Friendvy and Finding Your Inner Peace

I was reading the latest issue of Cosmo, you know the pretty light purple and pink one with Kelly Osbourne on the cover. You know, I almost didn't even purchase it because I am just NOT a Kelly Osbourne girl, but I picked it up regardless (I saw the corner article titled 'Weird Stuff Guys Think About During Sex' and was sold immediately. It's stuff I thought I always wanted to know... I regret the decision to read that article.)

Despite Kelly Osbourne, despite guys thinking about the hot girl from their office or global foreign policy during sex... this July 2013 issue wasn't too, too bad. There was a nice little article about your FWB (friend with benefits) being potential boyfie material, a quiz on whether or not I am self obsessed... and an article about FRIENDVY.

Yeah, Friendvy - probably the only article I can ever find myself relating to.

Friendvy (n.) - a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to your best friends advantages, successes, possessions, number of Twitter followers, and accumulating number of likes on Vine posts.
* Note, this is a real, actual definition that is absolutely not loosely based on the actual definition of envy.

The article (to me) was basically about how some single 20-something college graduate stuck between college, finding a real job and alcoholism, covets the life that her friend who is happily engaged to her college boyfriend and has the perfect job doing exactly what she loves in one of the best cities ever... oh wait, maybe that was the article I concocted in my head about my own life.. IRREGARDLESS, I felt I was suffering of the same incurable disease!

You know in the movie "Bridesmaids" when Lillian (played by the super pregnant and uncomfortable Maya Rudolph) tells her BFF Annie (played by the ever so awkward Kristin Wiig) that she's engaged and Annie is all "oohhhh shit this is the worst day of my life but I'm going to attempt to try to be really happy for you even though I'm not displaying it at all?!" That is essentially my life in every aspect.

Like, okay, since I'm opening up here - I did not really, sincerely find the movie "Bridesmaids" funny. In fact, I only made it into a hilarious ordeal because my friends thought it to be hysterical... nay, THE MOST HILARIOUS MOVIE OF THE YEAR. And then there was me, pained on the inside because I FELT SORRY FOR ANNIE. I had one of those feelings for her - empathy. I felt empathetic towards a character in a comedy movie because I knew exactly what she was going through.

She hit rock bottom - I'd say I peaked when I forced myself to come home and leave all of my friends to finish my senior year at home instead of where I went to college for the other three years. I figured that would help me do better in my life. After a bunch of other failed sequences of events, I found myself 23 years old, and back home taking care of my parent.

At first it was fine, all my friends were still home and we were planning on having a fantastic summer and then moving away to New York or Chicago or LA... we had all these plans. Then one got a boyfriend and that was game over Chicago. Then the next started dating, and it was game over NYC... you get the idea. Every time someone started dating, I was left in the corner - forgotten. Doomed to figure out my life by myself.

Then, the relationships ended and I was back in the plan. Yeahh, go Adele! UNTIL, one friend got a cool summer job performing at a theme park every day. That's something I would LOVE to do. Perform every day for a few hours and then wander around and live the dream... Why can't I do anything fun like that? Well then I figured, I still have my other best friend and her and I are going to have the best summer ever planning our visits to Chicago and New York... and then, she got this kick ass internship in Disney World. DISNEY WORLD. What the heck?!

Another friend moved to Texas to help him mature as a person - got a great paying salary job, a new car, and a new place. He's also the luckiest kid in the world and continues to win tickets to cool events and gets to go to Vegas. Vegas. Come on, now.

I'm not mad at these people, nor do I like them any less.. I'm just really envious, okay? Where's my big break? Where's my cool opportunity that will change my life and inspire me and help me grow?

Then when I finally thought I knew what I was doing with my life, I had a really SHITTY audition and didn't get into a show I really wanted to be a part of. If this is my passion, why didn't I practice more? Why didn't I belt my tits off like I know I can?

So I'm now stuck in this rut, right? I'm stuck at trying to figure out what I'm going to do when my mom can finally walk again and wants me out of her house so she too can start going on dates and hanging out with friends.

However, I have refused to believe this is rock bottom.

