why would I work on that HUGE pile of laundry if the world was just going to end? Take out the trash? Do the dishes? Maintain basic hygiene?  Pffft, whatevz. But, just as Joshua so accurately and gracefully predicted, "Girl, you're gonna have a shit-ton of stuff to do on the 22nd." And I did. And still do. Playing catch-up has been less than enjoyable, but I'll get there. I'll get there.

I realized recently that I never actually posted about some delightful carrot cake cupcakes that Elvis and I made recently. I also realized that I never posted this:

That pictures makes me laugh so much. Elvis was showing me around Marietta Square one night: "Here's this and this and this. Oh, and here I am." Love it.

Oh, right. That whole Christmas thing happened recently, too, huh? Life has been a whirlwind and it feels like that was so long ago already. Here's a cutie-pa-tootie picture of my brother and I. 

And here is a picture of me in my Christmas Story hoodie that I found while I was at my parents' house for the holidays. Do I look like a deranged Easter Bunny? A pink nightmare?  Perfect.

Alright, alright. On to the good stuff. FOOD.

I really wanted to be able to post a recipe for this, but I did a pretty piss-poor job of taking notes about exactly what went into these scrumptious sweets. So, maybe next time I'll remember to be more diligent (as these will certainly be re-made and perfected). They were supes yummmmmm.

I made this poor kid grate baby carrots. It was all I had! Thank God he's such a good sport. We made sure to count afterwards, and yep, all ten fingers remained intact. Whew!

It was pretty obvious when he was over it. Cause things like this started happening:

With the approving stare of our newly created grater totem, we moved on to prep the top secret ingredient for these cupcakes.

Fresh pineapple! Chopped up reeeeeeal fine. So much better than that canned jank.

Lined a few muffin tins with some fancy-fied cupcake liners, baked those fuckers up real nice and golden-brown like, thew some maple-syrup cream cheese frosting on 'em and devoured. So delish. They needed a lil' help in the texture department (not enough flour in the cupcake to make it dense enough to support the frosting), but they were sooooo close to being the perfect carrot cake cupcake. 

I suppose that's all I have for this post. I've got a lot more to share -- Hey! Did I mention that I broke up with Elvis? -- but, that'll have to wait for another day. I hope everyone has a magical New Year's Eve. I sobbed uncontrollably before midnight and slept alone in my empty condo last year. I figure this NYE can't possibly be any worse than that, so, here's to hoping. Cheers! ♥

Glad That's Finally Over

I wouldn't describe myself as a political person. To be honest, it all gives me a giant headache and I usually end up having to go lie down after giving it any amount of thought. I try to pay attention, I really do! But it's too complicated, and too beyond me. Also, remember how I have that problem where I can see both sides to almost any argument? Yeah, that gets in the way a lot, too. I don't always agree with both sides, but I can always understand why someone else would feel the way they do about any issue. I actually wish more politicians were cursed with this ability.

During a recent discussion with one of my closest and dearest friends, Joshua, he broke down how he felt about this year's Presidential election, and his thoughts pretty well summed up the entire affair to perfection:

"When I watch the Presidential debates, I feel like they are just talking about Legos. One guy says, 'The yellow Lego needs to go on top of the blue Lego, and parallel to the green Lego.' And the other guy goes, 'No, no, no, you idiot! The yellow Lego needs to go perpendicular to the green Lego, and the blue Lego needs to go on top of it.' They're all just talking about Legos and none of it fucking matters."

As crazy as it sounds, his explanation made more sense to me than most anything else running on the news these days. It does always seem like they're just talking in circles about nothing at all, doesn't it? Always trying to twist and warp their words so that they don't have to make any kind of genuine commitments. It's such a silly dance. 

With all that all being said, as maddening as the whole thing has been, and even as ignorant as I am about the world of politics, I've got to say that I'm glad Obama won. I was nervous that we might have new President today, but my country did me proud. Forward. Only forward.