Waiting for My Real Life to Begin

The life and times of a girl named Swishy.

Friday, July 24, 2009

Holy cannoli, it's been a while

You guys! I have had just the hardest time settling into a real blogging groove since I moved. Part of this is because my schedule is a little nutty sometimes, along with the fact that it takes awhile after you move to get settled and into a real routine again anyway (or at least that's what I keep telling myself ... I've FINALLY started going to the gym on a semi-regular basis, which is a minor miracle in itself). And part of this--I swear this is true--is my coffee shop. I am not even kidding. I wrote, like, 90 percent of my posts (and the vast majority of my emails, which is a whole other story) at my old coffee shop, and my computer and I seriously cannot function without it. I am adrift, like an upside-down beetle waving its little legs in the air in the middle of a swimming pool, without my corner booth and the soft lighting and the warm chocolate chip cookies. AND the CIA agent!

But I am going to work on it, I am, I really am. In the meantime, a little bit of this and a little bit of that from the last week or so:

* I have officially been sucked into Big Brother. I watched it for the first time last summer, because it was a diversion from life. I'm watching it this summer because I'm coming home late from work, I have Showtime now, which shows the live feed from midnight to 3 am every night, and I have no willpower. So what you have now is me, sitting here, watching a 30-year-old man pluck his eyebrows like it's high entertainment.

* I finished this book and started this book.

* I was having kind of a bad day the other day, the kind of day where you feel like a 13-year-old girl holed up in her bedroom, listening to angry/depressing/sad music, writing in her diary so hard the pen rips through the paper and feeling completely misunderstood, unappreciated and invisible to the entire world. And then my friend sent me a text. It said, "I like your face," and somehow it was enough to make the inner, melodramatic 13-year-old put down the pen and turn down the music a little, and the world didn't seem so bad anymore.

* I went to this guy's barbeque the other day. I went all by my lonesome, without a wingman, which, holy crap, can be a little scary, because I know him but not really anyone else who was there, and they all know each other and hang out all the time. Our other friend was supposed to go but he couldn't make it at the last minute, and I was like, OK, Swish, just be brave for an hour and then you can go home and watch Big Brother on the safety of your big, comfy couch. Three hours later, I was dancing in the living room to Kanye West (SANS ALCOHOL!).

* I came home the other day just dying, dying, dying, I was so tired, but it was SUCH a nice day out, so instead of falling on the couch and taking a nap I made myself go down the street to the park and lay on a blanket there instead. I put my iPod on shuffle ... and, you know, sometimes I think I have pretty consistent taste in music, but when you mix it all up, man, do you get a random playlist. A sample:

Where Does the Good Go, Tegan and Sara
Strawberry Fields Forever, The Beatles
King of Wishful Thinking, Go West
A Murder of One, Counting Crows
If You Wanna be My Lover, Spice Girls
The Joker, The Steve Miller Band
Chocolate, Snow Patrol
Meet Me Halfway, Kenny Loggins

OK, I have MEET ME HALFWAY sandwiched between Snow Patrol and the Spice Girls. I mean ... really.

* We had a big drama at work yesterday, followed by another big drama, and after 11 hours or whatever I came home just, like, drained. My friend IMed me, and was like, are you happy right now? And I said, oh, so-so, long day, but I'm OK. And he said, OK, I know how you can smile right this second. 100 percent, scientifically proven, guaranteed smile. And in my head, I was like, if you make a comment about sex I will kill you, but instead he sent me this. I didn't even need to listen to the whole thing, I smiled right away, and I hope it makes you smile too if you need it. Have a good weekend, everyone!

Monday, July 13, 2009

What a man

So I finally saw The Proposal the other day. It was cute and funny, just like I'd heard, but my real takeaway walking out of the theater was, holy crap, Ryan Reynolds is a MAN. I don't mean a man in the sense that he has all the right parts (including a killer set of abs, yes, oh, yes, does he ever), but you know ... a MAN.

I say all the time that I feel so bad for girls today, because you look around Hollywood and there are just no young guys who are MEN. I loved Tom Cruise when I was younger, just adored him. I don't care that he's five foot nothing and has a little crazy in him, when you saw him chasing after an older woman in Top Gun and thundering away at Jack Nicholson in A Few Good Men, he was a MAN. Same for Brad Pitt 10 or 15 years ago. Now, who is there ... Shia LeBeouf? People's Sexiest Bachelor Chace Crawford? I loved the Rolling Stone cover of a water-soaked Zac Efron as much as the next budding cougar, but really? REALLY?

I've decided this absolute DEARTH of testosterone-laced manliness is a reflection of society as a whole. I feel like most of the guys I come across are just waiting for a woman to tell them what to do. And yes, that's very nice sometimes, like when there are heavy things to be lifted and tires to be changed, but the rest of the time it makes me INSANE. If I wanted a child, I WOULD HAVE A CHILD. There's the whole theory about women wanting to be "taken" by a man, and I guess that's part of it, but there's more to it than that. A man is confident, he's mature, he's decisive, he's an equal ... I don't know. He's a MAN.

I discussed this with my friend after watching that movie, and we came up with our short list of the manliest young men in Hollywood:

Taylor Kitsch. If you have not seen Friday Night Lights (the TV show, not the movie), stop reading right this second and go to Netflix or Blockbuster and GET THOSE DVDS. I will even send you mine if you pinkie swear you'll wipe the drool off before you give them back. (He also is in Wolverine, which I have not seen but hear is one big man convention thanks to Mr. Jackman as well.)

Leonardo DiCaprio. He is a little bit stunted in his personal life, I guess, but get him on a movie screen, and wow.

Josh Duhamel. I have shaken that strong, bronzed hand of his, and holy hot flashes and heart palpitations, is he ever a man. HELLO. Go to page 77 of the new InStyle (Katherine Heigl cover) and thank me later.

And yes, Ryan Reynolds. It's not about how he looked, it's about how he came across, as someone who was smart and confident and funny and very sure of who he was. That is MANLY.

Although, I mean, let's be honest, looking like this doesn't hurt:

Monday, July 06, 2009

Things I am totally over

* Standing in line for an hour at the Apple store--despite having made an appointment and arriving early for said appointment--only to have my beloved iPod pronounced dead in about 10 seconds. He picked it up, yes, but I don't even think he LOOKED at it.

* Drama queens, mama's boys and/or passive-aggressive people.

* Failing to find a wealthy benefactor who wants to pay me piles and piles of money to live a life of leisure, or at least a solid, all-expense-paid month of leisure so I can read a book in the sun and finally get through my DVR. (I know I went on a little vacation in May, I know. But it seems like sooooo! looooong! ago!)

* My hair. Yes, I got it cut, and no, I am not totally ready to talk about it yet. Put it this way: On the disaster scale, it's probably more of a heavy thunderstorm than a hurricane, but try telling that to the sad, broken branches lying in the middle of the street. (Cue frowny face.)

* That even the most spectacularly convincing case of denial doesn't make pepperoni pizza and Oreo Cakesters calorie-free. Or walking around the block a major workout.

* The battery on my phone repeatedly dying in the middle of conversations. (This might have something to do with the fact that I repeatedly forget to charge it. Tomato, tomahto.)

* This girl canceling on me tonight to go another girl's birthday party, which I was NOT invited to. Yes, I realize how second grade that sounds.

* Did I mention the drama queens and mama's boys?