Saturday, June 20, 2009

"This Won't End Well..."

You look into his/her eyes and you tell him/her that. It's the same warning you've given a hundred times. A thousand times. You've been right every. single. fucking. time. Being right is starting not to matter one. fucking. bit.

This is how it goes:

You smile at each other, eyelids getting heavy. Happy. It's more than a date, less than a relationship. It's not an interview, but not...not an interview. It's not daring to say it, but looking ahead and imagining your future with him/her. Your house. Your kids. Your in-laws. Your finances. Your pets. Your fights. Your compromises. Your secrets. His/her secrets. It all seems...good. You look into the eyes that are staring back at you. What is that look? What does that mean?

Your eyes open up wide again. Then, unfortunately, yet, predictably, you open your mouth. You start talking.

"This won't end well, you know, you see... everything you see about me that you think you like you will stop liking, everything you think is charming you will hate me for, everything adorable becomes painstaking wretched, you see, I can't do this, I am bad at this and it has never worked before and it will never work, everything I give to you I am taking away from me and I have so very little to start with that I can give nothing, not my time, not my space, not to mention I am a freak, I can't get close to people, I scare easily, I startle easily, I don't sleep, I disappear for weeks on end, I don't return phone calls, I cancel plans, I get scared to leave my house, I want to go away on vacations, but I want to go alone, I don't want to talk about my family, all I want to do is talk about work, because it's the only thing I am good at, and I am actually not that good at it, I am just good at faking it, and right now you're going to say it's all fine and that you like your space, too, and you hate those couples who have to be around each other all the time and it's awesome that I'm not like everyone else and if I were like everyone else you wouldn't be interested in me, and you don't like to talk on the phone anyway, and we can do this if I can just have a little faith in you, and I will have a little faith in you, but then in a week, two weeks, three weeks, what I have won't be enough, who I am won't "work for you" and yes although it's true I had given you that warning in advance doesn't mean you have to like it, and you will tell me that every chance you get, and then I stop calling, then you stop calling, then, you move on, I move on, or the other way around, and I am back to where I've started, and you are back to where you've started. So, you see? This won't end well."

He/she looks right back at you. A bemused half-smile on his/her face. Is it confidence? Is it an act? You have no fucking idea. He/she asks "And how many times have you given that little speech?" A lot, you admit. More times than you care to count. But now you've said it. You're now off the hook. You can now continue sabotaging your own life and your own happiness, and now it's all on him/her when this whole thing goes so horribly awry, which it is absolutely going to do.

You can't stop yourself. You're on a roll. You must continue. You tell him/her every bad thing about you. Just so there are no surprises down the road. You fail to disclose even one good thing about you, as if there is nothing ever good to tell. You never say how loyal you are. You never say how you look good in a gown. You never say how hard and often you will make him/her laugh. No. What you say is "this won't end well."

Maybe there's room for change. Maybe next time, you can shorten the speech, or what the fuck? Eliminate it completely. Because what if you're wrong? What if... it could end well?

What if you learned to just shut the fuck up?

Next time, maybe you should try it. Next time, maybe you will.

Unimportant Things That Make Me Happy- A Meme

I saw this meme over at Hot Sauce Redemption, a truly fantastic blog. I love the writing. And I love the name. And I love that she called me a quesadilla. Normally, I don't do memes. Especially happy ones, because I am such a naturally miserable, negative and toxic person, but since today is the most perfect day ever, and it's summer and it's Saturday and it's not raining, and I am going to see fantastic live theatre tonight, and there's a good chance there will be lobster bisque before the live theatre and I just got a manicure and pedicure, I'm just going to go ahead and think happy thoughts.

Here are the rules:
1) List Six Unimportant Things That Make You Happy.
2) Mention and link to the person who tagged you
3) Tag six of your favorite bloggers to play along, and comment on their blog to let them know they've been tagged.


1. Rabbits. I love them. They fascinate and delight me. My landlord informed me that we "have a rabbit problem." I do not understand what the fuck he is talking about. Little furry things with big pointy ears who hop around looking all cute and weird and bewildered? I don't see where the fucking problem is in that. If Salvador Dali was instructed by god or whoever to invent a cute animal, he would have invented the rabbit.

