26.2 Memories

Hello, friends. Please hop on over to my running blog, where I recount my first marathon.

Thank you so much to those who have showed continuous interest and support during my training. The experience was amazing, memorable. I can’t wait to do it again.

 

Same Old Sunrise

 

 

Same Old Sunrise

 

it ripples this watery photograph

so thin I can feel the other side

yet I drown I lose faith

I pour myself into a paper cup

too heavy to hold so I burst I fall into the crevices

of this still born life this non-sterile guide

to being who we are how we feel

in peaks and valleys and hidden rivers

while a mountain of imperfections

stays seated on my skull

and I cannot untangle the riot of whys

in the strands of my hair

so I drink down the what ifs

and I choke on tomorrow

and the same old sunrise

and I take a deep breath

and I enjoy the scenery

Beautiful Imperfections

Blah. That’s all I got.

Okay – that’s not all I got, but my body feels like it’s going to crumble into a million tiny pieces. We are still short-staffed at work ::cue the violins:: and every one of us is working 5-6 days a week. It wouldn’t be so bad if the majority of customers weren’t jackasses. Thanks for tipping me 60 cent on $50. Choke on your cheesesteak. Have a nice day.

I’m still wiping away the snot and tears - so attractive - from this video I just watched over at my pretend mama’s blog. It’s truly a shame, the way some of us see ourselves. But I have to say I fall deep into this category. Like GingerSnaap said, had I been the one on the other side of that curtain I would have done the same. thing.

“I have a weak chin,” I’d blurt out. “My nose is sorta pointy. Oh, and I definitely have the forehead of a Neanderthal. My eyebrows are waaaaaaay too low. It’s especially noticeable when I smile.“

“That ‘beauty’ mark on the right side of my jawline is annoying too.”

I went to the gym before work this morning. (Marathon day is next Sunday and I’m trying to get in those few last runs AND a bit of weight training; whatever it takes to make me feel a bit stronger.) As I approached the “12 minute Abs” section, I walked by a few men weight training nearby. As I passed, for whatever reason I sucked in my gut. I was embarrassed. I felt fat. I felt like I didn’t belong. Unfortunately, this has become sort of a subconscious thing for me – before today – and I’m just now realizing how sad it is. These people probably didn’t even notice me, let alone look at me like “what’s with the fat girl in the ‘ab’ area? She doesn’t have any abs to work on”. After years and years of being embarrassed of/worrying about my appearance, this has become my norm.

But this has to stop.

I’ve received compliments on the weight I’ve lost. I’ve been called “tiny” – “skinny” even. Today, a male customer wrote this on their check:

“You’re great, and you’re REALLY pretty!”

So for a few hours, my ego went way, way up. Then it went down again. The norm.

No one is perfect, are they? But we all matter. We are loved. There is someone who thinks we are beautiful from head to toe to snorting laugh to ugly cry. Joe still kisses me good morning when there’s eyeliner streaked across my face and bags the size of Texas beneath my eyes. He laughs and calls me Pig Pen when I haven’t washed my hair for 3 days, but then he pulls me close to him. So why not crumble up those insecurities and toss them in the recycling bin?

We say we’ll try, we say we’ll stop, but it really is a struggle. All I can say is good luck. Let’s try our best; we are beautiful, no matter what they say…words won’t bring us down….

Oh wait, sorry. Had a bit of a Christina moment there.

I love you all. And you are all beautiful, beautiful people.

xoxo,

Nicole

P.S.

Thank you for the inspiration for this post, mama.

Visit GingerSnaap and her beautiful words (and self) here: http://ohmygawdjustdowhatisay.wordpress.com/

 

Away From the Chaos

It’s funny, this thing called life; hilarious actually, the way we rush in, sometimes unexpectedly, flesh and blood hitting the air in a sterile room or some cracked leather backseat. We live, we grow like weeds, we take breaths and comb our hair. We work and play and we listen to the tales of our elders, we learn of the darkness, we learn to fear it while we dig our claws deep into the light. We fear what we can’t see, that open-ended intersection between now and then. Now is all warmth and baked bread and laughter in the hallway; then is quiet and eternal reflection. Is it a better place, this then? Is there soft Jazz and the sounds of a summer’s night? When I go will my family find me? “Rage,” he said. And so we rage.

It can’t be so bad, this aftermath. When your insides grow dark and your spirit is tripping on the sidewalk cracks you welcome a vacation from the sirens and the reruns. No  crackling television, no crowded subway, no hunger. Just comfort, just music, just love. We hope.

