memory banks

Many new things come with a new year, my personal favorite is the excitement of buying a new planner. Why is it that I decide that the changing from one day to the next will result in a whole new system of organization, a whole new me? I know a lot of people find themselves thinking this way, but I am always surprised by how each and every year I am overwhelmed by the need to re-evaluate everything.

Not only did I get a RAD planner for the year, but I also just cleaned out an old box in a closet, and cleaned my makeup brushes! This is clearly the sign of a new, balanced, better me.

Why this makes me feel so productive, I have no idea. It is something that I should do A LOT more often than I do… as in, I don’t really know that I have ever done it.

Upon clearing out an old box, I came to the conclusion that while I may consider myself someone who enjoys purging things from my life, I also teeter on a strange line of hoarding, in little ways. This box has been moved with Man-Friend and I into three different homes. As I went through it, I found that I bought a lot of random medical things (blister stuff, eye drops, mouth pain numbing stuff) some time prior to 2007. Almost half of the items in the box expired in 2007. This made me wildly aware of my need to go through my shit. It also made me aware of how much I do not use that fake skin liquid stuff to put over blisters.

I guess I might have a little tendency to hoard garbage.

This awareness has come at interesting timing. Not only is it the start of a new year, a prime time to get rid of the trash in our lives, but it also comes at a point in my life where I have been reflecting a lot.

As I mentioned previously, one of the things I learned in 2009 was about breaking up with a therapist. I am a huge advocate of going to therapy. It is something that I wish was a rule. I wish that everyone had to see someone to talk about themselves, at least at some point in their lives. After ending my relationship with a fantastic therapist that I had for many years, I took a break. I felt the need to take some time off, which proved to be helpful in a lot of ways. I also realized that I am a person who can really benefit from having someone to bounce my thoughts and experiences off of. Having ended the past relationship, I decided that starting fresh with someone new would be a good experience for me.

I have met with said new therapist for a few weeks, and so far, I feel like it is going pretty well. One of the things that I am trying to do, upon her recommendation, is write more. Not writing on this blog, although I am trying to do that more, too, but to write to just think and get my thoughts out. When I asked last week what I should be writing about, the suggestion was to write about where I see myself in 5 years.

How very job interview-esque.

In reality, I don’t think this is a bad idea, I just have always struggled with this question. Or rather, the answer to this question.

The idea of 5 years in the future is something that I cannot really wrap my mind around. I am still struggling with the fact that it is 2010 and I am not zipping around in a hover car. In fact, I have still never owned a road driving car.

I also have been struggling with a simpler question. A question that should not stress me out, but strangely, kind of does. Would it be easier for me to write these thoughts by hand or by typing? I have always felt like my thoughts run through my brain too fast to write down. In the past, anytime I have kept journals, I have always felt that my hands don’t move fast enough to keep up. At the same time, there is something gross about keeping a journal of word documents on my computer.

I guess I could pretend like I am starting that book I have always thought of writing. I don’t know.

The other things that I am finding, is that the stories I share with this new therapist, are told in a rather matter of fact way, or, as she says, in a rather stoic way. In all honesty, I consider myself to be an overly emotional extravaganza of a talker, so this was a surprise to me. She is surprised each and every week by how I tell these stories of my past without flinching, without catching my quivering breath to control any sort of outpouring of emotion.

It is what it is, is what I say. The past cannot be changed, and most days, I like who I am now. Who is to say that I would not be the me I know now if those things had not occurred.

I will say that as I have had to go through my history with someone new, I am shocked by the many memories that I carry with me, but don’t realize it. As I was telling random stories, I found my brain discovering details that had to have been pushed deep into the core of my memory bank. I was intrigued by this, and am curious to hear what else is going to come out.

With all of this in mind, I am tempted to start writing these stories down as well. I want to keep these memories, I don’t want to lose them like so many that have already disappeared from my brain.

The most important thing with these memories, in my opinion, is that I don’t lose the good ones.

My friends will often make fun of me often for a tattoo that I have. I got this tattoo prior to seeing a movie that has a reference to the same idea, in fact, I think it was before this movie may have been created, but everyone still considers it to be my devotion to said random action/thriller movie. I still stand by this fact, although I do find myself extremely embarrassed if anyone realizes that they have heard this somewhere.

