I don't even know how to begin processing the last 365 days. Coming off of 2011, a period of time that I consider a lost year, I didn't even know myself. I was so numb that year, locked in what I can only describe as an emotional coma. To be honest, I have very little memory of that time. It was probably one of the most difficult periods of my life.
Then, eight days into 2012, I met someone who brought me back to life. I don't want to delve too much into that relationship, but all you need to know is that I would not change one second of it, good or bad. At the end of the day, it made me realize that after what I went through in the past, I was stronger than I thought. And the other person was equally as strong, if not more so.
I moved into my apartment, claiming true independence for the first time in my life. After 26 years, I had a home.
I accepted the loss of old friends, welcomed the presence of new ones, and appreciated those that have always stuck by me. I also said goodbye to someone who was taken away too soon, but left a lasting imprint on everyone that was lucky enough to know her.
Then, after a chance sighting, I reconnected with the man who I had built a family with four years ago. A lot of people didn't understand or approve, but I had no doubts that this was what was supposed to happen.
On the same page, the bookstore where this man and I had met, on my 22nd birthday next to the cookbooks, closed its doors. Today, in fact. For many people there it was a loss of their jobs, their coworkers and friends, their home away from home. For me, it was the loss of the place where I met the person who changed everything.
This year has brought a lot of pain and a lot of happiness. It has brought uncertainty and regret and acceptance. But to be honest, I'm ready for it to be over. I feel like it was the stepping stone between the lost year and the rest of my life, my happiness.
So I'm not sad to see this year go. I'm ready for 2013 and I know that I have to take control in order for it to become what I want.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
50 Shades of What the Fuck Did I Just Read
[Author's Note: This post may contain spoilers of the worst book ever written]
You guys. I finally finished the most painful literary experience of my life. Like, worse than Beowulf. WORSE THAN BEOWULF. Ok, I know I'm way behind on the 50 Shades train, I get that. But here's the thing: I started reading this book like, 6 or 7 months ago. I wasn't even going to read it. I heard all the hype, I of course was curious if the sex scenes were really as extreme as everyone was saying, but in all honesty this book was not on my agenda. Then my friend told me I should read it. I wasn't sure. But she lent me her copy and I proceeded to struggle through 514 pages of an English major's nightmare. Let me just quickly add something about my reading technique- If I like a book, I can usually whiz through it pretty quickly. If I love a book, it's done in a day or two. Never has it taken me almost a full year to read a book. I kept stopping for a couple of weeks here and there and then picking it back up and making myself read a few pages. The longest period of time that I consistently read it was the week I was down the shore back in July, where I thought if there was any appropriate place to read a book that had quickly become known as socially acceptable porn, it was on a family oriented beach as little innocent children giggled and skipped past me as I read about some girl who is ok with getting whipped raw, but had to be convinced by her roommate to shave her armpits for a date.
Needless to say, before I even started reading the book, I told myself that I would write a blog about it once I finished, no matter what. So, reluctantly, here I go.
First thing's first. If this Ana chick ever actually existed, there is no way in hell that she would have any friends, let alone all these guys falling all over her. Homegirl is whiny and stuffy and hairy (seriously dude, why did I have to read about your inner struggle on whether or not to shave your legs?) and needs to realize that she does not live in the 19th century British tragedy that she's constantly referencing; she lives in Seattle. Which I guess is kind of the same thing.
And the only reason her hot roommate sticks around is because Ana makes her look even better than she already is. Try and dispute that, present day female society.
Second, if E. L. James really wanted to write a book set in America, maybe she should have studied up a little more on our current trends and slang. No one really cares about Kings of Leon anymore, and never, ever, ever has any current 22 year old said "Oh my". Ever. Never ever ever. Not even once. Especially during sex. But then again, according to this book, a girl can have an earth shattering orgasm, her very first orgasm no less, just by having a billionaire poke around her nipples for a couple of minutes. So what do I know.
Also, sentence structure. It's an actual thing. Look into it.
Ok, sex scenes. The first one was fine. Not as explicit as I was expecting, but not bad. But then, it's just, they didn't get better. It was like the author got lazy with them. They became shorter and shorter each time, and always ended with an "Oh my" and an "Oh Ana". Everyone collapses, he won't let her touch him, she's just been slapped around enough that she has to get lotion rubbed on her ass afterwards...cool bro, sounds like a really healthy relationship.
Even I would break up with him, and I literally have the worst judgement in guys ever.
Now, Jose on the other hand...si, por favor.
When I finally got to the end of the book, I was a little surprised that the entire story had only taken place over a span of a few weeks and still nothing had really happened. But I supposed that's semi-appropriate for the first book of a trilogy. Luckily, my mom's friend saw me reading the book over the summer (I was literally 5 pages in), and decided to tell me the ending of the series which normally would have made me angry, but we all knew I wasn't reading the other two books.
