There's a good chance that a bunch of people think that they would have had their lives together by now. Mid-twenties, you know, you should have everything figured out. On your way to a successful career, marriage, oh my gosh, I don't know -- whatever it is. I thought I'd be fit as a fiddle, in a schmerious relationship, and doing something fabulous while eating something fabulous and wearing something fabulous.
Hehe.
I think that's the funniest thing about all of these questions, and about all of the uncertainty. So many people did not expect it. I did not expect it. As a matter of fact, I always felt sure of who I was and what I wanted when I was growing up. Maybe even thought that I was one of those folks who might bypass the time in my life where I'd be left wondering and wandering. But as of this moment in time, I'm completely unsure of who I am and what I want. And particularly how to get there.
But I'm not totally at a loss. I know that, because I have hope. And I have a sort of idea of who I want to be. It's not fully defined.... she's very fuzzy around the edges in my mind, but there's something there. I know that I want a career that I am PASSIONATE about. I want to LOVE my job. I don't care if it makes me rich. I care that it does not make me poor or worry about financial stability. I want to be inspired every single day. Or at least 6 days a week :) ...and I want to do something that makes a noticeable difference in other people's lives. I want to move around at work and think creatively. I want to laugh while I'm working because I'm happy and because I enjoy the people I'm working with. I want to take initiative. I want to take risks and take on big projects with other people who dream the same way.
I want to live with this sort of aura that I'll call "California". That's probably a confusing name, and it is just based on a stereotype. I've been to California several times, and I just fell head over heels and completely inspired by the people, the attitude, and the weather (oh the weather.... it's a dream). But I have this vision of how I want to be and who I want to be, and that just seems the most fitting. Relaxed, easy-going, carefree, happy, laughing, energetic, whimsical. ambitious, goofy, free-spirited... the list goes and goes. I feel so smothered by my routine and my misfit job and I manifest my frustrations by malnourishment and indolence. Which might be called masochism, since those two things are such an antithesis of my soul.
How do I break the cycle? What will the it moment be? When will I be who I want to be and do what I want to do? The first step must be to identify what those things are.... how do I do that? I'm searching all of the time, it seems, without knowing where to look. So I end up feeling as though my efforts are futile. But always I return to hope. I don't think it's ever too late.
The goal of my life is not to be happy, directly. But to find happiness as a byproduct of the way I live my life and the way that affects other people.
Do you feel this way? Have you felt this way? If you have, and you've found your California -- please tell me how you did.
Blessings.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Night Things
I'm not good at this -- but I hope when I center a little bit and sort of become a more well-rounded human being (haha... will this happen anytime soon? ever?) I might be. Because I like to be productive all day long, even in the evening and at night. It is possible to be productive and still relax. So here's a list of night things... activities... shiz to do...
- Yoga (stretch that ish out)
- Read (this includes all types of books, notes, reading to learn a new language -- anything goes!)
- Draw/paint/craft
- Read blogs
- Sew up holes in worn out clothing (tell me you have nothing with a hole in it.)
- Dust
- Make a To Do list
- Organize iPhoto
- Organize iTunes
- Clean out a drawer
- Bleach your teeth (whitestrips are thebomb.com)
- Mani/pedi
- Go through fridge and throw out old crap
- Reorganize handbag
- Laundry/ironing
- Find things that sit around all the time and you generally ignore/forget about/let collect dust... like: look at an old photo album, burn a candle, watch a favorite movie, pull up an old Pinterest pin and make plans to DO it (Pinterest collects dust.. don't lie to yourself)... you know, things like these.
That's all for now... I'm gonna go do one of these. Probably either blogstalk or burn a candle or watch a movie or something!
This is pretty unrelated but there's these random times I suddenly get a huge burst of energy and really happy just out of nowhere. Just happened while I was typing the last sentence. If someone said "Roadtrip?" right now... I'd be the first SOB in the cahhh. :)
Friday, June 8, 2012
Shake It Off
Y'all --
I've decided to shake the dust off of this blog........ or, actually PRUNE this here Cherry Tree.... so that it may bear fruit again.
I started doing this by first scrolling all the way to the bottom of the page and rereading my previous blog posts, top to bottom. I don't think I gave myself enough credit. I was feeling dried up, pudgy, and stupid, but I was, in fact, sort of eloquent as far as rambling goes. Hot, self. Hot. Werk it.
This first post back in action is going to involve a bit of housekeeping, probably some rhetorical questions, and a lot of open ends that trail off into nothing, nowhere. Sorry.
