So I was not always a calm, level headed person. Even now I tend to freak out a bit. Join the military, perm my hair, scream and yell and cry into my pillow like it was my mortal enemy... you get the picture.
I have felt generally at ease. I like my life in California. Been there for a little over a year, I have a good job, supportive, loving group of friends, a boyfriend that is thoughtful and caring, I live in a safe and beautiful neighborhood just blocks from the beach. I really have nothing to complain about.
That's why I can take my family in stride when I return for the holidays.
Don't get me wrong! My family is a family to be envious of. I always had a warm bed, meal and arms to come home to, my parents provided me with what I intend to provide for my children or not have children at all with. Nonetheless, the members of your family are the few people in your life that you can not fire, shun, break up with or divorce... bottom line, your stuck with em'.
Learn to love it.
I do love it, I couldn't live with out my parents and my siblings but what frustrates me is how much we love each other but don't actually love each other. We are the root and causes of our worst attributes as people. As a family we laugh together comfortably, we can be ourselves; joke, touch, converse like we can with no other group of people and because of this I will selfishly just acknowledge but not try to change why this has lead to all of us having attributes that are socially unacceptable and undesirable.
Just as an hypothetical example of how I/we tolerate family vs. friends... I have 2 roommates 4 days ago roommate A is raving to roommate B and I about a movie they had watched via Netflix. Early today I ask roommate A to borrow the movie (we will call them RA and RB, respectively), they oblige and lend it to me to watch that night. As I am holding the movie in my hand explaining to a friend on the phone how excited I am to watch it, describing the plot, characters, etc... RB walks in the room and casually says
RB: "I think that's actually a movie that came to me via Netflix".
ME: "Ummmm, but RA lent it to me, can I give it to you when I'm done? I was just about to watch it."
RB: "No, it's mine and I want to watch it now".
What would you do in this situation? If that was an actual roommate what would you have said? Now, what if it was a sibling?
How would you feel?
Angry? Hurt that they knowingly took something from you that they knew you were going to enjoy?
Now picture that this was a relative and that this was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to the dynamics of your relationship.
Its not the movie but rather the unconscious motive behind why they would be so spiteful. It's the deep rooted anger that wears at the fibers of what one hopes would be the strongest bond one may have...aka your family. Its the ability of someone to hate you that deeply, someone that you can never fire, shun, break up with or divorce. Someone that can never see the errors or their own ways because they are so adamant that they are the victim even when the hate and anger are obvious to everyone around them.
I am not saying that a movie is what makes someone angry, depressed and unbearable to the people around them. What I am saying is that our everyday reactions, actions and motives are what make us who we are - they are reflections as to how we have absorbed the world that has developed around us.
When we see the world as an angry, dark place that is the person you will become, bottom line. However, when you recognize the anger and the darkness but can still relish the good and the light that is what makes you bear the people you have to love even if they are constantly stumbling around in the dark and kicking you in the process.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Relationships and Love... one and the same or two different entities all together?
I had a reader, yes a reader other than my mother, ask if my experience with the elderly couple "changed my view of relationships on love?".
Not being the most grammatically correct individual I will take it as is and answer the question as written... First of all I have to recognize that relationships and love are not one in same. You can easily have a relationship and not love the person, in fact, some relationships I have down right despised whoever had put my panties in a bunch; metaphorically speaking of course, if I let you put my panties in a bunch literally, chances are I don't despise you -but there are a few exceptions.
You can also love a person and not have a relationship with them... unless you count me dry humping the $30 full sized cut out of Edward Cullen I bought my mother for Christmas a relationship , bottom line is, I'm in love with the blood sucker but we don't have a relationship.
E.C. if you happen to read this and have a thing for busty red heads give me a neck nuzzle.
But no anonymous reader, that incident did not change my "view on relationships on love" but rather solidified the type of love that I may, I say may, want.
Were they happy? Who knows? Devoted? Yes. Does the fact that you feel devoted to someone mean you are in love with them? I have no fuckin' clue.
The definition of love has changed since those two love birds in the hospital first courted each other... or whatever process old people went though to finally get laid. We as 20-30 somethings were raised by 60's fun/free/bra burning hippies with the reminisces of ideals from their parents. Generation X or Y or Ythefuck... whatever you want to call us, has had the added pressure of feeling the need to get married, have children, settle down and contribute to your 401K the moment you step out of diapers/college graduation gown.
