Tuesday, February 28, 2006


I'm taking a break. Sorry, can't explain.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Just Thinking About it...

Recently, I was pondering the idea of thinking about dating … not actually "dating" mind you, just thinking about thinking about it. Taking the bold step and actually DOING it seems mightily rash don’tcha think? In my trampoline-like emotional state, I might injure some poor fellow. However, should I ever manage to get myself settled into a place where dating is a possibility, I feel a bit concerned about my options.

Work people = NO. If you met the options at my workplace, this would be a no-brainer. But, even if there were an attractive candidate, those sorts of things can get messy, especially in the rumor-mill of my workplace.
Friends of friends = NO. I’ve tried this before. People always think it’s a good idea, but in reality it’s a horrible idea. Your friends all get their hopes up, and if for some reason you don’t like the guy or he doesn’t like you, you have to spend the next 6 months talking about WHY. It’s a social nightmare. Also, when your friends pick someone for you who they think you’ll absolutely love, and who’s perfect for you but he turns out to have the IQ of a tangerine peel, a girl has to stop and wonder. Is this a reflection of what my friends think of me? Hmmmmm.
Internet = NO? I actually think this is an okay idea, but everyone I know totally FREAKS OUT about it. They’re certain that anyone I meet online is going to be the next Ted Bundy and they’ll find my mutilated corpse in a ditch somewhere. Thus, in order to use this method of meeting people, I have to ease the minds of my loved ones by having a tracking device embedded under my skin (like the one I have for my dog in case she runs away or gets kidnapped). I don’t even have a tattoo or multiple piercings. I’m not sure I’m ready for the Big Brother chip.
Bars & Clubs = NO. Only if I just want sex or a drunk … or sex with a drunk.
The gym = NO. I’m too sweaty and icky when I’m working out. I know there are guys who think sweaty, active women are attractive, but they aren’t talking about ME. Oh no! It’s not pretty. I don’t think I’d want to date anyone who thought so.
Grocery Store = NO. I’ve been grocery shopping for 20+ years, and in all that time I’ve been asked out by one guy in a grocery store (and that was someone I knew, and was semi-stalking). If I have to wait another 20 years and expend that much energy, it’s not worth it.
Other activities = ? That would require thought and ambition. I’ll have to work up to that sort of thing. Remember, I’m still in the pondering stage.

The other thing that keeps me from running for the high dive into the dating pool, are recollections of dating experiences of the past. People are goofy. Men are goofy. Sometimes goofiness is wonderfully endearing. Other times, it’s more than a little disturbing.

Dating Disaster Examples:
  1. Told me about the porn his boss sent him that day (1st date).
  2. Pointed out a girl in the restaurant who he used to date AND proceeded to tell me how crazy she acted when he dumped her (another 1st date).
  3. Asked me point blank how many times we would have to go out before sex (2nd date).
  4. Repeatedly said, "You don’t like me very much do you?" By the end of the night, he was right.
  5. Took me to a strip club (1st date. I was 18 years old. Our Mom’s were church friends).
  6. Got completely shit-faced. I told him he could sleep on the couch. When I came out of the bathroom, he was naked and passed out spread eagle in the middle of my living room floor.
  7. Told me the same jokes that I had told him the week before on the phone.
  8. Stand-up comedian ... he wasn’t funny ... not even a little bit (blind date).
  9. Wouldn’t shut up about what a bitch his ex-wife was.
  10. Thought he smelled something funny. Decided it might be on his hands. Tried to force me smell his finger. Honest to god, he was persistent. "No … seriously Theresa, smell my finger." over and over and over again.
  11. Forgot his wallet … (he’ll pay me pack later) mmm hmmm … still waiting.
  12. Told me how great his ex-wife’s tits were.
  13. Surprise introduced me to his mother on our 2nd date … and told her that I was the girl he was going to marry.

This weekend, I'm going bowling with my friends. I'm coming home early, eating leftover Chinese food in front of the TV and cuddling with my big fuzzy dogs. At least if something smells funny, I'll know it's just a dog fart.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

The Honest to Goddess Truth

Thanks to everyone who submitted questions, as well as those who simply expressed voyeuristic interest in this little show of exhibitionism. I can assure you, I have no plans for an encore performance.