I went to the new newest craze in women's gym classes, Hot Yoga, this week and I have never felt so connected with myself. Our mantra was "Everything happens for a reason. I am exactly where I need to be." Maybe I didn't need to be in a musical to remind myself that I am talented. Maybe I don't need to move right now to find happiness. I am precisely where I need to be at this moment, and it's here at home.

Okay yeah, I don't have the job I want, but I still get paid well doing what I do.
And yes, I'm not engaged, but I'm happier that way. I like casual dating, because I like not having to see a guy ever again if he completely repulses me.
I don't have a new car, yeah, it sucks, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to work my way to one...
Yeah, I'm not interning in Disney World - but do I really even want to? Was that ever in my plans?

Instead of getting bitter with everything, I have decided to find that peace with myself and get better.

I went home and made a list of short term and long term goals. My long term goals are things like having a record deal, a clothing line, a best selling novel... and my short term goals are exactly how I can get there: taking a few writing classes, maybe going back to school for English or Journalism, recording a demo, learning to sew, and studying more fashion, etc. I also made a list of places I want to call my home: New York or Los Angeles.

These are my goals, and if I have to get there alone, then so be it. I refuse to let my Friendvy dictate where I put myself.

Maybe, just maybe, someday my friends will look at my bright future and be friendvious of me. But until then, I just have to applaud their accomplishments and their happiness, and continue seeking my own.

Keeping it Old School

Back to the original name, Sweatpants and a Tiara.

It's goofy, I know.

One day I asked my boyfriend at the time what to call my blog

and he instantly looked at me and said

"Sweatpants and a Tiara."

I laughed about it, asking why so ridiculous...

"You love being in sweats... and you're a princess."

(and to think he wasn't a keeper...)

Every time I try to think of a better blog name, 

 I can't.

As weird as it sounds, it truly defines me.

Since I have changed my name,

I think it's time I devote some time to making a theme for my page..

it is beginning to look sickly.

Read up!

Flower Power in the 2013s.

"Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty, this hatred, how did it find us? Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it? What happened to us that we now send our children into the world like we send young men to war, hoping for their safe return, but knowing that some would be lost along the way. When did we lose our way? Consumed by the shadows. Swallowed whole by the darkness. Does this darkness have a name? Is it your name?"

It seems like every time I turn on the news, some innocent life is being taken away. It's like this strong, but cruel force of nature that is sweeping over our nation on a mission to corrupt a unity our founding fathers have worked so hard to attain.

Why does this happen? And how do we make it stop? Is our concern for surviving so little that we just look past finding peace? Have we lost hope?

I have been working on this post since the last "great American tragedy," you know, when a kid essentially blew up a school just a few months ago. I remember thinking during election season "how blessed we are to be not a country where we are fighting battles in our streets, or entering each others' homes and killing our children." Little did I know just a few months later, a boy would shoot his way into a school and take the lives of our educators and our future. Four months later, during the Boston Marathon, two bombs went off killing two and injuring many. It makes you wonder if we truly are blessed, or if we just hit a semi-"lucky" streak.

It's scary, you know. Turning on the news and seeing disaster. But it's scarier seeing how some people react. Instead of reaching out our hand to offer peace, we scream and point fingers at one another. When Sandy Hook happened, half of the nation immediately blamed mental illness or guns - while the other half retracted by rubbing their "Gun Owning Pride" in everyone's face. Our country is more divided than ever, and the peacemakers are outnumbered by those who break during chaos.

Can't we all just get along?

I chose to share this photo of Jan Rose Kasmir, October 1967, because it is iconic of the flower power movement.  "Flower power" was used as a symbol of passive resistance, and a non-violence ideology. It originated in protest against the Vietnam War.

While we are currently not overseas in a war (well, "supposedly,") we are in our own homeland at war with ourselves. So where are our protests? Where are our people saying "Give peace a chance," or "Where is the love?"

