Lists, Love, and Shonda Rhimes…sorta…

I think I need to revise my internal list of standards when it comes to a significant other.

I never really had an actual list, per say. It has always just been a mental checklist I quickly run through my head when talking to someone I potentially will want to talk to more than once and on an intimate level.

Likes dogs? Check.

Knows the proper use of you’re and your? Check and check.

Understands my need for personal space on Thursday nights during my ShondaLand shows? Check. An exception can be made if potential significant other also watches and enjoys ShondaLand shows as intensely as I do.

Every Thursday, I allow myself to be personally victimized by Shonda Rhimes. And I love it.

Of course, those are just a few things on my mental checklist. I mean, we all have standards so I don’t believe that it makes me out to be too much of a bitch because I have certain wants in a person.

If a person can refuse to date someone because they are bigger than a size 2, then I can refuse to date someone because they talk during The Walking Dead. 

Okay? Okay.

I Watched Nicole Arbour’s Dear Fat People Video So You Don’t Have To

Revisiting an old friend…

Or…The One Where I Display Peak Whiteness.

Feel free to choose your preferred title.

I think I have mentioned before how much I love music. I mean, it’s not a novel idea. Music has been around for ages. In my opinion, it is one of the few ways people can speak with each other even if they do not share the same tongue. I heard somewhere that math is another way, but Jesus’ sandals…no. For example, I may not know Spanish (I know a little, but not enough to get around if I was dropped blindfolded in a Spanish speaking country) but I will sing and dance along with a Marc Anthony album. I play classical in my car like it is one of Taylor Swift’s newest hits. I STAN hard for Jay-Z and have recently fallen in love with BANKS. Anyone who knows me knows that my most favorite genre of music is 80s and my all time favorite song is “I Want to Know What Love Is” by Foreigner. Judge me. The current amount of fucks I give is exactly equal to zero. I’m kidding. I do care, but I mean really…you haven’t lived until you have blasted that song at 4 am with a glass of wine and some serious feels, okay?

I don’t wear long sleeves to bed though, so not an exact representation of me…but damn close.

Storm Warning…

What do you do when a storm warning causes everyone to run? Not everyone. There are the ones that resolve to board up the windows, hunker down and ride out the storm…no matter what. Then there are the runners. The ones that would rather not deal with the rain; the ones that would rather not take the time to board up the windows or hold your hand during the heaviest of rains or the strongest of winds. What do you do when the one you thought was the strongest decides to be a runner?

Personal Definitions…

Depression is something I deal with on a daily basis. Some days I struggle with it harder than others. I never really talk about it because for some reason, it is really hard for people to understand and grasp.  This especially came true when the great Robin Williams committed suicide and so many people could not fathom how someone who was so funny, so personable, so talented, and so well off could be depressed. So in light of a conversation I had (tried to have) with someone I felt I could trust (I couldn’t), I  wanted to touch on some of what depression is and isn’t:

The One In Which I Finally Give In…

I am the type of person that I will not ask for help; not until I absolutely cannot figure out how to do it myself. Even then, I will research something first before I ask someone else to help me. I am not sure if that is pride or not, but I am  sure that this trait has caused many unfinished projects. I’m not going to lie, this novel was almost one of them.

I’m a dumbass? Thanks, but you are a little late to the party.

Two things on the agenda today:

1. Explain my dumbass move I made the other day and how it caused my mom to cry for two hours this afternoon
2. Talk about another dumbass and get something off my chest…I do that a lot.

The Itchy Nose Chronicles…

“Whew, this is the longest I’ve gone without posting since I started this blog,” she says, acting as if she has had her blog up for years.

Anyways, its the truth so….that’s that. I have been working on the total POV switch and rewrite of my novel, plus life gets in the way. And by life I mean that something has caused my allergies to jump to Level Red in the “I hate you and I want to ruin your life” meter. The past few days have been nothing…NOTHING…but itchy eyes and a very, very, itchy nose. I can’t describe how itchy my nose has been, but I will say that there has been more than one time that I contemplated stabbing myself in the nose just to feel something other than itchiness. It isn’t just the tip of my nose. It is the WHOLE DAMNED THING; inside and out. So now I get to sit in a place and weigh the options of my nose itching so bad I am at the point of tears or looking like a non-classy bitch (because I am super classy, hmph) and scratch the inside of my nose with my fingernail. Sigh, first world struggles man.

Decisions…

What has one pen, one notebook, a cup of coffee, and wants to stab themselves in the eye? Me.

Not really though. Maybe a little. But then I think it would be hard to see and type and write. Besides, my left eye is a little blurry and my right eye is itchy from allergies, but they work very well in a pair. So, no, I will not be stabbing my eye-any eye- out.