Posts Tagged ‘vanity’

Wildly Annoyed

January 26, 2018

They fucking misspelled my motherfucking name.

Ugh.

I mean.

I was nice, really, really, really nice about asking them to change it to the correct spelling when I noticed it was misspelled on the sheet before the performance.

I just posted the YouTube video of the lecture that I gave back in December for People Who Usually Don’t Lecture.

I didn’t even realize my name was misspelled.

I probably would have not posted.

I’m tempted to pull the post now.

I get really ruffled when my last name is misspelled, especially when I make the effort to tell people the correct spelling.

I’ll get over it, I will, it doesn’t fucking matter in the grand scheme of things.

Just something to distract me from life at the moment.

A little distraction is not a bad thing.

Here.

In fact, just to show I don’t really give a fuck, here’s the link.

I also hate the fact that they filmed the damn thing from underneath the stage, hello there’s a nice double chin.

Ugh.

Anyway.

Vanity.

It will get me every time.

I haven’t watched more than a few seconds of it, I actually don’t want to watch it, I don’t need to be critical of myself.

Because you can be damn sure I went there.

Why did I wear that dress?

Holy shit I look fat.

What’s going on with my hair?

I should have worn this, that or the other.

NOBODY cares.

So in lieu of torturing myself I’ll just leave it here and should you like to look, feel free.

In the end, I’m grateful that I got to have the experience and I really had such lovely and amazingly positive feedback from the people in the audience that came I don’t really care how the video looks.

In fact.

I would have been fine not seeing it at all, but I did have a lot of requests via social media to post the video up when it was ready, so I honored that request and put it up.

Anyway.

Like I said.

A small distraction from my current state of affairs.

I had a long day, another early day into work, another day with one of my charges home sick, another day of being sad.

But not as sad.

It’s shifted a little.

It comes and goes.

It screams in and out and then meanders off into the other room for a minute and then comes back and surprises me.

I have changed up my listening habits regarding my music for the moment still and I have made myself listen to upbeat dance music in the car.

Driving and crying while listening to certain music is just a fucking danger to myself and society.

I’ve not cried as much today, although cry I did.

I had a phone call with my person this morning and laid out all the ugly emotions the hurting and the sadness and the not wanting to do this any more and how to keep marshaling on and doing the next thing in front of me.

I talked with a girlfriend in the afternoon and sobbed for a while, but I gave myself a very short leash, I had to do school pick up for my oldest charge, he’d requested a date with me to Maxfield’s and so I had to buck up for him and it was good, he’s such a sweet, tender boy, he’s got a birthday coming up and he’s made some dinner requests for his birthday dinner which is adorable.

I love that he loves my cooking.

He’ll be eight in a few weeks.

He’s having a weekend birthday party with his friends but asked his parents that I get to be a part of his special day too so there’s a small family dinner that I will be making for them and it tickles me that he really wanted me there for his birthday dinner.

I love the family I work for, they keep me busy, but that’s helpful too.

I’m very grateful for the joy of working for them.

Although, truth be told, I haven’t been my best at work this week, sometimes it just feels like I’m marking time until the end of day, until I can get back in my car and not have to pretend to feel sunny and upbeat.

I got teary at work, but didn’t actually cry in the house, which was the first time that happened this week.

I also made damn sure that I was in control of the music today that was playing.

The music yesterday just killed me.

Too many sad love songs.

Just too fucking many.

Of course.

Everything reminds me of what I am going through, the sky, the clouds, the avocado tree in the back yard.

Fucking wrote poetry about that avocado tree.

I’ve been super vague about all this heart ache and heart-break and loss and sadness and I apologize.

To a point.

Somethings are just so precious to me that I have not wanted to share them with you, I know, I know, you think I am a tell all, and I have told some super juicy things here in this blog space, but I just haven’t shared about this.

It’s too private.

Too tender

Too much.

Aw.

Fuck.

God damn it.

Hello tears.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

I thought I had this.

I mean.

I thought, start the blog with something that piques your ire, misspelling my last name will do that, and you’ll be fine.

You won’t talk about wanting to cut your hair off or how you feel ripped apart inside.

“Don’t cut your hair off!” He said to me tonight, “I’m a hairdresser, you have such beautiful hair, don’t do it!”

He wasn’t the only person to approach me tonight and say that.

I won’t, it’s just a manner of expressing how much grief I am in.

How much loss I am feeling.

A hair geographic would just distract me from feeling the pain.

So no.

I won’t be cutting the hair off.

Although.

Yes.

I will be getting a tattoo.

So that will help mitigate the pain, just like the pain in my tooth, a distraction from the emotional pain.

My tummy hurts so bad, my body aches, but hey, at least I’m not dehydrated anymore.

