The Year in Review

I think the year can be summed up in today's shopping experience. It took an enormous amount of energy to attempt to find some spring clothes in the neighborhood mall, but I convinced myself to finally just do it inspite of inner protests to spend the rainy day reading. It being a Thursday, I knew the stores wouldn't be as busy as they will be in the upcoming nice weekend. Went to the usual national-chain preppy stores to load up on the basics. Was successful in that I found so many colorful options to choose from. Nice to find a paradise that was lost, but in hindsight, I think it's better lost than found.

Much to my dismay, the dressing room mirrors proved the rumors true that my body has changed. I almost fell over from fright when I spotted the spider web of veins going up my legs. Had to reassure myself that being tan would help blend those bad boys in a bit, but ultimately I'm still not so sure. I guess I will just have to choose what a lot of women do, not wear shorts. What?! No, say it can't be!!! My mom doesn't wear shorts nor has since I've been born. This can't be, this means I am getting old. Dun dUn duNnnnn (imaginary musical accompaniment required). The varicose veins were just the start of the demoralizing body image session. The fact that all the tops I tried on were clingy in all the wrong places really made me feel like a winner. I began to wonder how other women who don't have the manaquein model body cope with this. I didn't ever have a manaquein model body, but somehow before now was oblivious to the mental mindfuck that followed me throughout the day.

After I got over the initial shock, I began to find a few things that worked, and then a few more. After three hours, I came home with a shopping bag full of colorful goodies, knowing full well I would return most, if not all of them. You see, this is a familiar pattern, as of late, with me. And before today, I had no earthly idea as to why. After wondering out loud on my futon what's wrong with me for not liking the clothes and clothiers I formerly liked, the answer blindsided me through the rain of tears. Just as everything else in my life has taken an unpredictable turn from the music I listen like to listen to, to the people I choose to hang out with, and most shockingly the fact that I now ENJOY and prefer being a homebody, it is natural for my taste in clothing to change as well. I'm just overwhelmed, and similiar to a lot of areas in my life, have no idea as to where to start looking for clothes that reflect who I currently am. WHO THE FUCK AM I? Why didn't I come with a manual?! Many people would attest it would make living with me so much EASIER.

And so it has been a transitional year where I have been struggling on a daily basis to figure out who I am. I first figured out that who my parents told me I am isn't really who I am upon my arrival in Vietnam. The blog thing was new to me, and I thought out loud as to how to address all my fans, as with each group I play a different role. And after hemming and hawing for a whole week, I decided to wing it and actually cursed in my blog. Not only curse, but I used the true mofo of curse words, the f-ing F bomb. A prompt response came from my most faithful readers....

Hi Darling!

On reading your blog reports, Minty, you sounded a bit stressed, to say the least. Since you never really know all the people who are apt to read those reports, I'd suggest that you be somewhat more circumspect in your expressions. Using locker room language neither shocks nor interests the reader these days and, in fact, suggests a certain inability to clearly express one's self. Further, too much use of the first person is another good way to turn the reader away. Should anyone connected with a school where you might want to work stumble across one of your earlier communications, you might be hard pressed to persuade them to hire you. Talking about your fans, nudity, etc. could seem arrogant and egocentric at best and just a bit daft at the worst.
I'm taking pains to point out the pitfalls of affecting a style when the affectation falls short. Just be you and tell us about what you're doing and the people and things you're seeing and all your readers will be gratified that they bothered to tune you in in the first place.

Ah yes, gratifying the readers who even bother to tune in has been the primary objective in life up until then. I interpreted that response as the most stinging slap in the face I have ever received. One in which I am still recovering a year and a half later. Isn't it about time I slapped them back?

And I have. I have slapped my father back hard for trying to control me the only way he knows how, through money; I have slapped him harder in who I hang out with, and perhaps the hardest in what I choose to do with my time. But I haven't done it with as much confidence as I would like to. I've looked him in the eye, but am the first to look away. Enough of this bullshit. I am ready for full-on exploration, no more trying to dance their fucking dance my way, no more excuses. I need to find my own music and groove to it, nothing else.

And that begins with my wardrobe. Isn't it a known fact that the clothes on a person's back reflect how they perceive themselves, that and the way they carry themselves? Or am I just blowing smoke in the wind? Which comes first, the chicken or the egg? Does one feel good about themselves first, and then acquires a wardrobe reflecting confidence, or in finding clothes that fit one's style is one's confidence born? Somehow I have a sinking feeling that my identity crisis may not be so black and white. But there has to be some psychological correlation in this material issue, isn't that what those gay guys who came in and redid a victim's wardrobe and living space proved?! I originally wasn't into the show at all as I thought they were over the top in material. But now I am wishing that they would come to my little apartment and create a fabulous resolution to my clothing crisis.

While this entry is a materialistic one, deep down inside I know that one doesn't need clothes to reflect confidence, it comes from within. This is just another layer of the onion that's my soul. Ideally, I want my confidence in my self to remain constant regardless of the material possessions I do/do not have. But how do I do that? I thought I was there when I once looked around my apartment and thought I could up and leave everything and be happy. Apparently, I still have some more progress to make before I am there on a consistent basis.