If you think about all of the memories that you really hold on to– the ones that still are carried with you the most, chances are– they are memories that invoked either tears or laughter. Smiles and cries are some of the most significant representations of what our brains are experiencing. The chemicals that are pumped through our melons during these times are what makes these the memories.

While I believe that letting go of some  portions of our pasts (it is what it is) is a good thing, I also hope to carry the lesson, the smile, or the cry that came with it in my heart.

*DS

The year of YOU

As we find ourselves upon the final days of 2009, I am finding that a lot of people are reflecting upon the last year.

The other day I found myself on a lunch date with some of my favorite people. DB, BB, and CC, an old friend from high school. DB and BB are a married couple who have proven time and time again to be some of the best friends a girl could ask for. While we played catchup with CC, having not seen her for years, I found myself realizing that my year has been… a circus at best.

As DB commented on how chaotic things had been for me, I realized that while things have been nuts, I have had a solid core of people watching my back. As I look back over the past year, I realize that a number of huge life changes occurred…

In chronological order:

1) New Salon2) Realization (and acceptance) that I don’t want to be a full time hair stylist my whole life.

3) Realizing the importance of avoiding reality TV at any and all cost.

4) New non-profit office job… (actual real adult hours!)

5) The sad habit I picked up of working 70-80 hours a week. (and, as DB pointed out, kindly… living off of coffee, sour patch kids, and a few other not so healthy things…) The realization that this lifestyle… sucks.

6) Learning the art of breaking up with a therapist.

7) Getting MARRIED.

8)Experiencing a honeymoon. Learning that I have a passion for St. Lucia.

9) Adding the greatest canine in the world to my family.

10) Learning and accepting that just because a person gets married, life stays *almost* the same. Also, relationships keep the stressors they had pre-wedding, they just carry more weight with the whole till death thing.

11) My body is not unbreakable. I also learned that surgery is crazy, and having nerves successfully allow for feeling is awesome.

12) Giving up sugar SUCKS, but is worth it.

13) Tragedies occur, and people we love are lost. Old, young, in between… you never know when…

14) I have really good friends.

As the year comes to a close, I have a number of ideas of ways to make this new year, new decade, simpler, to be more focused on appreciating the little things.

Make this the year of YOU. You might be surprised how many people benefit from you focusing on your own needs.

*Thanks DB and BB for just being there, and for showing me the true value and example of friendship.

As if I didn’t already think I was born in the wrong decade…

Sugar and Spice and Everything VICE.

Going big is much preferred than going home, in my book.

I am one of those people who, rather than trying something, and taking baby steps, I have a higher rate of success if I dive in, full force, to the extreme. I wish this wasn’t the case, but alas… This is one of the many faulty details that make me who I am.

Over the years, I have been addicted to many things. MANY. I hate to say it, but I have one of those awful “addictive personalities”. Rolling all the way back to my early days in life, I had a passion. A more than serious addiction. It took control of my life, plagued my family, and was something that I am not proud of.

For ten years, TEN, I struggled with this vice. It is not pretty, and like many addictions, affected the way I looked, particularly my teeth.

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“My name is Delphine Scarlett, and I am a thumb suck-aholic.”

A common vice among the young, but I was extreme. Afraid of slumber parties (not that I was allowed to go until later in life), camp, and falling asleep in public places, this habit plagued me, but at the same time, was my answer to all of life’s stressors. Every possible remedy failed me, every poisonous, disgusting “fix”, could not keep me from my delicious digit.

Finally, in an act of God, I assume, I went to a camp where I was thrown into a tent with the cool older girls. Why? I have no idea, and this lead to me not having a very solid opportunity to make friends at said camp. It was a decent time, but they were strange and only talked about things I had not experienced, while the rest of the group avoided the tent like the plague, as these ladies were less than nice.

Sleeping on a top bunk for the first few days of camp, I could hide my secret. When we switched to tents, a smaller space, where one could view anyone in slumber land, I started to get nervous. To top it all off, I am queen of falling asleep first, so my deep dark skeleton would be forced out of the closet. The first night, I tossed and turned, felt the tent walls closing in on me, and feared the rest of my time there, knowing that my explosive temper could overwhelm anyone, due to the thumb detox. Somehow, though I found myself okay the next nights, wanting to be normal, and not embarrassing myself in front of these older 12 and 13 year old bitches.

