I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

I've spent my life trying to fit in with the stomach quenching feeling that I just don't. No matter how many blissful interactions occur between myself and my family, friends or coworkers...I can't escape the notion that I just don't quite mesh. Am I the only one in the world who feels this way? In some ways, I hope so. In others, I hope not. 

I am riddled with an anxiety that my insecurities are transparent to my external shell. Most of the time I keep it together and play along with whatever the majority rules but some days, like today, I crack under the pressure to be social when (gosh darn it) I just want to go home. 


As I grow older I find myself conflicted with settling for "who I am" OR making changes to be the "best me possible". Society doesn't help with it's conflicting campaigns for both. 

Who am I? What do I want out of life? I feel lost and I feel nothing all at the same time. 


I guess that's the curse of my indecisive nature. I will always play both sides of the fence. I will always question if the other choice would have been better. I will always overanalyze what I've said and think of the dozen ways I could have phrased it better or a clever joke I wish I had thought of fast enough. 

I am a mess. And for the sake of fitting in, I hope I'm not the only one.

Aging Disgracefully

I don't know her anymore. That girl who was first to plan a party and loved to dance the night away with friends, I don't know her. Suddenly I feel like an outside to my own self. 

Who Am I? 

The past few months I've felt like I've had a serious block in my brain, my personality, my life. My creative spark is gone. My zest for life is merely a memory. I can't seem to shake this dullness and I have no idea what it is that's causing this. Sometimes I think it's a depression. Sometimes I think it's my careless partner dragging me down into his dreary abyss. Sometimes I'm convinced it's just that time in life called "getting older".

I don't like my aged-self.  I want my old self back. 

Undesirable Candidate

Is it me? It has to be. 

I've applied for countless jobs and apparently am not right for any of them. I spend hours each week scanning position openings and perfecting my cover letter only to get the same old response: NO. I either do not receive a response or I open my inbox on a gorgeous Friday morning to read an email saying I've been [once again] rejected. There goes my good mood. 

At first it was disappointing but now it's getting depressing. 

I have a University degree and am working toward a second; I have several years of experience in my field PLUS a steady list of employers since 2007...why am I such an undesirable? 

I am unhappy with my current job. I feel stuck here and having no other option doesn't make it much better. These days (and with my control-freak mentality) it's tough (and frankly, stupid) to just pack up my things and move elsewhere, hoping I find something. I am grateful for the opportunities I have at my current workplace, but like all things, we must move on and I feel like it's time.

Apparently my future doesn't. 

The Art of Conversation

The world is full of talkers. They talk about anything and everything (and mostly themselves) and they can talk A LOT. Unfortunately what's been lost in the blah blah of this talking noise is what I'll refer to as, the art of conversation. Rarely do I find a person in my generational category who can carry on a decent conversation and it seems to only be getting worse. (As if that were possible.) These days its all about one-upping one another with a better story than the previous.  Or worse, it's listen to me, me, me talk about me, me, me and all the wonderful, amazing, *insert verb*, things I do. Me, Me, ME! My, my, MY! Blah, blah, BLAH! No questions, no comments- just right on to talking over whoever was brave enough to try and say something. It's a Darwinian-scheme of whoever can talk the loudest and the most, wins and quite frankly I threw in the towel before the starting gun even fired. 

A conversation, per my definition, is a shared discussion. Person A makes a comment where then Person B accepts the comment, adds a sentiment and shares another piece of commentary thereby passing the conversation back to Person A and repeat. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary backs my ideas about conversation  with it's definition: (1): an oral exchange of sentiments, observations, opinions, or ideas. Please note the word "exchange"; i.e. share. Passing the conversation back and forth and round and round we go. This my friends, is where my generation has completely missed it. We're not exchanging anything anymore, we're simply talking for the sake of warding off silence. 

Is silence our forbidden fruit? Because to be honest, I savor every moment of silence I can get in this busy, buzzing world and I suggest you do the same. 

To continue my point (and also negate it somewhat (...the irony)); I often find myself completely zoning out the majority of what someone is saying once it goes past my 30-second listening limit. I only offer the obligatory "oh"'s and "uh huh"'s to fake the person into believing I actually care what they're saying. And it's not that I'm above it....I just have no interest in whatever words you are throwing at me just to prove you know how to use words...and lots of them. 

My point is, if I'm zoning out on someone else's monologue then most certainly they are zoning out on mine. Why not just save everyone some time (and boredom) and just savor the silence. 

It's been one week and it still doesn't quite feel real.

Our family Patriarch passed away quietly at 2:50 a.m. on Sunday, December 11th and I'll miss him forever. He passed away from various health complications but kept his sharp wit and independent will right up until the end. He was a fighter, but the exhaustion caused by weeks of sleepless nights convinced him otherwise. He was a great man and I am grateful he was a part of my life.