You wonder why the fucking divorce rate is so high? I don't.
I'm not saying marriage is bad, I like the idea of holding someone that I "love"'s hand on their deathbed and feeding him/her soup appeals to me... yes, there was a "her" in that sentence - why limit yourself to 50% of the worlds population?
I'm just saying that we shouldn't feel the need to conform to what our parents and grandparents did because we were raised and surrounded with a much broader spectrum of ideals, ideas and possibilities then they were. We as a generation need to shed the 60 year old coat that was placed on our shoulders and walk naked on our own path. We don't have a WWII to forcefully shape the dynamic of our relationships. We have the internet, disease, the threat of nuclear war fare, Ann Coulter and our own under publicized war to mold how we think and interact with each other.
My point being... as winded as it may be, is make your own path. Go with what feels good and right. Keep personal goals in mind and your life will gravitate in that direction naturally. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, get married because you think that you should or because of pressure from your parents or grandparents... live your life the way that feels natural and fun and your love will naturally hone in on the appropriate relationships.
Not being the most grammatically correct individual I will take it as is and answer the question as written... First of all I have to recognize that relationships and love are not one in same. You can easily have a relationship and not love the person, in fact, some relationships I have down right despised whoever had put my panties in a bunch; metaphorically speaking of course, if I let you put my panties in a bunch literally, chances are I don't despise you -but there are a few exceptions.
You can also love a person and not have a relationship with them... unless you count me dry humping the $30 full sized cut out of Edward Cullen I bought my mother for Christmas a relationship , bottom line is, I'm in love with the blood sucker but we don't have a relationship.
E.C. if you happen to read this and have a thing for busty red heads give me a neck nuzzle.
But no anonymous reader, that incident did not change my "view on relationships on love" but rather solidified the type of love that I may, I say may, want.
Were they happy? Who knows? Devoted? Yes. Does the fact that you feel devoted to someone mean you are in love with them? I have no fuckin' clue.
The definition of love has changed since those two love birds in the hospital first courted each other... or whatever process old people went though to finally get laid. We as 20-30 somethings were raised by 60's fun/free/bra burning hippies with the reminisces of ideals from their parents. Generation X or Y or Ythefuck... whatever you want to call us, has had the added pressure of feeling the need to get married, have children, settle down and contribute to your 401K the moment you step out of diapers/college graduation gown.
You wonder why the fucking divorce rate is so high? I don't.
I'm not saying marriage is bad, I like the idea of holding someone that I "love"'s hand on their deathbed and feeding him/her soup appeals to me... yes, there was a "her" in that sentence - why limit yourself to 50% of the worlds population?
I'm just saying that we shouldn't feel the need to conform to what our parents and grandparents did because we were raised and surrounded with a much broader spectrum of ideals, ideas and possibilities then they were. We as a generation need to shed the 60 year old coat that was placed on our shoulders and walk naked on our own path. We don't have a WWII to forcefully shape the dynamic of our relationships. We have the internet, disease, the threat of nuclear war fare, Ann Coulter and our own under publicized war to mold how we think and interact with each other.
My point being... as winded as it may be, is make your own path. Go with what feels good and right. Keep personal goals in mind and your life will gravitate in that direction naturally. Do not, I repeat, DO NOT, get married because you think that you should or because of pressure from your parents or grandparents... live your life the way that feels natural and fun and your love will naturally hone in on the appropriate relationships.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Long time no see blogspot...
Life's good...
I was a bit in the dumps a couple of weeks ago that's for sure. I was broke, single, bruised, and missed my family in my period of vulnerability to the extent that I started searching for jobs in Vermont in anticipation of moving back asap.
Life has a funny way of setting you back on course. Maybe it was my hypersensitive mood that drove me to notice certain situations around me but what was laid out before me made me realize, once again, my life does not suck.
Not in the least.