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This was the end of my first vice. Like I said, an act of a higher power.

muppet.wikia.com/wiki/ Bye-Bye,_Thumb-Sucking

I have had many other addictions. Everything from food, drink, cigarettes, eating, not eating, and changing my hair color, this is something that is a large part of my life. The largest addiction as of late, depending who you ask, is a bad one. It is something that I became aware of suddenly, and makes me concerned not only for my appearance, but my overall health.

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I am 100%, whole heartedly,out of control addicted to sugar.

I could eat candy until my face turns blue, until my teeth rot out of my head,until I am overwhelmed with digestive conflict. I love sweet, I love sour, I love fruity flavors, I love chocolate-y goodness. I can live off of any food that falls into the category of “no nutritional value whatsoever”.

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I would, in fact, be the kid who gets stuck in the tube of any kind of candy, in the hopes of just having one more hit.

So, a handful of weeks ago, a light bulb went off in my head. It hit me like a ton of bricks, landing on me, whether I wanted it or not. I started reading up on sugar, reading about the effects of ingesting my perfect drug.

As someone who struggles with skin nonsense (eczema), IBS, and mood swings, I found that all of these things are overwhelmingly affected by sugar. I started looking further and further, drowning myself in information, drowning myself in education about the negative results of my favorite thing in the world.

I made the executive decision. Go big. Don’t go home. Give up sugar. All or nothing.

As I started prepping for it, I found a balance of nerves and excitement. I wanted to start right away, but Man-Friend reminded me that we were very close to Halloween, and that was just begging for failure. So, as of November 1st, 2009, I became sugar free.

I felt less than great by Day 4.

www.herenowhealing.com/ truthbeauty/files/0596..

Scratch that, I felt like death. Through days 4-8, I was in detox hell. I was dealing with a pounding migraine, cold sweaty clamminess, extraordinarily blemished skin. I had cold chills, nausea, and my digestive system was less than receptive to food.

But I was doing it.

People kept saying- you can’t go cold turkey. You will fail. You should taper off, and see how it goes.

This never works for me, and the statements of my imminent fail, just motivate me to succeed. I consider it to be my own personal Popeye spinach. The assumption of failure, just pushes me farther.

As I got to the two week point, I became very aware of my addiction. It is easy to joke about being addicted to candy, but going through the honest to goodness detox, opened my eyes. I was addicted, and probably would have found a doctor telling me in the not so far off future that I could no longer have it, which would make it so much worse, not doing it on my own terms.

www.thespadoctor.net/ about-us.html

The holidays are not the perfect time, but my motivation stayed strong.

Today, I am on Day 36 of my sugar-less life. I feel good. I feel like I am finally doing something for me, for my own health, and to remind myself that I have the power to change. Focusing on my overall health,rather than the hope of fad diets fixing my weight and self-esteem, has also made me proud of me.

So…I am still in the midst of this lifestyle change. I am still working to create a better me. I am still avoiding any and all refined sugar and white carbs and all pop.

And for the record, I am still far from perfect. I have no problem admitting that I have thought about dropping bows on anyone sipping a diet coke in my presence, just to steal the tiniest taste.

I have far to go. But so far, no one has been harmed in this experiment. So far.

www.squidoo.com/ added-sugar-a-culprit

*DS

A couple nights ago, I woke up to bring Ollie outside with Man-Friend in the middle of the night. 

 

www.islanddogmagazine.com/ Issue5/dogpeeu.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When this happens, almost every night, Man-Friend and I stumble out of bed, and attempt to find shoes, leash, plastic bag, and somewhere in the midst of all of that, a dog that really has to relieve himself. Ollie has gotten much better about making it longer through the night, as well as whimpering in his training crate when the time to go is upon him.

Side note: I have my nose pierced. I am usually a small tight fitting hoop girl, but at some point after the wedding, I found it worthwhile to switch back to the stud, purely for easy removal for important work meetings. Also, a tiny itty bitty white gold star is wicked cute.

A nose stud:

 

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 A nose hoop:

 

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But not to be confused with:

 

Now that you have been updated…

So Man-Friend are outside in the middle of the night, and I itch my nose. I tend to be a very itchy person, so this is completely normal. 

No nose ring. 

