tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-59738839495420886602024-02-21T03:41:13.854-08:00A Curly Girl WorldA blog about everything from a 20-something gal with lots o' hairTracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-58479438353666027532014-03-31T17:10:00.002-07:002014-03-31T17:10:25.552-07:00Little ThingsTomorrow my sister, my best friend in the world, moves to Texas.<br />
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While I'm excited for her new adventure, I can't help but feel completely heartbroken today. I don't think it helped that I looked at her Pinterest page, which includes a board called "Sister" where she posts funny things that remind her of me (OK, I may have guilted her into creating it after I saw she had a board for her best friend that included images about being happy to be "unbiological sisters." Say, whaaaat?!). Anyhoo, it got me feeling sad, and this rainy weather outside isn't helping.<br />
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I know people live far away from their family. It happens all the time. My boyfriend's brother lives in Colorado along with his mom, and my mom has family in San Diego and Texas. I even moved 500 miles away when I went to college. Still, why does this move make me feel sad? Well, for selfish reasons, clearly.<br />
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I do want my sister to explore, and I do want her to find new opportunity. I do want her to be happy in her relationship, and I do want her to follow her heart. It's just hard to think that all the little things we've done together won't be happening anymore. Our quick weekend visits that usually include sushi, a movie, getting tipsy off one glass of wine or making fun of our parents. Our annual "must do's" like our pre-family reunion get togethers with our cousin, autumn trip to Apple Hill to pick out pumpkins and doing a Mother's Day cancer awareness walk.<br />
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All of these "little" things add up to a lot. I think that's why it's sad - she will no longer be a quick drive away for us do "little" things. Every trip and visit will have to be big. Every trip will require major planning, perhaps taking time off, shelling out hundreds of dollars on a plane ticket (don't even get me started on how pricey Southwest and American Airlines flights are to Dallas. FML).<br />
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Sure, you could say that our visits will be that much more precious and special. We will appreciate every phone call and FaceTime that much more. But never in all my life have I taken my sister for granted. Never have I not appreciated her being just a 2-hour drive away up Highway 80. I've even thought <i>that </i>was too far away.<br />
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It's times like this that make me really hate getting older. You're just that much more attached to people with that many more memories. You're more likely to have routines and comfort you can rely on. Changes in your life aren't as frequent as when you're younger and life is more transitional. But change as an adult is usually a bigger deal. We have families and jobs and friends and memories and social circles and hobbies we've come to love and expect. Yeah sure, there may be a job change here and there. And friends come and go. But in general, your life becomes comfortable and, in some ways, predictable. I've loved my life thus far - particularly these last few months of comfort and predictability. For once I feel like I have it all - I'm balanced.<br />
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But this move throws that balance off a bit. By no means should she not move on my account. This is her life, and I want her to live it. But I can't help but feel so sad today. Like tomorrow a part of my heart will be taken away and gone to Texas.<br />
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<br />Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-42787549289760174032014-02-06T20:28:00.001-08:002014-02-06T20:28:37.360-08:00A Walking ClicheClearly I've been absent in my blogging, and all I can chalk it up to is that I'm happy. And happy is boring.<br />
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I'm happily in love with a wonderful man, and now I know I can never judge someone again. I always hated those people who said cliche things like "When you know you know" or they'd escalate their relationship from 0 to 60. Welllllll, I definitely know my guy is it for me, and after only a few months of dating, we're already living together. Whoops. I'm the cliche now.<br />
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But at the end of the day, if I know I'm doing the right thing, then that's all that matters. I'm a reasonable person who doesn't do wild and crazy things, and when I put my mind to things, I do them. And this is one of those things. I'm determined to be happy and have a partner in life, and I'm lucky to have found that.<br />
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I'm sure I'll be back to blog more. But wanted to share a quick update to show I'm still alive. And happy as ever!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-375934160229924292013-08-26T21:44:00.002-07:002013-08-26T21:44:48.477-07:00Fear<div style="text-align: center;">
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I've seen and heard this quote hundreds of times and never really thought about its meaning. Until now.</div>
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Granted, my fears are pretty meek compared to actual fears. Who actually gets scared about throwing up? This girl does.</div>
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But honestly, it's the anxiety of something happening that is truly scary - usually scarier than the thing that actually happens.</div>
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Take for instance my throwing up example. Anyone who knows me knows I wash my hands constantly, carry hand sanitizer religiously and avoid holding any friend's hair back during a drunken regurgitation. When people say they are/were/feel like they're sick, I inevitably follow it up with, "What kind of sick?!?" and pray they're fighting the common cold.</div>
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Well, all of these years of worry came to a head this past winter when I contracted a stomach virus and keeled over the toilet in dry heaves. It wasn't a picnic, that's for sure, but it was honestly not as bad as I thought it would be. Do I want to avoid it in the future? Sure. But do I need to be paralyzed every time someone tells me their stomach hurts? No way. The anticipation of it was worse than the 24 hours of feeling icky.</div>
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In that same vein, I spent months worried that an ex of mine wasn't in love with me. I used to dissect everything he said and did, hoping it would calm my fears and prove he was secretly in love with me but scared to say it. When I finally got the guts to confront him and ask how he felt (months and months later), I literally had a panic attack trying to spit the words out. And you know what? He told me he wasn't in love with me and didn't see a future with us.</div>
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After some crying, I later felt a huge weight lifted off my shoulders. The one thing I feared had happened - now I didn't need to fear it anymore!</div>
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So here I sit, still fearing all kinds of trivial shit that is out of my control - namely, relationship stuff. Dating gets me so worked up. I am terrible at it. I'm impatient and curious, and all I want is to know ASAP if what I'm doing is worth it and not a waste of time. But that's not how it works. You have to ride the wave in order to see where it goes.</div>
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A lot of my impatience has to do with my fears - my fear of not being able to trust my gut, "see" things for what they are or end up disappointed after getting my hopes up. I don't want any of that to happen.</div>
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But thanks to FDR, all I need to remember is being scared of something that hasn't happened yet is pointless. Worst case scenario, my fears come true. And then where will I be? I will be right where I'm at and perfectly fine.</div>
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Now, time to breathe. </div>
Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-2582040034947119752013-08-19T22:06:00.001-07:002013-08-19T22:06:06.870-07:00Re-DirectionI was maid of honor in a wedding a couple weeks ago, and near the end of the evening, I broke down crying.<br />
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Was I getting choked up over the my friend getting married? Nope. Was I drunk? Potentially. OK, yes.<br />
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The drinking didn't help, but what I was really feeling was sorry for myself. I'd made some feeble attempts to flirt with a groomsman, and then I also attempted to dance with another. Both of them ditched me in favor of flirting with another bridesmaid, one who has a boyfriend (and a better rack than me, admittedly, although that's not very difficult to accomplish).<br />
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Surprisingly, this stirred up some old feelings I hadn't felt in awhile. For 2 years, I dated someone who made me feel completely loved. I never questioned his affection for me, and I grew used to that comfort of always feeling wanted by someone.<br />
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So it's been since before I met the ex that I experienced several rounds of rejection from a variety of fellows. It hurt me a lot back then - I remember shedding a couple tears after a guy wasn't into me after one date (one date!). I took it hard, and I took it personal every single time. All of those single years of getting rejected by one after another, hopes running high and then swept out from under me. Sure, I rejected my share as well. But there was nothing quite like the desperation of my early 20s. And that wedding night a couple weeks back made me think of every single tool out there whom I couldn't charm.<br />