When death comes to visit it lays a hand on the shoulders of those closest to the lost one, sometimes with a message attached; “You too,” it whispers, and “soon”. It smells human surrender from the moment the heart breaks.

Just last year my Uncle Steve lost his daughter. Rachel. This past Saturday my Uncle/Godfather lost his battle with cancer. I remember a man full of life, brimming with heart and soul. My Uncle, my Godfather, our love; he is in a place away from the chaos.

 

<3

 

Ceiling Fans Are Not Your Friend

I have a ceiling fan phobia. Last night - during our random 82 degree Spring day before it returns to 60-something tomorrow - I crawled into bed early for yet another morning shift (work and running are the two major reasons I’ve been MIA lately…I’m just a lump of nothin’ otherwise). It was that suffocating sort of hot in our bedroom, Joe refused to turn on the air just yet, so I opened every window upstairs and lay down with one leg out, one leg under the sheet (you know you do it too!). I tossed, I turned, I somersaulted, I couldn’t get any kind of comfortable.

Just as I was about to give up and jump into a cold shower with pillow in hand, I looked up, the sweat leaking into my eyes blurring the view to the ceiling fan I’d forgotten about. There’s one in almost every room of the house, and we haven’t made use of one yet. I was hoping a thick layer of dust wouldn’t fly from each blade and rain down on me in a fluffy gray snowfall….but I was even more concerned about one thing:

I’m convinced ceiling fans are out to get me. I thought this one in particular would be whipped from the ceiling and come flying down onto my head, chopping off various body parts and ruining my bedspread. And I was just too tired to have to stitch myself back together. But – the heat getting the better of me - I decided to suck it up and pull the cord, bringing the fan to a slow hum as it turned and turned.

There wasn’t any gray snowfall; that was nice. It wasn’t making much noise…a good sign. But I still couldn’t help climbing out of bed just hours before I had to be up for work to turn the light on then off then on again, staring at the blades to see if they were shaking. I lay back down, blankets off, still staring at the ceiling…into the face of my impending death.

I got up again and pulled the cord a few more times, bringing the fan to a halt.

I wandered into the other room, found the standup fan, and plugged it in. Ahh, relief.

I told the best friend about this phobia today, as we sit in the currently stuffy living room, eating lunch. She laughed at me, of course, but I tried to explain the serious danger of an improperly working ceiling fan! A wasp flew by the window and I closed it, deciding to test out the dining room ceiling fan, which was directly above where she sat.

I pulled the cord once and the fan immediately began to rattle and shake, trying its best to free itself of the wires and bolts that held it secure!

“SEE!” I shouted while she laughed, looking terrified. “SEE! THIS IS WHY I’M AFRAID OF CEILING FANS!” Seriously. My day will come. I feel it.

BULL!

Until further updates…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

….you’re welcome. Happy Thursday, everyone. <3

No thank you, I’m just browsing.

My friends, I did a horrible thing today. At least I think I did. Being someone who works directly with people every day, I respect anyone who deals with customers on a daily basis. I also respect those who work on commission and “have” to “throw” themselves at customers day in and day out. However, sometimes from a customer’s perspective this can be a little….intimidating? Suffocating? Scary? Dare I say annoying?

It was snowing in New Jersey today. (Woohoo Spring!) And not just any snow - that heavy, wet, slushy snow that splashes up on your Betsey Johnson boots and gets ‘em all dirty. I got my nails did, and before going home I decided to wander around. This town – right next to mine – is what Joe likes to call “Snootville”. He grew up one town over, and this particular area is historical and rich and the houses are so big they make me sick. So the downtown area has a Starbucks and bakeries and boutiques. We’re attending a wedding this Friday so I found myself inside one of these boutiques, expecting everything to be out of my price range but curious anyway.

Of course, on a snowy Monday afternoon, I was the only customer in the store. I was greeted by a friendly older woman in jeans and a black turtleneck who asked me what she could help me with. I smiled and mumbled something about the wedding and she immediately started pulling dresses from a rack. I was excited by her enthusiasm and invited her eagerness, commenting one each dress as she ripped them from the stand.

