More Hoodies Orrrrr???

Christmas and New Year’s has gone and past and we’re already going into the third day of the year. What the actual fuck? Time is flying and I can’t grasp it any longer.

The year may have just started out, but I’m already fully engrossed in it and the winding road it appears to have started taking.

I finished off my root canal procedure today so I’m hyped up on painkillers and penicillin. I showered and decided to not style my hair and just let it be curly, so it’s absolutely fucking insane poofy. Like, hello 1986, come and get your crazy hair back, thanks.

I’m whirlwinding down a “lovelife” road that I’m not sure about. I don’t know if I want to go down this road or not and I feel like I’m standing at a fork and I’m not sure which road I’ll regret not taking more. It’s a hard decision and I’m trying to make it as best as I can. But I also realize that it’s okay to make mistake and it’s okay to say no whenever I want to. Idk. Life is hard. It shouldn’t be this complicated, but it is. Because we make it this complicated.

Also, I’ve had the same American Eagle webpage open for like 36 hours trying to decide whether I want to purchase these hoodies or not. THE STRUGGLE IS SO REAL RIGHT NOW. Like do I really need more hoodies or am I just being greedy? Uuuuuughhhh.

I’M A BRIDESMAID!

I can’t believe today is pretty much over. It’s been a long day, but not in a bad way. I met with my friend Amanda at Demetrios to help her check out wedding dresses along with her mom and her fiance’s sister. She actually ended up saying yes to the dress to the first one she tried on. It’s absolutely gorgeous and I want to share it, but I don’t want her fiance to somehow find this blog and see it, so I’ll keep it under wraps for now and if I’m still blogging here in 9 months, I’ll post pictures then.

She also asked me to be a bridesmaid, which I am super thrilled about. I said yes, of course. It’s my first time being a bridesmaid and first wedding of a personal friend’s that I’ll be attending. Although I must admit I am slightly disappointed I’m not MOH, only because I remember discussing her possibly getting married someday a while ago and I got really excited for her and asked if I’d be a bridesmaid and she told me I’d be MOH. I mean obviously things have changed. She’s not with the same guy she was with back then. But still. It’s okay though, this means I have less bridesmaidly duties to perform, like planning the whole bachelorette party and everything like that. However, I did volunteer my crafty-fashion skills to help with the bouquets/corsages/boutonnieres/bridesmaid accessories. I might as well be MOH when it comes to that stuff.

We also picked out the bridesmaid dress(es) for the most part. She fell in love with this Greek style dress with draping cowls on the side.  I’m not sure if she’s set on it though, because I know she didn’t like the price. I think it’s safe to share pictures of that dress, however. So here I am in it! I love the way it looks on me.

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Later in the day, I was my mom’s date to a banquet honoring her 15 years work at the hospital she works at. It was a really nice event, and it was held in the newly renovated wing of Cobo Center in downtown Detroit, facing the Detroit River and Canada. We were in a massive hall with a gorgeous modern ceiling. It was a really nice event and the food was very good. The hor d’oeuvres were fantastic. I especially liked the fancy boursin cheese and blackberries the size of golfballs, no joke.

Look at my mom looking fabulous.

Look at my mom looking fabulous.

October is definitely turning out to be interesting.

 

How I Made Getting Hit On an Awkward Experience: A Short Memoir

Last night, I went out with my friends to celebrate one of their birthdays and stayed long enough past the dinner to hit up the first hot and sweaty bar and drink a $5 glass of Angry Orchard. (It was so damn good.) Halfway through my glass and a little while after we snatched a table with chairs, I was peering around the visible vicinity, people watching and absorbing the general attractiveness of the males near me. I made eye contact with a tall guy in a blue shirt and snapback hat who was directly behind me earlier taking pictures with his friends, one of which was wearing a lime green shirt and nearly white khaki shorts.