Shephard: I'd really like to know the biggest and most fanciful dream you have, the one that makes your heart go all giggly at the thought of achieving it. Jayne: Arrrgh!! Shephard stole my question! But really, I'll ask again, in case you try to elude it: what's the dream in your heart that you're avoiding pursuing right now?

I want to live in a lovely home with my true-love and our dogs. The house will have a fabulous porch, where I can play my cello, and divine gardens so I can play in the dirt at my leisure. I will also have a bathroom of my very own and a couch, a real couch, not a futon, or a hand-me-down couch. I want to have a job where I do whatever I want every day, which is likely to change every day, because that’s the kind of girl I am. Oh … and here’s the kicker, the part that feels like my personal Mount Everest, looming large, and nearly unattainable, I want to have a solid sense of unconditional self acceptance and love. I want to like myself all the time, and even cut myself a break when I screw up.

Dick: At times you are strong and fearless. Your blog is rich with characters, experiences and relationships that substantiate that. And yet other times you seem, not weak, but fragile - like a blown glass flower that could easily be crushed if mishandled. Some would say what you have is a gift. Others would argue it's a burden. What do you say?
I thought about this sweet question a lot and always came up with BOTH as my answer.
I don’t know that I’m any stronger or more courageous than anyone else. However, I’ve been around long enough to know that I can handle a lot because I have, and shying away from scary things makes for a pretty boring life. Easy access to my emotions makes me seem emotionally fragile. It also allows me to empathize with others almost effortlessly. I suppose I could try to keep these feelings under wraps, but I’m committed to living an honest life. Trying to present a façade of perfection and invulnerability limits intimacy with others. I don’t want that kind of loneliness in my life. Sure, I'm in terrible pain sometimes. I hate those times when I fall to pieces and feel completely defenseless. But if I had to choose, I’d rather have this kind of pain than the numb torment of isolation, indifference and self-ignorance. And it always seems that for every moment of anguish, I experience many more moments of equally intense joy.

Nosthegametoo: What is your first memory of romantically loving someone, beyond that of innocent child-like infatuation??
Kyle: I know that nosthegametoo asked already, but I'd like to ask in a more specific-yet-vague way: When was the first time you fell deeply in love, so deep it hurt as much to be near that person as it did to be away from them? This can refer to anyone, regardless of whether or not you were romantically involved.
I thought I’d been in love before, but when it happened for real, my previous experiences seemed to pale into trivial episodes of infatuation or neediness. I was 26 years old when I met him. We lived over 1,200 miles away from one another. In a year’s time we spent less than a month in each other’s company. Maybe the fact that we were apart made the element of romance and emotional intimacy more intense than it might have been otherwise. Likewise, our treasured meetings were all the more passionate, and yes, sometimes exquisitely, poignantly, heartbreakingly painful.

Steve: If you knew that you had two years to live...and that's all...what would you do? Why? I’d quit my job, cash in my 401K, sell everything I have of value and travel around sponging off all of my friends and family. A while back, when I was changing careers, I had a long talk with my Dad about what I was doing. He told me that if he could go back and do one thing differently with his life, he’d work less and spend more time with the people he loves. I knew exactly what he was talking about because my job had taken over my life and I rarely saw friends and family. I still don’t spend nearly as much time with the people I love, especially those who live far away from me.

Chick: Have you ever received anal...if so...did you like it & why?! and, what is your favorite book? (purely based on imaginative writing & story).
1.) Yes. Yes. Back in the day when I had a sex life, I remember doing it because it felt good.
2.) It’s difficult to choose just one, but I will for the sake of brevity. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. This has been one of my favorite stories for as long as I can remember. The themes of redemption, learning from our past, it’s never too late to change, no one is entirely bad, the love of money is toxic, and being a good person really can make a difference, are values and ideals that I hold dear. Dickens didn’t invent these ideas, but he managed to bring them all together in a smashingly good little book.