These are the kind of things that freak me out in unreasonable ways. When we got back upstairs, I made the whole house (including the animals, of course) search the place like there was a warrant.

No dice. 

What is one to do? I have a weird nose that heals extremely fast, so I knew that if I left it for the rest of the night, it would hurt like a bitch when putting a piece of jewely in. Also, due to situations like this, I have had to have my nose re-pierced three times. Not cool. Also, I have a stupid amount of scar tissue there now.

Finally, after another warrant search, I found my trusty hoop. 

To be honest, I feel much more myself with the hoop in anyway. I think I am just afraid that people will judge more harshly if a hoop is there, as it is more noticeable. All in all, I feel better. I could rest easy at least until morning, knowing that the hole would not close.

And when morning came? I found the star stud. Some how, in my sleep… 

I removed the stud from my nose, and put it in my right ear. 

*DS

What’s in a name?

Today is my last summer Friday off. Officially, it is the last day I will have in a long time, where I don’t have a million places to be at the same time that any and all government official offices are open. 

It’s probably the shittiest way I can think of to spend my last weekday of summer off. 

I have researched, and researched, and gathered, and researched some more. I think I have all the documents needed. I think I have all the addresses and office hours and everything in between found. I think I know what book I will bring to pass the time. 

I just don’t know how I feel yet about changing my name. 

I assume by saying “I do” that means I am ready. There is a lot that goes along with a name, though. I can think of about a million people who refer to me purely by my last name. And I like that. I also can think of about a million more people who refer to me by my combined first and last name as one. I like that, too. Many refer to be by my first name, which is fine, but there is something about my last name. I just really like it. 

I  plan on doing the whole obnoxious keep you current last name as your middle name kind of a thing, but that makes things complicated too. No hyphen, though. That is just asking for trouble. 

As I sit here, on my couch, in my pajama, staring at my Frankestein hand, I just keep wondering: Am I ready to do this? Am I ready to add something legally official to who I am that changes how everyone has ever known me for the past 27 years? Am I ready to accept that my cool eastern european name will be joined by a short, simple, lovely name, that may or may not (depending who you ask) make you feel like I should either own a sausage farm or be a movie star?

 

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I honestly don’t know. This has nothing to do with my relationship, it is more me dealing with feeling like me. 

As I sit on the couch, in my pajamas, staring at my Frankenstein hand, I realize that each moment that passes results in less time to get this done. 

And I am not sure if I am okay with it or not.

meh.

 

health.howstuffworks.com/ amnesia-and-head-tra..

For some reason, as I was on my way home from work today, I found myself descending into a rather foul mood. Why this is, I have no idea, but that is the mystery of the brain, I would guess.

Luckily, I have a plethora of creatures in my home to make me smile. 

For one, I have two cats who have been fighting over a fantastic new bed that they have discovered. Now, don’t get it twisted, Man-Friend and I have purchased a ton of super rad, soft, cozy, cute beds for these felines. Those were looked at upon arrival, and then the cats proceeded to look down their noses at said cushy beds, as they strolled past haughtily. 

No, no, the newest furniture piece is not cushy, nor is it a real home accessory. It is the top of a box. 

This box top has been filled with cat since the moment it fell of the box of comics it covered. I don’t know what it is, but these cats get crazy with the cardboard. Flea definitely has the upper hand, as he is approximately 10lbs heavier than D, so he is usually there. It is more entertaining anyway, as he literally lays there, resting his head on the corner, wile the rest of his fleshy fur settle under him and expands into the corners of it. This feline fills the whole box. 

For the record, this is not Flea in his current condition, nor in his current favorite box. That is a box from the days of old, when he was younger and smaller, in the home we created together, just the two of us. 

Now, as I type, a heavier, crankier Flea is watching me, from said box top, as if he knows I am typing about him. At the same time, I have Ollie, who has been getting adjusted to hanging on the couch with Man-Friend and I. Ollie is allowed in his crate, on a leash outside, and in his play pen fence thing in the living room. The only time he can play and move around more is when we let him kick it on the couch with us. We have been slowly introducing him to it, preferably when he is sleepy, so that he does not run back and forth from one arm rest to the other. Also, Sleepy Ollie=Snuggly Ollie.  

Ollie has gotten a bit more comfortable with chilling on the couch. His legs have also gotten strangely long. The pups got gams!

