Brainshambles

8:15PM, I am finally home after an incredibly long day. My hair is wet, and my mouth is dry but I can’t drink water because I’m currently bleaching the *expletive* out of my teeth. Oh, the glorious life of a working bride-to-be. I thought I might lose it on my way from work to the hair salon for my trial. After about 10 minutes of sitting in that familiar leather chair, with my favorite bubbly stylist, magic started trickling out of my eyeballs again. I I breathed a little sigh of relief…I can’t lose my magic. I must not lose my little tiny magic.

I have photos of my dress (which is almost completely finished, and utterly runway-worthy), photos of my shower, my bridal shoes, and even some shots from tonight’s hair trial. I wish I could show them all to you. But as non-traditional as I think I am, I just don’t want to ruin any surprises. This event, I have learned, really is one of the few sacred and precious moments I have left to hide and protect. At least right now.

So I suppose all I really wanted to record here, at 8:25PM on a Tuesday night, is this. Amen for fabulous hairstylists, amen for the healing power of laughter (and good salon lighting). And amen for pushing onward.

Tomorrow will test me harder than today. I must endure. I must continue to dust my path with bits of magic wherever I step. Can’t let this light go out.

I wish I had the energy to write you lovely people something more eloquent, deep and meaningful tonight. But the truth is, the last two weeks of my life have been an absolute whirlwind. Crazy ups, and crazy downs. I am trying to do several large things all at once, the biggest being preparing for my wedding which is only 17 days away.

This has proven to be quite difficult, considering the nature of my work, the needs of my household, my struggles with sleep, and some personal family challenges. But I am enduring. Pushing onward, trying to remind myself of the greatness that will envelop me on August 7th. I often let my work prevent me from fully enjoying or participating in significant personal milestones. This is not new, I’ve always had the habit. It has reached a peak this month though, this much I know for sure. I’ve had to force myself (sometimes with the help of others) to stop, breathe, and let everything around me fall in to place. I am one woman. I have to set my personal standards a tiny bit lower or else I’ll never enjoy life. I’m trying.

My fiance has been a wonderful person, supporting me now probably more than ever before. I am so thankful for him, as well as my family and friends who have taken such an active role in planning and executing my wedding. I suppose, looking back on that statement…I can consider this emotion alone a personal feat. I dislike accepting (or having to ask for) help from others. So for me to let my guard down…let people in, and allow them to help piece together really important parts of my life is quite a change.

There are a great many things I wish I could write on here, but cannot. Lady Gaga was amazing last week, absolutely refreshing and a much needed mental retreat from current events. My dogs are still bad and cute. My floors are in dire need of a good sweep, but my dishes are clean. I have my second bridal shower this Sunday (Tattoo and Scrapbook themed!), as well as another dress fitting.

The graduate school situation has turned all sorts of sideways, and I’m pretty sure my identity has been stolen (again)…who knows. It’s quite frightening when not even the government-education offices can figure out where a “glitch” is. But so it goes…

Keep calm, carry on.

(Quite sure this is the look I’ll be going for on wedding day. Should go nicely with the french net bird-cage veil).

But surely, Lady Gaga will revive me tonight.

Hopefully.

I am thankful for so many things and people.

Keep it together, girl.

Every star deserves to twinkle.

To live in France, wear sunglasses and rouged lips. All I ever wanted.

A perfect storm.

Maybe seeing Lady Gaga next Wednesday will revive me.

Because I make such a great doormat. Always have. Perhaps just a pretty doormat with a head full of great brains that will never get put to proper use. Unfortunate really, because I want to contribute. I feel I have so much to give.

I will likely never be good enough for the majority of people I must please.

This is a really horrible revelation, but it isn’t even a revelation. It’s just a reminder. I’ve known this all along. Sometimes I can fool myself, sometimes I actually overachieve and over-succeed to the point where I become just predictably boring.

I rarely spew raw feeling or emotion in this place anymore. I wish I could. But what would be the point.

I thought nothing could be worse than yesterday. Then I thought nothing could be worse than today. Now, it’s not even tomorrow…and I already know tomorrow holds no thrills. I guess this is the sort of sick game many of us choose to live in order to survive.

The end.

It’s 7:07 p.m. on July 4th. I’ve used all of my weight watchers points, I’ve finally reached an acceptable stopping point with my work, and I have no idea what to do. Laundry…nah. Dishes…nah.

PILATES TIME.
THEN FIREWORKS TIME.
THEN SLEEP TIME.
THEN TOMORROW=ADVENTURE!