Polyman2: In the few short months that I've had contact with you, you seem like an open honest caring unselfish individual. I know you've had you share of hardships and emotional turbulence, but you seem strong and well adjusted and can handle it, so why do you think you are bipolar? Why accept "official" explanations? You seem to me to be just a little overly sensitive. There’s a difference between character traits and symptoms. It’s entirely possible for me (or anyone) to have all the lovely qualities you’ve described above and still meet the criteria for Major Depressive Disorder. It took me a while to come to terms with this myself. I used to see my Depression symptoms as character defects, and think that somehow I had to WILL myself to get better. It was a welcome relief to have a diagnosis and effective treatment. I’m more fortunate than Lu. Medicine works fairly well for me. I’ve benefited from talk therapy over the years as well. For a little peek at what I look like when I’m not taking care of myself and my meds aren’t working, go here.

Stephen: I'll give two questions and you can choose either or both. If you could go back and re-do a moment in your life you feel you were wronged--what would that be/how would it be "fixed"? There’s only one "wronged" that still plagues me. It’s far too complicated to explain here, and the details don’t matter anyway. The real challenge for me is to figure out how to make sense of the betrayal, grow from the experience and put it in it’s proper place in my history.

Financial Security. Beauty. Brains. Mental Health. Physical Health. Complete single-hood. Complete companionship. If you could only have TWO of the previous items--which would it be? I’d choose Brains and Companionship. Of course, this choice basically dooms me and my loyal canine companion to living in a cardboard box, dodging insults and broken bottles, while mumbling to myself as I hobble on my one good leg down to the public library to work on that pesky little M-Theory puzzle that’s been baffling everybody.

RUSerious: (finally, an intelligent question) Do these pants make my ass look big?
Sweetheart, the only way those pants could look better is if they were in a crumpled heap next to my bed

Lu: What time are you coming over this evening? Cocktail time, of course
Can I borrow your black FMPs (the strappy ones with lower heel)? FMP's with a low heel? I'm confused.
Ooh Ooh Ooh! I just read Polyman's question. Can I answer it, can I, can I please??!! No, that wasn’t nearly enough begging.

No_the_game: If you had a chance to change your dating life what would you do? Would you go for a guy who makes you fall in love (u know crazily in love thing) or guys who can give you sense of emotional & financial stability?
The nature of Love (romantic love), as I’ve known it, isn’t an either/or experience. In the beginning I feel a little crazy … okay, this is ME we’re talking about … A LOT crazy. After a while, things settle into a more comfortable sense of emotional stability. Even though the "crazy" part is thrilling and exciting, it’s often also filled with painful longing and uncertainty. I hate that part. I’m always happy when it dawns on me that I’m genuinely comfortable and at ease with someone I love. Money? It's never been part of the equation. I’ve never been financially dependent on a man and I think I’d have to deal with feelings of inferiority if I ever found myself in that situation. All in all, when I think about being with someone in a love-relationship, what I’m looking for is my "match". I’ll know it when I feel

Al: "Do you know the way to San Jose"? Google: MapQwest

Clew: I have a 3 part question: If you could kill someone and get away with it, would you? Thought about it once ... a long time ago. He died of natural causes. Who would it be? Can’t say. What did they do to make you want to kill them? He hurt some people I love.

Aisha: What is your height and weight? I’m 5’9" and don’t know how much I weigh. I’d guess it’s somewhere between 175 and 400 pounds (probably closer to the lower end of that range). There was a ceremonial burial of my bathroom scale in 1992 in Lemoyne, Pennsylvania. Scales are no longer welcome in my home because I use them as tools for self-deprecation. If it narrows things down a little, I wear a size 14.

Your life seems very full with a lot of twists and turns along the way. When you first started out on your own, did you have a specific goal/idea of what you wanted to do and where you wanted to be or did you let fate take your hand and throw caution to the wind or did you have the plan/goal and then decide to let the twists and turns of life take you through?
I had a plan but I changed my mind a lot. First I wanted to be a concert cellist, then a physical anthropologist, sociologist, teacher, psychologist, and biologist. I attended three Universities before I got my BA and ended up with a degree in Sociology because when I ran out of money that’s where most of my electives were. Most of my jobs were happy accidents. I needed a job, applied for a lot, and got the right one. As far and my non-work life goes, I’ve been open to new experiences while trying to stay true to myself and maintaining my core moral values. The times in my life when I tried to exert too much control over my fate are when things seem to go terribly wrong. It's always good to have a plan, but the plan needs to be flexible. Some days I wake up and wonder how the hell I got here. Other days I wake up and think, "Wow, what a ride!"