Looking at that first post -- it was cute how optimistic I was. It was good! I felt young, I felt optimistic, I felt as though I had a plan. But, as often happens to plans, it was dashed. SMITED. Just completely pulverized. That lad I thought I'd marry bid me farewell right out of the blue, that job I was crossing my fingers to love is the bane of my existence, and has made me consider tattooing my forehead with an obscenity, dying my hair blue, flipping burgers, and taking up tossingcomputersoutofwindows as a hobby. The sleeping problem I made reference to before is not cured, and I have spent many a night over the last year and 8 months (exactly, actually, since I started this job and was dumped at the exact same time) wide awake and wondering what to do with myself. I've eaten and eaten and eaten until I was bigger than I ever have been. Things have been low. Not awful -- I don't think I'm depressed. I still see the good in the world - but I'm thoroughly jaded and cynical and rotten.
I'm trying to do things to counteract this. Some are half-assed, but in my current state I consider even those things to be minor victories. For example, I moved out of my old apartment and into a new one, this time with a roommate - someone I think will ultimately be a positive influence. I dare say I've slept more since I've moved in with her than I did in a full month while living alone, and we've only just been at our new place for 3 weeks. I'm eating more "complete" meals, so there is less bingeing, but this is not perfected. I have nothing to do with men. It's not on purpose, but I am in a phase (dear God, i hope it's a phase) where I have no one to even contemplate being interested in, and generally am focused only on myself, what I want (immediately and in the future), and how to heal from all of the things that disrupted my balance a couple of years back. I was chrismated in the Orthodox church, and am trying, fitfully, to live by what I know to be right. This is all very hard for me. Much harder than I think it should be, and I'm not sure why. I always thought that these years of instability were over and done with by the ripe age of what I'll go ahead and call "almost 25".... but this is where I am, and it seems, try as I might, where I will be for a little bit longer. I hope that I can come out of it all in a certain light. Something that goes like this: calm, joyful, lean, strong, peaceful, eager, understanding, thoughtful, wise, generous, sympathetic, and pure. I wonder if that can come true.
On another note -- which may or may not be unrelated: I have discovered a love. A passion, really, for Elvis Presley. I love Elvis. I could write a book, I could go on for days, I could cry over it. I do cry over it. I'm not lying, not exaggerating, not being a lunatic (sincerely), when I say that I love Elvis. I've always liked listening to his songs (though I didn't let my dad know that, lest I would've been coerced to hear nothing but Elvis every day of my dependent life), but the infatuation only came about on this past Christmas Eve. My family was driving to church, and listening to Elvis' Christmas album. Good friends, this is the best selling Christmas album of all time. Or at least tied with Bing Crosby's. But as we were listening, I realized that I really didn't know a darned thing about the man singing. I really hadn't even a clue as to when he was born, popular, or died (though, you'd think I could infer those things based on the way the music sounded -- but common sense often eludes me). So I pulled up his Wikipedia page (I've mentioned before how much I love a good Wikipedia stalk) and I proceeded to read the longest, most detailed Wiki I've ever seen before. Ever. And I loved it. I just soaked it in. So as it turns out, Elvis was born on January 8, 1935 to Vernon and Gladys Presley in Tupelo, MS. He had a stillborn twin brother, named Jessie. Friends, I just couldn't stop reading. It was love at first... read... I suppose. From there I looked at pictures, and watched countless hours of YouTube videos again and again and again. I've joined fan clubs, read every site and snipit of information I could get my paws on. Every interview, listening to every song. Watching every movie I have the opportunity to. Saving and planning to purchase biographies, DVDs, albums, you name it. Since my dad is a lifelong Elvis fan, he has been so kind as to give me some old ticket stubs to a concert in '73, some old albums, and even a tiny piece of one of Elvis' scarves (be still my heart). I've never been so pleased that my family has a 1957 Chevrolet. It's just perfect. No, I don't think Elvis is alive. But I wish he was. And I talk to him sometimes, sort of like you might talk to a deceased relative. Sort of like when you talk out loud to God. I hope Elvis is with God. I think he is, and at least that makes me feel better. This all might seem absurd, but I don't mind if it does. As I said at the beginning of this paragraph -- this may or may not be unrelated to the other things that have happened in the past few years of my life. In some ways, Elvis is the man that I lost and will never have. In some ways, the things that he went through at a personal and emotional level remind me of what I'm dealing with and searching for myself. So, as his kindred spirit, I love him. It's personal to me. I'm going to Graceland in 3 weeks, and it's going to be a lot more than a tour in an old house-turned museum for me. I'll write about it sometime when I get back.
But for now, I try to focus on drinking water, laughing whenever possible, signing up for yoga classes, and listening to Elvis charm the pants off of men and women alike for the 21 years he was an international star.
Thank you, thankyouverymuch. You're a wonderful audience.
Goodnight.
I've decided to shake the dust off of this blog........ or, actually PRUNE this here Cherry Tree.... so that it may bear fruit again.