Not only is he finding more comfort in chilling on the couch, he also enjoys hiding behind pillows and messing up each and every cushion in his own special way.

Without a doubt, his favorite couch activity is cleaning it… with his tongue. Okay, maybe he isn’t cleaning it, maybe he is making out with the couch. Either way, it makes me smile. 

Which is nice on a rainy evening at home, when I am feeling down in the dumps for no apparent reason. 

Figuring out why one is feeling like shit is never easy. It is the most frustrating when there is no reason. 

Reasons I should officially *NOT* be a sad sack:

1) I have a rad Man-Friend who married me. I can’t even be down that I am not an honest woman. I am. It’s true!

2) My pets love me, no matter what. They are cute and have spectacular personality. They will love me even when I think no one else does.

3) I have a day job that I am passionate about. Like, I don’t always feel the need to run out the door at 4:59 PM. I actually sometimes want to stay to finish stuff, so I can work on cool new things that will help people the next day. 

4) Although I am currently a gimp, when I am doing hair, my clients are 95% people I would be friends with, that is, if I was not working all the time. 

So what is it? Perhaps I will never know. Perhaps, I will wake up in the morning in a bright and/or bushy tailed stupor. Hell, I might even close the computer after typing this and come to the realization that writing the damn blog about feeling crappy is actually the culprit. 

Only time will tell. All I know is that I will feel better eventually. And knowing that is all that matters.

*DS

Tough Cookies.

Ollie is seriously growing. He officially “graduated” from getting his puppy intro shots and checkups tonight. He is even vaccinated against rabies! 

That’s right- no brain inflaming zoonotic diseases in this family! (By the way, did you know that September 28th is World Rabies Day?)

As we talked with the Vet, who is FANTASTIC, we discussed the officially “altering” of young Ollie. He is coming up on 4 months old, and usually altering is done at 6 months. For some reason, I just really really really want to get it done. Like, yesterday. 

 

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Maybe I am on a surgery kick, but from what I hear, life is way easier with an altered puppy. My rad doctor is all about doing it at 6 months, but can’t we just do it now? I wonder if my dear Ollie would give me nearly as many kisses if he knew how badly I wanted to get his balls removed.  Like I said, it may  just be that I am all about surgery these days.

Speaking of slicing skin, tendons, and tunnels, I got my smelly, nasty cast off yesterday! Shit, yea! I am a new woman. For reals. I am a new woman with a Frankenstein wrist. 

 

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Not only have I been able to get my stitches out, this morning I was able to take a shower using two, count ‘em, TWO hands. 

While chatting with my surgeon during the stitch removal, he made a comment that officially made me feel tough. Sometimes, as much as I hate to admit it, I really love when I receive verification that a) I did the right thing (have surgery) and even more so B) I AM NOT A SALLY. 

 

www.sixthman.net/ blog/2008/12/

The surgeon told me that in his 40-ish years as a surgeon, my wrist was the worst he had seen with this condition. Crazy, right? He officially told me that my wrist was a mess. Awesome. 

Unfortunately, I have a new wrist cast thingy. It is one of those awful ones that are velcro that you could buy at any drugstore. I know for sure that when I see people wearing these, I think to myself “pull it together! why are you wearing that nonsense that probably does not do anything?” Also, depending on the person, my mood, or the situation, I also have been known to assume the person is a hypochondriac who wants attention.

I am now that person that everyone judges. 

 

momitforward.com/ tag/time-management

 

Watching stitches get taken out of your skin is a strange situation. It is more satisfying than lacing shoelaces in a new pair of shoes that you have wanted since you got the 17 lb., fall issue of Vogue, but also strangely makes your whole entire body shudder in nauseous discomfort while watching strings get pulled through your skin in a cheap hotel sewing kit kind of fashion. But in the end, I am relieved to have painful use of my hand, sort of.  While every time I move my hand I feel like a rubber band is being stretched to the utmost, painful, extreme, I am pumped because I know the worst is over. And now, I have a hand that looks like this:

As far as I am concerned, scars are cool. I don’t care what anyone says, I don’t care how messed up it sounds, everyone knows they kind of think scars are cool. They tell a story. No matter what anyone says, when an event in your life leaves a natural permanent mark on your skin, it is significant, and you will always remember it. 