I’ve really made sure to drink a lot of water the last few days.

Anyway.

I’m not dead yet.

And what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger.

Right?

Jesus fuck.

I thought I was strong before.

I’m going to be indestructable at this rate.

Sigh.

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Tomorrow’s The Big Night

December 5, 2017

And I wish I had not seen the video of my dress rehearsal, but there it is.

I don’t like how I look and it is uncomfortable to watch.

My shit.

I know that.

I have a different sense of how I look and I felt, ugh, just not pretty or attractive or engaging.

Oh.

I know that isn’t true, it’s just a feeling, a way to not acknowledge the work I have done to be where I am, but it’s there.

So, hey, negative self-esteem, nice to see you too.

Although, let’s be fucking honest here, no one should shoot video from below a woman’s face, fuck people, who doesn’t know this in the age of selfies?

I was like, oh look, double chin.

And I’m wearing a fucking flannel and messy pigtails.

I could cry.

I’m vain and I feel like I look heavy and it just wasn’t what I wanted to see on my phone before heading in to see my clients.

That is a request from the producers of the show to share my video montage that they made on social media.

But.

Hey.

Anything for a good cause.

And it is.

I don’t have to be the most attractive thing on the fucking planet, or in town, and there’s no way I’m going to be any of those things anyway.

But.

I can be myself, messy, flawed, thick.

It’s who I am.

I am no svelte lady, I get to walk around in this body and keep getting to be grateful for it.

Sigh.

I’m going to get up early.

I’m going to shower.

I’ll do some nice make up and put on a pretty dress and I will not give a fuck what the negative talk is in my head about how I look on video.

It’s just how I look and the damn thing will be done and I will move on with the rest of my life.

Really.

I loved the experience of hearing my friend’s talk and how beautifully he talked about our experience and the hug we exchanged and I’ll remember that, not how I looked fat in my pink flannel Gap shirt that I now want to burn and never wear again.

Gah.

I guess I have some more body image work to do.

Sigh.

I know I’m being a baby, I know I am.

There’s nothing wrong with me.

I just don’t like how I look on video.

I would hazard that there aren’t a lot of folks outside of movie stars that do like how they look on video, it’s weird to see oneself in a different light.

And I am grateful I get to do this and I’ve practiced a lot and I think I have a good talk.

It certainly elicits emotions.

I think that’s the most important thing, that I share my soul a little bit, that I’m vulnerable that I am honest.

That is my beauty.

That is where I shine.

And frankly I wasn’t shining on the video.

Oh.

It’s not bad, it’s just not what I want to portray.

I don’t like it when I know I’m being video taped either, I feel awkward.

It’s the same when I’m having a photo taken.

I can take a great fucking selfie, I know my angles, but fuck someone else taking my photo and the results make me want to gag.

I felt the same way when I did the photo shoot to get the head shot for the event, fat and unattractive.

Old news, old story, just another old way to beat myself up for not being what everyone else in this society wants to be.

I am heavier than I want to be, thanks grad school and practicum, I don’t get to work out as much as I used to and I haven’t bicycle commuted in a couple of years, sitting on my ass reading and writing papers has put a few pounds on me.

But not that much!

So.

I know it’s my head and it’s a way to try to self-sabotage something that will bring me joy to do.

I don’t want to ruin the damn thing before I even get on stage.

Fuck the cameras.

Fuck the image bullshit.

Show up.

Put on my best dress.

Put on some lipstick.

And shine.

I know I can shine.

I know it when it comes over me and suddenly words are just falling out of my mouth and I am moving in this marvelous sea of love and it feels extraordinary.

That’s what I want.

That’s how I am.

And I need to shake this shit off now.

I do not want to be in fucking tears the day of the show.

I look like shit when I cry, thanks getting old, my eyes can’t hide tears very well.

Plus.

I have fucking therapy in the morning.

I warned my therapist that I did not want to be crying in my next session when I left her office last week, I don’t want to have cry face.

I’ll bring my make up bag just in case.

Ugh.

I am being a baby.

I knew I wasn’t going to like the video before I even saw it.

Comparison is the thief of joy.

I will not compare and despair.

I will fucking not.

I am just fucking fine the way I am and  I will change again next week.

Change is always happening.

Few more grey hairs on my head.

More laugh wrinkles around my eyes.

I don’t know that people are going to remember how I looked, what I hope is that they remember how they feel after I have shared.

That is what is important.

The message.

Not the medium.

The medium is vain.

I wish to carry the message and that’s all.

That’s it.

Just be my authentic self and let that bring happiness.

That’s all that matters.

In the end, really, that’s the most important thing.

Share my joy.

Not my vanity.