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Stereotypical drunk bridesmaid-never-a-bride crying aside, I think I'm somewhat getting the hang of this rejection deal. Rejection isn't even the right word. It's more like re-direction - just moving with the ebbs and flows of meeting people, and changing my focus once one doesn't reciprocate.<br />
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Granted, I'm not all that happy about this "re-direction" business every time. It's really getting old at this point. Like recently - I went on a couple dates with a potential, and he really impressed me. We had great conversation and chemistry, and things seemed to be heading in a mutual direction.<br />
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Then radio silence.<br />
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The fool hasn't talked to me since! It did bum me out at first, and sure it stings a little today when I start to get in those feeling-sorry-for-myself moods. But it sure hasn't made me cry like that loser that dropped me after one date (if I recall, he cancelled our plans on a Saturday and said he'd be "busy with work" for awhile. And by awhile, he meant <i>forever</i>). It's more perplexing as to why someone shows interest up front, and then pulls a disappearing act. And for the record, no there was no "getting the milk for free" scenario here. I know better than that.<br />
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Before I met my ex, I was such a happy-go-lucky, independent girl. I loved my alone time, and I thrived knowing I was a free bird. I know I'll get back to that, but for now, I'm still re-building that single self. It's not as difficult to be alone as it used to be. It's boring, sure, but I know how to occupy my time. And thankfully work is keeping me plenty busy.<br />
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Regardless of it all, I'm still as hopeful as ever. I guess it's that quasi-pessimistic optimist in me that thinks there's a disappointment quota we all have to meet, and I'm slowly reaching mine. The balance of the universe is sure to come my way after all of this nonsense. Right?Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-65166074338632384702013-07-21T21:11:00.001-07:002013-07-21T21:11:15.233-07:00Growing UpMaybe I assumed once I got my first job after college, paid bills, started a 401k and ceased to have a curfew that I was considered a real adult.<br />
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But that assumption was proven wrong today when I got into a foul mood while talking with my sister about holidays.<br />
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My family is number one, and traditions are crucial to me. My sister is family-oriented too, but she also has a serious live-in boyfriend. So they have to juggle whose family they visit for holidays.<br />
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As we started talking about her missing another Christmas so she could be with his family, it dawned on me that this is what it means to be an adult - you find a life partner, and that becomes your new family. You can no longer just skip over to your grandma's house, open gifts with your cousins and watch "A Christmas Story." You have to do things as a unit, and this new partner basically becomes your No. 1.<br />
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Problem is - I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that. My family is my blood. I didn't get to choose them, but I got pretty damn lucky. I have so many wonderful childhood memories of our holidays, so it's hard for me to imagine disrupting tradition. Things are changing - people are getting older, starting families of their own, moving away. And I hate it.<br />
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Call me Peter Pan, but I want things to keep going as they have been for the last 27 years of my life. I don't want to grow up and miss out on one ounce of family time. That's idealistic of me, I know, but sometimes change it hard.<br />
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My sister might be moving across the country, and she plans to spend pretty much every Christmas with her boyfriend's family (the trade off is he will spend Thanksgiving with ours). They are probably going to get married one of these days, which is so exciting, but a selfish part of me just wishes we could go back to being the little girls in our playhouse, making home videos and playing "Mall Madness."<br />
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I don't know. Maybe this is all a result of me being alone. It's hard for me to picture sacrificing seeing my family for some future, remains-to-be-seen guy. But I know I'll have to grow up eventually and start new family traditions of my own. And I'm sure those will be exciting times and a special new phase in my life.<br />
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But until then, I'm still nostalgic for the "good ol' days." And it's true when they say that it really sucks to get older.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-91108096515769935792013-06-23T18:30:00.003-07:002013-06-23T18:32:53.235-07:00A Weekend of Illness, a Flat Tire and Tap Dancing<i>Warning: I'm pretty sure I have a fever, so apologies in advance for any loopiness you detect in this post. </i><br />
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Shitty.<br />
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That's the only way to describe this weekend. And it's not even over.<br />
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Calling it shitty might be a bit dramatic considering that everything is fine, and there are naturally more serious things. But it's just been a weekend with a string of bad luck.<br />
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On Thursday I started feeling sick with a cold - my third one since starting my new job 5 months ago. I guess that's what happens when you work with thousands of people and touch all the same handles and buttons. Eww.<br />
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Friday it got worse, and I had to drive all the way to Loomis for a dress rehearsal for dance. It was a struggle but I made it through.<br />
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Then yesterday was just awful. I was sicker and had zero energy. I had my dance recital in the afternoon, and I figured I'd muster up enough strength to drive to Loomis again and dance one number full out. But first, I had to run a couple errands.<br />
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Sure, running errands when you're sick is stupid. But in my delirium, I figured running to a couple places around the corner wouldn't hurt anyone.<br />
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As I pulled into the post office, my tire pressure light turned on. I heard the hissing sound as soon as I approached my back tire. Shit. After going inside and coming back out, the tire was slowly leaking, and I knew it would be flat soon. All at a time when I had an hour to get my show makeup on and drive to my dance show.<br />
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Thankfully, my Grams lives close by, and she said I could borrow her car. So I trudged my way up to my dance show, feeling like I could faint at any minute from my cold. I danced and immediately left, heading home and basically passing out on the couch at 7. I was in and out of sleep for awhile, feeling so loopy.<br />
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Then there was a big wake-up call at about 9:15. I observed outside from my balcony three cop cars with flashing lights and a circling helicopter calling out with a megaphone. Well that can't be a good sign.<br />
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The cops finally went away after about 15 minutes, so I passed out and slept for a good 10 more hours.<br />
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Today, I called AAA to come fix my tire, and those bastards said they wouldn't come out until tomorrow because I'd only renewed my roadside assistance membership yesterday, and they have a 48-hour waiting period. WTF. So I cancelled my membership, and I'm seriously considering changing insurance as well since they wouldn't work with me. Bitches!<br />
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I headed to my Grams' today, and my aunt and I tried to start the tire changing process - me with my cold/cough, and her in sandles. This was going to turn out well.<br />
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We made an effort, but we couldn't get the bolts loosened. So we called my uncle, who came and changed it to my spare, all the while rain starts coming down (in June!). I'll get it fixed tomorrow before I head out of town to Denver for work.<br />
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Oh, and did I mention I think I found out why my cat throws up all the time? I've given her the same food for years, and apparently she's experiencing an allergy, which is why it's recommended you switch your cat's food every few months. I'm a terrible owner!<br />
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So yes, this has been my weekend thus far. I feel like crap, my car is effed up, and I live in the ghetto. It could be worse, of course. And I'm a firm believer that when a bunch of bad luck comes your way, the good inevitably follows. So here's to a week of (hopefully) good luck!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-28877447520661572782013-05-20T22:54:00.000-07:002013-05-20T22:54:06.972-07:00The Bright Side of Ghetto LivingThe fantasy of living alone is that you live in this fabulous downtown abode, outfitted with pristine hardwood floors, and you come home to a big glass of expensive wine and go to sleep in a huge canopy bed fit for a princess.<br />
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The reality?<br />
