A Bottle of Pinot Grigio

I drank a whole bottle of wine on New Year's Eve. The whole thing. THE WHOLE THING. Needless to say, I was drunk off my dupa and probably couldn't type anything intelligible. Not that I tried. No, I finished that bottle and felt WHEEEEEEE! when I finally stood up to go to bed. I was blissfully unaware of my normal aches, pains, and troubles. I went to bed immediately. I don't know how I managed to stumble down those stairs to my old bedroom, BUT I DID. 


And here I am; alive, well, and typing another post. A post about the future. A post about my dreams. A post that should have been written on January 1st (to keep tradition). But it's being written now.


I have dreams. I have my New Year's Resolutions (henceforth abbreviated to NYR's for the sake of typing). I have goals. I always think about the future, things I want to accomplish, things I want to happen in my life. This post, I'm going to explain some of them. 


This is going to be a hard post. In this post, I have to admit that I have things that need to change. I'm going to lay bare some of my dreams here. My dreams are special, and sometimes fragile. I'm going to get sentimental and express myself in ways that I haven't in previous posts. I'm going to have to admit that I'm not as strong as I like to pretend I am. I have to admit that I am human, and that's the hardest thing of all. It all sounds silly...no, see, I can't say things like that today. I can't put up even that little defense to deflect any potential blows. I have to be real. I'm going to be real.


Let me show you what's in my mind.

See this woman? Her name is Alex Guarnaschelli. She is a rather famous chef. I know her from "The Next Iron Chef" and "Chopped" on the Food Network. There's something about the way she can talk about food, the way she can discuss a dish in front of her, that inspires me. I have seen her cook as well, but NOT as often as I have seen her as a judge on "Chopped". 


Someday, I'd love to be just like her. I would love to be a chef. I would love to show my face on "Chopped", to be able to test myself with such tasks and challenges. It would be an amazing honor to have her judging my (currently lacking but always improving) culinary skills. I would love to know how to blend flavours and spices, to create dishes from the oddest of ingredients and have them come out fantastic. I would love to be as bold, as brave, and as intelligent as she is in the culinary world. 

The first thing you'll think is that I want to lose weight to be able to fit in this bikini on the right. That's not exactly the case. I have a bikini similar to this one, in the exact same colour. Yes, I said it, I have a bikini. You can tell from my picture up in the corner that I am NOT a skinny girl. It is very difficult for me to look good in ANY clothing, much less a bikini. But it fits me. And sometimes I feel that I look good in it.


I want to feel so beautiful all the time, that if I wore that bikini to the beach, I'd be just as attractive as a thinner woman in the same thing. Because as much as I try, I don't feel that way. I have little confidence in my body. And as much as I hear all the time "You're beautiful, you're sexy, you'll be attractive to someone," well, it isn't helping. I need to feel it in my own heart, or it won't do any good. (I mean, sure, there IS someone specific I want to be attractive to, but we'll get to that later).


Anyway, onward.

Some of you won't recognize this picture. This is my "family photo" in my second semester of college. (Yes, we were all making silly faces). Long story short, we were all great and fantastic friends all through that semester. (P.S., the man in the blue shirt? That's my adorable, gorgeous, goofy cute "husband" who I haven't spoken to in aeons. Probably for the best.) These guys, no matter what, could bring me out of a funky bad mood and make me remember how awesome it was to have friends and be a friend.


I'd like to feel like I could be worth the company of my friends again. Why? Because I feel like bad company. Because I feel like my friends don't want me around anymore. Ever since the breakup (we'll get to that too) I haven't been myself. Probably even before that, even DURING the times of these kinds of photos, I was not who I should have been. I'm afraid of my friends, afraid they judge me badly by my peculiarities, my shyness, and my tendency not to tell them when things go wrong. I know they think I'm worth their time and effort. I know this. But try making that stick. No matter how much I tell myself that, I can't bring myself to not fear them. I want them to know that they are my friends, but I can't tell them when things aren't as good as they could be, when I'm suffering, until it gets to my breaking point. That's the only time I'll speak out. I want to not be that person anymore. I want to feel like my friendships are genuine because I am a genuine friend. 

