Fatty McFat Fat.

It could have been the bagel I had early this morning, the three bowls of the most bizarre pasta alfredo I've ever cooked in my life (+ an even more bizarre spanish sardine sandwich), the two slices of stuffed crust pizza (+ one and a half cheesy bread sticks), or my alarmingly large hazelnut iced coffee from Mcdonald's that's giving my tummy a run for the hills. I don't know what I was thinking when I stuffed my face with all of the above objects; all I know is, I should have tried to reason with myself before deciding to eat anything and everything.  For some odd reason, I've been eating terrible things these past few weeks. Yesterday, I happily feasted on some five or so pieces of wings from wingstop, and over the weekend, when my aunt and cousin came over from Chicago, I helped myself to more pizza and some greasy chinese food. I ran four miles on monday and was planning on running today, but ended up passing out on Jackie's couch instead. I think I'm officially a fat glutton. Gross.

I need to hop back on the workout plan and return to my healthy eating habits, but I have to say, times are pretty damn hard these days. It's hard to eat healthy when you're broke AND unemployed. I mean, seriously, the only cheap thing I can think of that probably won't give me a heart attack before 30 is tofu - but am I seriously going to buy tofu so I can eat it everyday? The idea alone makes me want to vomit, and this is coming from a person who absolutely worships the stuff. The only thing a destitute twenty-something can do to lose weight is to actually NOT eat. That way I'm not only saving myself from putting on some pounds, but I'm also saving myself some money (money I don't have, of course). I swear this whole economic downfall is getting to be a real pain in the touche, and as much as my problems aren't as monumental as some hot shot wall street investment banker who just lost everything he owns in his life, I still feel like my issues are gargantuan. 

I have huge plans of running tomorrow, except I think weather.com has reported that there are possibilities of rainfall tomorrow AND friday - which is just great because it totally seems like the universe just won't let me lose twenty freakin pounds. You know what, rain or shine, I'm gonna drag the boyfriend out with me so we can get on the workout plan together. I don't care if it rains, storms, snows, or if a tornado starts hitting. I'm gonna run off two weeks worth of junk food tomorrow, and there is nothing anybody can do to stop me.

(Let's hope the boyfriend lets me run in the rain.)

No Looking Back.

Gone are the days of temporary giddiness, emotional uncertainty, and dismal anxiety. I no longer have to worry about "accidentally" getting myself into some sort of twisted mind & heart game. This time there are no second thoughts. There are no doubts. There are no hesitations. Everything is falling into place by choice - and with great purpose. This time I'm moving forward - excitedly and wholeheartedly. Somehow the future seems so much brighter, now that someone's there to share it with me.

I can't wait to see where life takes US. ♥

I put all my guts in a bag and finally put my foot down.

I finally decided it was time to let David go.

I was growing increasingly exhausted trying to figure out whether or not he really liked me. Of course, that alone proves that he doesn't; yet somehow, just like a certified dope, I waited to see if he did. I'm not even quite sure what it was about him I liked so much. He is the master of mixed signals - always unsure, forever confused and never certain about anything. If you're indecisive, or better yet, want more than one thing at a time, he's your man. He is like the guru of all things ambiguous, so if you have an appetite for guessing games, you'd totally adore David. Yep. David the ambiguous prick.

I guess you could say my "thing" with him (or for him, I should say) was some form of self-torture. For a minute there I began to wonder whether I was somehow enjoying chasing this numb nut around. I told my brothers about him too (in an effort to get some sort of guy insight) - and they nonchalantly reprimanded me for successfully proving two theories with this stupid quest: that girls really are complicated and that nice guys really do finish last. I still haven't figured out why the assholes always appeal to me when the last thing I need is a guy that will drive me up the wall. I always thought I was the kind of girl that knew what she was worth and the kind that wouldn't just settle for anything less than the best. I always told myself that I deserve to be genuinely adored and cared for. I don't need to participate in the "upper-hand game". Yet I somehow found myself in the middle of it, battling it out even though I knew deep down inside I was going to lose.

You may find this hard to believe after all the things I've just said, but I'm actually not angry at him. In fact, I'd like to go on the record and say that I don't blame him for how things turned out between us. After all, I had a choice in this - and it's just unfortunate that I didn't make a good one.  I knew that he was confused, not ready, and was light years younger than I was in terms of maturity level. I was well aware of his track record and was mindful of the fact that he and I were simply two very different people. It was my choice to ignore the signs; it was my decision to jam the square peg into that round hole. I guess I just needed to make the mistake and re-learn the same lesson I learned from a similar experience two years ago. I don't think the lesson stuck the first time.

Now I can finally say I did something extremely beneficial for myself. I'm making a conscious effort to let go and move on - two of the possibly most difficult things in life. After spending countless weeks weighing pros and cons and hoping against hope that David will somehow "change", I am officially done with it. I think I finally realized that I love myself too much to waste my time on some dude who has a penchant for young girls and foolish cycles. 

David, if you're reading this...good bye!

I Forgot About Me.

It took me three days to realize that I am beyond what I'm feeling. After some serious sulking, a couple screams into my fluffy brown pillow, and a chubby slice of banana cream pie, I began to feel a slight sense of relief. My problems didn't disappear, and I sure still haven't gotten my own way, but I did remember that somewhere inside me there's a tiny dose of strength - and that's enough to get me through this: the shittiest period in my life. I guess I've been battling all these things inside me, deciding between the things I want and can't have, and the things that I need that are much more practical for me. I'm stubborn and a little too hesitant. I'm stingy with giving chances even though clearly, it's not a bad idea to give it. For a minute there, I forgot the girl that grew up in Orange County, the one that was so strong and resilient, so confident and secure. I was starting to turn into the girl I used to be before I moved out for college - and I was hating every second of it. I realize now that I can't compete with the girls here --- simply because I'm not like them. I was letting things get the best of me, I was acting out of character.