I started doing this by first scrolling all the way to the bottom of the page and rereading my previous blog posts, top to bottom. I don't think I gave myself enough credit. I was feeling dried up, pudgy, and stupid, but I was, in fact, sort of eloquent as far as rambling goes. Hot, self. Hot. Werk it.
This first post back in action is going to involve a bit of housekeeping, probably some rhetorical questions, and a lot of open ends that trail off into nothing, nowhere. Sorry.
Looking at that first post -- it was cute how optimistic I was. It was good! I felt young, I felt optimistic, I felt as though I had a plan. But, as often happens to plans, it was dashed. SMITED. Just completely pulverized. That lad I thought I'd marry bid me farewell right out of the blue, that job I was crossing my fingers to love is the bane of my existence, and has made me consider tattooing my forehead with an obscenity, dying my hair blue, flipping burgers, and taking up tossingcomputersoutofwindows as a hobby. The sleeping problem I made reference to before is not cured, and I have spent many a night over the last year and 8 months (exactly, actually, since I started this job and was dumped at the exact same time) wide awake and wondering what to do with myself. I've eaten and eaten and eaten until I was bigger than I ever have been. Things have been low. Not awful -- I don't think I'm depressed. I still see the good in the world - but I'm thoroughly jaded and cynical and rotten.
I'm trying to do things to counteract this. Some are half-assed, but in my current state I consider even those things to be minor victories. For example, I moved out of my old apartment and into a new one, this time with a roommate - someone I think will ultimately be a positive influence. I dare say I've slept more since I've moved in with her than I did in a full month while living alone, and we've only just been at our new place for 3 weeks. I'm eating more "complete" meals, so there is less bingeing, but this is not perfected. I have nothing to do with men. It's not on purpose, but I am in a phase (dear God, i hope it's a phase) where I have no one to even contemplate being interested in, and generally am focused only on myself, what I want (immediately and in the future), and how to heal from all of the things that disrupted my balance a couple of years back. I was chrismated in the Orthodox church, and am trying, fitfully, to live by what I know to be right. This is all very hard for me. Much harder than I think it should be, and I'm not sure why. I always thought that these years of instability were over and done with by the ripe age of what I'll go ahead and call "almost 25".... but this is where I am, and it seems, try as I might, where I will be for a little bit longer. I hope that I can come out of it all in a certain light. Something that goes like this: calm, joyful, lean, strong, peaceful, eager, understanding, thoughtful, wise, generous, sympathetic, and pure. I wonder if that can come true.
On another note -- which may or may not be unrelated: I have discovered a love. A passion, really, for Elvis Presley. I love Elvis. I could write a book, I could go on for days, I could cry over it. I do cry over it. I'm not lying, not exaggerating, not being a lunatic (sincerely), when I say that I love Elvis. I've always liked listening to his songs (though I didn't let my dad know that, lest I would've been coerced to hear nothing but Elvis every day of my dependent life), but the infatuation only came about on this past Christmas Eve. My family was driving to church, and listening to Elvis' Christmas album. Good friends, this is the best selling Christmas album of all time. Or at least tied with Bing Crosby's. But as we were listening, I realized that I really didn't know a darned thing about the man singing. I really hadn't even a clue as to when he was born, popular, or died (though, you'd think I could infer those things based on the way the music sounded -- but common sense often eludes me). So I pulled up his Wikipedia page (I've mentioned before how much I love a good Wikipedia stalk) and I proceeded to read the longest, most detailed Wiki I've ever seen before. Ever. And I loved it. I just soaked it in. So as it turns out, Elvis was born on January 8, 1935 to Vernon and Gladys Presley in Tupelo, MS. He had a stillborn twin brother, named Jessie. Friends, I just couldn't stop reading. It was love at first... read... I suppose. From there I looked at pictures, and watched countless hours of YouTube videos again and again and again. I've joined fan clubs, read every site and snipit of information I could get my paws on. Every interview, listening to every song. Watching every movie I have the opportunity to. Saving and planning to purchase biographies, DVDs, albums, you name it. Since my dad is a lifelong Elvis fan, he has been so kind as to give me some old ticket stubs to a concert in '73, some old albums, and even a tiny piece of one of Elvis' scarves (be still my heart). I've never been so pleased that my family has a 1957 Chevrolet. It's just perfect. No, I don't think Elvis is alive. But I wish he was. And I talk to him sometimes, sort of like you might talk to a deceased relative. Sort of like when you talk out loud to God. I hope Elvis is with God. I think he is, and at least that makes me feel better. This all might seem absurd, but I don't mind if it does. As I said at the beginning of this paragraph -- this may or may not be unrelated to the other things that have happened in the past few years of my life. In some ways, Elvis is the man that I lost and will never have. In some ways, the things that he went through at a personal and emotional level remind me of what I'm dealing with and searching for myself. So, as his kindred spirit, I love him. It's personal to me. I'm going to Graceland in 3 weeks, and it's going to be a lot more than a tour in an old house-turned museum for me. I'll write about it sometime when I get back.