This whole clothing clusterfuck is really my picking up society's baggage. I just don't know how to drop it. How can I NOT care what others think about me? And why do I carry myself according to what they think, instead of to what I think of myself. I am empowering them by doing this. How do I take back that power and empower myself? By doing the things that empower me.

Worn Out

After spending 5 hours with a certain relative, I am using my "get out of jail free" card, for today's entry, as I am bushed. Way too late for politics. All I can say is that I am extremely happy I survived this eve without losing it, a welcome sign that I am making progress. Good night, and good luck.

Okay, Okay Enough Already!

There, I'm doing it. I'm writing, despite my biggest internal protests, and will do so on a daily basis. Reading a book on money management, and it told me to write down goals. Consistent blogging is one. As I looked at it on the page, it stared back at me, "So, what are you waiting for?! An invitation from Oprah?! There are still some precious minutes left in the day in order to fulfill your goal. Get to it, damnit!" And with that, here I am.

It's good to be back. Comforting to see the familiar blank screen. But this whole goal thing has definitely stirred the pot. What are my goals?! I don't know. Okay, then. Why are you alive, what's the point in living? Um......, THINK!!!!!!!!! Okay, okay. Well..... DON'T TELL ME, WRITE IT DOWN!!! I see where you are going with this, once I write it down, I have an obligation of some sort to see it through. YOU LITTLE... Okay, so here they are in completely random order. Right, definitely be on the Price is Right is a strong one. Sitting in the audience is acceptable if Bob Barker ran out of time during the hour and didn't get to personally remind me to get my pet spade or neudered in order to keep the pet population under control. I'd also like to study yoga in India, that sounds like fun. Maybe fun isn't the right word, "an experience" is better. And while I'm over there, why not learn some Thai massage and walk the Great Wall?! And well, getting something published sounds nice. Something technical and detail-oriented, just like this blog, is right up my alley. And I can't forget tangoing in Argentina.

After I compiled the list, I looked at it and experienced a familiar feeling of disgust. WHAT, IN ANY OF THIS, IS GOING TO MAKE YOU MONEY?! Good question, well.... Shit, here come the tears. Ugh. Why me? While just looking at the list I can't say specifically what could make me money, following through with something here could lead or expose me to something else that could bear some fruit. You never know where opportunity will strike. Where one thinks it will, more often it doesn't, and where you think it won't, well, we all have stories to support that theory. It's called taking a chance and trusting that the universe is going to take care of me. It is taking care of me, of us. How many times do I need to relearn this lesson?! My hospital experience abroad spoke VOLUMES to me, how come I'm not listening now? Wait, I got it. Alex, could it be that we live in a "Show Me the Money" society and thus it is an explainable tendency for me to be living in fear of what could/couldn't happen? Good Answer for the "Where's the faith" question worth a kijillion soybeans.

And now that we solved that problem, I bid you adieu.

Same Time, Same Place

Well, close enough. That's right kids, I'm back and my brain really is storming and has been this whole year. Wanted to get this thing up and running on Saturday, the official one year anniversary of my return. But that didn't happen. Sunday rolled around and I got inflicted with a serious case of Sunday Syndrome, hence, my starting it today. It's kind of weird to be back. So much to say and comment upon, just don't know quite where to begin.

I guess we will start with a couple of disclaimers and get those out of the way. First of all, and most importantly, I consider this blog, at least for now, primarily my journal and vehicle to start writing again. I am not going to be writing about exciting adventures abroad as I am currently still in Kansas City. Hell, I don't even know WHAT I am going to be writing about. I just know, that initially it will be a mental purging. I'm not going to give this address to many people, if any. Okay, maybe only my nearest and dearest fans. But hindsight is a great thing and I am proud to say that I now have 20/20 vision on the fact that I will not be giving out this address to my parents. A couple of exchanges concerning my last blog almost started WW3 over in SE Asia. Bottom line, read at will, but you are the one who decided to check out what I have to say. Therefore if you get offended, which I'm not intending to do but it can happen, stop reading it.

This is going to be a very simple blog, no photos, no links, just text, at least for now. Who knows, one of these days I might get blog savvy and learn how to do these things, but that is highly unlikely. One of the key characteristics of us Geminis is that we aren't into details. I consider anything other than text to be details.

Ah yes, it's all coming back to me now... I am currently experiencing the same vulnerable feeling I had last year when I first starred at the blank blog screen and realized that anyone could potentially be reading this. Do I really have the guts to say whatever I feel and not get overwhelmed by the fear of "what others might think"? This is the biggest dragon I've been struggling to slay this year. It's slow going, as it is one helluva dragon, but, bygar, progress is being made. True, I could always type these entries on blank Word document forms, and be assured absolute privacy, but there is something appealing in the risk of having anyone be able to read my most secret thoughts that Microsoft doesn't offer. Hopefully if anyone reads this first entry, they will just gloss over the site dismissing it as unworthy to spend any more time reading.

Well, there it is, my first entry that's as gray as the weather is here. Don't think it is a worthy post to publish, but will so I can have the satisfaction of accomplishing my yearlong goal of beginning a new blog. Who knows where the adventure will take us now?