[Edited for content on April 19th, 2015. Because I don't ever want these entries to be cries for help or smears on anybody's character but my own. I liked what I wrote but I don't like how it hurt somebody.]
Let me open this with the admission that I have been listening to a playlist called "Pop Kiss-Offs" for the past, oh, two months. Two months. Taylor Swift and Ariana Grande are all up in my head in crannies I didn't think I'd want them to be in but sweet Jesus they're hitting a sweet spot. That's embarrassing. Just kidding, I was walking up a street by my place screeching off-key to Maroon 5 and two young men on their porch saw me and heard me and I mostly just felt proud.
This is the beginning of my stone cold resolution to write daily. Weekly? Semi-Weekly? Ugh.
What is this blog even about? In its entirety since 2008, I've posted about pretty much nothing in particular because I have no idea how to find a "blogging niche". Gross. I hate when people pronounce "niche" like "nitch". I think Jessie Spano did that once on Saved by the Bell and I've hated it ever since. I hate her too. You aren't allowed to be all self-righteous and brainy if you can't pronounce a one syllable word.
I guess this is the path one would start on in order to determine the indeterminable. To de-pill the fuzziness that is my poorly laundered online diary. Or something. Bear with me because not all of these essays are gonna be winners. Not all of them will be essays either. A lot of them will just be declarative sentences about grilled Gruyere and bacon sandwiches. SERIOUSLY.
The pop kiss-offs obsession is for one fairly depressing reason. I have been going through a break-up that Will. Not. End.
Originally in December of last year I thought I had a lot of really important stuff to bring forward for women who have gone through, are going through or (God I hope not) *will* go through what I have, but it occurs to me now that this notion was uppity and holy shit I can't solve my own ambiguous mud puddly life, never mind help some other beautiful, intelligent, sweet-smelling lady with hers. See what I did there? I'm learning how to be my own friend but am also being super nice to the ladies. Whatever valuable advice I do have, I'll try to weed through and get rid of the stuff that just comes off as grab-bag horsecrap like "Maybe you should just be by yourself for a while? How can you love anybody if you can't love yourself?"
Listen, I love being by myself. I spend 3/4s of my day around people anyway. I don't really want to be by myself all the time though. And I do love me. It'd just be really nice if somebody else did too. Being loved is pretty awesome. Maybe a back rub and a couple of kept promises here and there. I'm not asking for anybody to de-mildew my shower or carry my purse. Also, why people carry their significant other's purse is beyond me. Don't touch my bag, I keep photos of other naked men I want to be with instead of you in there.
Here is the helpful shit. And please don't think I came up with ANY of it - credit where credit is due, I have girl friends, guy friends, cousins and aunties and a mother who give me the goods regularly. This is the stuff that actually HELPS me when telling myself to "be alone for a while" isn't cutting the mustard.
1a. People do not change for other people. People change for themselves. If they're messed up or miserable and don't want to be happy for themselves or want better for themselves and you want to stick around, it's a sure sign that you don't want to be happy for you, either. Which is just so stupid. Don't be stupid. That should be 1b.
2. If you feel like the sad idiot girl in a romantic comedy, who goes back to the partner who makes life harder when it should be lovely, STOP BEING THE SAD IDIOT GIRL IN THE ROMANTIC COMEDY. Of course, Ginnifer Goodwin and all of her naiveté is adorable, and movies know how to give us hope that the awkward skinny dude will figure it out and all of your tears and introspection will speak to him like a whisper in the wind while Coldplay is in the background, but honestly, you're still an idiot. He's an idiot too but he's not the one wasting his time.
3. Forgive yourself. Because if you don't say "Chelsea, you're so gullible and you need to get your head out of your ass and stop making the same mistake", then you're being dishonest and wishy-washy. But if you continue to denigrate yourself after that, you're headed to a dark place. It's scary there. There are unwashed sheets and gross kleenexes on your floor. His picture is turned upside down and you are screaming at the ceiling. It's not a good look. Nobody wants to do somebody who can't throw out their snotty tissues. Get rid of the fucking picture. Who cares. Keep the frame though, those are expensive. This is where you stop calling yourself an idiot and start smiling at yourself in the mirror. Smile sensually. Don't get creepy with it, but just be like "Hey girl. you're not an idiot anymore."
4. Stop talking about it.
People want to hear about the sad, weird, stupid shit in your life occasionally for any number of reasons. They might feel better about their own shitty decisions if yours are worse, for starters.
Friends might genuinely want to help. Maybe you'll misinterpret them wanting to minimally help with sage advice, and you'll have the smart idea that they'll say something to somebody who knows somebody who will change somebody's mind and they'll show up at your door with flowers, another apology and a puppy. That scenario has actually gone through my head, which is why I need to stop talking to people about it. If you are my friend and you are reading this, tell me to stfu if I try to start talking about it again.
Life is really good, guys. There are places to go and friends to make and so much delicious food. If you feel like you're wasting your moments on somebody and the good times are fewer and further between as a result of that, get back to wherever it was that you were eating something tasty and dancing on your tippy toes. Honestly, your calf muscles will look amazing if you do it often enough.
Chomps