But for now, I try to focus on drinking water, laughing whenever possible, signing up for yoga classes, and listening to Elvis charm the pants off of men and women alike for the 21 years he was an international star.
Thank you, thankyouverymuch. You're a wonderful audience.
Goodnight.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Truth AND fricking Dare
Here's the truth:
The truth is that I feel fat. It's because i HAVE fat. I am not so dumb as to think that I AM fat... because I'm thinking (hoping) that there are still bones and organs and muscles and stuff in there too. But I've got more than enough to spare.
This is probably a reasonable spot to break and reiterate that my blog is about honesty. And this is totally RAW.
Back to fat. I gain it all in my stomach. I hate it. I used to be a toothpick (growing up, after eating a super size fry from McDonald's), but of course that changes with age. I'm still in my 20s, but the fat loves to invite itself in and take up residence in all the wrong places so that I feel like a stuffed sausage in my work clothes. The worst part (maybe?) about this is that I am 5'5" and weigh somewhere around 130-135 lbs. Which i KNOW is not the size that would cause anyone alarm. As in.. it's normal height/weight distribution. But my frame is really the type that gravitates toward size 2. As in 115ish pounds. So i feel like a stuffed sausage, like I said. No, I changed my mind.. THIS is the worst part: It's all because I'm a binge eater. It's the most unheralded of eating disorders, but it's real, and I can vouch for it. I eat and eat and eat when no one is looking. 1,000 calories in 15 minutes, easy. Maybe not artery clogging binges like some binge eaters have, but the type of eating where I'm not hungry, eating my feelings, and totally out of control. Just numb. Can't stop. And I do it alone, at night... and then I can't sleep properly, and then I'm tired. So I look horrible. Fat and tired isn't cute on ANYONE. And then I hate myself for it. And swear to stop. But the next day when I'm a stuffed sausage again at work, I feel bad and I eat my feelings. I can't get on track. And i feel so stupid for lacking the self control to eat properly. I just want to be a normal healthy size. Another kicker? I run half marathons. Yeah, you can be a chubster, and crank out 13.1 miles at a 10 min/mile pace. Even the running isn't helping me. What can I do? I am.. was... claim to be... a Christian. I certainly still believe, but I've fallen away. I find my Bible collecting dust, haven't gone to church more than 4 times in the past year, avoid praying, roll my eyes at God, find myself cursing Him, skip over Bible verses in others blog posts. I mean how the HELL (ha, right?) did I let Satan get such a grasp? That, of course, makes the whole eating/self-hating situation worse. And all the lack of sleep and issues getting dressed (because, you know, of my fat) mean that I'm late for work more than I should be. So then I get busted, and then I have a grumpy boss. And then I eat. It always comes back to eating and not sleeping. Even now, I should be asleep, but I feel like it's important to empty all of this out of my head and into some sort of unbiased reservoir. If anyone ever does read this, know that I'm not distrubed (I promise :) ... I'm just frustrated. And very honest. No one really thinks I'm fat.. we're all our own worst critics, but for now, as I have let Satan in, I see when I look at myself:
fat, tired, anything but punctual, scatter-brained, slow, awkward, unproductive, and confused.
And NO ONE... I can't think of a soul... wants to think of themselves in this light. Or rather, darkness.
Here's the dare:
I dare myself to change. I know what I need to change. Maybe it will help to say it. And to be concise....
-pray
-love (God, others, and myself)
-have patience
-be considerate (to my body, to myself, to my boss, my friends, my family)
-try
-give myself credit, when credit is due
I can't do it. But He can.
Now I have to believe that instead of just writing it. I want to become pure. That's what was missing. I want to be PURE.
The truth is that I feel fat. It's because i HAVE fat. I am not so dumb as to think that I AM fat... because I'm thinking (hoping) that there are still bones and organs and muscles and stuff in there too. But I've got more than enough to spare.
This is probably a reasonable spot to break and reiterate that my blog is about honesty. And this is totally RAW.
