isn't it ironic...dont you think?

The media strikes again.

I read today that some Americans (and the GOP cough cough) are upset that President Obama kept his promise to his wife to take her to a Broadway play once the Presidential race was over.

First, let me preface these following thoughts with the fact that I think marriage can be a beautiful and magical ideal and when done right, can make the world a better place through it's love.
Yet we live in a country where marriage only survives (yes, survives, like it's on the reality show in the middle of the Amazonian rainforest) 50% of the time. When that half does actually make it, they are rarely the picturesque love-filled, glowing blossom of light that Ive always dreamed of. Ive always seen on TV in those 80's and 90's sitcoms. In the way my parents were not.

True, reality does set in and makes 'being in love' more difficult than anyone can predict. It makes doing the little things for your other half unimportant and uneventful. It makes figuring out how to pay a bill on a wish and a prayer more of a priority than the person you pledged yourself to for rich or for poor. It makes us come home and cuddle with the couch and our cell phone and our big TVs and our laptops and our ridiculous gadgets, instead of making love and letting your problems just sit for a bit. They aren't going anywhere fast.

Still, that is no excuse for us; as people who love and want to be in love and want to give love and want to see love and want to feel loved. That is no excuse for the way we systematically ignore the welcomed duty of love. Especially making promises to your partner, supporting your partner and reflecting your happiness and bliss back onto your children, onto strangers,onto the world.

So why is it that when our President, who has continually displayed his undying love for his wife, goes out for a "date night" to NY does he get so much slack? Because GM is going bankrupt? Because our country can't balance a check book?

According to some groups, it was a waste of time and energy and focus for Obama to go to NY to have dinner and see a show as he promised to his wife, when the country is in financial turmoil. We've been going bankrupt, been in financial dissaray, been stuck without a pot to piss in. Obama having a night off to spend with the person he pledged his life to under God will not somehow deter him from guiding the free world. Why is it that the first President, in a very long time, who shows affection for his family and actually embodies what we Americans see our 'way' of family and life, gets ridiculed?

It didn't make Clinton loose focus (and we all know that was not his wifey)...

An Ode to Lil Boys

Typically, I enjoy writing about current events. Whats in the news, whats going on in the world or here at home behind the Orange Curtain. However, today, I would like to do something special. Something that has been on my mind and is becoming quite acceptable. I would like to write An Ode to Lil Boys...

No, no. I did not spell that wrong. No, no. You dont need to re-read it.
I meant Lil boys, not little boys.

See - there is a difference.

A BIG difference.

I should know - I have a Lil Boy.

Oddly enough, he is very tall. 6'1 in fact and seemingly grown in stature.
Hmmm.

So it is safe that one understand it isn't his size that makes him Lil.

No, no.

Rather, it is his mindset. His goals. (or lack thereof). His juvinile tendencies to throw tantrums and pout.

Yes, yes. Pout.

His inclination to hold out conversation when things dont go his way. His need to be needy, to be clingy, to want you to stifle your everything for his whims. His fault of unrecepricle attention.

Poor Lil Boys....

See - I am not a mother. Nor a full-time babysitter. And most certainly, I am not a grown-man sitter, whatever that is.

Yet I seem to have attracted a Lil Boy to my side...

I dont know what to do to send this Lil Boy home. Back where he came from. Back out of my life. Back to his momma...hopefully. Im sure she misses him dearly.

Maybe leave him a note: "Dear Lil Boy, We need to talk. I think you should go home."

Maybe text him: "Hey L.B - We nd 2 tlk 4 sure"

Maybe I will just call him: ring...ring...ring. "Hi, you've reached me. I'm not here right now..."

Not here. Not answering. Not responding. Not conversating.

Lil Boy, we need to have an adult conversation right away.

Dont misunderstand; I have fallen in love with my Lil Boy. He is sweet and charming. I adore his humor, his smile, and marvel at his gentle touch. There is a ton about him that is amazing.
Except he's changed...and

It's just...sometimes I think...