*DS

paws.

This is currently what my right paw looks like. 

A few weeks ago, I decided that having a paralyzed right (dominant) hand every time I awoke from slumber was unacceptable. This was the final straw, following the realization of my lack of right hand plate carrying abilities. Being able to carry a plate in one hand is important. Waking up with a paralyzed claw as an extremity wins when it comes to reasons to go to the doctor. 

After a handful (no pun intended) of questions, nerve tests, and uncomfortable movement, my fantastic hand man informed me that my tendons want my hand to be paralyzed. RAD. Long story short, tendons were too inflamed to move anywhere else in my hand successfully. Due to my lack of finding myself worthy enough to take care of extreme pains in my body (or, in reference to my part time gig- specifically  ”The money maker”), I had to go under the knife. 

So last week I was sliced and diced, and am in the healing process as I type. Which I am *technically* not supposed to do. At least not as much as I need to in my everyday life. 

The surgery went well, although there were a few little complications. My favorite is definitely that the surgeon had to go out to the waiting room and tell Man-Friend that I have a genetic deformity. 

“Ha!! Take the Sucker! I am genetically incorrect! And you have already been locked down in matrimony!”

 

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It is honestly not as cool as it sounds… It is really just a tendon issue. I have tendons that not only are too big for the space provided in my hand,they were fraying from inflammation, AND they were battling it out inside my wrist to stop my hand from moving. Basically, the situation was a battle of the Super Tendons. Comic book story line, anyone?

Anyway- things are healing nicely, that is, as long as I don’t overdo it at work, like I did today. I have a swollen knuckle that is currently trying to spill out of the top of my cast. This awesome decision of mine to work too hard has led me to a lovely evening of pain pills and blogging. Which, I am most definitely not complaining about. 

In the category of THE BEST NEWS OF ALL TIME!!! Man-Friend finally broke down and said yes to my constant pleas to get a dog. 

This is Ollie:

He is only 8 weeks old here, so clearly, he looks like a stuffed animal. He is pretty much the best little canine creature a person could ask for.

Here, you can see his Batman ears:

Pardon the fuzzy phone picture.

He wakes Man-Friend and I up at least once a night to pee, and for a solid week had the craziest excrement ever, and we both are absolutely in love with him. He drives us bonkers with frustration, sleep-deprivation, and wonderful kisses. Neither of us can seem to get enough of the puppy kisses. 

Dog tongues are so much softer than cat tongues! 

Our home, our tiny, itsy bitsy one bedroom condo that is filled to the brim with crap, should now be considered a zoo. 

So… the dream has come true. 

And for the record, his paws? Waaaaaay cuter than mine. 

 

My Little Monster

*DS

I want to go to there.again.

 

I just got home about an hour ago.

I think I might officially be in need of grieving time. I found myself damn near in tears when I got off the final plane and realized that my honeymoon was over, and I am no longer living my dream of being an island woman. 

No. Seriously- St. Lucia is so F*ing rad. I cannot put words into how much I love this place. It is so beautiful. Truly, the views made me lose my breath at times.

 

Other than kicking it all day at the pools and at the swim up bar… Man-Friend and I went snorkeling twice. 

Some of the things we saw…

 

Tons of Blue Tang Fish!

I got lots of salt water up my nose from the Caribbean Sea, as well at the Atlantic Ocean. 

 

We saw a whole crew of Squids! They swim together in formations...

 

It's a Jellyfish!I can even say that both Man-Friend and I got minor stings from a cluster of baby jelly fish...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I woke up every morning at 5:30 AM so that I had a chance to take in the ocean and breath, and be thankful for the opportunity to experience this place. 

This was the view…

Coconut Bay St. Lucia

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Real life is starting again. 

Man-Friend and I had such a nice time together. I am honestly sad to say that I am also grieving the fact that him and I have to go back to regular life with stress, work, frustrations, and things that keep us from spending as much quality time together as we should. Having a solid week of just us… truly priceless.

I keep saying that I want to grab my bindle, build my own shanty and start growing vegetables to live off of… I think I could probably get a job at one of the many banana plantations in St. Lucia. Other than that… there are probably only a few other details to pin down…

Between the sun, the ocean, the bananas, and the stray dogs throughout the island… I am pretty sure I found heaven. 

I want to go to there.

*DS