A little time went by, my friends were getting drunker and rowdier, singing and dancing and laughing. Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder, and when I turned and looked up, the tall guy in the blue shirt was standing bent over next to me. The following dialogue is how I remember our conversation going, to the best of my memory:

Guy: Hey how are you, I’m (forgot his name), what’s your name? *starts shaking my hand*
Me: Hi! I’m good, my name’s Viviana.
Guy: Mariana?
Me: Hahaha no, Vi-vi-a-na, like Vivian but with an “a” at the end.
Guy: Oh okay, that’s a pretty name Viviana, nice to meet you.
Me: *smiling, laughing* Thanks! Nice to meet you too.
Guy: So uh, are you two crazy girls? *gestures toward Krista* You seem pretty crazy.
Me: Are we crazy? Hahaha, I mean, she’s pretty drunk right now, so she’s a little wild.
Guy: Hahaha yeaaah, I see that. *Krista sings and dances* So listen, uh, I really wanted to talk to you and say hi, but uh, you know, maybe away from your friends… *gestures behind himself*
Me: Hahaha, um, alright…
Guy: So, do you wanna…
Me: *nervous laugh* ummm…
Guy: Oh hey! This is my buddy (forgot his name too, lime green shirt guy) he uh, hahaha, he wanted to say hi too.
Lime Shirt: *fidgets* no, hahaha, dude, it’s…
Me: Hey, how are you, nice to meet you *shakes hand*
Lime Shirt: *fidgets more, nervous/reluctant smile* I’m good, I’m good, hahaha
Me: Alright, hahaha that’s good.
Guy: So uh, yeah… I just wanted to come say hi…
Me: Hahaha, alright, um, well, thank you!
Guy: Yeah! No problem hahaha, uh… Hi! *waves and backs away*
Me: *laughs, waves back* Hi!
*end conversation*

Me: Did I just get hit on or did we both get hit on?
Krista: *sings, somewhat looking at me*
Me: Omg, I made that so awkward, he said hi and I said thank you and he walked away!
Krista: You’re supposed to continue talking to them. He wasn’t that hot anyway. It’s the hot ones you gotta watch out for when they come up to you and deal a line cause you gotta think like, how many other girls have you done this to, cause you sound like a pro.
Me: Yeah…
*end conversation*

And that’s the story of how I turned a rare occurrence of an attractive tall gentlemen of my age group hitting on me into an awkward situation. It’s not the first time, and it unfortunately probably won’t be the last either. However, I generally grab the attention of older gentlemen, especially those of the Arabic and African American communities, so making it awkward usually works in my favor rather than against it.

I wish I could be like a normal person and let this go, but it’s the last thought I went to bed with, and the first I woke up to. It’s not really that I wanted to get in his pants and wake up in some strange bed regretting bad drunk decisions. It’s more the fact that my lack of being hit on / dating / relationships in my youth has left me unprepared for when these instances actually happen nowadays. I freeze up and no matter how much I tell myself to be open to strangers talking to me in suggestive manners, I still seem to put out a “back off” attitude without really meaning to.

In fact, I have been told before that that is part of the reason as to why I’ve been unsuccessful in my love life. I’ve been the independent, don’t need no man cause I can do it myself girl, and it’s apparently intimidating. It’s a very thick wall I’ve built and I need to learn to take it down, because as much as I am still a strong willed independently thinking young lady, I also crave the affections of someone who cares enough to break down my barriers and accept me for who I am. (Isn’t that what we all want?)

I guess the moral of the story is that I still have a long ways to go and I must learn to grow from my mistakes. Maybe it’s okay to make things awkward. It takes guts to talk to strangers, and I honestly appreciate every guy (and lesbian) who’s had them and used them on me. Hopefully more will have them and I’ll become more accustomed and less awkward. But in the meantime, please feel free to laugh with me at my pain.