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You live in a 1970s shitty apartment in the hood, sandwiched between an abandoned elementary school that's been tagged by the Crips and a halfway house for people just getting out of the looney bin. Oh, and there's the questionable "massage parlor" down the street that has "Client List" written all over it. Your carpet is stained with cat vomit, you drink tap water and go to bed on one that sits atop a metal frame from Costco that has wheels on it.<br />
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Admittedly, I moved to this apartment to be closer to the now ex-boyfriend. It made sense for other reasons too, of course, like it's 5 minutes from my Grams, 10 minutes to downtown and an easy 20 minutes to both work and my dance class.<br />
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But there are times I really wonder why the hell I live here. Exhibit A:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepWQB7Ki6-m9vPa3rTdnHU18BVGEvvaCfA66QCpYGgWiuQpjp7khTWkvdKrGF16MY79ylHcdWoSDldaaYXLdjwFiCnc2gVOW2V4hghu4-VrxE5QW02HBjds1XmJ4co81kwZeh0QT8g3XH/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgepWQB7Ki6-m9vPa3rTdnHU18BVGEvvaCfA66QCpYGgWiuQpjp7khTWkvdKrGF16MY79ylHcdWoSDldaaYXLdjwFiCnc2gVOW2V4hghu4-VrxE5QW02HBjds1XmJ4co81kwZeh0QT8g3XH/s320/photo+1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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No, this is not a full moon. This is a glimpse of my neighbor that apparently doesn't believe in belts or thinks it's 1995 when sagging was cool.</div>
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Exhibit B: My landlord called the other day to tell me Henry the maintenance man would be removing some rotted wood from my balcony. I come home to this:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN8_fdUjEJz52TXSV4aPrt7hX36o_4_qczzxZoG34CSc7ATT5CVHI8jCnGIcpudDsmZGvea7yNxfyTHb9RlEcYb_izM6IvtLRGSecGGDZG-SIuUH9Ueif1Pi9ZzAr06Kh7ezr2WuREmzon/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN8_fdUjEJz52TXSV4aPrt7hX36o_4_qczzxZoG34CSc7ATT5CVHI8jCnGIcpudDsmZGvea7yNxfyTHb9RlEcYb_izM6IvtLRGSecGGDZG-SIuUH9Ueif1Pi9ZzAr06Kh7ezr2WuREmzon/s320/photo+2.JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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As in - the entire balcony was gone, and Henry left this ridiculous sign.<br />
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Despite all of these quirks, I have to admit that these last couple months of singledom have allowed me to appreciate my ghetto apartment. Some highlights:<br />
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<li>I have been belting out songs to my cat. Crazy cat lady status.</li>
<li>I'm officially obsessed with "Damages" on NetFlix. So sitting on my ass watching it is all the companionship I need.</li>
<li>My bed may be janky, but it's all mine. Oh, and Cammie's too.</li>
<li>The old-lady-chain-smoking-neighbor smell can easily be remedied with a couple Bath & Body Works candles and a Scentsy.</li>
<li>My bedroom walls aren't shared with anyone, so neighbor sex noises are not an issue.</li>
<li>Guest parking is a cinch - you'd be hard pressed to stupidly park your friend's car in the wrong place only to have it towed to Rio Linda (I may know something or two about that).</li>
<li>With my neighbors, there's never a dull moment. Ever.</li>
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Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-82984708251764680162013-05-19T18:21:00.000-07:002013-05-19T18:24:32.009-07:00Bitches Get StitchesYou know your week is going to blow when it begins with a trip to the ER.<br />
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That was the scene that played out a couple Mondays ago. I was hastily slicing an avocado for my lunch when I went to stab the pit to take it out. Things didn't go quite as planned because the knife slipped and made a lovely laceration on my hand and wouldn't stop gushing blood.<br />
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Eff.<br />
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I slightly freaked out because I wasn't sure if this was worth a $250 ER visit. I quickly decided it was after observing the gaping hole and noticing I could see through it to the other side of my hand (practically).<br />
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I headed to the ER, which was thankfully pretty abandoned. Heaven forbid my pathetic wound would supersede someone with an actual life-threatening emergency.<br />
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The doc patched me up with some liquid stitches and sent me on my way. "But wait," I said, "Don't I need a bandage on it or something?" He told me it wasn't necessary, but if I wanted one, he'd put one on. "Umm, yes sir. I need this to look like a legit wound when I go back to work." I'm pretty sure when I recounted my story of cutting an avocado incorrectly, people would not at all take this wound seriously anyway.<br />
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And thus was the beginning of my week.<br />
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The rest of the week continued to shit on me, but mostly in little ways that just compounded. The highlight of the week was when I made the ridiculous decision to join an online dating site at the encouragement of a couple co-workers.<br />
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For the record, I did online dating a few years ago, and it sucked. It only lasted a couple weeks, but in that time I met a boring guy and then a mean guy, and I experienced a whole new kind of rejection - the virtual kind that comes in a higher volume than real life and is strictly a result of people only seeing your best 5 photos. It's brutal out there.<br />
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So, I decided to lower my expectations even more and make a profile so I could potentially meet some people to hang with. I've got a lot of free Friday nights in my horizon.<br />
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Within a few hours of me creating my profile, I received 3 messages. The least creepy of the bunch seemed harmless, so I responded with your run-of-the-mill small talk - what are you up to tonight, what do you do for work, etc.<br />
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This character, Grey (who, BT-dubs, was <i>nothing </i>like Christian Grey) got a little over-excited when I said I did PR and that I have a cat. I should have had better sense, but I was at my girlfriend's house drinking wine, so I accepted his offer to move from messaging to texting.<br />
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Big mistake.<br />
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Grey proceeded to send photo after photo after photo of himself (PG stuff, thankfully), but it's like, did I request 12 pictures of your creepy mug? No. His final photo was of his chest (and moobs). Aaaaand, I'm out.<br />
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When I didn't respond, he asked if I still wanted to talk. I tried to nicely tell him no, but I guess I didn't get my point across. He said he'd like to talk tomorrow but if I didn't want to, just tell him so I don't "waste his time." OK, fine by me. I flat out said I didn't want to talk anymore.<br />
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And here was the response I got, a whole 22 minutes into our first conversation:<br />
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First of all, how dare he not use proper punctuation when cussing me out?<br />
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Second, I'd rather re-live my avocado stabbing fiasco 17 times before ever talking to this fine gent again. Bummer. Looks like I really missed out on a gem. Ahhh, single life. How I've missed you!<br />
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My online dating profile has since been deleted after being live less than 24 hours. <br />
<br />
Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-54795197032011923942013-04-29T21:19:00.001-07:002013-04-29T21:24:23.768-07:00It's Just Emotions, Taking Me Over<i>For the record: I am fully aware that being single doesn't mean I have to find someone. I'm fine by myself, but call me crazy, I daydream about love. A lot. I blame Julia Roberts and Meg Ryan movies. </i><br />
<br />
I whipped out my old journals a couple weeks ago and did a little reading.<br />
<br />
Guess what I discovered?<br />
<br />
1) I dated some douche bags in my day, and 2) I have learned very little in the last few years when it comes to controlling my emotions.<br />
<br />
Here I was, thinking my two-year relationship taught me all kinds of lessons and that I would come out of it older and wiser. Nothing could phase me. I was a new and improved Trace - no need to chase boys and get all hot and bothered when I like one. Just focus on me and call it good.<br />
<br />
Nope.<br />
<br />
I'm still that same hopeless romantic that gets excited over the littlest of possibilities. I can't "play it cool" (whatever that means) and just let things happen. I think I just need to accept that I'm the kind of girl who is a grown woman yet I still get butterflies and feel 15 again.<br />
<br />
This is the problem with dating. Being single leaves this unknown where, theoretically, the next person that you talk to could be your future mate. I know it's ridiculous to think like that, and trust me, it was an awesome feeling to quiet that "partner hunt" part of my brain these last two years. It's a secure feeling to not have to "look" for someone - you're all set, and you don't have to worry about having someone call you, like you, date you, take you out, etc.<br />
<br />
With that security gone, I'm thrown back into being 23 again. Oh, and wasn't that a joy the first time around! I hated feeling so vulnerable then - where I felt like any guy that showed an iota of interest in me could single-handedly unravel me. (I know, not very feminist of me. But I couldn't help it!).<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I don't give guys that much control over me these days, and I'm pretty sure my douche bag radar is top notch. But there is still that discomfort in being vulnerable again. I want so badly to be calm, cool, collected. Not care. Not let things phase me. But alas - I am a sensitive girl, and following my emotions is how I roll.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's not about controlling this part of me, but learning to just roll with it. One of my best girlfriends has always been so supportive of me through the years when I've cried over guys. Instead of telling me to "be strong" and "not let it get to me," she encouraged me to cry it out and feel all of those feelings. It's important to let yourself feel, as uncomfortable as it can be. I guess it just makes me, well, me.<br />
