theworldofdale

Archive for the ‘Home’ Category

all you need is love

In Communication, Home, Relationships on December 3, 2010 at 10:02 pm

It has come to my attention that my previous post appears to paint a dismal picture of relationships.

I don’t think it’s bleak… but maybe that’s because I’m an optimist.  Like, love still happens.  What makes love amazing and awesome is that it overcomes all those natural urges.  Like we are fighting our own biological nature.  Compromise is a beautiful thing.

I don’t want to imply that relationships are something to be cynical about.  I’m really not cynical at all, and the reason I’m not cynical is that I don’t see malice in people’s behavior; it’s just human nature.  But I’m super optimistic about people and relationships and love.  I think people are amazing.

I hate to say that I saw good advice in Glamour magazine.  but I did.  It said make a list of everything you want in a potential mate.  When you meet someone who makes you not care about the list, you’ve got your winner.

The point being- love is what makes all of the bullshit about women treating men as a strategy game and men treating women like sex objects go down the drain, because they can’t stand up to love.  There is a magical thing about a relationship where two people are in it to win it.  Maybe they aren’t soul mates, and maybe they won’t be together forever, but for the time being, it’s them against the world.

I believe in love.  I even believe in marriage (although it’s not for everyone, I imagine).  As much as I see myself as more trouble than I’m worth, it’s never crossed my mind that there isn’t someone out there who is all about putting up with my shit for the long haul.

But please, no heart-shaped jewelry.  I have my limits.

thanks

In Communication, Entertainment and Nightlife, Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Home, Relationships, Work on November 24, 2010 at 7:38 pm

It’s Thanksgiving eve, and instead of celebrating the biggest party night of the year, I’m going to stay home and watch Chappelle’s Show.  I have a lot to be thankful for this year.  Let’s do a rundown.

I have health insurance.  I have already been to four doctors, and there are more lined up.

I have the most amazing friends in the world.  I am in awe of how truly smart, funny, kind, and beautiful the people are who let me hang around them.  I have a best friend who is like a sister to me.  I have friends who have helped me move multiple times in the past 10 years.  I have friends across the entire spectrum of age, beliefs, and backgrounds.  Different colors, different genders, different orientations, but they all manage to put up with me.

I have a dog.  She teaches me patience as well as being so cute it makes me kind of wince.

My parents are people that I would feel lucky to know, much less be their child.  I have more fun hanging out with them than just about anyone.  If you wonder where my confidence comes from, it’s from having parents who love me unconditionally and have never let me believe there was anything I couldn’t do.

Most of all, I’m thankful for faith.  I’m not going to get into a lot of religious stuff here, because my beliefs are mine and not your concern and vice versa.  But I’m really glad that I have faith, because that’s where the peace is.  Shit hits the fan on a regular basis.  My life has plenty of downers, trust me.  I could throw myself a little pity party and actually get people to show up out of sympathy.  There’s no sense in that, though.  I’d rather throw a birthday party and get people to show up out of desire for slap bracelets.

One of my credos is a morbid little ditty I saw at a deli in my neighborhood.  It said, “I don’t know how it will all turn out.  All I know is: I’ll end up dead in the end.  So what could go wrong?”  It’s just another way of saying life is short.  Like Oscar Wilde said, life is too important to be taken seriously.

Every day is my thanksgiving, because I would rather be grateful than complain.

I promise to bring back my asshole ways in the next post.

comfortably dumb

In Food and Spirits, Health and Wellness, Home on November 18, 2010 at 5:18 pm

I think a lot.  I analyze and then analyze my analysis.  My brain is usually going a hundred miles an hour.  Sometimes I forget what I’m talking about in the middle of the story because my brain has already moved on.

But now I’m sick.  Just a cold, nothing fatal, but one of the first symptoms I usually notice is clouded thinking.  I have a hard time focusing.  My reading comprehension goes down the tubes.  I can’t remember anything.  By the time someone has finished their question, I have forgotten it.

This means I’m completely useless when I’m sick.  I don’t think I’m too whiny, but I’m definitely a waste of space.  I’m too weak to get mundane tasks done, and too dumb to even read.  I just sit on the couch and stare at the television and then go to sleep, on repeat for 3 or 4 days.

By day 3, I’m itching for human contact.  I’ve become tired with computer-mediated communication and a nod to the mailman while I’m walking the dog.  I’m ready to slather myself in antibacterial soap and throw on a hospital mask and mingle with the masses.

Though, I will admit that it’s a nice break.  All that thinking wears me out after a while, so turning into a couch potato for a couple days is probably necessary for the batteries to recharge.  It just so happens that my battery juice is made of HGTV and Chinese food.

I just used all of my available brainpower for this post.  I hope I can still maintain bladder control.  I’m going to go sit in the bathtub for a while just in case.

a dog’s life

In Communication, Home, Relationships on November 11, 2010 at 7:44 pm

I have a dog.  She is a puggle and her name is Deva (which is pronounced Day-vah).  She is very much a princess, and I have no idea where she gets it.

Deva is almost entirely opposite of my last dog, Yogi Beara.  Yogi was a black Chow Chow.  Yogi is the only dog I’ve ever met who would walk away from you while you were petting him.  He had no interest in treats or toys.  I would fill his food bowl and he would eat when he felt like it.  On the occasions that I managed to get some petting in, he would immediately shake himself off (we referred to it as “shaking off the love”).  He was mostly content to lay around and nap and stretch and yawn.  He refused to get onto furniture or my bed, despite my frequent invitations.  The only thing that ever really got Yogi interested was Indian food.  I could leave a nice medium-rare filet mignon on my coffee table, and he would lazily lift his head, sniff two times, and go back to snoring.  But a paper plate that had at some point held Indian food would be devoured.

Deva loves toys.  She loves attention.  She eats her food within 15 seconds of it landing in her dish.  She has to be curled up next to me at all times and is happiest when she can lay behind me on the top of the couch and rest her head on my shoulder (seriously).  Deva would love nothing more than constant petting.  And I can’t keep her off the furniture.  If I have any socks or underwear in my bedroom, I can rest assured that I will come home to her surrounded by them with a pair in her mouth.

These two dogs are able to so perfectly portray the dichotomous nature of my personality, that I have to figure it was in the fates or the hands of God or my horoscope or something that they have been my consecutive pets.  I’ve learned a lot from both of them, and as much as I would prefer to embrace my laid-back, Yogi-style side, I can’t dismiss the parts of me that are all Deva.

Which makes me the worst kind of girl.