What I wouldn't do to trade this Lil Boy in for a Big Kid. For a Big Boy. For a Real Grown Man.
One who cares about me. Wants to truly protect and provide for me like he claims and most importantly, doesn't disrespect me.

Yes, yes. Not listening and caring IS disrespect.

And I would be there for him. I would love to take care of him, to cook him dinner and make him lunch. To leave him notes when he gets home that just say I Love You, and heres a reminder so you never forget. To fold his socks and find the one missing to complete the pair that has been M.I.A for weeks. To suprise him in nothing but a grin...

Sigh.
You can't expect these things from a Lil Boy...and I can't do these things for a Lil Boy.
So the search continues.

In the meantime - I will leave flyers and signs and pass out waivers to anyone I see looking lonely and in need of a playdate...
pssst.
I have a Lil Boy for sale.

Greatness!

This SNL skit with Justin Timerlake and Cast regular Adam is amazing. Creativity like this should be shared...enjoy!

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Moving On Up

I was reading a blog today from a woman who was asking, when, if ever, are you ready to move in with your significant other. The headline itself caught my eye, seeing that recently I (and my (significant other) have made that life changing decision.The article proposed the question of timing, how to deal with family concerns and if pursued, how do you not stagger in that level, but instead progress,perhaps into marriage, a family, etc. While I hadn't thought about all of these things to the extent the author had, they got me thinking about what did occur to me when my beau and I started to call the same place home.It sort of came as a proposition and ingenious idea all wrapped up in a hesitant question. After a year and a half of me driving to his place,living out of my large purses and slowly but steadily taking over the topright drawer of his dresser, we had become very very close and enamored witheach others company. In my own life I had moved 4 times throughout our relationship and always the helpful boyfriend, he thought all the moving wasinsane. True it was. After my family relocated to the east coast, I quickly moved out and in with one roommate near my family home. Things didn't workour and my roommate ended up relocated back up north, so of course, I had tomove. Fast forward 2 other roommates, and an increasingly annoying situationwith my then-current self-proclaimed 'mother' of a roommate and I was just about ready to trudge once more in my nomadic routine. We were sitting together one night, watching Family Guy and sprawled out along the couch when I was discussing the new room for rent sign I had seen earlier. The 'why are you moving again' look crept over his face and I took a deep breathe and prepped myself for the highly rehearsed, but very true, rote speech about how none of the places I had been living felt like a real home.Since my family left, I had never found a place that I felt could be my home and I could feel comfortable roaming around or inviting people over or even cook in the kitchen. Yes ­ my most recent roommate would not allow me to use the oven or the dishwasher and instead banished me to a circa 1900¹s toaster oven that would spark from the outlet when it became too hot ­ any temperature over 375 would do it. He would always see my plight and appease me by simply agreeing and urging me to move. After my one-woman monologue,we both sat in silence for a bit watching TV, and lying atop of his leg, I could feel him flinch. In my boyfriend, this is the sign of an emmerging idea. I have him a second, and like clockwork, he took a big gasp of air,and proceed with, "What do you think about living...together?". I was surprised. Elated, nervous, speechless, and excited also. This seemed right. The timing alone was perfect -­ he himself was in the infancy stages oflooking for a new place, without his messy roommate, since their lease was coming to a close. We both wanted to split expenses and have a cool,'grown-up' place to chill and hang out...why not live together? We left the conversation both pondering the what if's and why not's, but agreed that we would seriously consider the downside and even seek outside counsel­friends- for real life testimony. This was in January. By the middle of February, we were spending every other weekend looking at housing and weighing the pro's and con's of living in Huntington Beach vs. Irvine. We hadn't even fully committed to 'doing it' but it just sort of happened. I moved out of my kitchen-less living situation at the end of February and moved in with him the whole month of March. We found a place and set a moving date for the beginning of April. The place is great ­ bright, airy,tons of space and 2 bedrooms. Yes ­ 2 rooms; dual masters actually. This, I believe, is such a must and a luxury at the same time. We knew we wanted to be together and live together, but seeing as how I like to do my nails in bed while watching reruns of countless reality shows, while he dreams of basketball games in his boxers with cereal by his side, sharing a room for an indefinite period seemed overwhelming. I think it is the best thing for us. Our own space, own sanity, yet his 11 steps away (I have counted) and I'm next to him, in his bed, enjoying our home and us.So to answer the question of WHEN it is a good time to move in with your significant other ­ I don't know. After my whole speech, I still don't know. I do know that this is how it worked out for us and has been going well so far. Just be honest and open about how you live and the expectations you have for the whoever you leave with. Be patient and willing to give each other space. If you cant see yourself falling more in love with this person or wanting to know more and more about them, then moving in maybe a no go for you. Or as my mother told me, "its only a lease ­ 6-2 months tops. You don't like it, move out".

