Getting Back to Good

The last month has been… shitty. Some days are okay. Some days I get relatively close to feeling normal. Some days are even pretty close to great. But there’s still those times, sometimes entire days, where I still feel completely out of sorts. A lot of it has to do with the (ex)boyfriend. After a break up, even after you begin moving on, there’s still those times when the sadness/loss/anger/confusion creeps back in and keeps you from feeling completely whole again. And those times, while lessening, are just… shitty.

It probably doesn’t help much that every day I drive to work I have to pass the place we first met (literally two blocks from my office. Cool.) and be reminded of that excitement and possibility I felt that night. That? Yeah, that probably doesn’t help me in getting back to my old self either. That’s just… shitty.

But, you know what’s not shitty? Keeping myself busier this month than I have in a long time. Spending more time with friends. Trying new things. Forcing myself back into working out. Taking cooking classes. Going to shows solo and meeting new people. And…

GETTING A NEW JOB! Not only do I not have to pass that place that now makes me feel a whole lotta sad feels daily, I also have something really exciting to focus on. It’s been no secret that I’ve been less than thrilled with my current job and really ready for a new challenge, and now finally I have it.

While none of these things truly speed up the broken heart healing process, they do help to keep me feeling positive and happy, and even excited. They make it easier to keep going until the day comes along when I’m finally back to the old me…tumblr_mifxnwn4f41qkn03yo1_400

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Lucky Number Seven

Almost a month ago I booked my tickets for a long weekend in California. I’ve been waiting for. a. month. and I still have seven days left until I leave. As some of you darling readers may know, I am not the world’s most patient person. When I’m excited, truly excited for something, I CANNOT WAIT for it. I turn into the poster child for antsy in the pantsy. Well, in a feeble attempt to distract myself from the torture of these next seven days slooooowly crawling by, I’ve thought up my seven favorite things about the first seven months of 2012. Ya like to hear it? Here it goes…

In no particular order, I present to you:

Thalia’s Top Seven of 2012 (so far…)

1. Officially losing 20 pounds

This has been a goal of mine since I started working out pretty religiously. Ok, so it took me almost three years and there was a lot of losing and gaining then re-losing and re-gaining and finally re-re-losing. And, ok, so the goal was actually 30 pounds and I still don’t have Jennifer Lopez’s body, but, you know what? 20 pounds was really tough! And on top of that, I ran 10 damn hilly, hot miles and I NEVER thought I’d do that. So, I’m still striving for 30, but I feel damn happy with the first 20 being gone.

2. Getting rid of toxic people

Yeah, I’m looking at you bad boyfriends and bad friends and bad, absent father. I will be the first to admit I hold on to people much longer than I should. When I love, no matter what sense of ‘love’ it is, I love deeply and that connection takes me a really long time to break completely. It’s taken plenty long to finally just understand that these people are who they are and nothing, absolutely nothing, I do or attempt to do will change that. And really, I don’t even know how this detox, I guess you can call it, happened. I don’t know if it was the gradual, persistent “I deserve better than this.” thoughts or if I magically woke up one day and things finally clicked, but whatever it is, I just know now that my happiness does not depend on these people. Yes, I still care about these people, but only in the general ‘I wish them well in their lives’ type of care. They no longer hold my emotions hostage, and, honestly, I feel even lighter than the 20 lost pounds without that baggage holding me down.

3. Opening up to new non-toxic people

Generally, I’m not keen on meeting new people. Not because I have great desires of becoming a hermit (although, some days…) but just because I’m a hot mess when it comes to people I don’t know. I’m usually shy and awkward and I can’t tell you how many people have told me they thought I hated them when we first met (I get it, I look like a bitch if I’m not smiling or laughing. I GET IT!), so, in general, I usually just stick with the people I already have in my inner circle. But, this year I went out of my way to expand my social world. I wanted to push myself to open up more and I am damn glad I did. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have some fabulous new girlfriends, and I certainly wouldn’t be on my way to California next week (and holy shit, am I DAMN GLAD I am!!!).

4. Being told I rock at work

Ok, so those weren’t the exact words used, but that was the gist of it. I know, I know, I’ve gone on record saying this isn’t my dream job, but even if it’s not, I like to do well. And I like praise. I mean, who doesn’t like praise? So, after letting things slip a bit last year while in my post-break up melancholy, I was REALLY happy to hear that my work this year has been really great and appreciated. Even better? Being specifically requested for big projects by people I’ve never worked with before, but hear great things about me. Why yes, after hearing that, I’d love to help out! 