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Q & A with the Love Goddess

Just for fun, I've decided to open the dialogue at 2hotchiks to personal questions. If there's anything you've ever wondered about me, you have until Monday (2/20) evening, to ask. After that, I will return to my regular pattern of vacillating between open bookiness and cryptic mysteriousness. Feel free to leave your questions in the comments section or send via email.

Disclaimer: My responses will be completely honest and forthright. However, I won't reveal information that would violate a personal promise or directly hurt another person.

Tuesday, February 14, 2006


Once upon a time,
Your voice was forever in my ear.
I could hear you talking to me
Even when you were miles away.
Now, when you’re next to me,
I have to strain to hear you.
What was that you said?
Was it "hello"
Or "goodbye"?

Ever after

Monday, February 13, 2006

Happy Valentine's Day

I love everybody
you're next
For my 21st birthday, a bunch of my college friends gave me a t-shirt that said that on the front. Wouldn't they be surprised to find out how calloused and bitter I've become?
Ha! I LOVE YOU ALL ! ! !

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Self-Indulgent Post About Me

Where I am now

Where I want to be

I’ve been told that I’m inconsistent, I change too much, I’m too intense and I over-think, over-react, and over-whelm. In a similar vein, some have suggested that my blog posts are all over the place, not necessarily in a bad way; more like a roller coaster ride. My moods, thoughts, desires, and motivations are reflected in my irratic writing. Sometimes its a scary, thrilling, funny, painful, poignant unpredictable twisty-turny-up & down trip, slowing briefly only to start up again on another round. Such is my nature. I love it. I hate it. I tolerate it. I cherish it. I feel confused.

The last few months have been a time of extraordinary growth and change. Volumes, gallons, miles, buckets of activity have been going on in my head while I go about my day-to-day maintenance of the basic necessities. I’m learning to accept myself ... dare I say it, even love myself. I’m learning to lean on my friends without guilt. I’m learning to expect more from life rather than settling due to shameful feelings based on real and imagined inadequacies. Even though I’m not free to be completely open and forthcoming, this blog is one of the few places I feel safe to be completely honest about such things.

My life will be changing even more in the near future. I’m getting my house in order, both literally and figuratively. Important things that I really want are finally within my grasp. As such, it's going to get worse before it gets better. Huge changes mean huge adjustments, even when they're good changes. In the meantime, life inside my head feels less like a roller coaster and more like a trampoline. If you’re gonna stick this out with me, I suggest you pick up a box of Damamine.

** A special thanks to a few treasured friends who've been keeping a close eye on me lately. If all'y'all hadn't lent a loving and protective hand when I was upturned, I surely would have landed on my head more than a few times. **

THE GAME OF LIFE: Hot Chik Version

The last and best game of Life I ever played was about ten years ago. Monkey-man and I were over at Lu’s house and her daughter, Leah invited us to play with her. At the time, Leah was only 8 or 9-years old. She was a smart, precocious little thing and a blast to hang out with. Pretty much the same as she is now, only shorter.

As the game got rolling, we started experiencing all that the typical game of Life had to offer us. We drove our little cars around, graduated, chose a career and a college, bought houses and acquired jobs. I was the first car to encounter love and marriage. When I chose my mate, I decided to choose a pink passenger instead of a blue one. I didn’t make a big deal about it. I just did it.

Leah, being the bright, observant child that she was, noticed right away. She said, "Hey! You can’t do that. You can’t marry a girl."

I raised an eyebrow toward Lu, winked and replied, "But, in this game, I’m in love with Rosie O'Donnell. I really want to marry her."

Lu, being the coolest Mom in the world, went on to remind Leah that she knew lots and lots of women who loved other women. She named off at least half a dozen couples who Leah had known her whole life. Naturally, Leah accepted her Mom’s matter-of-fact explanation, and we went on to play the game, everyone choosing a same-sex husband or wife … because we could.