Back to fat. I gain it all in my stomach. I hate it. I used to be a toothpick (growing up, after eating a super size fry from McDonald's), but of course that changes with age. I'm still in my 20s, but the fat loves to invite itself in and take up residence in all the wrong places so that I feel like a stuffed sausage in my work clothes. The worst part (maybe?) about this is that I am 5'5" and weigh somewhere around 130-135 lbs. Which i KNOW is not the size that would cause anyone alarm. As in.. it's normal height/weight distribution. But my frame is really the type that gravitates toward size 2. As in 115ish pounds. So i feel like a stuffed sausage, like I said. No, I changed my mind.. THIS is the worst part: It's all because I'm a binge eater. It's the most unheralded of eating disorders, but it's real, and I can vouch for it. I eat and eat and eat when no one is looking. 1,000 calories in 15 minutes, easy. Maybe not artery clogging binges like some binge eaters have, but the type of eating where I'm not hungry, eating my feelings, and totally out of control. Just numb. Can't stop. And I do it alone, at night... and then I can't sleep properly, and then I'm tired. So I look horrible. Fat and tired isn't cute on ANYONE. And then I hate myself for it. And swear to stop. But the next day when I'm a stuffed sausage again at work, I feel bad and I eat my feelings. I can't get on track. And i feel so stupid for lacking the self control to eat properly. I just want to be a normal healthy size. Another kicker? I run half marathons. Yeah, you can be a chubster, and crank out 13.1 miles at a 10 min/mile pace. Even the running isn't helping me. What can I do? I am.. was... claim to be... a Christian. I certainly still believe, but I've fallen away. I find my Bible collecting dust, haven't gone to church more than 4 times in the past year, avoid praying, roll my eyes at God, find myself cursing Him, skip over Bible verses in others blog posts. I mean how the HELL (ha, right?) did I let Satan get such a grasp? That, of course, makes the whole eating/self-hating situation worse. And all the lack of sleep and issues getting dressed (because, you know, of my fat) mean that I'm late for work more than I should be. So then I get busted, and then I have a grumpy boss. And then I eat. It always comes back to eating and not sleeping. Even now, I should be asleep, but I feel like it's important to empty all of this out of my head and into some sort of unbiased reservoir. If anyone ever does read this, know that I'm not distrubed (I promise :) ... I'm just frustrated. And very honest. No one really thinks I'm fat.. we're all our own worst critics, but for now, as I have let Satan in, I see when I look at myself:
fat, tired, anything but punctual, scatter-brained, slow, awkward, unproductive, and confused.
And NO ONE... I can't think of a soul... wants to think of themselves in this light. Or rather, darkness.
Here's the dare:
I dare myself to change. I know what I need to change. Maybe it will help to say it. And to be concise....
-pray
-love (God, others, and myself)
-have patience
-be considerate (to my body, to myself, to my boss, my friends, my family)
-try
-give myself credit, when credit is due
I can't do it. But He can.
Now I have to believe that instead of just writing it. I want to become pure. That's what was missing. I want to be PURE.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Just a Quickie
I'm fabulously single. And have been that way for over 5 months. Isn't that that heinously out of line with my previous blog posts? Maybe I'll regret dedicating a full blog post to this one day. God knows it doesn't deserve it. And I'm not posting this because it bothers me and just sits in the forefront of my mind.
It's all to keep my readers informed. Right, readers?
(Readers, readers,...readers....read...re)
Did anyone else hear an echo?
G'night.
It's all to keep my readers informed. Right, readers?
(Readers, readers,...readers....read...re)
Did anyone else hear an echo?
G'night.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
World Cup HOTTIES
I had to do this.
I've watched probably 75% of the games played so far (although I am blogging during the Japan Paraguay match right now, so I don't know if that counts.) But here's WHY I'm doing this: I've always been a soccer kind of girl. I played (not well, I might add) from age 5 to 16. I've dated/had a thing with 5 or 6 soccer players since my freshman year of high school, and all of my steady boyfriends were soccer players. Not intentionally, I think I just must be drawn to them. They're hot. So, even though David Beckham isn't playing in this World Cup, I had to take the time (about 3 hours) and look up each team's roster and look at each individual player and decide HOT or NOT. And that's kind of an exaggeration, because there are LOTS of good looking men that I did not put on my list. Most of them were cute, but not the chiseled sexy or rugged hot that I was going for. And, I admit, a couple I put on there just because I felt obligated due to mad skills/he plays for the US haha. I'm going to put my entire list up (and if anyone ever reads this blog they should look up EVERY SINGLE one of these guys)... but I'm only going to put pictures of a few favorites. I might add that I tried to pick at least one guy from each team, except I think one team got left out. Maybe I'm being too picky, but here's how it happened:
Mario Eggimann
Fernando Llorente
Victor Valdes
Fernando Torres
Iker Casillas
Deco
Cristiano Ronaldo
Nilmar
Julio Baptista
Fabio Cannavaro
Roque Santa Cruz
Yuji Nakazawa
Benny Feilhaber
Oops, one more soccer player! This one's Greek. And he's the reason none of the other handsome men listed or pictured above matter at all to me. He's my guy!