I was beginning to forget the real me.

I haven't quite fully recovered from my slight lapse of character, but I can honestly say I feel much lighter than I ever did in three days. Now that I've had my moment of enlightenment, I can move towards getting better. I can't wait to be back in full force.

 

Buy me a drink, Jesse.

Surprisingly, this lifted my spirits today. Enjoy.

Pardon me, I'm ill.

I wish I had a different problem...but isn't that what they all say?

At this point, I don't know how to stay positive. I don't know how to see past what's happening in my life and think ahead to a brighter future. Everything seems so impossible. I am so miserable it's pathetic. And what's even worse is that the tears aren't coming! It's frustrating to be this sad and not be able to cry it out. Seriously, what is wrong with me?

I'm carrying the weight of the world and can't seem to shrug it off my back. 

Help Me...Now!

It is now the second week of October, and I've officially been on the job hunt for a month and a half. 

I've been distracting myself by going out and doing other things, but at the end of the day, I retreat to the harsh reality that I'm growing increasingly depressed inside. And it is honestly scaring the bejesus out of me. This whole waiting period is worse than I expected, and it feels like it's never going to end. I am so incredibly terrified that I can't say it enough - how do you deal with unemployment at 23?

I hate to be a downer, but somehow it seems like I'm the only going through this shitty period. I want to do all these things but can't; I want to chase all my dreams but have no idea how to get started. I hate it! There I said it. I hate it. I hate my life.

Maybe I'll write a book, or a screenplay. Or just write to Oprah. Ugh. Somebody help me.

Drunk and Chasing Pavements.

It's an amazing song by british artist Adele --- a song that I first heard as a cover done by someone else, actually. I grew to love it, and now I can't stop listening to it. I never really knew what it was exactly about the song that got me hooked so bad, but now I realize it... as cheesy as it sounds, the lyrics actually speak directly to my experience. And this experience, like many others, begins with a guy. Ugh.

Let's call him David. David and I have a bizarre thing going on - in fact, it is so bizarre I don't even have a name for it! I guess it's some sort of fascination with each other, because frankly, it isn't quite a legitimate attraction. I say this because David never really makes a move. EVER. He claims he's not ready, I say it's a bunch of horse shit. When a guy says that, it means he really doesn't like you. I mean, come on, what guy says he's not ready? And I mean, what the hell do you need to be ready for? The thing that bothers me most about David is that he likes to contradict himself a lot of the time. He asks me about the idea of dating (each other) and then goes right ahead and says he's scared to do it. Then why in god's name did you even bring it up, you jerk? I don't understand what the purpose of that was, but there was definitely no need to open up a box I wasn't trying to pry open in the first place. Additionally, he talks to me as much as he wants to and expects this "thing" we have to be some sort of friendship. Well, if you ask me, I think it's an even bigger pile of manure. I hate that he uses friendship as some sort of scapegoat, an excuse to keep doing whatever the hell it is he's doing. I hate all of this crap so much, but I find myself entangled in this situation every single time. Like this week, I avoided him for a couple days and somehow managed to succeed....until tonight, that is. We talked a lot while I was sloshed (not a great idea) and I was giving him the hardest time EVER. I hate myself for the things I end up doing BECAUSE of him, but the suckiest thing about it is I don't know how to stop it. I don't know how to NOT CARE.

I'm such an ass. I'm attracted to the jerkiest guy in the world - a guy, who, essentially doesn't give a rat's ass about me and I go ahead and diss the first guy that genuinely likes me. I'm a mess, I'm complicating things when I don't even have to, and I'm tipsily blogging at 245am. Tell me, reader.... "Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements? Even if it leads NOWHERE?....." 

Give me your answer. PLEASE.

Addicted.

I've been watching this over, and over, and OVER again. Enjoy.

Frankly?

Dating is nauseating. It really is.

It's hard enough to put your expectations on hold and keep an open mind especially if you're meeting somebody for the first time. You can't help but wonder how the whole thing is gonna go, and you try to prepare yourself for the worst, even though you're half hoping that the date won't turn out to be a disaster. Here's the lowdown on DATE WEEK 1.

B1. made BAD moves.

Boy wonder "forgot" to pay for dinner. Is stiffing the check supposed to turn me on?

B2. made NO moves.

*vital 411: this is not a first date. It is one of MANY. Ugh.

The attraction is there, but let's just stare each other in the face. For TWO years.

(frankly I don't know why this one's still on the list)

B3. made TOO MANY moves.

Three phone calls, four text messages -- all the day AFTER. You've got to be kidding me.

Okay, so I wasn't expecting to find true love the first week. But good mother of god, could I have at least had a decent date? Apparently that's too much to ask for these days. Of course in retrospect, I'm not ruling out the possibility that I may have something to do with these three amusing experiences. However, for the purpose of this blog I WILL rule out that possibility. I am not in any way trying to say that things should have gone perfectly, because obviously "perfect" doesn't exist. All I'm saying is...I would have appreciated someone who was "just right." Anyway, it's only the first week. We'll see how things pan out.

If by any chance, you, my reader are one of the three described above, please don't cry in the shower. It's not the end of the world.