You don't need to be in a break-up to think of someone you'd like to say over half of these lyrics to. I can name about half a dozen ;-)
Happy Friday! Let's sing along...
Friday, June 18, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Little Ms. Popular
About three weeks ago was trying to find the time to write a posting on how I was starting to feel like one of those bad parents that you see in the movies. You know the ones that are always calling up the kid on their birthday (right when they are about to blow out the candles on their cake) and telling them, “Sorry honey. Mommy can’t make it to your birthday party because work/forgetfulness/drug addiction came up.” That was me. Except I was telling friends that I couldn’t make it to their event that they were promoting, their concert, or their poetry reading because I was tied up with something else.
I was always running late! Either I was jetting from one event to another, or being held up by a friend before I could even get out the door. All the while I would be scrambling to make it before the guest list cut off. However, it’s dreadfully tacky at the same time to be furiously texting your host as you stomp down Orange Ave. begging them to make sure you can still get in for free at 11:40p when the list stops at 11:30p. It’s also shameful to tell your host that you can’t make it at all since you missed the cut-off. I try to do both as little as possible.
Events aside, I feel as though I’ve also been the crutch for my friends as well. Maybe something is in the water here, but it seems as though everyone is going through some major issues, and they all seem to want to resolve them downtown. I’m pulled in a million directions via texts and Facebook status updates that I’ve been tagged in. I’ve looked at my notifications to see that apparently I’m slated to be at Independent Bar on a Tuesday night for Grits and Gravy, even though I have work the next morning and Diana Ross makes me want to slit my wrists. As much as I’d like to say no thanks, it’s a little hard to do so when you’ve got five people who have already started posting comments that they can’t wait to see you out… Even though I just saw many of them the night before, and the night before that one, and have already had two conversations via text with them that same day. And then there is my favorite line: “It’s not like you have to drive 45 minutes home anymore. You live downtown now!”
I’ve never been the ‘popular’ girl my entire life. It’s quite flattering to me that someone thinks that my presence will make or break their night out on the town. It’s fun to walk up to a group of people and hear one of them squeal, “Bougie’s here!” But here is the true reason why it’s all irritating me so: Surprise, surprise- I’m going through a lot, too. I’m trying to tackle issues that come with being an adult- bills, work, and attempting something called ‘dating’ but I have long since given up on that. I live in a shell of an apartment that I’ve barely felt connected to since I moved in nearly two months ago, because guess what? I’m never here. When I’m out, I’m not allowed to have feelings either. I’m not allowed to just sit back and take in the scenery with a water in my hand. Someone is always coming up to me shoving a drink to my lips, or asking me why I look melancholy. Yet before I can answer, I’m being told that I’m not allowed to be- not tonight, because Bougie is needed.
All I’ve wanted to do for the last few weeks is go home (wherever that is), throw on my NOFX t-shirt and a pair of boxers, crank the Greeley Estates on my iPod and relax on the couch after I organize more of the things I need to unpack around the apartment. I just want to be Heather.
Tonight I hit up Shari’s sushi happy hour (try saying that one five times fast) in Thornton Park with my good friend Dru. Over $3.75 cocktails and sushi rolls, I described how two weekends ago I lost my iPhone at Back Booth. I’ve broken down into tears over it several times since then, as well as nearly pulling a Naomi Campbell by smashing my previous BlackBerry into a million pieces because it won’t receive text messages or show me calls I’ve missed. Although my perfectionism is numero uno on the list of why I’m so distraught over losing my phone (I’ve never lost a phone- ever- let alone anything worth more than a few dollars) , the second reason I’ve been so torn up is because I feel completely disconnected from the world. When I’m bored at work, I can’t just shoot a text to my friend Lauren and have some of her wit hold me over for a few more hours. I can’t catch up with people via Facebook chat while I’m walking down Central Boulevard. I can’t watch a movie and IMDB it when I have an inquiry.
My friends have treaded lightly around this topic with me, but all have stated clearly that this is a good thing for me. They, as well as any guy that I’ve attempted to have a relationship with in the last 2 years, will say that I was always on my phone. Always. By now I’ve finally gotten over most of the anxiety associated with me losing it, and I’m agreeing and seeing this as one of those funny coincidences that makes you scratch your head and trust that things really do happen for a reason. Its funny how when you're least connected to everyone around you, it makes shutting the world down so much easier. Fancy that.
So here I sit, wearing my Devil Wears Prada t-shirt and A Day to Remember on the iPod, typing away from my favorite spot on the couch. I feel like I have finally come back to my center. Heather finally feels at home.
Oh, and my closet looks fabulous now that it’s not filled with random bags.