I've watched probably 75% of the games played so far (although I am blogging during the Japan Paraguay match right now, so I don't know if that counts.) But here's WHY I'm doing this: I've always been a soccer kind of girl. I played (not well, I might add) from age 5 to 16. I've dated/had a thing with 5 or 6 soccer players since my freshman year of high school, and all of my steady boyfriends were soccer players. Not intentionally, I think I just must be drawn to them. They're hot. So, even though David Beckham isn't playing in this World Cup, I had to take the time (about 3 hours) and look up each team's roster and look at each individual player and decide HOT or NOT. And that's kind of an exaggeration, because there are LOTS of good looking men that I did not put on my list. Most of them were cute, but not the chiseled sexy or rugged hot that I was going for. And, I admit, a couple I put on there just because I felt obligated due to mad skills/he plays for the US haha. I'm going to put my entire list up (and if anyone ever reads this blog they should look up EVERY SINGLE one of these guys)... but I'm only going to put pictures of a few favorites. I might add that I tried to pick at least one guy from each team, except I think one team got left out. Maybe I'm being too picky, but here's how it happened:
WORLD CUP HOTTIES 2010
Group A
Uruguay
-Diego Lugano
-Sebastian Abreu
-Sebastian Fernandez
Mexico
-Francisco Rodriguez
South Africa
-Tsepo Masilela
-Thanduyise Khuboni
France
-Yoann Gourcuff
Group B
Argentina
-Sergio Aguero
-Mariano Andujar
South Korea
-Kim Jae Sung
Greece
-Nikos Spiropoulos
Nigeria
-Danny Shittu
-John Utaka
Group C
USA
-Carlos Bocanegra
-Landon Donovan
-Benny Feilhaber
England
-Gareth Barry
Slovenia
-Dalibor Stevanovic
-Matej Mavric
Algeria
-Rais M’Bolhi
Group D
Ghana
-Kevin Prince Boateng
Germany
-Mario Gomez
-Piotr Trochowski
-Holger Badstuber
Serbia
-Ivan Obradovic
Australia
-Lucas Neill
Group E
Netherlands (Holland)
-Ibrahim Afellay
-Michel Vorm
Japan
-Keisuke Honda
-Yuji Nakazawa
Denmark
-Thomas Sorensen
Cameroon
Group F
Paraguay
-Roque Santa Cruz
Italy
-Fabio Cannavaro
New Zealand
-Andy Barron
-Tommy Smith
Slovakia
-Stanislav Sestak
-Erik Jendrisek
Group G
Brazil
-Kaka
-Thiago Silva
-Julio Baptista
-Nilmar
Portugal
-Cristiano Ronaldo
-Deco
-Daniel Fernandes
Ivory Coast
-Guy Demel
North Korea
-Ri Kwang Hyok
Group H
Chile
-Mark Gonzales
Spain
-Iker Casillas
-Fernando Torres
-Victor Valdes
-Fernando Llorente
-Jesus Navas
Switzerland
-Mario Eggimann
-Eren Derdiyok
Honduras
-Noel Valladares
Now that I think about it, this was really hard to do. Not that I'm complaining about looking at sweaty, smoldering bodies for hours on end, but it's hard to make a list of hotties that encompasses everyone's tastes. Actually, if that was the case, I probably would have listed every player on every roster. I'm sure someone sees something in all of them. But I did the best I could with what pictures and videos can show me, and spent about 5 minutes considering who off my list I'd keep on there if I got the chance to meet all of them. I have to admit that some of them might be too skinny. I'm not normally attracted to someone who's 5'7" 140 even if he has a jaw and cheekbones to die for. Like I say, I did my best. And I'm really starting to feel bad about that one country I gave the shaft. I remember them all having crazy hair. That's distracting, and I think it was about 2:30 AM when I was checking them out. Maybe I'll try again later.
Here's my favorites...
Mario Eggimann
Fernando Llorente
Victor Valdes
Fernando Torres
Iker Casillas
Deco
Cristiano Ronaldo
Nilmar
Julio Baptista
Fabio Cannavaro
Roque Santa Cruz
Yuji Nakazawa
Benny Feilhaber
Yoann Gourcuff
And for kicks...
David Beckham
(who totally should be unhurt and STILL playing in this World Cup. Because Rooney and Company needed a hand)
Nacho Figueras (Polo player and Ralph Lauren model. To remind us all that there are other sports, other athletes, and other beautiful men.)
Oops, one more soccer player! This one's Greek. And he's the reason none of the other handsome men listed or pictured above matter at all to me. He's my guy!