While we're on the subject of speaking and honesty, let's talk about love for a second. I am in love. I hate having to admit it. I hate, hate HATE having to admit it. But if I'm going to be honest with myself, if I'm going to get anywhere in life, I have to speak the truth. I am in love. I've been in love for some time now. 


I want to have the courage to tell him. I don't have the nerve to fess up to him, and it eats at me every single day. I'm sure if you know who I am, you know who it is, and you know that I am kicking myself in the ass with every keystroke. He doesn't feel the same way. I get this.  Can't say stuff like that, doesn't keep with the emotional part. I love him, and I love him a lot. There's so many things about him that make my breath catch and my cheeks colour and my smile radiate. When he's happy, I'm happy for him. When he's sad or hurting, I ache because I don't think he deserves to hurt. When he's frustrated, I want to be there for him in case he needs me specifically to turn to. But heaven knows, I cannot admit to his face that I feel that way about him. I want to be honest, and in being honest, I have to be able to tell him. Now all I need is courage.

See this one? This is the Ex. This is me and the Ex. This is me and the Ex on August 20th, 2011, the day before I turned 20. This is the man I once loved with all my being. This is the man who broke my heart into pieces in September, when he left me for the third and final time. This is the man who it still hurts to breathe when I remember him. I used to love him, but now it only aches when I try to think of why I did.


I want to be able to admit to myself that I'm angry at him, and actually stick to that. I have these brief moments of clarity, moments when I remember how mean he could be sometimes. I remember times when he could be so cold, and so ungentle with me. I may not be a delicate, fragile woman, but I can't handle being treated so roughly. He hurt me. Sometimes he made me cry. And he still makes me cry when I'm trying to forget him. He left me three times, and every time told me it was a mistake to be with me, that he should never have let me in his life. That it was time to go, and never come back. I want to remember that it's not okay for someone to do that to me, that he hurt me and that he can't have a place in my life anymore. I want to believe he no longer has a spot in my heart. He can't have one. I want to feel the final release, to feel that it's finally over and I can move on. Because I do love someone else, and I want to be in love with someone and feel happy, and I don't want to be trapped in tears over the Ex anymore. 

She looks powerful. She looks tough. She looks like she can kick ass. You know, I've always wanted to be one of those women who can look badass while doing a Tae Bo workout. I'd have the look in my eyes that said "I can do anything I want. I can kick your ass. I am strong, and I am powerful, and I am a QUEEN.


I don't want to come across as intimidating, but I want to be able to hold my own and feel damn good about it. I never again want to be the sick, weak antelope in the herd, the one that gets picked off immediately and is just impeding those around me. No, I want to be the leopard that can race and capture my prey, with glory in my stance, a predator's gleam in my eyes, and a graceful power in every step. My spirit is feline. I am a powerful beast by nature. I want to emulate that glorious creature that is inside me. I want to embody that strength and power. I want to see in myself and be seen with the ability to stand on my own feet and reach the tops of the tallest trees, and be smugly satisfied when I do.

I play guitar. Not well, but I play guitar. This photo was taken when my best friend Nick came over and we had...well, sort of a guitar day. He's incredible with his guitars. Admittedly, he's had  YEARS of practice, whereas I've only had one full year of basic learning. He plays WELL. My playing is still iffy.


I will be able to play and sing as well as he can. I know he can't quite master the singing/playing combo. I have, sort of. I CAN sing to "Collide" (Howie Day) and "Vindicated" (Dashboard Confessional), and I can play them at the same time. He cannot yet. But he plays so much better than I do. My goal is to be able to play a song with him and have it actually WORK. I will be at a skill level that coincides with his. That's it, plain and simple.




I think I want another bottle of wine now. Because just writing this made me cry so damn much, I have this urge to drown my sorrows in alcohol. Maybe I'm becoming an alcoholic? I hope not. Since I have no wine, I think I'll just get some healthy sleep.


Oracle out.