And.

Just.

Be.

 

My beautiful self.

Got The Shot

November 17, 2017

Thank God.

For a minute today, and oh did I get to practice acceptance, I thought that I wasn’t going to be able to get the shot, but I did.

I did.

The shot I’m referring to is the professional photograph that the producers of People Who Usually Don’t Lecture requested.

They want a photograph for publicity purposes.

Eek.

Publicity.

Scary and kind of cool all at the same time.

I sent them a photo I had taken of myself mid-summer, but they requested I send them a photograph that wasn’t taken on my phone.

Sigh.

I’m pretty damn good at taking a selfie, I’m not sure what that implies about me, narcissist, vain, self-involved, maybe, but I do know my angles when it comes to taking my own photo.

I usually take a lot and from certain angles.

I know my best side.

But fuck.

When it’s someone else taking my picture I’m horrible.

Weird ass smile, wrinkled forehead, strange faces, odd ball angles, I manage to look much heavier than I am, I have no clue what to look at where to focus and I’m goofy.

Thank goodness for my dear friend who took time out of her very busy day to help me.

At first I felt like it just wasn’t going to happen, she had a lot going on and I felt a tad guilty about asking her to spend time doing something pro bono, but she told me to get my butt to her studio in the Mission and we got the job done.

I sprung for lunch and got take out from FarmHouse.

And I must say, slight aside, fucking good food.

Really good.

I was impressed.

And I just had the Tom Kha Soup with chicken and some brown rice, but fuck, it was delicious and might be the best Tom Kha I’ve had in the city.

I will be going back, if the soup was that freaking good I’m sure the rest of the food is.

Plus I really liked the decor and it had a warm, vibrant feeling to it.

Anyway.

I picked up lunch and we got a chance to connect and I gave her the down low on life and school and all the things.

So good to reconnect.

And to get the shot.

Yes.

A lot of them were absolute duds.

Not her fault, nope, me and my self-conscious posing.

But we got there and I’m super happy with the resulting photograph.

I’m not sure how many she took, but probably close to a 100 frames.

Which we narrowed down to 16 shots, then six and finally two.

I sent the two off to the producers and I’m done.

Well.

With this part of the process anyway.

I still, obviously, have to do the lecture, but the photograph was a stress that I wasn’t expecting.

Gratefully my friends studio is close to my internship, I wasn’t on my scooter today with the rain, no thank you, and I didn’t have to travel far from her spot to where I needed to be next.

I had a bunch of time in between the photo shoot and my client, so I popped into a cafe and did two hours of reading.  I finished my Jungian Dream Work reading for the semester and got a good bit into my Transpersonal reading.

That felt great.

And I had done a good hour of homework before I headed out the door to do the photo shoot.

I finished almost all my CBT reading, which is good as I have a webinar I have to attend on Sunday.

I also finished all my reading for my Drug and Alcohol class.

So for Jungian Dream Work and for Drug and Alcohol I could actually start writing the final papers for the class if I wanted to.

That also is a nice feeling.

I feel like I won’t start the writing for that yet, I want to focus on getting the rest of my reading done for my other classes and finishing the online components for the classes that have that requirement.

There’s still so much to do, but having made a big jump into the material today, I feel like I will be able to address all the reading by the end of the weekend.

Even with seeing three clients tomorrow and having to go in before my group supervision on Saturday to do a rehearsal for the People Who Usually Don’t Lecture folks.

It will be the first rehearsal with all the people who are speaking.

There are seven of us.

I’m super curious.

I know one of the participants, it was his story that had a bit of our relationship in it that piqued the producers into wanting to meet with me.

It will be great to see him and hear his piece.

I’ve read a good bit of it, it’s a great piece.

I’m certain that the caliber of speakers is going to be quite high.

I have rehearsed my piece once a night since writing it.

I don’t want to let down the producers.

And, well, it’s a fun thing to be participating in, and it’s not school related or work related or client related.

Although.

Ha.

I do talk about all those things in my lecture–work, school, my internship–just with a much different slant than I typically think about my life.

It’s my story and I know it really well, but they, the producers, had me sharpen certain things and I’m eager to do the work to be polished and participate in the project.

It feels like an honor to have been included.

I don’t want to let anyone down.

So it was really with much gratitude and happiness that the photo turned out so well.

Super grateful.

Super excited.

And ready to focus on the next thing in front of me.

Lots of life, lots of school work, and no little love.

So much love.

Grateful to focus on that too.

Beyond my ability to write about it.

But something I read earlier really summed it up, so perhaps I will end on a little quote from my Jungian Dream Work class reading.

“I falter before the task of finding the language which might adequately express the incalculable paradoxes of love.”

C. G. Jung


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