<br />
So here I am, trying my best to roll with it. Sure, it consumes so much of my thoughts - to the point where I'm having recurring dreams. And yeah, I've started listening to ridiculous music like "Dream Lover" by Mariah Carey. But hey, that's just me. And one day someone will love the me that I love. Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-59533577820620539582013-04-20T12:22:00.000-07:002013-04-20T12:22:14.804-07:00The TrifectaA couple weeks ago, the boyfriend and I called it quits.<br />
<br />
Friends and family have been so sweet, asking if I'm OK and checking in on me periodically. You'd think after ending a two-year relationship, I'd be in pretty bad shape.<br />
<br />
Maybe it's because I've done this before or because I knew it was the right thing to do, but I'm surprisingly handling it very well. It was hard right after, but I was following my gut, and you can't go wrong with that.<br />
<br />
So many times when things have ended for me, I go into a downward spiral where I'm equal parts sad/angry/bitter/jaded. But no matter how many failed relationships/dating experiences I've had, I'm more hopeful and optimistic than ever. I know everything will work out, whether I'm alone or with someone. All of my experiences have led me to this - a place where I know now, more than ever, what I want.<br />
<br />
I want a love where I follow my heart, my head and my gut. The trifecta.<br />
<br />
The guy I dated a few years ago was a time when I really followed my heart. I felt like I was going to burst at the seams whenever I was around him - I was giddy and hopelessly into him. As pathetic as it sounds, I used to whisper "I love you" to him in the middle of the night when he slept, just so I could get it out and say it. We never exchanged those words, but I desperately wanted to. So naturally, I told him when he was unconscious.<br />
<br />
Trouble there was that I didn't follow my gut with this one. My gut told me time and time again he didn't reciprocate my feelings, but I thought over time that would magically change. It didn't.<br />
<br />
With my most recent relationship, I opted to follow my head. It made sense for us to be together - we have mutual family/friend connections, grew up in the same area, and he definitely thought I was the bee's knees. He felt about me exactly how I wanted the last guy to feel. So it made sense to be with someone who treated me right and who I could be myself around.<br />
<br />
Of course I loved him and feel like we had a good relationship - only thing missing was my heart. My heart was not into it 100%, and that is not fair. He wasn't completely happy, and neither was I. On paper, it made sense for us to be together. But that's not ever a reason to be with someone. So we mutually ended it, which I know was the right thing to do.<br />
<br />
I haven't lost hope that the right person is around the corner. I want those butterflies, I want him to feel the same about me, I want us to want the same things, I want us to just "get" each other and feel happy together. And most of all, I want to feel it in my heart, head and gut.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-86027503101264602752013-03-05T20:11:00.001-08:002013-03-05T20:11:32.494-08:00From Scared to LostIt's been just over a month now at the new job, and I've got a confession: this change was a lot harder than I expected.<br />
<br />
I went from a small firm of 7 to a medium office of 20 to a large corporation of 2,000+ people. On top of that, I'm learning all about the corporate structure - something that is so complex that I don't even know what the entire Marketing department does. And I work in the Marketing department.<br />
<br />
Overwhelming doesn't even begin to describe it.<br />
<br />
But in the spirit of optimism, there is a plus side. For once, I'm not scared. I notice a confidence in myself that I haven't always had. I think it might have always been there, but my last job was a place that stifled a lot my self-confidence. Always second guessing myself, I used to stress over every interaction with co-workers, the wording of every email, every harmless joke I tried to make. I never felt good enough, and worst of all - I never felt like myself.<br />
<br />
At my new job, I'm completely me - quirky, ideosyncratic, dorky me. And I'm more comfortable in a month at the new place than I was in a year and a half at the old place. It's refreshing and a big sigh of relief.<br />
<br />
Nothing is ever black and white, though. Although I'm not scared, I'm feeling as lost as ever. Confused most days and utterly overwhelmed. I know learning is all part of growing professionally, but I'm incredibly impatient. I want to feel comfortable already! Oh, the waiting game.<br />
<br />
One other thing to get used to at corporate life: corporate germs! I'm currently on my second cold since starting. Not exactly digging my phlegmy voice and snotting all over my co-workers, but I haven't accrued sick time unfortunately. Thankfully, an icky cold means I'm off the hook for going to the gym! And I don't have to feel guilty about it. Instead, I'm relaxing in my pajamas with a bowl of cereal, curled up next to my kitty watching "Pretty Little Liars" on NetFlix because I'm 13. Not too shabby for a Tuesday night!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-77333257380124768762013-01-23T20:55:00.005-08:002013-01-23T20:55:57.738-08:00Embracing the HoneymoonAhh, being new.<br />
<br />
Starting a new job is like the first day of middle school all over again - you have the perfect outfit picked out, you look around shyly, not quite sure of what to do or where things are, and you feel self conscious carrying your lunch tray across the cafeteria, frightened that you'll trip on the heels that go with said perfect outfit.<br />
<br />
This held true for my first day at the new job yesterday - I really did get to carry a tray (my work has two on-site cafes....ummm, yeah, it's pretty freakin' sweet). I met tons of new folks, heard all kinds of new acronyms that I couldn't keep straight and had one heck of time learning how to do simple things like printing and finding the bathroom. My new work is <i>huge</i>, so it is going to take a lot of time for me to get used to it. I went from working at a 6-person agency to working for a 16-person agency to now being on a campus that houses thousands of employees. Intimidating? Yes. Exciting? Absolutely. There's nothing like a new chapter.<br />
<br />
While newness is exciting - new co-workers, fresh start on projects, new office supplies, a change in routine - I find myself anxious to get through these next 6-12 months. I'd love to skip over all of the awkwardness, mistakes, blanking on names and cluelessness that comes with being new. I can't wait until I'm an expert, when I know the business and have a clear vision of what I'm doing.<br />
<br />
This is similar to how I viewed my budding relationship with Ty. See, most people are all about the honeymoon phase. It's that time when everything is seemingly perfect, and you're so thrilled to keep learning new things about the other person. Don't get me wrong, the new part of my relationship with Ty was wonderful, but I remember thinking, "I can't wait until we've been together 1, 2, 5 years." Because that's where the realness is - you're relaxed, you've (hopefully) worked out most of the kinks and you don't feel so vulnerable like everything will go away at the drop of a hat. It's stability. It's comfortable.<br />
<br />
So in that same way, I can't wait to be at ease at the new job. I like feeling like I know what I'm doing, rather than this strange floating-around-the-universe-aimlessly feeling I have when I begin something new. Thankfully, I'm working for a company that supports that gradual process - that first year of growing pains before you truly start working.<br />
<br />
So until that mark when I finally feel comfortable, I guess I'll have to basque in the newness and honeymoon phase of the job. On the bright side - being a newbie means you get to screw up and not feel (as) guilty!<br />
<br />
On a side note: the usual first-week-on-the-job awkwardness got kicked up a notch today when I was part of a meeting with - guess who? - my old co-workers. There's no feeling quite like the one when you introduce yourself with something like, "I'm Tracy. This is my second day. Previously I was with you guys. One week ago." Particularly when this past employer is feeling a bit bruised about your recent jumping ship. Oy.<br />
<br />
Two days down. 178 to go.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-27262302474728704132013-01-13T18:13:00.002-08:002013-01-13T18:17:53.515-08:00Mind Full vs. MindfulI'm back!<br />
<br />
It's been forever since I've last written, and I've really missed it.<br />
<br />
Frankly, I've had so much to say but couldn't get it from pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, rather). I know we all use the excuse "I've been so busy" pretty frequently, but how long does it really take for me to write a blog post? I'm hoping to be more back in action given some new developments.<br />
<br />
Here's a recap of the latest:<br />
<br />
<b>The Career Front</b><br />
