peligrosa's Xanga

Salon Visits

Sun, 21 Oct 2007 13:28:09 GMT

Ladies... Ya know when you are done being pampered at the salon, you want to peek at yourself in mirrors - catch a reflection of your new hair as you pass by picture windows? I can't do that.

I've loved what my stylist has done with my hair for the past year. She's been great with artsy color and unique "weird" haircuts. I've been asymmetrical for quite some time - the right side of my hair was significantly longer than the left side.

This time, I told her I wanted to grow out my hair a bit and that I wanted the blonde changed in the front. I gave her free reign with the color and cut with those stipulations in place. In fact, I wanted to be surprised, so I didn't even face the mirror. When I felt the long chunk being whacked off, I questioned it, and she said we need to balance out the sides to grow it out.

Then she showed me her work of art. I could at least hold back the tears until I got to the car. But I outright said "I look like a boy". She said to give it some time - that I would get used to it.

So this morning, I dared to look in the mirror. And I started sobbing.

Lately, change has been extremely hard for me. The video store closed and I'm still not used to netflix (and I will not keep selling my soul to Blockbuster). I cried over that. And my hair... I've always been ok with change as far as my hair goes... it grows quickly and I like having something different every time. But it's so bloody short.

I guess my only choices are to 1. shampoo and spray my hair with the hair grow quick stuff that does work or 2. drive back out there with the tears and beg her to give me extensions.

Maybe I'll get brave enough to post a photo at the other blog.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Mon, 15 Oct 2007 12:00:42 GMT

For some reason, unknown to me, I started receiving a subscription to Entertainment Weekly. Why, I don't know. My neighbor used to get it, and sometimes, the mailman would misdeliver to my house. I would promptly return it to her mailbox, as I am not interested in it at all.

I don't have enough time to read my regular news magazines. Why in the world would I want to read entertainment magazines. Bleh.

I canceled it.

I hate the weather change... My heat takes awhile to kick-on. The rule of thumb is that it needs to be colder than 40 degrees for several evenings in a row before it gets cold. For someone who is used to a temp of 74 degrees in her place, this is brutal. My thermostat has been sitting solid at 62. It's cold! So, I bought a space heater.... Finally, it's helped raised the temperature to 70. Ahhhhh, sweet justice!

Bitching Blog

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 12:11:38 GMT

(TUESDAY NIGHT)
This is turning into my whiny bitchy blog...

After a weekend of spending nearly all my time with at least 5 other people (and up to 50), it's very odd to be home alone again. I find myself bored and lonesome. sad sniff whine whine.

(LATER, THE NEXT MORNING)

Luckily, after I got off the phone with a couple of friends, I got motivated to clean... I had slept on the couch for about a week before the trip, and while packing for the trip, I had torn my place apart. So, it had turned into a disaster. I still have a tape measure sitting on my dining table. Why? I'm not quite sure.

But my house is now a little cleaner - woo! And I slept in my bed after breaking out "The People's History," which has been sitting in my to be read pile for well over two years, but The Artist is plowing through it, and maybe now if I catch up, we can have a real book club.

Feeling like crap

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 00:50:02 GMT

Recipe for a crappy night

1 asshole father in town showing his true asshole-ness
1 sweet mom who will undergo surgery soon
1 crazy niece who is going to end up as a crack whore
3 months of errors from staff at work mixed with 8 hours of hunting out those mistakes
1 badass undying headache
+
Not being prepared for a trip

Throw ingredients together in random order. Headache should last for at least 12 hours or crappy night will not happen. Questions about mom's surgery should be left unanswered. Top it all off with a dose of feeling completely wrecked and alone since you won't talk to anyone about everything. Remember, trying to talk about it is futile.

Enjoy nausea, problems with vision, and overall physical weakness.

Nice to hear...

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 12:24:09 GMT

Every once in awhile, you get an uplifting comment from a friend or family member - something that makes you feel like you're doing the right thing.

I got one of those yesterday. My nephew and I have a unique relationship. We're friends. We're 12 years apart in age, so I was very young when he came into my life (about 13 - he is adopted). I always treated him as a peer. That gets harder as I've aged - now that I pay for his cellphone and have to police him or I will have a $250 bill every month. But, I still think we're very close. We talk about a lot of different things - he knows my friends - he talks to me about drugs and sex and all that crazy stuff. I love him dearly and would do anything for him. I rarely say no to him, and when I do, I usually struggle with it, but stick to my guns. (The lil guy, at 16, still doesn't have Madden 08 for the xbox.)