A couple weeks later, Lu called me laughing her ass off. She said that Leah had a slumber party the night before and the girls had played Life. As they were setting up, Leah announced, "You know, when your car gets to the square where you get married, you don’t have to marry a boy. You can marry a girl if you want to."

Damn, I love that kid!

Recommended reading: Shephard’s Alley, 2/10/06

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Gray With You

I’m neither good nor bad
Best nor worst
Smart nor simple
Pretty nor plain

I’m somewhere in the gray with you

I’m neither right nor wrong
Fast nor slow
Polite nor rude
Bitter nor sweet

I’m all these in the gray with you

I am neither hot nor cold
Clever nor dull
Brave nor timid
Frail nor strong

These bright absolutes are lonely stars in black skies
They're the lies of legends and heroes.
I’d rather be here in the gray with you
Where we can reach out and touch one another.

Friday, February 10, 2006

He Feels Like Home

He pokes fun at me
When I’m grumpy
Until I’m laughing in spite of myself

When I’m tired
He offers to drive
But he doesn’t grab the keys away

He lets me love him
Knows what a gift is
Treasures the things that matter most

When I walk in the room
I’m the one he sees
The one he’s waiting for in the crowd

He longs to protect me
From all the hurts
While he fits my wings and sets me free

In uncertainty, he whispers
Baby, it’ll be okay
I believe him, sliding into easy dreams

In the dark of the night
He reaches for me
And it feels like home, it feels like home

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Love = Fear

It was the classic coward’s dump. First, he cut phone calls short; then he cancelled dates at the last minute. After a while, he forgot to call altogether. He’d just stumble in late, apologizing like crazy, saying he was busy, caught in traffic, delayed by family, detoured while climbing the Andes, kidnapped by pirates, trapped in quicksand, decapitated by a pack of rabid timber wolves, blah, blah, blah ... We all know the drill. Happens all the time in Manhattan. However, when a girl is in L.O.V.E., she will put up with such nonsense FAR longer than she would otherwise.

Thankfully, even the stupidest girl in L.O.V.E. eventually gets a clue and wises up.

It all happened quite suddenly. One day I was going along with the script, saying things like "That’s okay, Honey. I believe you if you say that that you couldn’t call for two days because all the phones on the East Coast melted into hot lava." And "Of course I believe you meant to meet me at 14th Avenue instead of 14th Street. It was probably MY fault. Silly me, I should have checked both places."

And then one day, something SNAPPED!!!

It all flooded in on me. All the lies, inconsistencies, exaggerations and broken promises collected in to one big red hot burn. Yep, my ass was on fire. I was mad at him for making me a fool, and I was mad at myself for falling in line with his silly song and dance routine. The only thing to do was break up.

The problem was that we’d tried to do that a couple times before. There would be a big scene on the phone, and then a few days later, he would call with apologies and some horrible problem that he couldn’t handle without his best girl at his side … followed by lots of hot make-up sex (sometimes right there on the phone).

I needed a new plan.

I decided to try a face-to-face break-up this time. That would make it real. It had to stick once and for all.

It didn’t matter that he lived 3 ½ hours away. Some things are more important than burning a few gallons of gas. I prepared myself physically and emotionally and hit the road. Since I didn’t call first, I shouldn’t have been surprised when he wasn’t home. So much for my great plan.

I sat outside his house for a good 2 hours before he finally arrived. When he did, he looked fantastic. He also looked really, really pissed. Somehow, the fact that he looked fantastic bothered me more. I think it was because I was way more pissed than he could ever imagine feeling himself. I'd had a total of 5 ½ hours to prepare a good juicy angry, ranting break-up scene in my head. Despite outweighing me by 85 pounds, the man didn’t have a chance. I knocked him on his ass in less than 10 minutes and walked my sweet fanny back out the door.

To this day, he says it’s the bravest thing he’s ever seen anyone ever do. I doubt that, but I don’t mind when he says it.

A couple months later, I got the call. He realized all the mistakes he made and he wanted me back. Instead of listening to the story-of-the-day, I was hearing the truth. It’s too bad it took him that long to realize that he’d just been afraid of love.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Survival Stories

I eased the fears of a 17-year old gang-rape victim while a doctor and a nurse asked her humiliating questions and treated her body like a crime scene. Her biggest concern was for the third trimester baby still growing in her womb.