In a little more than a week, I will be starting a new job! This is a pretty significant change in anyone's life, but surprisingly I've been feeling quite calm about it. I'm leaving the PR agency world and headed to the corporate life (also known as "in house" to us PR folk). I'll be joining a global eyecare company's amazing PR team, where I'll have the chance to manage projects of my own, media train C-level executives and assist in the company's philanthropic efforts. This shift from food to healthcare is an exciting one, as well as the change from having multiple clients to just working on "one" client (my company). Of course food and nutrition is fun, but I feel like this new job will allow to me to work on things with a bit more substance. Not to mention, my new employer is regularly voted one of the top places to work - it's truly an employee-centric place, so I'm excited to see how it all pans out! I have yet to mentally prepare for the job (since I'm currently still wrapping up my old one), but I took office supply preparation into my own hands yesterday. I bought some new pens and a work planner notebook - and yes, I'm aware the new job will probably have this kind of stuff on hand. But I'm a pen snob, and I geek out in Staples.<br />
<br />
While this new move is exciting, there are always drawbacks. I'm sad to leave co-workers and place the burden of extra work on them. That's the by-product of this that I hate the most. I've also faced some awkwardness at work since I've given my notice. Some co-workers have expressed (not to me directly) that they think I'm just leaving because I wasn't promoted last fall. The bulk of my office was fairly shocked when I gave my notice, most likely due to the fact that I'm pretty cheery and haven't overtly expressed any issues with the agency (to their faces, at least). Oh, and not to mention I won the freakin' Team Player of the Year Award last month (don't even ask how my Catholic guilt is managing that one). Well, if that's the sentiment of some, then that's pretty short sighted. I would not uproot my career all because of some petty title change. Trust me, it goes way deeper.<br />
<br />
I'm making the change because I want to do more than just <i>survive </i>at work. I'm always just trying to keep my head above water and hustle through the day. It leaves very little time for mindful, strategic thought. It's just one big to-do list. So I'm hoping this new adventure allows me to be more mindful, rather than just having a mind full of tasks to get done that day.<br />
<br />
Oh, and it doesn't hurt I'm getting a fat raise too!<br />
<br />
<b>The Love Front</b><br />
Ty and I are doing incredibly well. It's been just over a year and a half that we've been together, and I feel like it just keeps getting better. It's pretty smooth sailing all the time, minus little annoyances here and there (and not just me - I know how to bug too!). We're in a really good place right now where we are comfortable together and we've worked out a lot of the kinks. Sure, there are some things on the horizon that we'll have to figure out (like how will we live together one day when he hates rent, is allergic to my cat and I want to live somewhere with just us two). The future is not written yet, but I have a feeling it has a good ending! He still completely appreciates and cherishes me (and vice versa), and that is priceless to me. All in all, I'm one happy lady.<br />
<br />
<b>The Health Front</b><br />
I'm sure I've written before how I have this irrational fear of throwing up (it's called emetophobia - Google it). Well, last week I came face to face with it when I found myself stuck with a stomach bug. Ty got really sick right before Christmas, and it freaked me out (yes, I realize how selfish it is for me to worry about myself and not my own boyfriend in his time of need, but like I said, it's called an <i>irrational </i>fear for a reason). Last week, Ty took me out to a show as part of my Christmas present. We saw a Chinese dance show at the convention center downtown, and three-quarters of the way through, I just didn't feel right. I felt it was an imminent certainty that I would vomit all over the sweet old man next to me. Thankfully, I held it in. Once we got back from the show, I ran to the bathroom. I won't go into all the details, but let's just say I didn't end up throwing up - just the dry heaves (ewwwww). But it was awful, to say the least. And in a way I wish it had just been the real deal so I could get over my fear. On the plus side, I feel I've conquered it at least partly. But don't think I'm giving up my hand sanitizer.<br />
<br />
I'm hoping I'll make more time to blog once I start the new job. I have absolutely no clue what to expect, but for some reason, I'm not too worried about it. I know that everything will work itself out. I've worked hard to get this far, so it's only fair that luck will follow.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-76928193764871133752012-08-09T11:41:00.001-07:002012-08-09T11:43:37.423-07:00What Is Boredom?It has been way too long since I last blogged. To say I'm busy is too cliche (because really, who isn't?). But in all honesty, I have been up to all kinds of things lately - not to mention, I have moved into a new apartment and have yet to set up my Internet!<br />
<br />
When I was little, I used to complain to my mom all the time that I was bored. After playing bookstore by myself for hours (yes, I played bookstore with all of my Babysitter's Club books sprawled out and a book light that I used as a price scanner) and dressing my American Girls doll in a new outfit, my to-do list was complete. My mom's response to my complaining? "I don't even know what being bored is like!" And oh, how I understand the meaning of that now.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong - this is a <i>good</i> thing. In my last job, I would finish the day on the dot at 4:30, make myself dinner, do Zumba if I felt so inclined and head to bed at a decent hour. It's nice to have free time after work to get things done, but I also felt I had plateaued mentally. Was I getting dumber? Each day was the same - predictable, fairly easy and monotonous. Without something to push me every day, I wasn't being challenged. So now that I've moved on to to my job at a big time agency, my need for a challenge has been met to the 10th degree. No more monotony. No more cooking dinner every night. And my membership to go to Zumba has been cancelled due to lack of usage. My last year has been mostly taken over by this new job.<br />
<br />
Recently, a friend of mine who used to do PR told me how much she doesn't envy my crazy work schedule (and by crazy, I mean not taking lunches, sometimes forgetting to go to the bathroom as I'm chained to my desk, and typically working straight through the day with no breaks and very little breaths). It's a lot more fast-paced than I'd anticipated, but there are others who work even longer hours, check their BlackBerrys at night and regularly work weekends. I have to draw the line somewhere, or I'll really lose my mind. Still, my work schedule is more demanding than most of my friends'.<br />
<br />
Call me defensive, but although my friend told me how glad she's not working a crazy job like me and is instead working somewhere with a more flexible schedule, I'd rather be in my shoes. I like this crazy train I'm on where the deadlines are fast and ever-present, the client demands increase by the day, and my brain/patience/mental stability are tested constantly.<br />
<br />
The old adage "no pain, no gain" is true. This "boot camp" of a career path is what I need. It's a fire lit under me that has taught me to be a better worker, better communicator and better professional. Sure, do I sometimes wish to trade places with people who make more money and/or work less hours? Definitely.<br />
<br />
But this is good for me. I need this discipline. I've only been at this job for a year, and I've grown by leaps and bounds. Who knows where I'll be in 2, 5 or 10 years from now? If it's anything like it is now, I'll still have no clue what boredom is.<br />
<br />
While I do love my job, it doesn't mean I've given up my life outside of it (thankfully!). I'm loving my new place, which is in the old neighborhood I grew up in as a kid. Sure, this hood has more stabbings than the bubble I lived in out in the 'burbs, and my apartment complex is sandwiched between Section 8 hell and a halfway house for those fresh out of the looney bin, but it has character. And Ty literally lives down the street, so it's nice knowing he's a 30-second walk away. Plus, my commute to work is so much better!<br />
<br />
Also, in other news, I was recently asked to be the Maid of Honor in my friend's wedding in Portland next year. Wow, what an (for lack of a better word) honor. Along with feeling flattered, I'm also apprehensive if I'll be able to live up to the expectation of being the bride's right hand woman. I'm not exactly what you'd call bridal - I don't have a Pinterest account with gobs of photos for inspiration for my big day, and I'm seriously considering eloping when I'm ready to get married. But my friend chose me for a reason, and if that means getting her the best stripper money can buy for her bachelorette party, then dammit I will rise to the occasion!<br />
<br />
All in all, life is pretty grand. I hope to order Internet for my new place soon (it's been more than a month, after all), so maybe then I'll be more on top of blogging. Stay tuned!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-85270779632512577062012-06-19T22:17:00.001-07:002012-06-19T22:30:27.670-07:00One YearLast week Ty and I celebrated our one year.<br />
<br />
Holy moly!<br />
<br />
This might not seem like a big deal to most (particularly given how the majority of my friends have gone well past that one year mark - many of them doing so in frickin' high school), but it's a huge milestone for me on many levels.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKTAvV8ZzbnYfoVp7MUoCf6udBi7SmB57GhR7w2-rOhfIRiDwd8hPcQdla_76YGmm4fjeqV42f_jU4t3vqZZpPdA6LhyZzneh67E6yR-FRAuIOwehz10IrWDsDVC23zJxPBnayoCPIHqU/s1600/MeTy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKTAvV8ZzbnYfoVp7MUoCf6udBi7SmB57GhR7w2-rOhfIRiDwd8hPcQdla_76YGmm4fjeqV42f_jU4t3vqZZpPdA6LhyZzneh67E6yR-FRAuIOwehz10IrWDsDVC23zJxPBnayoCPIHqU/s320/MeTy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our first photo taken as a couple - July 2011.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
First, I've never made it to one full year without breaking up with a guy. I think I've made it about 6 months before the Honeymoon Phase starts to fade. Then I end it, regret it a day later and beg my way back into the relationship, usually stealing lines from "Dawson's Creek" (the early years, when Joey was still trying to "find herself" at 15). <br />