Im Sorry To Say

I have turned against the media. Not a full turn away from it, but in this moment, I no longer view it like the idol I once did. I say this because of the current events in the news. The saddening events. The news of Rihanna and how her life has been put on display for all of us to judge and scold as we see fit. Excuse me while I step off my own pedestal, because I am no one to judge anyone, if for no other reason than I am not perfect myself. Yet, because of her status as a 'pop princess' and 'fashion icon', the title of 'domestic victim' has also been stamped on her forehead more prominently that her own name. And by no fault of her own - no one truly knows what happened that night in Chris Browns rented silver Lamborghini, but the marks and bruises evident on her early February face say enough. Assaulted, victimized, beaten and manhandled all come into play when her picture was splashed onto TMZ's infamous website. I myself gasped; horribly amazed at the damage he did to the woman he has claimed was his girlfriend for over a year. Regardless of exactly what happened to have put both of them in the disappointing situation of violence and public scorn, she, it appears, is now the only bad guy. Yes, he did wrong. Yes, he obviously hurt her. But how awful of her to take him back. What a bad example of a woman to take a beater back into her life. Ugh she must not have learned. Really?! Is that what we do to victims? We suddenly make them the criminal and allow the true culprit, Brown, to escape the backlash he has brought upon himself? Understandably, I sympathize with Rihanna and absolutely wish her the very best under the circumstances and with everything she pursues; I believe this is also the intent of the public at large. Still, there are those who disguise their 'goodwill' under judgemental pretenses. Perhaps Rihanna should consider what truly occurred that night, assuming what it looks like happened actually happened, and let some time help heal her heart. Perhaps she should seek another outlet to give her space from her once-upon-a-time ex. Perhaps she could even let him suffer the physical consequences he has caused, and then some, and decided, based on his behavior and maturity, if he has grown and deserves her back. Perhaps. But this is her life...shes just living her life...and I personally wish people would just give her the space to do so. Thousands of abused women return to their alleged or convicted attackers, for various reasons, and while it hurts to see it happen, they never have thousands of perfect strangers telling them its wrong. Telling them they made a mistake. Telling them they must not have learned.How hurtful to someone who's already been hurt enough.

So Much To Do

Dear Blogging Gods -

Please forgive me for I have sinned. I have ignored my self-inflicted responsibility to keep 'you' in the know, and for that I am internally sorry. But, alas, let me make it up to you:

Life is in transition for me right now. Transition meaning, if I don't find a way to keep of with it, I will surely be left in the dust and that's no bueno at all. Between school, work, moving twice and saving, I am aghast at how the next 33 days will pan out and yet utterly excited to begin this really amazing point in my life. Or at least I hope it is. It could be on of those 'amazing points in peoples lives' that actually turns to bite them on their ass. But not me - I cant focus on that and for sure that ass biting sounds harsh. The next month or so will encompass several things: a mini vacation, moving twice (I'll explain), saving lots and lots of money (hmmm), going to a Broadway play, and all the while keeping the dueling balance of school 3 times a week, daily 9-5 work and a wonderful boyfriend (unless he runs for the hills before I do :-).