Ok, so as much as I hated this book, there was one paragraph that I actually found very real. And I only had to wait until the 5th to last page to find it! Seriously though, it's a passage describing those moments after you end a relationship, when you suddenly realize that the world is still turning and you have to somehow find a way to turn with it.
You guys. I finally finished the most painful literary experience of my life. Like, worse than Beowulf. WORSE THAN BEOWULF. Ok, I know I'm way behind on the 50 Shades train, I get that. But here's the thing: I started reading this book like, 6 or 7 months ago. I wasn't even going to read it. I heard all the hype, I of course was curious if the sex scenes were really as extreme as everyone was saying, but in all honesty this book was not on my agenda. Then my friend told me I should read it. I wasn't sure. But she lent me her copy and I proceeded to struggle through 514 pages of an English major's nightmare. Let me just quickly add something about my reading technique- If I like a book, I can usually whiz through it pretty quickly. If I love a book, it's done in a day or two. Never has it taken me almost a full year to read a book. I kept stopping for a couple of weeks here and there and then picking it back up and making myself read a few pages. The longest period of time that I consistently read it was the week I was down the shore back in July, where I thought if there was any appropriate place to read a book that had quickly become known as socially acceptable porn, it was on a family oriented beach as little innocent children giggled and skipped past me as I read about some girl who is ok with getting whipped raw, but had to be convinced by her roommate to shave her armpits for a date.
Needless to say, before I even started reading the book, I told myself that I would write a blog about it once I finished, no matter what. So, reluctantly, here I go.
First thing's first. If this Ana chick ever actually existed, there is no way in hell that she would have any friends, let alone all these guys falling all over her. Homegirl is whiny and stuffy and hairy (seriously dude, why did I have to read about your inner struggle on whether or not to shave your legs?) and needs to realize that she does not live in the 19th century British tragedy that she's constantly referencing; she lives in Seattle. Which I guess is kind of the same thing.
And the only reason her hot roommate sticks around is because Ana makes her look even better than she already is. Try and dispute that, present day female society.
Second, if E. L. James really wanted to write a book set in America, maybe she should have studied up a little more on our current trends and slang. No one really cares about Kings of Leon anymore, and never, ever, ever has any current 22 year old said "Oh my". Ever. Never ever ever. Not even once. Especially during sex. But then again, according to this book, a girl can have an earth shattering orgasm, her very first orgasm no less, just by having a billionaire poke around her nipples for a couple of minutes. So what do I know.
Also, sentence structure. It's an actual thing. Look into it.
Ok, sex scenes. The first one was fine. Not as explicit as I was expecting, but not bad. But then, it's just, they didn't get better. It was like the author got lazy with them. They became shorter and shorter each time, and always ended with an "Oh my" and an "Oh Ana". Everyone collapses, he won't let her touch him, she's just been slapped around enough that she has to get lotion rubbed on her ass afterwards...cool bro, sounds like a really healthy relationship.
Even I would break up with him, and I literally have the worst judgement in guys ever.
Now, Jose on the other hand...si, por favor.
When I finally got to the end of the book, I was a little surprised that the entire story had only taken place over a span of a few weeks and still nothing had really happened. But I supposed that's semi-appropriate for the first book of a trilogy. Luckily, my mom's friend saw me reading the book over the summer (I was literally 5 pages in), and decided to tell me the ending of the series which normally would have made me angry, but we all knew I wasn't reading the other two books.
Ok, so as much as I hated this book, there was one paragraph that I actually found very real. And I only had to wait until the 5th to last page to find it! Seriously though, it's a passage describing those moments after you end a relationship, when you suddenly realize that the world is still turning and you have to somehow find a way to turn with it.
"My worst fears have been realized. And strangely, it's liberating.
The pain is such that I refuse to acknowledge it. I feel numb. I have somehow escaped from my body and am now a casual observer to this unfolding tragedy. I shower quickly and methodically, thinking only of each second in front of me. Now squeeze body wash bottle. Put body wash bottle back in rack. Rub cloth on face, on shoulders...on and on, all simple, mechanical actions, requiring simple, mechanical thoughts."
We have all been in that same exact place. And if you haven't, count yourself lucky. It's that moment where you are completely outside of your own self, and you literally have to narrate in your head every action you take, just to keep the reality of your heart out. 'I'm turning the doorknob, I'm opening the door, I'm walking to the mailbox. There are three envelopes in here, all white. That is my name, that is my address...'
It's that feeling where you can't move a muscle in your face. You can't smile or frown or blink. Tears are plummeting out of your eyes and you don't even notice until they fall off your chin and hit your hand or chest or the plate of food in front of you that you have no intention of eating.
Still, aside from that one particular bundle of sentences, I just couldn't get on board with the whole phenomenon of 50 Shades.
Good news though! I just spelled "phenomenon" right on the first try!
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