<br />
Second, there was a brief moment there where I was worried about where Ty and I were going. I was questioning it all, and I figured it just meant things were on the outs.<br />
<br />
But thankfully, things went back to good. We found a way to work it out. This is a huge step for me - as driven as I am, I'm a bit of a quitter. If things aren't going well, I want to pack my bags and head for the hills (or, rather, my side of the creek). It's not a very good trait, but I'm incredibly proud of myself for recognizing what was wrong (mostly my outlook and attitude) and fixing it! So elementary, yet such a big deal to me. I didn't quit this time, and boy, did it pay off. I've found my Pacey Witter!<br />
<br />
It's been one crazy year - falling in love, starting a new job and now moving into a new apartment in a new neighborhood. I've had to let go of some things, make room for new things and basically just settle into this new phase in life - that time when college is even more distant in the past, yet you're not completely "settled down" and falling asleep to the sound of your ticking biological clock. It's a strange, in-between phase, the mid-20s. But so far, it's been pretty grand.<br />
<br />
What can I say about my year with Ty? He has inspired me to be a happier person - not because my happiness relies on him, but because he looks at life and appreciates all things big and small. He's taught me that happiness is a choice - it's how you view things and not take them for granted. He enjoys every bite and sip of life, and I want to do the same!<br />
<br />
So here we are, a year later. We've figured out the basics of how the other operates, and I feel like we've got a stellar foundation under us.<br />
<br />
What's next?<br />
<br />
Well, that remains to be seen. I see another year of date nights, outdoor adventures, family extravaganzas and living literally down the street from one another (I call it Living Together with Training Wheels). I am hopeful for many more years together. If they're anything like this last one, then it's a good life!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-56142572004025286272012-06-17T15:54:00.002-07:002012-06-17T15:54:21.384-07:00ObligationComing from a Catholic background, I am very accustomed to the feeling of guilt.<br />
<br />
I feel guilty on the regular - guilty for watching "The Bachelorette" instead of going to the gym. Guilty for leaving work at 5:45 instead of 6:45 like so many of my colleagues. Guilty for relaxing on my weekends instead of getting every single chore done.<br />
<br />
It's exhausting, to say the least.<br />
<br />
Today, Ty told me to not be so hard on myself. I've been feeling a bit blue today and beating up on myself for not doing this and that. It's difficult to be pulled in so many directions. It's one of the reasons I hate making decisions and having too many choices - I loathe feeling like I'm missing out on something else I should be doing.<br />
<br />
This whole obligation issue makes me quite the doormat at times. I can't count how many times I've done things I don't want to do, simply out of obligation. I wish I could be carefree enough to take care of myself and not worry about the aftermath, but then I just feel selfish. Where is the middle ground? When do you take care of you while also pleasing others?<br />
<br />
I think this might just have to be an aspect of my personality that I have to deal with. I'm a people pleaser, plain and simple. It sure comes in handy when it comes to work - pleasing co-workers, pleasing the boss, pleasing clients. I'm very good at taking direction - I just hope this won't hinder me in the future by giving me the reputation as someone who will always be the "doer" and the follower, not the leader.<br />
<br />
There's my self-reflecting rant for the day! I just did some yoga, which helped for sure. And writing this all out makes me feel loads better. Here's to another week - hopefully obligation and guilt-free.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-15742247129152214832012-06-16T13:29:00.001-07:002012-06-16T13:29:43.461-07:00PerspectiveEver the complainer, I tend to moan and groan over trivial things. It's been that way since I was a kid, and I don't like that about myself. But sometimes, you just get stuck in your bubble, and small things become big things.<br />
<br />
And then someone in your family gets stage 4 lung cancer. And then has a stroke. And then your grandma has hip surgery, goes to rehab and has to learn how to walk again at 86 years old.<br />
<br />
Talk about putting things in perspective.<br />
<br />
These last few weeks have been a bit tough. I was bitching about small health ailments I was experiencing, dreading my pending move to a new apartment and stressing over the pressures of work. But none of that matters in the grand scheme of things. My family is #1 to me, and if anyone is hurting or struggling, I immediately feel petty and ridiculous over sweating the small stuff.<br />
<br />
So now, while my Grams has improved and those minor annoyances in my life have subsided, I still have a family member who will not be with us much longer. It's awful.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, my family has so much strength. And I no longer need to stress over irrelevant things. It's the big stuff - family - that matters.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-57580606154441751302012-06-05T17:45:00.002-07:002012-06-05T17:49:19.384-07:00Honesty Is Not Always the Best PolicyI love my boyfriend dearly - quirks, idiosyncrasies, strange habits included. He's loyal, he's thoughtful, he's attentive, he's honest.<br />
<br />
And therein lies the problem. This fool is a little <i>too</i> honest.<br />
<br />
Last weekend, he and I headed to the East Bay to visit his best friend Matt and Matt's girlfriend Kim. On the drive into town, Ty says, "I know a girl who lives around here that I tried really, really hard to hook up with back in college."<br />
<br />
Okay. Moving on.<br />
<br />
We drive a little closer to Matt and Kim's place.<br />
<br />
"Yeah, that girl I know - she works in a restaurant here. Her name's Kate."<br />
<br />
All righty. Swell.<br />
<br />
I didn't think anything of it because frankly, college was a bagillion years ago.<br />
<br />
We got to Matt and Kim's, and they took us out for beers. The place we went to was great, and after we finished up, we decided to walk to another bar down the street. As we near the bar, what happens to be right next door to it? Yep, that's right - the restaurant Ty's little college friend works at.<br />
<br />
"I'm going to go see if she's there and say hi," he says. Fine. Again, not stressing at this point because what are the chances this chick still works at the same restaurant? Plus, Ty is Mr. Friendly with everyone, so nothing unusual there.<br />
<br />
But of course, while Matt, Kim and I are sitting in the bar, who walks up to us with Ty in tow? Good ol' college hook up Kate. W. T. F.<br />
<br />
Apparently, by some miracle (misfortune?) she still works there, and instead of looking through the window, confirming employment and heading back to the bar, Ty thought it was a smart idea to go in with a welcome wagon. I guess when he told her he was hanging next door with his girlfriend and some friends, she got the grand idea to pop on over to say hi.<br />
<br />
Not only did this chick have a lip ring, but she genuinely used the term "hyphy" in a sentence. W. T. F.<br />
<br />
These are the types of women my boyfriend was so hung up on?!? Not like my past doesn't have its share of train wrecks, but lordy. Why did he try so hard with Hyphy?<br />
<br />
Immediately my irritation kicked in, and I gave some serious attitude to Ty. I was not in the mood to be the "cool" girlfriend that puts on my chipper face and introduces herself, acting completely care-free. Uh uh. Nope. Not gonna do it.<br />
<br />
Instead I went the green monster route - I gave her the cold shoulder, barely acknowledged her presence and subsequently downed 3 shots of whiskey. She didn't hang for long, but the effect of the Jameson sure did.<br />
<br />
Needless to say, the evening was a bust. I was annoyed with Ty (albeit nicely drunk and annoyed), and I'm sure I looked like a psycho, insecure bitch to his friends. In the end, he and I talked it out and are totally fine now. I'm still trying to decipher why I reacted the way I did when I'm not at all worried about Ty liking anyone else. I'm very secure in what we have, but for some reason, seeing her struck some kind of chord.<br />
<br />
My guess is that it was your typical not-feeling-your-best kind of weekend for me - my hair was frizzed to the max, and I had no makeup on (hey, it was the weekend and I'm lazy). So for some reason, maybe my fleeting low self-esteem got the best of me. <br />
<br />
Ty and I finally came up with a solution so this won't happen again (and no, it's not me taming my 'fro better and slapping on more rouge) - he said he's not going to be so blunt when it comes to talking about his past. If he had said she was a college friend, I don't think I would have had the same reaction. He's got plenty of female friends, which is no biggie.<br />
<br />
But really, sometimes it's okay to not be so honest. I know honesty is super important in every relationship, but geez - I don't need a play-by-play of every past conquest this dude has had (for the record, this blog post intentionally left out additional details shared by my too-honest-for-his-own-good boyfriend. He may like to share it all, but I have a pretty good filter).<br />
<br />
We'll see if that does it. And if not, there's always Jameson and getting hyphy.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-32168504371606246722012-05-03T21:50:00.004-07:002012-05-03T21:55:24.290-07:00Thanks a Lot, Ted BundyI made the mistake last weekend of watching a movie on Ted Bundy.<br />
<br />
I watched it with Ty on Sunday and went home that evening. It was almost 9 p.m. and I was in the middle of cleaning up yet another pile of cat vomit (Cammie likes to remind me who's boss when I spend time away from my apartment), when I heard a knock at the door.<br />
