I’ve written a few times in the past week, but then immediately deleted what I had written before posting it because it seemed either a.) boring, b.) fluffy, or c.) embarrassingly self-involved. I have to get over that whole “self-involved” issue though, because it’s no secret that the concept of having a personal blog clearly stems from some form of vanity on the writer’s part. Any blogger who claims that he or she isn’t at least a little bit self-absorbed, or that he or she doesn’t get extreme satisfaction out of strangers leaving comments for them, is so completely full of it. So, since I’ve determined that blogging is, in itself, a self-indulgent exercise, let’s commence today’s narcissistic blathering, guilt free.
I woke up this morning with the horrible realization that it wasn’t Friday yet, which tells you that it has been one ridiculously long week. I’m really getting tired of this working every day thing. Sometimes being a grown-up just really sucks, doesn’t it?
Other than suffering through the mundane hours of 7:30 AM through 5:00 PM at my corporate desk job, my week has been pretty good. Dan and I decided on our Halloween costumes, we will be dressing up as Daphne and Fred from Scooby Doo, so we did a little searching of some local thrift stores and bargain department stores for the necessary pieces to transform ourselves into those crazy funky 70’s ghoul-fighting teens. We had minimal luck at the thrift stores, but I found a really good Daphne costume online, that, with some tweaking and the addition of a fabulous orange wig and some fake eyelashes, will work just splendidly. Dan’s costume is quite a bit easier to put together ourselves, but it’s still in the works, let’s just say he will be rocking those blue polyester pants. I’m really excited for Halloween, I love getting all dressed up, and as long as I don’t go as crazy with the alcohol as last year, our party should be a good time!
In TV news, I am thoroughly obsessed with Lost at the moment, and last night’s episode certainly did not disappoint. I’ve taken my obsession a little bit too far as of late, and have been spending way too much time here speculating on countless theories and meticulously examining screen shot after screen shot for hidden clues to the secrets of the island and the Dharma Initiative. I can’t believe I’ve let myself get so wrapped up in all of this nonsense, but I have to say, that this is some great television.
Belly dancing class last night was hilariously girly, as two separate little events completely disrupted our class but at the same time brought us a little closer together. First, during our warm-up, one of the ladies announced her engagement, and with one little flash of the sparkly ring on her finger, the entire class, including our instructor, had abandoned their stretches and mobbed her for a closer look. After much oohing, ahhing, and high-pitched gushing, everyone meandered back to their spots on the dance floor, and the bride-to-be proceeded to tell the entire proposal story to a room full of women who, for the most part, don’t even know her last name (to be honest, I can’t think of her first name right now). Later on, a delivery person came by with a bouquet of gorgeous fall flowers for our instructor, at which point the high pitched gushing started up again. Without fail, the entire class all shimmied over to the back of the room where she had taken them to get a closer look, (and of course hoping to catch a glimpse of the card that accompanied them!) Choruses of, “They’re so beautiful…” and “You’re so lucky, I NEVER get flowers!” could be heard amongst this mob of fawning women who, at the request of their instructor, continued to shimmy throughout the whole ordeal. Then came the voice of reason from the blonde lady next to me (again, no name, I should really start paying attention to names).
Blond no-name: “So… is he forgiven?”
Instructor chick (as she sticks the card in her purse): “It depends on what the card says!”
The whole time I was just aware of how fabulous it is to be a woman, and how damn important it is to support the rest of our fabulous sisters. Individually, we are magnificent creatures, but together, good Lord we could have so much power! Just think of how productive we would be if, instead of gossiping, instead of comparing our bodies, and instead of putting each other down to bring ourselves up, we supported each other unconditionally. If a woman has a problem, chances are she wouldn’t have to go very far to find another woman who has had that same problem, and has sufficiently kicked that same problem’s ass. There’s just so much girl-on-girl hating going on out there that we’re not able to take advantage of each others’ life experiences and wisdom as often as I think we should.
Alright, I’ll quit with the “chicks need to stick together” ranting. If you want more of it, check out Mascara Feminism. That shit is EXACTLY what I’m talking about! A haphazard group of unrelated women of all different ages, shapes, and sizes, coming together to support two of their own, solely out of kindness and respect, without judgment or criticism, is so Mascara.