As I tried to skirt out of the ICU on my way to the next unit I stopped in my tracks at the sight of an elderly couple in the ICU. I tried to look as though I wasn't some peeping tom, but couldn't help but gaze at them for a bit. Both grey haired, in their late 80's, feeble and wrinkled but composed and proud in a non assuming way... for some reason his face while he looked at her made me want to watch. He was in bed, she weighed about 98 pounds and was propping him up, literally pulling a man twice her size into a sitting position. She smoothed his hair back as he tried to catch his breath, she was obviously exhausted as well but smiled at him in a way that made him smile back automatically. They spoke for a minute, he reached up to touch her face and she grasped his hand as he did so and helped him hold it to her cheek. And they held that position for minute, not saying anything, just looking at one another. Then she proceed to spoon feed him some soup she made him. Slowly, while talking about God knows what. He smiled at her after every spoonful. They both had a look of desperation, fear, contentment, uncertainty and love on their faces the whole time.
I couldn't stand there forever and left the unit but that scene was replaying in my head all day.
I went back the next day and the room was empty. I thought maybe he had been down graded to telemetry and did a little research; I really wanted to just say "hello" to them, but no, he had died.
I tried for one moment to fathom what that woman was feeling. I had a glimpse into their world, a couple of minutes of what I think was true love. And I don't use that phrase lightly. I couldn't bear to be be empathetic at all - my heart ached just thinking about how she had to sleep alone for the first time in almost 60 years and how she may feel without him in her world anymore. It would be as if your world lost all color and warmth and you were wandering around in a cold, lonely and confused state. Maybe she handled it differently, but I don't think so. It's the same reason elderly couple die within weeks of each other.
You lose half of yourself when the person you have been with and loved for decades dies.
And that's when I realized that the crap, and the drama, and the silly issues that I thought made me such a sad and pathetic case... were really peanuts in comparision to what other people may be going through or have to live through on a daily basis.
I am one of the lucky ones, I have a lot to be greatful for... I just hope one day I am as lucky as that couple.
I was a bit in the dumps a couple of weeks ago that's for sure. I was broke, single, bruised, and missed my family in my period of vulnerability to the extent that I started searching for jobs in Vermont in anticipation of moving back asap.
Life has a funny way of setting you back on course. Maybe it was my hypersensitive mood that drove me to notice certain situations around me but what was laid out before me made me realize, once again, my life does not suck.
Not in the least.
As I tried to skirt out of the ICU on my way to the next unit I stopped in my tracks at the sight of an elderly couple in the ICU. I tried to look as though I wasn't some peeping tom, but couldn't help but gaze at them for a bit. Both grey haired, in their late 80's, feeble and wrinkled but composed and proud in a non assuming way... for some reason his face while he looked at her made me want to watch. He was in bed, she weighed about 98 pounds and was propping him up, literally pulling a man twice her size into a sitting position. She smoothed his hair back as he tried to catch his breath, she was obviously exhausted as well but smiled at him in a way that made him smile back automatically. They spoke for a minute, he reached up to touch her face and she grasped his hand as he did so and helped him hold it to her cheek. And they held that position for minute, not saying anything, just looking at one another. Then she proceed to spoon feed him some soup she made him. Slowly, while talking about God knows what. He smiled at her after every spoonful. They both had a look of desperation, fear, contentment, uncertainty and love on their faces the whole time.
I couldn't stand there forever and left the unit but that scene was replaying in my head all day.
I went back the next day and the room was empty. I thought maybe he had been down graded to telemetry and did a little research; I really wanted to just say "hello" to them, but no, he had died.
I tried for one moment to fathom what that woman was feeling. I had a glimpse into their world, a couple of minutes of what I think was true love. And I don't use that phrase lightly. I couldn't bear to be be empathetic at all - my heart ached just thinking about how she had to sleep alone for the first time in almost 60 years and how she may feel without him in her world anymore. It would be as if your world lost all color and warmth and you were wandering around in a cold, lonely and confused state. Maybe she handled it differently, but I don't think so. It's the same reason elderly couple die within weeks of each other.
You lose half of yourself when the person you have been with and loved for decades dies.
And that's when I realized that the crap, and the drama, and the silly issues that I thought made me such a sad and pathetic case... were really peanuts in comparision to what other people may be going through or have to live through on a daily basis.
I am one of the lucky ones, I have a lot to be greatful for... I just hope one day I am as lucky as that couple.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Unfortunatly we sometimes get what we wish for...