<br />
Not expecting anyone, I was instantly on high alert. I tiptoed to my door and peeked through the peephole. It was some young guy in a plaid shirt. Still weary from watching a movie on a serial killer, I immediately assumed this guy was donning a fake cast, would guilt me into "helping" him carry something and then bludgeon me to death. Oh and then do awful things post mortem.<br />
<br />
The logical side of me told me the chances of this were slim, but I was still completely freaked out! Living alone is sometimes not all it's cracked up to be. And the worst part? That little ass knocked on my door TWO more times! Really?!? It's almost 9 p.m., you bastard. Some of us are grandmas and like to hit the hay early.<br />
<br />
It wasn't very grandma-like what I did after he left, though. I quickly threw together some stuff, frantically called Ty and headed back over to his house for the night. I didn't want to stay home because I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep, even though the guy was gone (and most likely one of the pesky salespeople that plague my complex often), my door has a double deadbolt and, more importantly, I'm 26 freakin' years old.<br />
<br />
I was so relieved when I arrived at Ty's house (and happy to catch up on some "Boardwalk Empire"). I may have taken self defense in college, but there's a certain security that comes with having a guy around (I know, I know. Revoke my Feminist Card now).<br />
<br />
It's moments like those that remind me that I don't have to resist relying on people so much. I'm always trying so hard to be Miss Independent and not feel reliant on anyone but me. Those girls that turn to their significant others always disturbed me, and I've vowed to never be that damsel in distress.<br />
<br />
And yet, having Ty around at that time to calm my fears (rational or not) made me see that it's OK to turn to a guy sometimes. It doesn't mean I'm not independent or incapable of being alone. I just like to feel safe, and in that moment, he made me feel that way.<br />
<br />
Pretty weird, huh?Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-10244167958506687022012-03-20T11:38:00.000-07:002012-03-20T11:38:49.475-07:00To Compare or Not to CompareI'm generally pretty satisfied with myself and confident in my abilities, but I know it's human nature to question yourself from time to time.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I recently started to compare myself to other people, which leads to no good.<br />
<br />
<b>Career Comparison</b><br />
There are some people who can be the first to the office and last to leave. I am not one of these people, yet seeing their willingness to continue working until the wee hours of the evening makes me start to question my work ethic. Do I work hard enough? Am I not doing enough if I'm able to leave at 5:30 or 6? Also, why do certain people hold certain titles in the office? And why are some of the office "cliques" difficult to penetrate? I don't want to compare myself to others at work - it's too exhausting, and I have a job to do. All I can really do is continue doing my best, so that's what I've resolved. You gotta stay out of office politics or you'll go crazy!<br />
<br />
<b>Couple Comparison</b><br />
You know those insanely happy-seeming people who boast about their love constantly? Yeah, they bug me too. But part of me envies their certainty (as I blogged about before) and ability to just let go and get mushy. Now, I'm not about to start using baby voices with Ty and tweeting every sweet thing he does for me, but I do start to compare my relationship to others when I see other people pouring their hearts out. Are Ty and I not happy enough if I'm not turning into a love-sick teenager? Are we doomed because I don't constantly tell people he's "The One"? Honestly, I think every relationship is different, and people show their love in different ways. Sure, I show my feelings and wear my heart on my sleeve, but I'm not about to post the lyrics to a Jason Mraz song on Ty's Facebook wall. I show I care by telling him I appreciate him and surprising him with his favorite beer. He shows his love by steam cleaning my carpets for me when I'm out of town (seriously! Best. Gift. Ever.) and letting me rant for hours about my feminist beliefs. It's the little things that count. So I just have to always remind myself of that every time I start to question if our relationship is "good enough."<br />
<br />
<b>Countenance Comparison</b><br />
As big as my hair is and as much as I love to eat sweets, I'm pretty secure with my looks. I've never been one to diet, wear a lot of makeup or go crazy with my wardrobe. I'm a plain jane, but a comfortable plain jane at that. That said - I naturally have moments of low self esteem, such as the other night at the Sacramento Kings game. The dancers came out, and lo and behold, one of them is an ex of Ty's. He "nonchalantly" looked through his binoculars and claimed he was "looking for his friend in the stands." Riiiight. One look at this girl, and I instantly regretted that hot dog, pretzel and jumbo-sized beer I'd downed at the beginning of the game. Not to mention, my Casper skin tone was extra apparent at that moment. Of course, Ty tells me he prefers my looks (and brain!) to anyone he's ever dated, so I know that these bouts of body insecurity are juvenile. (Side note: apparently, this girl's IQ gave Snooki's a run for her money. Yes, I know this is irrelevant since she is long gone from Ty's life, but the mean girl in me can't help but feel a little smug).<br />
<br />
I know I'm not perfect and there's always room for improvement, but comparing myself to others is not the way to get there. I just need to stay focused on the things I can control and block out that part of my mind that starts to compare. My new motto is to just "do me." Oh, wait....that came out wrong.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-2221913991298396292012-03-13T12:23:00.001-07:002012-03-13T12:24:16.089-07:00In Defense of SlutsWith all this hubbub going on over Rush Limbaugh unjustifiably calling a college student a "slut" and "prostitute" when she testified before a Congressional committee on why health insurance should cover birth control, I feel the need to respond to the outrage.<br />
<br />
I rarely, if ever, take Rush seriously. He's an entertainer, not the voice of reason. So am I surprised he used such epithets? Absolutely not.<br />
<br />
What gets my goat is this outpouring of people completely offended by him using the term "slut" toward a woman, and subsequently demanding that businesses pull their advertising from his show.<br />
<br />
Why would a feminist be more upset over these people "defending" the college student than with Rush himself? Here's why: I don't even believe the idea of "sluttiness" exists. Nor do I believe we should continue to turn a woman's supposed sexual promiscuity into a pejorative.<br />
<br />
It's the same idea as calling men out for "being like a girl" or "acting gay/like a fairy/[insert more homophobia here]." Why is it offensive to be a girl? And why is it such an insult to be gay? That's right - it's <i>not</i>.<br />
<br />
So in that same way, who cares if a woman (or a man, for that matter) likes to get frisky from time to time? It's certainly none of my business what other people do (although I'm nosy, so I like to hear details anyway). I'm FED UP with women being judged by their sexual experience. It has no bearing on who women are as people, and one's private sexual behavior should not determine whether they are worthy of being loved, getting respect or being taken seriously. We ALL deserve respect, whether we're the Virgin Mary or Heidi Fleiss (well, maybe I won't go that far).<br />
<br />
Now to get personal (but not too personal - my parents read this!): I was deemed a "late bloomer" by my peers when it came to getting my first kiss as a teenager. At the ripe old age of 15, I finally experienced this rite of passage behind my fence, braces and all. Before that, I was more than happy to share with people that I hadn't done that yet. There was nothing to be ashamed of! So what happened? I got called "prude" numerous times for years. Seriously?!<br />
<br />
Fast forward to my 20s. One time I hooked up with 2 guys who were friends, each episode just a week apart. So what happened? I got called "dirty" and "easy" by a couple friends of mine (yes, not very good friends at the time, but both people have since apologized).<br />
<br />
How is it that I can be judged for not doing things and then for doing things - you can't win either way! And therein lies the problem - I shouldn't be judged for acting one way or the other. I'm still a good person, a hard worker and a family girl. <b>Who I am behind closed doors has no bearing on my worth.</b><br />
<br />
So, whether you're a "prude" or a "slut," I say - wear it proudly! Ain't nothing wrong with it either way. That is, of course, unless you're partaking in any sort of sexual romping with Rush Limbaugh. Then yeah, you're a major whore.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-50490145111551265482012-03-06T15:45:00.001-08:002012-03-06T15:46:50.628-08:00Certain CertaintyIn third grade, my friends and I were crushing hard on this guy Brian. He was an older man (fourth grader) and had dreamy blue eyes.<br />
<br />
Not only that, but he had a way with words.<br />
<br />
"Yo Tracy...you're ugly!"<br />
<br />
And so began our love story. Soon after our first exchange of words, we began dating (clearly his "wooing" of me was an indicator that my self esteem was nonexistent). Our long, tenuous relationship (three days) eventually ended when I broke it off (a.k.a. I told a friend to tell one of his friends to tell him that we were no longer "going out").<br />
<br />
I spent the rest of third grade, and even a part of fourth grade, wondering if I'd made the right choice.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 17 years, and I still have issues sticking with relationships and being decisive.<br />
<br />
Ty and I are happy - it's been 9 months, so we're still "new," and we're enjoying getting to know each other as time goes on. But inevitably, the question of "Will this last?" pops into my head, and doubt settles in.<br />