I held the hand of an 18-year old as she screamed the labor of pushing out her second child. Her mother, her auntie, or the baby’s daddy should have been there, but they were all down the street getting high in a crack house.

I sat in front of a room full of recovering alcoholics and drug addicts. They might have thought I knew something they didn’t know. All I really knew was that I better not try to fake it in front of a room full of recovering alcoholics and drug addicts. Thank God that's all they wanted from me.

I counted the cigarette burns on her arms as she recalled the abuse of her childhood. She didn’t know who to be most angry with, her father for inflicting the pain, or her mother for failing to protect her.

I met him in the Black Angel Cemetery. He was the man-boy whose sister had been murdered. No one bothered to tell him what happened until after the funeral. He never got to say goodbye, so we had to do it together, howling his loneliness and grief into the night.

I watched seven caps and gowns walk to the podium to accept the hard-won diplomas they’d earned. Happy tears of I-knew-you-could-do-it stung my eyes and warmed my cheeks. Afterwards, we threw a party and invited everyone we knew.

I listened to the ranting denial of a father who had repeatedly raped his little girl until she nearly dissolved into nothingness. He wanted her back, but she was free to take her 18-year old body away from him. Every day, she bravely carved out a life where the monster-father couldn’t find her. At night, she bravely curled up in a ball and sobbed.

I drank iced pomegranate tea with three generations of African women who had endured Female Genital Mutilation. Mute in my humility, I gratefully listened while warming myself in the glow of their hospitality.

(This post isn’t about me. It’s about those who’ve survived. It was an honor to bear witness to their courage.)

Friday, February 03, 2006

It's a Rough Life but Somebody Has to Live It

I haven’t posted since before the last blue moon, and I think it’s high time. After all, “1 Hot Chik” is a silly name for a blog.

I know you have all been awake nights wondering what I’ve been up to. Well, I’ve been very busy with my new job as a full-time depressed person. It’s very demanding—the following is a list of my duties:

  • keep track of shrink and therapy appointments and adjust naptimes around them;
  • listen to the messages that pile up when I turn off my phone and decide which ones I absolutely must respond to;
  • separate laundry into piles (dirty, filthy, and nobody-will-know);
  • monitor daytime television commercials for one-dish, no-cook meals that my family can shop for on their own;
  • press Lamictal tablets out of those fucking blister packs without crumbling them into powder (I hear that this is currently a very marketable skill);
  • adjust Xanax consumption so as not to interfere with possible Happy Hour opportunities;
  • decide whether or not to waste energy educating skeptical know-it-alls like Tom Cruz (proof-positive that sometimes beauty is only skin deep);
  • cook up huge, steaming plates of Shut-the-Fuck-Up for those who are ignorant beyond redemption;
  • prepare and consume daily meals (Lean Cuisines and peanut butter toast, mostly);
  • arrange television-watching schedule, paying special attention to new episodes of The Dog Whisperer and What Not to Wear;
  • assemble daily list of creative justifications for not keeping a To Do list;
  • manage crying spells and the resulting 40-minute nap;
  • read my email only on official government holidays, which pisses my Dad off to no end;
  • decide whether to sleep or try to beat my highest Bejeweled score;
  • scour the internet for Celtic knot drawings and mandalas to color;
  • watch “tacky TV movies” in order to remember if I’ve seen them before;
  • try to focus on the fact that this is all I really need to do at this time in my life.

See? No wonder I have no time to write.


Thursday, February 02, 2006

15 Fears

I’m afraid I’m wasting all my time.

I’m afraid I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.

I’m afraid I’m as ugly as my mother said I was.

I’m afraid I’m not as beautiful as my father thinks I am.

I’m afraid to let myself need you.

I’m afraid to admit that I’m lost.

I’m afraid to lose control.

I’m afraid you’ll see me crying,

I’m afraid you won’t care if you do.

I’m afraid I’ll let everyone down.

I’m afraid it’s all been a big misunderstanding.

I’m afraid of what I could accomplish if I really tried.

I’m afraid you’ll want more from me than I have to give.

I’m afraid of your reaction.

I’m afraid to love you too much.