PS, I am watching a special on seals. And I have a dachshund loafing torpedo-style on each side of me. Life can be good? And oh yes…how could I forget. I’m going to see GAGA in less than two weeks!

I love this girl.

Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando, swoon.

So pretty. I want pretty, innocent legs.

I need two of these sweaters, please.

On July 17th, I will turn 24.
On August 7th, I will be married.

It’s sort of mind blowing to think back to when I was younger…I always had this magic number, 24. Always wanted to be married and have a child by 24. Now 24 seems so young and so old all at the same time. While I still long to be married (and OH MY GOD we are one month away people), not quite ready for le bebe…

Age and time are strange concepts for me. I’ve created a world for myself in which time rules absolutely everything. Heaven forbid the morning when I haven’t finished applying my mascara by 6:25a.m., for if I am 5 minutes late with breakfast…my whole day is already thrown off balance.

I always say that I want more. I want to be more, and I want to learn more. I guess if I really had my way (and no one ever totally gets their way), I’d stay in a classroom wearing sweatpants scribbling notes all day for the rest of my life…and come home to a warm place where my husband and dogs and cats just adore me. I wish I could stop and smell the roses. I really am becoming more skilled at this task (one which is so hard for a racing mind). I have forced myself to shut off at a certain time most evenings. I don’t sit at home on the weekends and loaf in my mind blowing exhaustion so much anymore. Rather, I force my tired and groggy self to take trips to the zoo or go on walks in the park with Kyle and the dogs. Eat ice cream. Race down to the pier at night to watch thunderstorms roll in…get bagels and coffee Sunday morning.

It is these small little events that I think may be my saving grace. If I can keep up with them and balance a heavy workload and an ever-racing brain, perhaps I might actually find some balance.

I hate surprises, I love routine. Some would tell me I need to be spontaneous. Well I can be…but in my own, calculated (still routine) way. I want to be a great wife, a smart and beautiful girl with a solid career.

I still want to blow minds. Always will. Selfish failed Hollywood starlet speaking, perhaps. But none the less, I want to change things and be remembered.

I want this tea cup.

“We are a nation obsessed. American culture is nothing more than a pastiche of fixations. We are obsessed with health. We are obsessed with pleasure. We are obsessed with speed. We are obsessed with efficiency. In simplest terms, we are obsessed by the desire to accelerate every element of our existence in a futile attempt to experience as much life as we can in the shortest possible time. We have all entered the race to devour the largest volume of gratification before it kills us.”

- Chuck Klosterman, The Amazing Mcnugget Diet (1996)

This weekend
I must do something
spectacular.
So that I may return
to mundanity (should be spelled, MONDAnity)
with new found lust for
the freedom of weekends.
I miss all of this too much.
I love my little humble family.
I love my soulmate,
I love my submarine shaped dogs,
I love my little home.
Perhaps it’s time to stop striving
for achievement,
and relish what I’ve already created.

I’ve spent hours looking at photos and watching videos chronicling the most catastrophic environmental disaster in U.S. history. The gulf oil spill.

In 2005 when Hurricane Katrina hit, I drove from Ohio all the way to New Orleans over a weekend. After spending only a few days there assisting in the animal rescue efforts, I came back with a new appreciation for both humanity and the true size and power of nature. After witnessing first hand the devastation caused by “the worst environmental disaster in decades”, I would go on to write countless papers and speeches about the event. Five years passed, and I still maintained an immense sense of respect and reverence for Katrina. Never would I have imagined seeing such devastation hit my soil again. But it isn’t just my soil. It belongs to my potential offspring, my friends, the entire globe. And really…it doesn’t belong to anyone or anything. We belong to IT.

So here we are in 2010, and my attention is conveniently pointed back towards the gulf coast. The oil spill absolutely rips at my soul, making me physically ill. Every essence of my being wants to drop everything, just like I did in 2005 and rush to to gulf. I want to be there, I want to get my hands dirty. I want to feel little and small and take accountability for this disaster. BP feeds off of people like me. We live our monotonous lives on repeat, thinking only of how we are going to get through the next day (or even 10 years) of our lives. I stopped looking at fuel prices years ago. It all became numb to me because I had no control. If I didn’t have memories of my New Orleans rescue or follow the news, I might not even feel particularly impacted by this oil spill. How absolutely selfish…

It’s not as if riding my bike to work would stop me from relying on big oil. My lip balm, my body wash, my hair products…everything around me owns stock in this game of vicious sea-floor bloodletting.

What sickens me the most is that it takes one enormous oil spill affecting AMERICA to re-direct my attention to environmental and social injustice. I wish I could be better than that.

My heart cries for the sea.