<br />
I constantly worry about making the right choices in life, and my relationship choices are no different. At 26, I'm seeing friends get engaged, move in with their significant others, pop out kids (well, I'm not <i>literally</i> seeing the kids being born - ahh!). It's an age where society has this unwritten expectation that you "get serious" and figure out what you're going to do with your life forever and who you want it to be with.<br />
<br />
That is daunting to me because I never like to feel "stuck." I mean, look at me - it took me forever to finally buy a car (and submit to car payments), and I plan on being an apartment/house renter for the foreseeable future. The permanence of certain choices is scary. I get nervous about taking a misstep and committing to something I'm not ready for.<br />
<br />
So, here I am. In a 9-month relationship. We aren't close to moving in together, and we aren't close to getting engaged. So why does the idea of permanence freak me out? I think it's mostly a fear that comes from seeing others so certain.<br />
<br />
I hear a lot of people say "Oh, I just <i>knew</i> he was the one" or "I have no doubts in mind that this is it". I was once someone who said those things - only to get my heart broken months later.<br />
<br />
That conviction and certainty are something I have yet to get back, as much as I care about Ty. I don't think this really has to do with him - insert any guy into his position, and I'd still feel fearful. Thankfully, I don't receive direct pressure from anyone to take our relationship to the next level. We are both content with where it's at, and my parents aren't hounding me to produce grandkids anytime soon.<br />
<br />
And my fears are calmed (for the time being) every time I remind myself that 1) I'm 26, not 86, and 2) I have the power to change anything I want at anytime. Nothing is really ever permanent. And that's something I'm certain of.Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-52561078798032205252012-02-29T10:11:00.002-08:002012-02-29T10:12:56.863-08:00The F-WordI think it's pretty safe to say I've been a feminist all my life.<br />
<br />
Growing up in a progressive household, I always felt like I could do whatever I wanted and be whatever I wanted. It also helped that early on, my feminist beliefs were validated by the Spice Girls, so I proudly displayed various items emblazoned with "Girl Power," such as a t-shirt and a sparkly keychain on my mini-backpack.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, not everyone gets to grow up with that encouragement, and this, along with our culture's obsession with genderizing everything, is why people today think "feminism" is a bad word.<br />
<br />
I've explained to numerous people, mostly guys, that "feminist" is simply a term for someone who believes in gender equality. Plain and simple. We aren't man haters, and we're not trying to take over the world and make men obsolete (although ask me on a day when I'm arguing with the boyfriend or witnessing the macho bravado of all the tools that live in Roseville - then I might be singing a different tune).<br />
<br />
Feminism to me is just common sense. Men and women are equal and not limited to certain roles strictly based on gender. You want to be a stay-at-home mom or dad? Great! You want to go work full time and be a go-getter? Lovely. It's not all about women running around braless and lashing out at women who decide to stay at home. It's about choice and getting to be whatever we choose.<br />
<br />
I feel like with my busy job, I've gotten away from being more in tune with what's going on. Not to mention, I've stopped volunteering for my domestic violence/sexual assault causes. Ugh, it makes me feel awful because I thoroughly enjoyed it, but this new schedule leaves me little time to even go to the bathroom, let alone lend a hand to others (I know, I know. Excuses!).<br />
<br />
Fear not, because I am still the feminist I ever was - I get my feminist magazine, read my feminist blogs, buy feminist books, spout my feminist rhetoric to anyone who will listen (my cat). It is in no way a bad word - I'm a feminist and proud of it!Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-89321823941540058412012-02-17T17:21:00.000-08:002012-02-17T17:25:09.065-08:00Busy BeeThe last couple months have been the busiest I've ever had. Let's see:<br />
<br />
1) 2 people left my agency, meaning I'm now doing my job plus someone else's, plus a couple added items. Not to mention, someone has been on vacation this week, and I'm covering for her. I'm not quite sure who I am these days.<br />
<br />
2) I bought a new car! Finally. No more hoopty for me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCqOMwVeIThPDYEsIgn8XTjdNRb1rhFzwIXuUSQ-P850FvWop5Uwh0XPcdDCS32pTwSUmRReWRaUCVGTE6Mh3orGrjhA_fvxOKDWW1Z6-yGA3rXdvPEXNsDlaUPwm223N4JqYyyx2h4wP/s1600/Vada.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCqOMwVeIThPDYEsIgn8XTjdNRb1rhFzwIXuUSQ-P850FvWop5Uwh0XPcdDCS32pTwSUmRReWRaUCVGTE6Mh3orGrjhA_fvxOKDWW1Z6-yGA3rXdvPEXNsDlaUPwm223N4JqYyyx2h4wP/s320/Vada.jpg" width="320" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">3) I turned the big 2-6! I spent the day working, but I went to dinner that night with Ty at one of my fave places - Burgers & Brew. Then he showered me with several gifts (mainly practical stuff), followed by one last gift later in the night that he "forgot" to give me. It was a box of See's candy, and he insisted I open it so we could enjoy some chocolate. Oh, there was something in there worth <i>much</i> more than chocolate - not one but TWO of these awesome bracelets I've been wanting! I was inspired to get them after seeing Skyler from "Breaking Bad" wear them, and now I'm a proud owner of 2 Liquid Metal bracelets (Ty, who already racks up brownie points daily, went off the charts with this surprise).</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5gmrK4AAA3OI5Ie8E9oo-0Xe6MGSoaIG-drnfIFIvLtL9LrN71mCT909Q8kW0j9U1E7O8pii9lIXslXBMECKdifUDkspz5hWv4paMD-jb0UqYBAHs5cUOva1y2iyvSSSBOurXT40o9Sm/s1600/annagunnbreakingbad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY5gmrK4AAA3OI5Ie8E9oo-0Xe6MGSoaIG-drnfIFIvLtL9LrN71mCT909Q8kW0j9U1E7O8pii9lIXslXBMECKdifUDkspz5hWv4paMD-jb0UqYBAHs5cUOva1y2iyvSSSBOurXT40o9Sm/s1600/annagunnbreakingbad.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJXb3q3LNmtKx3Dd_rlV1dDAdrMtCx1zacsFrJRjnMrmP_W8uYB-8eNUaXXn6zXVjkdMeWaqNhN_Li7LQY_r2qtro6uzrPzjlK9UZtjaXCfcgp3EMlz7LKDz3OSjnIBHE7jEw75eAhOhg/s1600/Bracelets.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLJXb3q3LNmtKx3Dd_rlV1dDAdrMtCx1zacsFrJRjnMrmP_W8uYB-8eNUaXXn6zXVjkdMeWaqNhN_Li7LQY_r2qtro6uzrPzjlK9UZtjaXCfcgp3EMlz7LKDz3OSjnIBHE7jEw75eAhOhg/s200/Bracelets.jpg" width="145" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My birthday continued on - I took that Friday off, and Ty & I headed to his Truckee cabin for some R&R, as well as a cooked dinner with my parents, sister and her boyfriend. BBQ chicken, BBQ veggies and potatoes, and a bundt cake with cream cheese frosting = perfection! Best of all, I got to be with my family. And the funny part was - my mom got me <i>another</i> Liquid Metal bracelet! I guess I wasn't as subtle about my wanting these bracelets after all. Thankfully, we can exchange it for a necklace I also like on the website. Woohoo!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">4) Did I mention work is crazy? I've been dreaming about this major project for the last 3 nights in a row. Seriously - who dreams about conference logistics, binders and IT logins? This gal, that's who. This is actually just what I signed up for! All of this hard work will be channeled into a big event I get to go to for work next week - in Nashville!!! I'm staying at the Opryland Hotel for a blogger conference, and work aside, Rascal Flatts is going to be there! Oh, and one of the Jonas Brothers. But like I said, Rascal Flatts! I've got my boots and plaid shirt ready to go.</div>Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5973883949542088660.post-50391203056709755042012-01-14T09:05:00.000-08:002012-01-14T09:05:50.359-08:0099 Problems"If you havin' girl problems, I feel bad for you, son. I got 99 problems and a bitch ain't one."<br />
<br />
Ahhh, the lyric geniusness of Jay-Z.<br />
<br />
I'm with Jay on this one these days. I've got some issues going on, but thankfully my love life isn't one of them. And I don't really have 99 problems. More like 2.<br />
<br />
First off, I went to the doctor this past week for an annoying issue that I won't go into details about. Let's just say I've been dealing with this pain for a long time, and it's super uncomfortable. After being poked and prodded by my doc, she referred me to a specialist. Oy. That's when you know it's something tricky to cure when you have to see a specialist. So, I'm seeing this new doc next week. Fun!<br />
<br />
You know, I can't really complain about this because this is a minor medical problem, and it could be so much worse - like an unwanted pregnancy or cancer. I know I'll be good as new in no time, but it's still quite frustrating to have to work through the pain and then take time off of work to figure things out. I'm hoping this doesn't require surgery because taking a couple days off will get me off my groove. And I'm really kicking ass at work, I feel like!<br />
<br />
The second problem arose the same week as my doctor's appointment, of course. My car started driving funny, making a weird noise and my Check Engine light started flashing. Umm, I think my hoopty is on her last leg (or tire, rather). I was planning to car shop in February and was hoping she'd hold up until then, but nope. She has a mind of her own, that little bitch.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, I'll be car shopping this weekend, so if all works out well, this problem will be no longer! I can finally not hold my breath every time I start my car, praying that it starts. I can't wait for that peace of mind every day when I commute to work.<br />
<br />
So that's the latest! Hoping these 2 issues are solved soon. Until then, I just need to keep on truckin' - well, I can't literally, of course :)Tracyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11312027279057974990noreply@blogger.com0