Love, Abuse, and Grandparents

I want to get this out before I forget it or it becomes part of the laundry list of topics I want to discuss on here and find that I do not have the same fire as I did when they were fresh. A couple nights ago, my mom and I visited my aunt and ended up staying at her house chatting until midnight. We talked about various topics, but the one that stood out the most to me (aside from my needing a new car) was men. Or specifically, the men in our lives, past and present.

This is related to the topic of my needing a new car, as my dad is being rather stubborn and skirting around the issue. I don’t know how to explain it without my fingers tingling from frustration that there isn’t a way to just hook my head up to a machine and transfer everything in a neat little file full of the whole situation…but anyway, the subject divulged into how men are pretty much all hotheads and you need to know when to tell them things so that they don’t explode like shaken up bottles of pop. The answer, if you’re wondering, is when they’re in a good mood. And though neither my mom or my aunt mentioned it, I’m sure they were probably both thinking after sex – but I think they abstained from saying that because they think my virginity = ultra saintly nun-like knowledge of sexuality – and also because it’s probably an awkward topic between them (my aunt is not young).

That said, I discovered as the topic went on that during my grandpa’s last few months alive, he was very verbally abusive to my grandma. But before I continue, I’d also like to add that I learned that before they were married, he was, only once, physically abusive to her as well. My aunt recounted a story that my grandma told her about a time when my grandpa’s friends were spreading rumors that she was being unfaithful to him, and while she was ironing a shirt (with a really old school iron, like, made out of iron, that you had to spit on or something) he came over to her and hit her upside the head a few times and walked away, but not before she threw the iron at him, which nearly missed his head and could’ve killed him. Afterward, he asked “what was that?” and she asked “what was THAT?” A few days later, after discussing it with my great-grandmother, she told him that if he ever lays a hand on her again, she would heat a large pot of water until it was boiling and throw it on his head while he was sleeping. He never touched her like that again. However, he did verbally abuse her to his dying day.

My mom was telling my aunt about my dad calling her of “of the devil” (that’s the best way I can translate it in English – it’s a very rude and hurtful way to verbally berate someone in Romanian) because she said something somewhat snippy to him after he complained about her going to the zoo with me a few days ago. That’s when my aunt told us about my grandpa’s verbal abuse which often consisted of calling my grandma “of the devil”. I suppose I should also mention that my grandpa’s last year of life was plagued by diabetic complications including an infected leg (he refused to take medication for diabetes because he was afraid of needles and medical anything, like I am) which resulted in his death. Consequently, his poor health also deteriorated his state of mind. From what I remember, he wasn’t happy, as expected, to be sick. But he always spoke to me kindly, and I’m sure that has a lot to do with the fact that I was his favorite grandchild, the only girl, and the first born. He loved me very much. But this isn’t about me, not yet anyway.

In his negative state of mind, my aunt told us he called my grandma all kinds of names, swore at her, blamed his illness on her, said he wished he could kill her with an axe (that was so terrible, it was ALMOST funny, except it wasn’t), etc etc. All kinds of terrible, awful things that I could never dream of saying to someone I love, much less my wedded spouse. However, my spiritual beliefs lead me to believe that the corporeal negativity that surrounded my grandpa around his dying days was just that – corporeal. I cannot count the amount of times that I have been in near car accidents and I know that my grandpa pulled my wheel the other way or pushed my foot on the brake. I firmly believe that in the core of his spirit, he was a loving and positive being, and that any negative energy he felt while he was still alive was part of his natural learning curve on earth. I believe that once he died, he became part of the oneness and he knew what he said/did was wrong.

That said, unfortunately, his verbal abuse was passed down to his two sons, my dad and my uncle. My uncle is worse – he is not only verbally abusive, but as with the two girlfriends, (one of which is now his ex-wife and the mother of my only first cousin) also physically abusive. It really upsets me, actually. Imagine being 5 years old and icing a grown 20something’s face because your uncle hit her for arguing. It was rather traumatizing.