Before I knew it I was in a dressing room, curtain drawn, the same woman standing just outside offering to zip me up when I was ready. I barely had the first dress pulled up before she was peeking in the curtain, asking if I was ready. I didn’t feel uncomfortable in the sense that she was trying to peek in on me for any strange reason, but hey lady, I’m not ready yet, and you just don’t bust into someone’s dressing room. Maybe I need to “grow a pair” or speak up, because while I was happy to try things on, I wasn’t planning on necessarily buying anything, and I felt pressured. That’s when I did that horrible something.

After trying on three dresses she (of course) told me I looked wonderful in (she attempted to accessorize me as well), she hung each one up in a row and asked which one I was planning to purchase. Gah, I wanted more time to consider, more time to look in other stories, just more time.

“Would it help if I told you prices?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“Well this one is $118, the purple is $78 and the pink is just $68!”

“Great,” I said.

“So which one are you going with?”

“The black, I think. I’m just going to run a few errands and I’ll be back to buy it!”

Then I ran outta there like a bat out of the depths of a fiery hell. I feel horrible.

I enjoy going to the Starbucks just down the street. What if she sees me? What if she tells all the other shops to keep an eye out for the bitty who said she’d come back for the dress and never did? Snootville is gonna have a vendetta against me. ::gulp::

Have you ever dealt with over-eager customer service and felt pressured, or motivated to get the hell out of there?

Don’t Look Up

Bristles of green put cracks in my eggshell heart.

“Do you see it?” you ask, sipping on foam

and heat in midsummer.

I twist blades in my palm and

don’t look up.

“Too bright,” I say.

You swat at the air,

put weight on your elbows.

You’re long, eyes shut towards the sun,

spread out like a praying mantis on its back.

“Mmm,” you say.

Did you see me as I went under?

Fingertips first, forearms, freckles.

My breasts were gone before you

asked if I wanted to get lunch in the city.

I tried to reach you but I was

too tangled in roots and the dark damp of us.

I think you called my name when my

ears were being packed with dirt.

“Mmm.” I said, maybe to myself.

“Maybe I’ll see it tomorrow.”

IMHO

So I bought this sweet journal today.

I was creepin’ around the mall, specifically for a new nose ring since the little tiny ball on the end of my hoop fell out while I was sleeping. I’m convinced it’s in my brain now; I cannot find this damn thing anywhere. So I found the nose ring and some other jewelry (of course), and wandered into another store where I purchased this gem.

Each freshly lined page is flanked with a quote. Here’s one of my favorites:

“What can we know? What are we all? Poor silly half-brained things peering out at the infinite, with the aspirations of angels and the instincts of beasts.” – Arthur Conan Doyle

I’d love if I could get this printed on the back of a tee-shirt and wear it to work every day. Every blank page is encouragement not just to vent, but to make that day’s “definitive conclusion about humanity” (four boxes with four different pictures below them: thumbs up, peace sign, thumbs down, middle finger). I scrawled a few paragraphs down and quickly checked the “middle finger” box. The top of each page reads like this: “WHY PEOPLE ARE LIKE THAT TODAY:”. I won’t share my writings in detail (they aren’t so nice) but I will share my conclusion:

“People suck. Hell is d-bag customers, morons who act like they’ve never been in public before. ‘People are like that today’ to piss me off.”

Don’t worry, the vino has put me back in my happy place. All hostile-ness aside, this journal is probably a good thing. I’ll jot down what annoys me and attempt to turn it around. Why is that person the way they are? Maybe something happened. Who knows what they’re going through? I don’t know them, they don’t know me. Maybe that woman cut me off because her husband is in the hospital and she’s just trying to get to him faster. Does it make it okay? Maybe not, but it might make me feel better to consider this. I’m still working on deciding why customers flail their hands and demand drinks ahead of others because they have a “plane to catch” in an airport, or why they answer my “how are you” with “HEINEKEN”. No really, I’m smiling right now.

Anyway, I suggest this thing to anyone. Let’s try to channel our anger and turn it into something positive. Plus it gives us some awesome blogging material, right?

all bones, all life, all love.

all tissue

all tendons

all mine, all mine

heartbeats and heartbreaks

breath and sighs in thin skin

break the clock and stay here

will you stay here?

fingertips on lips remind me

of an ocean where I’m

breathing underwater

there are layers of you

in me

can you feel it?

you are nothing but tangible

all sweat and blood and

sweet, sweet flavor

summer in my hands

summer on my tongue

it’s on me now, it’s mine

it’s in the grooves of you

the pillow to the right when

you’ve left for the morning

in my arms, in my head

you’re here, you’re always here

all bones, all life

all love.