So the relationship Gods did grant my wish and the relationship did last until Thanksgiving and for about 48 hours after... without going into details lets just say that tequila should be used by the military as truth serum and I wish it made a punch or 3 to the face less painful... It should have been a wake up call to me that his wake up call was a margarita and a beer. Lesson learned, time to move on.
I put myself in seclusion for the week after "Mexico" kicked my ass/punched me in the face, which is a total 180 from my normal M.O. I am a socializer by nature, I thrive on people, parties, talking... anything to distract me from.... well, me.
Now trying to crawl out of this cave I put myself in has become a challenge in itself. For instance, this weekend I did not brush my teeth, change my clothes or leave my apartment for 2 day straight. I blamed it on the cold I have now; which has either been the catylist and/or savior to my new quitting smoking trend. Apparently, it seems to be working... gawd, I miss my Parliments and the pretty star that I see in the filter that forms when the tar I suck through it collects, not to mention the oral fixation and nicotine fix. Marketing genius that star is...
And you will never guess who reached their strong arm down into my sad, pathetic, hopeless and browbeaten world and dragged me out... Gabe. I should not give him all the credit, in fact he is probably essentially the methadone to my metaphorically speaking heroin addicted life, but we have had some good conversations. I in all honestly will give all due credit to Benny and Constance. They are two of my brightest, most true shining stars of friends here in the moral asshole of America... aka, LA.
They add spice, laughter, excitement, stability and love to my life. When I start to miss my family, I think of them.
Thats all for now. Monday morning is looming and I need to sleep.
Kisses and chocolate.
I put myself in seclusion for the week after "Mexico" kicked my ass/punched me in the face, which is a total 180 from my normal M.O. I am a socializer by nature, I thrive on people, parties, talking... anything to distract me from.... well, me.
Now trying to crawl out of this cave I put myself in has become a challenge in itself. For instance, this weekend I did not brush my teeth, change my clothes or leave my apartment for 2 day straight. I blamed it on the cold I have now; which has either been the catylist and/or savior to my new quitting smoking trend. Apparently, it seems to be working... gawd, I miss my Parliments and the pretty star that I see in the filter that forms when the tar I suck through it collects, not to mention the oral fixation and nicotine fix. Marketing genius that star is...
And you will never guess who reached their strong arm down into my sad, pathetic, hopeless and browbeaten world and dragged me out... Gabe. I should not give him all the credit, in fact he is probably essentially the methadone to my metaphorically speaking heroin addicted life, but we have had some good conversations. I in all honestly will give all due credit to Benny and Constance. They are two of my brightest, most true shining stars of friends here in the moral asshole of America... aka, LA.
They add spice, laughter, excitement, stability and love to my life. When I start to miss my family, I think of them.
Thats all for now. Monday morning is looming and I need to sleep.
Kisses and chocolate.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
So apparently its all a crock of shit...
She said, and only she said from hence forth because that's way it should be...
This blog was originally started as the intro describes... "A rare social experiment..." blah, blah, bullshit. Now I've decided to morph it into an outlet for myself, keep the original intro for laughs, and just blog about random shit because that's what a Taylor does best... bullshit.
Robin, you are included in this group of Taylor bullshitters FYI. You're family tried and true. So sorry. Take another shot of Kettle, it numbs the pain.
My brother is actually the literary genius in our family, I read his blog with a pair of Depends on. I don't intend to use this as a online journal that my mother can look through my underwear drawer and under my mattress, find, and read without guilt, but rather a "who know what the fuck will fly out of Rachael's mind" outlet for myself. I liked blogging before but the pretense that it was started on was all wrong, in so many ways.
Honestly... who blogs about shit like waiting for 30 days to have sex and all of the sexual tension that accompanies it? I was caught up in the moment, met a nice sweet guy, someone that I really thought in the moments of drunken passion on a first date would want to commit a month of his life to the likes of me. Props to him for identifying the madness and bringing it to the table early, hence why the blog met its maker early on... too much pressure, way too much pressure and scrutiny to be able to focus on the other more than what was blogged about or not. Retarded idea. Next time I won't tell the sorry bloke. Better idea for sure.