5. Having fun

This year isn’t even close to over yet and I’ve already had way too much fun. I’ve seen great shows with great people. I’ve had crazy adventures at the X Games. I’ve danced my ass off on more than one occassion. I’ve gotten rowdy at soccer games (and over David Beckham’s abs). I’ve cried after mimosa came out my nose while laughing too hard at brunch with the gals. I’ve danced and sang at the top of my lungs with my sister and The Black Keys. I’ve lounged with my family at the lake. I’ve been to more baseball games than I can count. I’ve swooned while meeting players for said sport. I’ve celebrated friend’s birthdays and had amazing friends celebrate mine. I’ve kissed a boy and felt it all the way in my toes. Yes, these first seven months of 2012 have been FUN.

6. Feeling hope

Nothing feels better than feeling hope after you thought you’d lost it for good. Maybe all the things I’m feeling hopeful about right now (yep, looking at you boy I kissed and felt in my toes) won’t turn out the way I’m hoping they will. But, the point is, I’m letting myself hope.

7. Knowing there is so much more to come

Aside from my upcoming weekend getaway, there is SO much to look foward to in the next few months, that the excitement of it all is already one of my favorite things. Taking my mom to the Book of Mormon. My friend’s baby girl on her way (yeah, Brandon and Kirsten!!!). My cousin getting married (yeah, Jamie and Dustin!!!). Getting tickets to BRUCE fucking SPRINGSTEEN! Concerts at Red Rocks. Dancing to a funk band with my favorite roomie on Halloween. Camping. Water World. Great American Beer Fest. Holidays with my family. The list could go on, so here’s lookin at you, next five months!

You know what would easily make this list? If someone where to, say, invent a time machine so it can be seven days from now already! Come on, scientists of the world. Let’s all put aside curing diseases and finding ways to prevent global warming and focus on ME and my selfish needs!!!

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Where’s crazy ol Doc Brown when you need him???

What Will I Be When I Grow Up?

To provide an update to my last blog to my thousands (or two) readers…                    
Most of my friends whom I brought the ‘is this or is this not a date’ conundrum to informed me that last Friday night would indeed be a date. I remained steadfast in my opinion that it would not be. Well readers, you are about to see something very rarely conceded by me…I was wrong. They were right. I shan’t go into the gory details, but, even if the night started off in Friendshipville, it was clear to even boneheaded me that by night’s end, we had relocated to Date City. Date City is not where I’m looking to permanently relocate to with this particular person, but that’s not to say I didn’t have a good enough time. The drinks and conversation were all nice and light and free flowing. We sampled beers and wines and discussed common places we loved from our college town and our favorite movies and sports teams. It was all fun enough. Until I was hit with this question…


“So, if you aren’t in love with your job, what is it you are in love with? What is it you really want to do?”


Whoa, buddy. What happened to the nice and light?! Needless to say, I was stumped. I had no clear answer. After hemming and hawing for a few minutes, I came up with this gem in reply;


“I guess I just want to do something that makes a difference.”


Well, slap me with the cliché award of the year! Who doesn’t want to make a difference? Who wants to work their life away only to be forgotten because absolutely nothing they did made any difference? Likely no one. While it is true; I really do want to make some sort of difference, make my mark on the world, I seem to have done little to accomplish this in my six years in the real, professional, working world. I could attribute this to laziness or being bogged down by The Man and needing to focus all making-a-difference-in-the-world time on working-9-to-5-to-keep-the-bills-paid, I think it mainly boils down to this…I have career ADD. How can I get started on making a difference if I can’t figure out what the fuck I want to make a difference doing?


I think I was about four when I had my first big career dream: Movie star.                         
I know, I know, what girl doesn’t grow up wanting to be a movie star? But, my movie stardom goals went a little deeper than the typical ‘I want to be beautiful and famous’. I wanted to act. Like really act. I wanted to be in dramas and invoke tears from movie goers and win awards and thank my mother for passing on her acting talents. I wanted to go to Julliard and get my start in indie films then do major blockbusters then renew my street cred by doing gritty indie flicks again (yes, I had a very vivid imagination at four). I would make a difference by donating boat loads of cash to inner city school’s arts programs. Girls of all ages would look up to me for trading on my skills and not just my looks, for defying Hollywood’s ridiculous standards of beauty (Botox? I pity the OnabotulinumtoxinA-fool!).