I was always running late! Either I was jetting from one event to another, or being held up by a friend before I could even get out the door. All the while I would be scrambling to make it before the guest list cut off. However, it’s dreadfully tacky at the same time to be furiously texting your host as you stomp down Orange Ave. begging them to make sure you can still get in for free at 11:40p when the list stops at 11:30p. It’s also shameful to tell your host that you can’t make it at all since you missed the cut-off. I try to do both as little as possible.
Events aside, I feel as though I’ve also been the crutch for my friends as well. Maybe something is in the water here, but it seems as though everyone is going through some major issues, and they all seem to want to resolve them downtown. I’m pulled in a million directions via texts and Facebook status updates that I’ve been tagged in. I’ve looked at my notifications to see that apparently I’m slated to be at Independent Bar on a Tuesday night for Grits and Gravy, even though I have work the next morning and Diana Ross makes me want to slit my wrists. As much as I’d like to say no thanks, it’s a little hard to do so when you’ve got five people who have already started posting comments that they can’t wait to see you out… Even though I just saw many of them the night before, and the night before that one, and have already had two conversations via text with them that same day. And then there is my favorite line: “It’s not like you have to drive 45 minutes home anymore. You live downtown now!”
I’ve never been the ‘popular’ girl my entire life. It’s quite flattering to me that someone thinks that my presence will make or break their night out on the town. It’s fun to walk up to a group of people and hear one of them squeal, “Bougie’s here!” But here is the true reason why it’s all irritating me so: Surprise, surprise- I’m going through a lot, too. I’m trying to tackle issues that come with being an adult- bills, work, and attempting something called ‘dating’ but I have long since given up on that. I live in a shell of an apartment that I’ve barely felt connected to since I moved in nearly two months ago, because guess what? I’m never here. When I’m out, I’m not allowed to have feelings either. I’m not allowed to just sit back and take in the scenery with a water in my hand. Someone is always coming up to me shoving a drink to my lips, or asking me why I look melancholy. Yet before I can answer, I’m being told that I’m not allowed to be- not tonight, because Bougie is needed.
All I’ve wanted to do for the last few weeks is go home (wherever that is), throw on my NOFX t-shirt and a pair of boxers, crank the Greeley Estates on my iPod and relax on the couch after I organize more of the things I need to unpack around the apartment. I just want to be Heather.
Tonight I hit up Shari’s sushi happy hour (try saying that one five times fast) in Thornton Park with my good friend Dru. Over $3.75 cocktails and sushi rolls, I described how two weekends ago I lost my iPhone at Back Booth. I’ve broken down into tears over it several times since then, as well as nearly pulling a Naomi Campbell by smashing my previous BlackBerry into a million pieces because it won’t receive text messages or show me calls I’ve missed. Although my perfectionism is numero uno on the list of why I’m so distraught over losing my phone (I’ve never lost a phone- ever- let alone anything worth more than a few dollars) , the second reason I’ve been so torn up is because I feel completely disconnected from the world. When I’m bored at work, I can’t just shoot a text to my friend Lauren and have some of her wit hold me over for a few more hours. I can’t catch up with people via Facebook chat while I’m walking down Central Boulevard. I can’t watch a movie and IMDB it when I have an inquiry.
My friends have treaded lightly around this topic with me, but all have stated clearly that this is a good thing for me. They, as well as any guy that I’ve attempted to have a relationship with in the last 2 years, will say that I was always on my phone. Always. By now I’ve finally gotten over most of the anxiety associated with me losing it, and I’m agreeing and seeing this as one of those funny coincidences that makes you scratch your head and trust that things really do happen for a reason. Its funny how when you're least connected to everyone around you, it makes shutting the world down so much easier. Fancy that.
So here I sit, wearing my Devil Wears Prada t-shirt and A Day to Remember on the iPod, typing away from my favorite spot on the couch. I feel like I have finally come back to my center. Heather finally feels at home.
Oh, and my closet looks fabulous now that it’s not filled with random bags.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Like what you see?
Then please, Please, PLEASE vote for me for Best Local Blog (and vote for 14 other categories!) for Orlando Weekly's Best of Orlando edition!! I don't expect to take 1st, but they do a Top 3 which I'd like to crack into.
Thanks guys and gals for the support! Keep reading, laughing, and commenting :-)
P.S. If you really want to go out on a limb, you can vote for me for Best Local Writer, but I can name so many others!
Thanks guys and gals for the support! Keep reading, laughing, and commenting :-)
P.S. If you really want to go out on a limb, you can vote for me for Best Local Writer, but I can name so many others!
I think we've all felt this way about Orlando at one point...
Ricky Diamond got me listening to this song last night... And yes, I spent the better part of my morning dancing in my underwear while getting ready for work to it.
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