Thursday, June 24, 2010
I'm Rambling (And I love insights into souls)
There are 2 reasons that I have started to blog. The first is because I am obsessed with reading others' blogs...and their Facebooks, Wikipedias, etc. etc. I love stalking, you could say. (With my luck, one day I'll get into some sort of pickle where they uncover this blog from blank years ago and take that last sentence straight out of context to prove that I've always "loved stalking"...well, bah humbug. Not in that sense!) And by that I mean that I love history and facts and information and IMAGINATION. I love dates, and really detailed personal stories and 1,001 insights into anyone's soul, basically. For example: I'm the type to have a friend mention someone new they met and thought was really great so I will dare to friend request them on Facebook so that I can take a gander at their profile and then imagine the kind of person they must be. And that's it. It is, I imagine, similar to if one person meeting and making small talk with another was set up interview style, just to get the hard facts and that's all and be done with it. Name? Addison. Middle name? Claire. Favorite color? Turquoise. Birthday? April 28th. Siblings? 2 little brothers, Saul and Sam. Pets? Turtle, Benny; pony, Francis; beta fish, Fish. And so on. I do not know why, but I have always been fascinated with other people. Where they've been, what made them the way that they are, where they're going...the people they're connected to...and then simply questions like might be listed on some celebrity's personal site about favorite colors etc. etc. Case in point, I recently started watching Pretty Little Liars with my mom and dad. I could only make it through 2 episodes without HAVING to know how old each of the girls in it was. There are 4 main characters who are tangled up in the details of how their fifth friend died. There are 2 or 3 other girls, all supposedly the same age, involved in the storyline as well. I'm glad that I checked. I got a little background on all of the actresses and found out that the youngest is 14 and the oldest is 31. And they're all supposed to be the same age. Now, to me... THAT'S AWESOME. But then again, my friends know I've got some weird complex about age. I love knowing birthdays, and hoping that I'm the older one. I usually am, but I've had to grin and bare it when I'm around some people who are randomly and for NO GOOD REASON (haha) a month or two older. I remember dates. Not all dates, but many of them, and some that nothing important really happened on either. Important ones, however, really stand out. I can tell you the date of my first kiss, when my first boyfriend and I started "going out" and then broke up ...same with my second boyfriend. And, for a while, I could tell you the dates that I had my first kiss with however many boys I have kissed until I had my last first kiss and decided to try my very best to forget the others. I have succeeded in forgetting more than half. I remember the day that I met my best friend when we were 4. I celebrate all of my pets' (3 dogs and a horse) birthdays, even after they've passed. I remember the date I got accepted to college, the date that the classes 2004-2007 graduated high school, the date I got my hair cut and wore this turquoise and orange thing to a laser show, and the date that I last barfed. And the date I last barfed before that (these dates are significant to me, strange as it sounds.) I love facts about all of the people I meet. Some more than others, but for the most part, I'm just totally interested. This all segues very well into the second reason I am blogging.
I'm doing it because I am also fascinated with facts about myself. This isn't intended to be selfish or narcissistic, although I'm sure it fits into that category after all. The thing is, I don't always feel that I know myself very well, and it's great for me to vent or talk it out and explain myself to myself. So, more often than not, at least for a while, I'll probably ramble and blah blah blah about whatever. I think it will get better. I will not always have the need to record every axon, dendrite, synapse, neurotransmitter explosion about my issues (Lord, help me), but I'm not going to be in denial about it either. And, for starters, who but I reads this blog right now? I think I'll try to put up with myself.
Back to other peoples blogs:
I love to find or "Stumble Upon" random blogs online. After I find one, I see whose blogs they are following and click on and on until something really catches my eye or I read something that grabs my attention and then I read and read and read until I am forced to click "follow" and check back every day for updates on the life of a stranger. (Aside: Since I am a self-diagnosed over-thinker, I have considered that I read stories of the lives of strangers because I am too frightened to risk living my own. I'm not sure if I just love to read about others' adventures or whether I am trying to live vicariously. The jury is out.) Lately, I found a blog, or blob, rather, that I LOVE. Before I get too far into describing the blog, though, I'm going to tell how I found it. Long story real short: I have friends who have friends and these friends appear in pictures or wall posts or what have you on my Facebook news feed all the time. One particular girl I have seen on campus and all over the place because we have about 97 mutual friends, so I clicked to her Facebook page and saw almost immediately that she had a blog listed under her website. Since I'm a blog reader I clicked over and checked it out. I loved reading her blog, and saw that there were others who had found her blog and commented as well. Other strangers who enjoyed reading what she offered. I decided to go on a blogventure and clicked onto another blog from the list of blogs followed. That took me to a blog that was the best kind of blog (or at least I was getting warmer...) where the blogger is experienced, and able to write about the kinds of things that offer insights into the soul as well as engage the reader. I loved. The blogger reminded me of myself, as well, because she opened up about her worries and issues not to be a Debbie Downer, but for the sake of interest and honesty. She mentioned how there were other people she admired, and wondered to herself why she couldn't be more this like whoever or more that like whoever... and she included the links for clicking onto these other blogger's blogs so that her readers could see exactly what she meant. The first two didn't get me too excited. I think one was a blog about cooking (which I like, and steal recipes from, but can't really get into) and the other was about sewing (which looked really cool, but, again...couldn't get into it), but the third link absolutely hit the jackpot. It was the best blog, NO! blob that I have ever read. And I call it a "blob" because that is how the owner refers to it. Strangely, I feel awkward explaining away about someone's blob who I have never met, so I can't bring myself to go into too much detail. But I will say that she (yes, she) is very honest, witty, fashionable, and REAL. She oozes realness. She looks like a doll (no, really, she looks like a perfect porcelain doll with great clothes and hair) and like she would have a perfect life, but explains her struggles and simplicities with such grace that her "problems" start to look good!? Or, really, they start to look like they are not problems, but just things, and they're okay because she's so good at going with the flow and living vibrantly that it doesn't matter what happens, she's still glowing. Today's insight into her soul? She was running a race and puked all over the people running around her. Sounds graceful and heartwarming doesn't it? But if you ever have the pleasure of bumping into her blob, you'll see what I mean. Makes you want to roll with the punches. And then blob about it.