2. New Socks. If I won the lottery, I would never wear the same pair of socks twice.

3. One way hugs. Here's how they work: I stand perfectly still with my hands at my sides. In other words, I do nothing. Someone I love hugs me.

4. The sound of handcuffs going on and locking. Whatever. I'm not ashamed. I'm a prosecutor. And before anybody decides to get all judgy, of course I want them going on only the defendants who deserve it.

5. Jogging outside in the rain. It's the only time I will ever jog outside. It's really fun, and if you make a big point of running through every puddle and splashing up disgusting city water all over yourself, it's fucking awesome. First people look at you like you're batshit-crazy, and then they wish they were doing it too.

6. The sound of my asshole dog contentedly sighing as she sleeps with her head on my thigh in the sun.

Bonus happy thing: Glass eyes. They are so sexy.

I am tagging everyone. Or no one. I might tag myself and come up with six more later.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

To All Bartakers Everywhere Who Are Reading This Blog:

Calm the FUCK DOWN.

Did you hear me? I'll say it again.

Calm the FUCK DOWN.

And maybe one final time... CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

Ok? Here's how I know a decent number of you are freaking out. In case you don't know, Sitemeter is this little tool that tells me who comes to my blog, and how they find my blog. Here are some of the searches that have led people to me:

"Bar Exam" & "Freaking out"
"Bar Exam Tips"
"I'm going to fail the bar exam"
"Bar Exam" & "want to die"
"Bar Exam" & "I'm a loser"
"Bar Exam" & "want to set myself on fire"
"Advice to those who failed the bar exam"
"Bar exam" & "can't stop crying"

Ok. Seriously. You need to chill out. I know that's totally unfair of me to say, because when I was studying for the bar, I asked my friend to hit me with his car, not hard enough to kill me, but just hard enough that I wouldn't have to take the bar exam. And I actually thought this was a reasonable request. So I get it. But he told me to calm the fuck down, and I did. And it helped.

I am in no position to offer actual tips on how to pass the bar, because quite frankly, I have no idea how I did it.

Here are just a few things I want to remind you of, even though I know you probably already know this.

Just because someone has all their barbri books tabbed and color coded, organized perfectly, with correlating colored flash cards, does not mean they are in a better position to pass the bar. This is not a method of learning. It's a method of feeling in control. It may not be your way. That's fine.

Most of you will pass.

Everyone feels the exact same way as you do.

Stop feeling guilty every time you catch yourself not studying. You need to take a break.

While I appreciate you reading my blog, YOU WILL FIND NO NEW INFORMATION ABOUT THE BAR BY GOOGLING "BAR EXAM" & "FREAKING OUT"

Right now, walk away from the computer. Take a breath. Take a walk. Have a drink. Have a smoke. Go have sex. Do something ELSE. The fact that you are googling the things you are googling to bring you to my blog is clearly a sign that you need to calm the FUCK DOWN, and take a break.

Just do it.

XO
Grace

Monday, June 15, 2009

My Stolen Lines #5

Tell me, have you ever thought of changing your life?

In the interest of being the biggger person, I am removing my stolen lines.

However, it should be noted that a removal is not necessarily a retraction.

I can come up with something better anyway.

Monday, June 08, 2009

Pause


Rather than feel badly about not posting, I'm just announcing I'll be back in a few days.

In the meantime, write your Stolen Lines.

Or watch this.

I am... life-raft searching...

Monday, June 01, 2009

Stolen Lines #5

Tell me... have you ever thought...of changing your life?

Hopefully this line is more inspiring.

The rules: Start your post with the above line. End your post with "I stole the first line of this post from the play, Betrayal, by Harold Pinter" And maybe link back to me so people can understand the point of the post.

And whatever you put in the middle is up to you.

There's no deadline. Write whenever you feel like it. If you want to have your post included, just leave a comment or send me an email telling me you've posted.

PS. This is open to absolutely anyone. All you have to do is write it.

Here, you can find the previous Stolen Lines.

*Update: Stolen Lines by:

Brita

Butterflyfish

Pearly Blythe
Just Jenn
Vernacular
Jane Know
The Artful Blogger
Fianna Fianna Fianna
Colby in the City
Joy
Miss Foxy