I'll always remember or try to always remember:

1. His big ears. I remember as a child being at their home on the lake and they always had a bag of  Lays Original Potato Chips. I'd pull out the biggest chip I could find and he'd make a joke about that potato chip being as big as his ear and that, " I got his ear!". It made me laugh, and I still think of it often when I find a large Lays chip in my hand.

2. Tonic Water. They also always had tonic water for the traditional Vodka Tonic beverage everyone would enjoy...being only pint-sized I was only allowed the tonic water. But I loved it, and still do. Last week I was able to take home one of the cups that I have many tonic water memories in. It's a silly item to want but it's sentimental value is priceless.

3. Doctor Sicky. When I lived in my childhood home in Federal Way I recall Granddad picking me up to take me to see "Doctor Sicky" as I suppose I was feeling ill. I only saw that Doctor that one time and for years and years I thought that Doctor's name was actually "Doctor Sicky" until the light bulb went off  that Granddad was joking.

4. Christmas. He always wore a red or green sweater and they always wrapped their gifts with plaid wrapping paper--always making sure the lines of the wrapping paper met up with one another properly.

5. The dining room at the lake house is where I have many, many memories. Birthdays, dinners, BBQ's....all centered around that room. We drank from Grandma's crystal stemware, always raising a glass to toast someone or something and if it was a birthday, you could count on cake and ice cream.

6. Gingerbread Men. Grandma used to always give us a gingerbread man cookie when we said goodbye. It was a special treat and I've only once tasted a cookie that was similar to the ones she gave us.

7. He always said, "on the thing", as a filler. He also said "take care, "bye-bye", "Hello Dear", and once called Katie Holmes a lush. He liked to keep up on the celebrity gossip.

8. The white Mercedes. I don't know where we went but I have a memory of Granddad and Grandma D. picking up my brother and I and taking us down Pacific Highway in their white Mercedes. I remember I liked the back seat cargo holder because it was like a stretchy net.

9. The Station Wagon. Granddad always drove a Station Wagon...until they traded in the Wagon and the Mercedes for a HUGE Cadillac with heated seats, a 12-CD changer; the works!

10. Spearmint Lifesavors. When I was younger I remember Granddad always had a pack of Spearmint Lifesavors--I used to not like them because the were so strong they left a burning sensation in my mouth.

11. His rings. Grandma D. gave him a big gold ring with his initials engraved on it-- D D O. He wore it on his left pinkie finger. He also wore his thin gold wedding band and never ever took it off in the 50+ years he was married.

12. His hands. He had strong hands and I was lucky enough to hold them for over an hour on Saturday, December 10th while we all gathered around his bed and said our tearful goodbyes. He squeezed them so tight but I didn't let go. I wanted him to know he wasn't alone in that hospital room. We told him he was surrounded by love, that everything was OK and that he'd done such a wonderful job with his life.

I Kiss & Tell

P.S. Eleven years ago today I recieved my first kiss EVER. It was the most perfect kiss. And don't ask how I remember these oddities---I guess I just have a good memory for the very important details of life.

The Funkiest of Funks

Help! I'm trapped in a funk and I can't get out. Normally these "funk" moments last maybe a few days until I'm distracted by something and move right along with my life. Not this one. I can't pinpoint the source of my funk--but I think I need a major life change to free myself of this never-ending-bad-mood.

A big source I guarantee is my job. Lately I spend more days annoyed at it than loving it. It's not what I want anymore and even the parts I do like about my job are taking WAY too long to happen. I want the adrenaline rush and the panicked cursing of being in real television production--not the bureaucratic week-long wait to get an office supply order approved for the TV station.  Yes the bright side is I'm in TV but there's nowhere to go in this office but where I am. There's no likely promotions or exciting projects or award nominations---heck, I don't even get mentions for what I DO accomplish here. It's a thankless job and though I feel guilty complaining, I know that if I ventured out into the "real" world of TV...AKA Los Angeles...I would really make something of myself. So what am I waiting for??

A sublet.

Yep. I'm tied down in a 12-month lease and unless I can find a sublet I am stuck here. That's not to say I'm stuck here forever. Just until I find a sublet OR until March comes around when I could afford to pay rent on two places if I had to....and also if I STOP shopping.

Another source of my funk is the ever-dying passion of my relationship. I just don't feel any excitement or lust or desire. It's depressing. And he doesn't have the motivation to light the spark. And that's a turn-off. I'm not sure what to do--are we over? Am I sure? I pray a lot for a HUGE OBVIOUS sign about what to do. But that answer has yet to arrive. I hope it works itself out because as mentioned before--I am such a weenie!

And no one likes/loves/wants a weenie-in-a-funk, or is it a funky-weenie? Meh, tomato, tomatoe.