This dream stayed alive and well for quite sometime. It was fueled by acting classes, dance classes, singing in the school choir, anything to let my inner superstar shine. But slowly it morphed, as ideas are prone to do. First it was to be a Broadway star, singing and dancing my heart away every night. I imagined the opening nights, the matinees, the standing O’s. I imagined music teachers bringing their kids in to see my shows and them being inspired to pursue their own musical dreams. Eventually this dream too shifted. While I loved the idea of being in New York and living out all my Broadway visions, I began having other New York dreams. More specifically the “Live from New York!” variety dreams. Yes, I wanted to be on Saturday Night Live.  


For literally as long as I can remember I have watched SNL. When I was younger I used to spend Saturday nights with my mom, eating spaghetti, drinking RC Cola out of an awesome Disney themed thermos, and laughing at topical jokes that were probably far over my head. But, regardless of my comprehension, I knew that every week the actors on this show got to be all sorts of different characters. Is this not an actor’s dream?! And then, in my teens, as I began writing more in school, Tina Fey came along and became the first female head writer of the show, proving to all the Jerry Lewis’s of the world that yes, there are women comedians and they are funny! It was 1999, right as I was getting to the point in high school where all any adult can ask you is ‘What are you gonna do with your life?’ and my only reply was ‘make people laugh.’ What would be better than living in New York and doing it every week?! 


Well, it was also right around this time that I was told I’d better get a back up plan. The odds of ending up in Hollywood and being a movie star are slim to none. Then odds grow even less in your favor when you switch coasts and set your sights on Broadway or becoming a comedy writer/actor. ‘You may have these goals, and you may go and pursue them, but be prepared for a life of rejection and waiting tables’ is what one of our school counselors hit me with. I was deflated. How could dreams so long lasting and wonderful be so hard to achieve?! Surely it could not have been true. News flash: It was. I did the research. My goals were nearly impossible. I was almost 17 and had no clear path in life, aside from a lifetime of servitude at Dean and Deluca, if I was lucky (yes, I base my New York food service jobs off of the show Felicity).

At that point, the career ADD really set in. I was a peer counselor in high school, hey, why not be a child psychologist? Wait, I also wrote for the school paper and literary journal, why not be a journalist? But hey, I was also a teacher’s assistant, and I come from a long line of teachers! Surely teaching must be the way to go! Then, in college, it only got worse. My major jumped from Psychology to Spanish to Art History to Social Work to Creative Writing to English Literature, and unfortunately for me, the English Lit degree is what I left with (no hate for the Lit coming from me. I only say unfortunately, because, let’s be honest here, an English degree {without a teaching certificate attached to it} is about as worthless as a Philosophy degree. Sure, employers may love that you have a strong grasp of our language and its history, but where’s the Business Degree they specifically required in the employment ad?).

So no here I am, 29, nearing my 5th year at a job that has nothing to do with any of the six majors I pursued in college (how is that even statistically possible??? Surely with all my flip flopping you’d think I would have ended up at least finding something even slightly related to any of the things I studied.). It’s a great job, and I do mean great, and in this economy I know am blessed to have it (and it’s benefits. Thank you, baby Jesus, for benefits.). I can give no reason to say any differently…except this one pesky thing…I’m not making a difference. My work here will not be work that kids for years to come can look at it and say ‘Wow! This has inspired me!’. Not even my own (at this point, imaginary) children will understand, much less strive to follow, what I do. And even allowing myself to be less grandiose about it, my work here won’t even make a difference on a one on one level. Had I continued pursuing Psychology or Social Work and worked in those fields, there’s always the possibility your work is overlooked, as mine is, but there is a greater possibility that there will be at least that one person whose life changes for the better because of the work you’ve done on their behalf. Even with my writing/lit degree, writing a book can do that for any number of people (because I can say with absolute certainty that there are books I’ve read that have impacted me and will stay with me forever).

Maybe this goal of making some sort of impact on the world is inherently selfish. Shouldn’t a passion be followed merely for the joy of it? We’re constantly told to do what you love and you will love what you do. And who knows, maybe that is how your mark is left on the world, people looking to you and saying ‘Wow, she truly just loves what she does. The money, the accolades, the reward for all the effort really just doesn’t matter, she just loves it.’ and you are an inspiration for others to follow suit. Maybe this is just the bigger picture I have yet to fully see. Either way, that is still my only answer to what I really want to do. I want to make a difference.

But, the question remains, how?






(Editor’s note: If you made it through this whole blog, wow…you are a trooper. When I first started writing this I had no idea I’d get so wordy! I imagine if I had pulled my thoughts together quick enough and given this answer to Mr. Friday Date he’d have quickly hauled ass out of Date City and retreated back to Friendshipville…)