His grandpa (who is in no way related to me) told me yesterday "You're a very special aunt - he loves you very much." What a warm fuzzy!

For awhile there, a few months ago, I would end my conversations with my nephew with "I love you buddy!" and he would respond with his version of the same, "Yeah." And once in a great moon, he would slip and say "I love you too," but those came few & far between.

He doesn't need to tell me, because I know. He wants to live with me when he graduates from high school - so I need to start planning for a bigger place.

All things said, he is one of the most important people in my life. And when he turns 18, I'll be 30. Good god.

Memories from my mom

Sun, 23 Sep 2007 16:52:30 GMT

When I was a wee little one and I would get into a funk, my mom would start singing...

Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, guess I'll go eat worms...

This comes to me on a day when I am alone all day, struggling thinking of what to do (two days in a row without companionship are rough - even my friends aren't available to do anything). I hear my mom singing that song in the back of my head. And it makes me want to puke.

The most frustrating thing about this "waiting game" after a fight is that earlier this week, we really had a deep talk that seemed to be very positive. Now, I'm left in the lurch again. And there's nothing I can do about it.

Then again, I think he's being extremely childish over this. "NO! I won't talk to you!" rather than just getting it handled and over, which is my usual modus operandi.

Ahh well, must do some grocery shopping today and enjoy the weather before it all goes into the hell of winter.

the blahs

Sat, 22 Sep 2007 23:56:28 GMT

Of course, laboy and I got into a fight today. Of course, the fight didn't seem like that big of a deal to me. I got super snarky and made nasty comments, to which he responded in kind by hanging up on me. I apologized into his voicemail and ended up not hearing a damn thing for nearly 8 hours. So, I dropped by his place and was told to get out: "I need a day. The best thing you can do is leave."

I'm going to do everything possible to prevent obsessing over it. What I said was not so terrible that it should cause massive drama. And the fact that I realized it so quickly and apologized should've paid the price.

But it doesn't.

Worst news I could possibly get this week came - my video store is closing. My comfort zone. My "home away from home". My zen place where ... everybody knows your name. No longer will be there : (

Bad news. So terribly sad over that.

So I go back to my "House" marathon. blah

Realization

Thu, 20 Sep 2007 11:13:06 GMT

I usually update this blog via my pc "brick"... my hobby one is always done on the macbook (because it's photo intensive). Interesting distinction there.

Earlier this week, I had a friend question me about laboy. I realized that I tend to step into a control role with men... oh the helpless lil' puppy needs me. Well, after reading a little more about codependency, I took on a mantra "not my problem" (as bad as that sounds). His drinking/drug use is not my problem. I choose to not be around it - and he knows how I feel about it. I don't lecture anymore. I just hope that he'll get his shit together. I have to remember that we aren't married, we aren't even living together, so he or I don't have to consult one another on our life decisions. It's something I'm not used to. And it's something I get extremely frustrated with. Bleh...

Love bites.

I should also clarify on my niece a bit. She is bipolar and god only knows what else. As she's aged, she's learned how to manipulate the system. When I wrote that, she was "running away" several times and wreaking havoc in my family. Now that she and my nephew are in the same school, she finds dangerous ways to make his life miserable, which deeply disturbs me. (My brothers and I just beat the crap out of each other - we didn't try to get gangbangers to do it for us at school.) So, I was quite a bit worked up about her behavior. She also disgusts me in ways I can't even explain. I know teenage girls try to seek acceptance, but it seems no matter how often I've spoken with her about doing that by finding herself and being independent, she's a clingy slutty-acting girl whom I cannot respect. I wish I could post the photos she puts on myspace - oh lord, our fear is that it's only a matter of time before the predators find her.

Friday, September 07, 2007

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 08:28:25 GMT

Getting up early (especially THIS early) is for the birds.

I hate my niece. I hate her more everyday. She makes me sick. She's torn my family apart. I hate her and she's just a teenager.

I almost feel badly about it. Almost.

Zen for Work

Thu, 06 Sep 2007 13:09:03 GMT

I need to write a lot for work. I can't seem to find my "zen" in the office - constant interruptions from both my phone ringing and my team having questions or needing advice or wanting to "duke out a problem". That's probably 60% of my day. But with that, I can't seem to get into writing mode and crank out what I need to.

So, I go to the bar. I set up shop with my laptop and notebooks and within 20 minutes crank out a hue chunk of what I need to write. Why does it take twenty times that to do it in my office?

Two hours in the bar made me get comfortably ahead on two of my projects. One more night will make me even more comfortable, I hope.