Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Stress and P.M.S.

My mother once told me, and has since then continued to tell me, that stress does not exist. Hilariously, neither does P.M.S. They are both society's excuse for making excuses, if you will. My question is: how do you not get stressed trying not to be stressed? Whenever I offhandedly say that I'm stressed and she tells me that it is virtually impossible, my mind goes into a cycle similar to this: "Oh no, if I'm not stressed, then what is happening to make me so... crap! How do I explain what I'm feeling right now? Ahhh! What's going on! Why can't I say I'm stressed? Is my mom mad at me for saying I'm stressed or does she just think me a weak person? Gosh, she sure stresses me out..." *cue cycle restarting*
The same goes for P.M.S., except substitute bitchiness for the stress.
The point is, I'm going to work on not letting my mother tell me how to feel when there are apparent physical and mental indicators proving otherwise. This is a huge step. Huge. Honestly, I'm a little stressed about it right now. I'll get into that later.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

The anniversary that isn't

What do you say to someone on the anniversary to which you did not make it?
It is a strange place to be hit with such a date right in the midst of getting over that thing which the date so well signifies. If the relationship is no longer, the date is then just a date. So one is then left mourning the loss of the importance of a date, along with the loss of the relationship. In essence, on this particular "non-anniversary" it is bound to rain throughout the day, someone will ruin your vanilla latte when you need it most, your car will break down, the birds will most definitely not sing and you will be alone. Very alone.
Fortunately, these circumstances will then allow you to instead remember this date as the worst day of your life as opposed to the date when you would be showered with flowers, gifts, sex and candy. Oh, and romance.
What does not kill us makes us stronger, what does not impregnate us saves us from stretchmarks and... candy makes you fat, so it's good that there is none of that too.
But this just leads back to the first question: what do you say? The smart choice is to leave it be, let the damned be damned and move on. There are quite a few other days in the year that promise to be much more pleasant. However, it would be comforting to have someone else as miserable as oneself on the other line, mourning the date as well.
How pathetic, right? What is in a date, anyway?

Note: I now realize that this post sounds inspired by madness along the likes of stream of consciousness queen Virginia Woolf. However, because I am sounding slightly depressed is no reason to lock me in a room and put me on bed rest as they did to Ms. Woolf, may she rest in peace.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

"Bolder"

I'm finally moving to the town where everything I believe lies on the moderate to conservative side of the political spectrum. I would be, in fact, bold to assert my respect for Palin, for instance. However, the comfort that I was expecting in being accepted for my views is not quite soothing. While the "liberal" party is supposed to be more open-minded, it is in fact only open to its own views. I want so badly for there to be a medium where socially liberal and fiscally conservative can come together and actually make a factual defense for something while adding a pinch of feelings, just for taste.
Of course, this is wishful thinking, and until I come out with my third party manifesto, I will not complain -- at least for the rest of this post.
Boulder really is a remarkable town, what with its millions of cars and trillions of cyclists all meshing together in a gigantic, ever-evolving, stop-and-go worm that makes its way across Broadway. It is one of those places where it is so easy to fit in, yet feel inwardly fake, or to be a follower for doing what feels right. Most of the time it does not matter, as there are so many milling around that one easily goes unnoticed. It is the first time in my life that I have had the pleasure of disappearing, always going to small schools and living in the same city in which my parents both grew up.
Of course, the happy finding when going unnoticed is when you are noticed, which Boulder is also good for on occasion.
I'm not fearing becoming a Boulderite, and will in fact embrace it head-on... boldly if you will. I'm going to do everything that would identify me as a Boulderite if it feels right. Yoga... check. Granola... yum/check. Rock climbing... check. Cycling... check. Wearing chacos... check and check. Enjoying the musicians on Pearl St... check. Plastering a peace sign somewhere on my vehicle or on my person at all times... working on it. Inner peace and spiritual enlightenment... still to come.