Thankfully, my dad is not physically abusive and never has been. He is, however, verbally abusive. Prior to move to America, his verbal abuse was more derogatory and nasty. Currently, it is more hurtful and scarring. I like to think that he chooses his words in a way so volatile that he knows exactly what button to push to make me feel like the shittiest, unworthiest person alive – like I do not deserve anything because I disobeyed his wishes or what have you. I distinctly remember being called a cow on several occasions when I was younger (before my mom intervened and told him to stop saying things like that to his own children) and various other deploring things he spewed my way that my brain has thankfully managed to tuck away and not remember.

This isn’t to say that I’ve had a rough childhood. My childhood and life at home has been phenomenal compared to the devastating lives of far too many people who’ve grown in truly horrific situations. Nonetheless, all degrees of abuse are that: abuse. And it does not matter what degree you’ve endured, it all matters. Being someone’s punching bag, whether physically, mentally, or emotionally, is not only challenging, but scarring.

Having backstoryed all that, I remember sitting on my aunt’s couch and feeling more and more infuriated imagining the scenarios of my grandpa abusing my grandma. MY grandpa, abusing MY grandma. Two people that I love and adore with all my heart, having discord in their relationship? It truly hurts me to think about it. I have never dealt well with people genuinely arguing. My parents very rarely have a legit argument, but when they do, it makes me extremely uncomfortable and I want to cry. Although recently, as I’ve gotten older, I have a tendency to step in and scream at my dad to shut the fuck up because it’s distressing me. He usually tells me to shut up back and I tell him no and continue to tell him to stop arguing. I also do not like it when my friends argue, especially with their significant others.

However, my grandparents’ situation got me thinking: should I ever find myself in a relationship, I pledge here and now to never, EVER, allow my partner to abuse me. Abuse is not love. I don’t care how corrosive of a relationship it might be. No one should be subjected to berating words or bruises. I am too intelligent, too emotional, and have too much self-respect to allow anyone to disrespect me like that. I’m not saying it won’t happen, but I am saying if it does, it won’t happen for long.

Glee: You’re Doing It Right

All I wanna say tonight is that Glee was EXCELLENT.

Tonight’s episode was really stellar – and last week’s scene when Finn motherfucking burst in and beat the shit out of Brody and was all STAY AWAY FROM MY FUTURE WIFEomfg.

Why can’t I have someone who loves me that much? Goddamnit.

If I really sit and think about these things, I just get more depressed about the road my love life is taking – which is straight to the nunnery because I’m clearly not good enough for anyone. I’m just gonna be celibate for the rest of my life.

Don’t you love how I can make that shit about my love life? Me too.

Omg, I’m A College Graduate, What?

How I feel emotionally right now:

To add injury to insult, it feels like my wounds have been licked by a salted cat’s tongue. But I’ll get through it. Because I’m accustomed to picking up the pieces and  powering on. I’m surprised I’m taking this as well as I am though. I guess I realize that it’s really not my loss and I’m better off. Back to square one it is.

But the highlight of today outshines this laceration in every way. 

Anyway. So I’m like officially done with college now. It’s kind of blowing my mind. I got really drunk last night at bowling and the bar after. And then, of course, I left evidence in written form on the internet because that’s what drunk me loves to do. But I had a lot of fun and I was happy more than like five people showed up to the event.

I’m kind of confused as to what to do with my life, though. I mean, not like obscenely confused, but I just finished over a decade straight of school and now I’m expected to enter “the real world” or something? I know what I’m going to be doing first: cleaning. And making lists of things I need to get done, like starting to make things to sell. And more photography. And many more Vivography posts. And catching up on tv and movies. And refining my Adobe skills.

Good lord, I have life to catch up on. I will start by watching the last two Once Upon A Time episodes I missed.

Savoring the Rain

I once wrote a poem whose closing stanza went

I would tell you to stop flirting
But I enjoy the pain,
Cause this is better than not knowing
It’s like savoring the rain.

I think I’ve fallen back on the idea that I’m just gonna be single for the rest of my life because clearly I’m not good enough for anyone.