Upcoming topics:
World Cup Hotties (prepare to DROOOOOOOOL!)
and Problem Child
I'm doing it because I am also fascinated with facts about myself. This isn't intended to be selfish or narcissistic, although I'm sure it fits into that category after all. The thing is, I don't always feel that I know myself very well, and it's great for me to vent or talk it out and explain myself to myself. So, more often than not, at least for a while, I'll probably ramble and blah blah blah about whatever. I think it will get better. I will not always have the need to record every axon, dendrite, synapse, neurotransmitter explosion about my issues (Lord, help me), but I'm not going to be in denial about it either. And, for starters, who but I reads this blog right now? I think I'll try to put up with myself.
Back to other peoples blogs:
I love to find or "Stumble Upon" random blogs online. After I find one, I see whose blogs they are following and click on and on until something really catches my eye or I read something that grabs my attention and then I read and read and read until I am forced to click "follow" and check back every day for updates on the life of a stranger. (Aside: Since I am a self-diagnosed over-thinker, I have considered that I read stories of the lives of strangers because I am too frightened to risk living my own. I'm not sure if I just love to read about others' adventures or whether I am trying to live vicariously. The jury is out.) Lately, I found a blog, or blob, rather, that I LOVE. Before I get too far into describing the blog, though, I'm going to tell how I found it. Long story real short: I have friends who have friends and these friends appear in pictures or wall posts or what have you on my Facebook news feed all the time. One particular girl I have seen on campus and all over the place because we have about 97 mutual friends, so I clicked to her Facebook page and saw almost immediately that she had a blog listed under her website. Since I'm a blog reader I clicked over and checked it out. I loved reading her blog, and saw that there were others who had found her blog and commented as well. Other strangers who enjoyed reading what she offered. I decided to go on a blogventure and clicked onto another blog from the list of blogs followed. That took me to a blog that was the best kind of blog (or at least I was getting warmer...) where the blogger is experienced, and able to write about the kinds of things that offer insights into the soul as well as engage the reader. I loved. The blogger reminded me of myself, as well, because she opened up about her worries and issues not to be a Debbie Downer, but for the sake of interest and honesty. She mentioned how there were other people she admired, and wondered to herself why she couldn't be more this like whoever or more that like whoever... and she included the links for clicking onto these other blogger's blogs so that her readers could see exactly what she meant. The first two didn't get me too excited. I think one was a blog about cooking (which I like, and steal recipes from, but can't really get into) and the other was about sewing (which looked really cool, but, again...couldn't get into it), but the third link absolutely hit the jackpot. It was the best blog, NO! blob that I have ever read. And I call it a "blob" because that is how the owner refers to it. Strangely, I feel awkward explaining away about someone's blob who I have never met, so I can't bring myself to go into too much detail. But I will say that she (yes, she) is very honest, witty, fashionable, and REAL. She oozes realness. She looks like a doll (no, really, she looks like a perfect porcelain doll with great clothes and hair) and like she would have a perfect life, but explains her struggles and simplicities with such grace that her "problems" start to look good!? Or, really, they start to look like they are not problems, but just things, and they're okay because she's so good at going with the flow and living vibrantly that it doesn't matter what happens, she's still glowing. Today's insight into her soul? She was running a race and puked all over the people running around her. Sounds graceful and heartwarming doesn't it? But if you ever have the pleasure of bumping into her blob, you'll see what I mean. Makes you want to roll with the punches. And then blob about it.
Upcoming topics:
World Cup Hotties (prepare to DROOOOOOOOL!)
and Problem Child
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