You see, living in LA you never get bored. With that endless influx of action comes an equal and opposite reaction... you never have the chance to be bored. When bored, you think. With this thought you tend to scrutinize your life, surroundings, future, etc and it gives you insight and personal reflection that you can't achieve when you are surrounded by fake tits, rush hour traffic, waiters/actors and a commune of people more concerned as to how their hair looks at the grocery store than how many African lives that 5 karat diamond on their finger cost... but I digress.
With insight and personal reflection comes the ability to identify issues that are bothering you and causing you personal turmoil.
And so my dedicated readers, all 4 of you, I venture out of my hectic surroundings nicknamed "Los Angeles" and into a dark movie theatre to watch "New Moon" by myself. Not because I can't find another romance starved 20 something to go with me, but rather because I can do it on my own terms. Its a date night with myself. Dinner, drinks, movie and if I play my cards right I may even get lucky with myself tonight. Yeah, you read that right I masturbate. Like a fiend.
OH! This weekend has been quite eventful by the way, after 3 Makers on a date with myself I almost forgot... Just to show all 4 of my faithful readers that I'm not some 29 year old, single hag I will tell you my past happenings... I spent the weekend with a man. A real man, a really sexy man. A man I am spending Thanksgiving and the following weekend in Mexico with and who I will continue to fall head over heals for, because that's my style. I love love and I love falling in love. Staying in love is another matter - he has issues, I have issues, but maybe, just maybe if the relationship Gods choose to shine their light on us, we will make it to Thanksgiving.
And I didn't make him wait a month... but that's for my next blog.
This blog was originally started as the intro describes... "A rare social experiment..." blah, blah, bullshit. Now I've decided to morph it into an outlet for myself, keep the original intro for laughs, and just blog about random shit because that's what a Taylor does best... bullshit.
Robin, you are included in this group of Taylor bullshitters FYI. You're family tried and true. So sorry. Take another shot of Kettle, it numbs the pain.
My brother is actually the literary genius in our family, I read his blog with a pair of Depends on. I don't intend to use this as a online journal that my mother can look through my underwear drawer and under my mattress, find, and read without guilt, but rather a "who know what the fuck will fly out of Rachael's mind" outlet for myself. I liked blogging before but the pretense that it was started on was all wrong, in so many ways.
Honestly... who blogs about shit like waiting for 30 days to have sex and all of the sexual tension that accompanies it? I was caught up in the moment, met a nice sweet guy, someone that I really thought in the moments of drunken passion on a first date would want to commit a month of his life to the likes of me. Props to him for identifying the madness and bringing it to the table early, hence why the blog met its maker early on... too much pressure, way too much pressure and scrutiny to be able to focus on the other more than what was blogged about or not. Retarded idea. Next time I won't tell the sorry bloke. Better idea for sure.
You see, living in LA you never get bored. With that endless influx of action comes an equal and opposite reaction... you never have the chance to be bored. When bored, you think. With this thought you tend to scrutinize your life, surroundings, future, etc and it gives you insight and personal reflection that you can't achieve when you are surrounded by fake tits, rush hour traffic, waiters/actors and a commune of people more concerned as to how their hair looks at the grocery store than how many African lives that 5 karat diamond on their finger cost... but I digress.
With insight and personal reflection comes the ability to identify issues that are bothering you and causing you personal turmoil.
And so my dedicated readers, all 4 of you, I venture out of my hectic surroundings nicknamed "Los Angeles" and into a dark movie theatre to watch "New Moon" by myself. Not because I can't find another romance starved 20 something to go with me, but rather because I can do it on my own terms. Its a date night with myself. Dinner, drinks, movie and if I play my cards right I may even get lucky with myself tonight. Yeah, you read that right I masturbate. Like a fiend.
OH! This weekend has been quite eventful by the way, after 3 Makers on a date with myself I almost forgot... Just to show all 4 of my faithful readers that I'm not some 29 year old, single hag I will tell you my past happenings... I spent the weekend with a man. A real man, a really sexy man. A man I am spending Thanksgiving and the following weekend in Mexico with and who I will continue to fall head over heals for, because that's my style. I love love and I love falling in love. Staying in love is another matter - he has issues, I have issues, but maybe, just maybe if the relationship Gods choose to shine their light on us, we will make it to Thanksgiving.
And I didn't make him wait a month... but that's for my next blog.
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