I am a persistent and evolving nomad by nature. It really isn't my fault, still, I haven't exactly tried to tone down my roaming tendencies. I currently have a roommate, who by all means, is a frugal tyrant. Eh, not so Fidel Castro, but if the position suddenly becomes open, she has my nomination. While she is a mother and living on subsidized income (a.k.a my rent is subsidizing her income), she insists on viewing me as a child comparable to her own 5-year old and not the (ahem) 21 yr old independent woman that I am. Insert 'the problem'. In light of that information, I have been looking for a new place to live since early December. Combine my nomadic ways with her...ways, and that equals a move to me. After a few interesting attempts, reliable sources close to me simply put it this way, "Stop moving in with strangers and try to live with someone you actually know". Insert 'novel idea'. My boyfriend was also looking for a place to escape the roommate sagas he was experiencing and thought we should simply move in together. We decided to do so and have finally found an apartment worth paying for, hence the saving. When I happily alerted my roommate, she was OK with the news; I would be moving at the end of March, so this was here 60+ days notice. Until 3 days later, she upped the ante by asking me to move in 30 days, at the end of February. UGH. So the first stage of this transition I am in involves moving a month earlier than planned in with my boyfriend, storing 90% of my belongings in storage, only to have to move again mid-March to our new, amazing Mecca some would simply call home.

Keeping all this in mind, my boyfriend is a twin. His brother and his girlfriend, who live in Atlanta, would like to come to Las Vegas with my beau and I when we go next week :-). This was all planned before the move(s) and will actually provide a good distraction from the intense relocating process. They are so much fun, and when my boyfriend and his brother are together...watch out because here comes the party. Thank goodness they are VERY taken men or I would fear for Las Vegas and their female residents. While the traveling couple is on the West Coast, we are going to see the Broadway hit, RENT, which I have permanently embedded in my

memory and if, for any reason, they too suddenly need to fill a position, I will nominate myself. So this is perhaps stage 2 in the transition and that's not necessarily where it ends.


Until May, I will be in my Spring semester of college. Until I'm 65 (HA-75 with this economy) I will be working a full-time job. Bleak outlook, I know, but reality. As I am writing this blog, I am ignoring at least 2 assignments that would be beneficial to my education. Supposedly. Actually, I find blogging quite educational and inspirational to my learning process; did I mention one of the assignments is in my online math class? UGH. While at work, I successfully manage to use that block of time to do what I'm not doing now, which is my homework. Clever, I know. It worked last semester; 4.0 (honest). However, it is a juggle and usually, I am mundanely taking notes while answering a 5-line phone I will soon be calling "my best friend" if our daily entourages keep up they way they are. Oh how I long for Fall of 2010 when I can transfer to Cal State LB and have even more work that I too will put off for blogging.
And so you see, Blogging Gods, how insanely busy I have been and will continue to be...but will duly make the strongest effort to do even less homework and instead, write, write and write. Until the keyboard runs for the hills too.

Amen

No, not like the city in Alaska

Im late, I know, but I finally saw it. Juno. The 'freaks and geeks' backwards fairytale of teenage love and the premature ejaculation of a child in their midsts. I had heard so much about the film that it is a wonder how I didnt rush to see it. But if I dwell on woulda, coulda, shouldas...It is truly a romance under the guise of a cynical teen drowning in the waters of an unplanned pregnancy, while trying to find ideal 'real' parents for her baby. The twist: her high school boyfriend truly loves her, even with the bun in the oven and the picturesque pickett-fence couple she finds have a few problems of their own.
Juno is ironic, funny, witty, and surprisingly realistic for a mainstream film. Oops! Almost forgot - the Diablo Cody screenplay started its avalanche into success at small indie film fests and grew. Alot. And happily so. I think this film says so much without saying anything at all: shit happens and life goes on and you arent shit for the shit that happens...your just normal. Whatever that is. I especially love how the character Juno was depicted; way too young to have a kid, but so smart, cool, and aware of the world around her and not stuck in a mall somewhere like Hollywood would have us all thinking. For the record, girls do more than shop ("What?! Shut cho mouth!"). Shes confident, not cocky, yet vulnerable and so young. At times you forget how young she is, until a scence places her in the backpack jungle of high school and, yep, your memory is jared. It is her youth that lets the pregnancy scream 'mistake' and 'do over'...if only it were that easy.