Instead of focusing on the good and safety of our country, we focus on ourselves. I think we need to take a stand. Everyone's so quick on Facebook or Twitter to share photos of girls in short shorts, or misguiding facts about calling 211 instead of 911, or of some teenage boy holding a piece of paper reading, 'Like if you love God" - Why won't you share a photo of peace? Maybe a post about your favorite peace maker and their efforts to change the world? Maybe a status about you going out there and spreading peace.  We can never attain peace by sitting at home wishing someone would start this trend. We have to start it ourselves.

The Flower Power movement was an idea that was planted and watered until it grew.

Peace is not an ideology that has since passed. Today we need it more than ever.

How will you spread peace, love, and unity... if you will at all?

"The cry of 'Flower Power' echoes through the land. We shall not wilt. 

Let a thousand flowers bloom."

— Abbie Hoffman, Workshop in Nonviolence, May 1967

Infinite

My 2013 GOALS

It blows my mind that yet another year has gone and passed. Can anyone please tell me why the year went by so fast? I can't believe it's time for a new resolution post.

These aren't really resolutions as much as they are goals I wish to at least begin in the new year. I figure it's deeper and gives more motivation to have set goals for yourself due in December 2013, than saying "I really wanna lose 3lbs."

So, without further adieu, here is my list of goals for 2013:

1. Finish my client's website.

2. Work on a chapter of my book a week.

3. Start an online shopping website for clothes and dresses my friends and I don't want.

4. Continue posting for my food blog.

5. Grow hair out.

6. Lose 30lbs by mid year, 30 more by winter.

7. Create a fashion blog

8. Run at least a mile every day.

9. Take a painting class.

10. Drink more water.

11. Give a talk on bullying at a local high school.

12. Save up to $5,000.

13. Visit NYC.

14. Move to NYC.

15. Thank my boss every day for giving me the opportunity to work with her.

16. Start a book club.

17. Make a quilt.

18. Record videos for YouTube.

19. Take a few voice lessons.

20. Take a summer dance class.

21. Start to learn to play piano.
22. Get back in a show

Happy Birthday, B!

It's (Not Really) a Funny Story: My Take.

I recently picked up the book "It's Kind of a Funny Story," a novel about a teenager's battle with depression and anxiety, and how time spent at a psychiatric hospital had helped him attain happiness.  This is going to be the hardest post I have ever written, so bare with me please. This post is about my own trip to the psych ward, and the process it took to overcome my depression.

I started feeling depressed when I was very young. My parents had been divorced for as long as I could remember, my mom was a struggling 30 something who cried almost every night when I was little, while my dad was an abusive alcoholic womanizer. Although they didn't always love themselves, they loved me. I was bright, I was funny, I loved to sing, but I got into a lot of trouble. I matured early so I experienced a lot of things earlier than most girls. However, my breaking point was in 2006, when I found out my dad had cancer. I was 16 and felt this was criteria to drink and party even more. I felt bad for myself. So bad that in early 2007, I found out that I was carrying a baby. It was so painful, especially because it was the baby of someone I liked, but definitely did not want to start a family with.  What's worse is that he completely dropped me, acting like I was just some tramp off of the street. His family met with my mom and me one day and they simply said (in the most pretentious way I can put this... since... well, they are), "So and so has a lot going for him. He is going to college next year, and you'll only be a senior in high school. Please do not have this baby and ruin everything for us." Do you know how devastating that feels? They basically told me I had nothing going for me, but I shouldn't be ruining SO AND SO's LIFE!! What about mine?

I never told my father I was pregnant, or that I was going to give the baby up for adoption. Not even when his cancer came back and he was laying on his death bed. My dad had always been about 200lbs+. He was strong and focused on fitness. The last time I saw him before he passed away, he was about >90lbs. It was so awful and that image will never be burned from my mind. I lost the baby a few weeks after seeing my dad. I went in to finally find out what I was having, and it was still. I was about five to six months pregnant, and it hadn't grown since month four. I cried for a long time, thankfully I had great family and friends to help me through it. But when I had finally been able to smile again, I got the news my dad had passed on. This is the first time I can remember hating my life and, especially, hating God. How could this greater being let my life pan out like this? Didn't I deserve to smile, to be happy? I ended up sitting on my kitchen floor holding a knife and sobbing hysterically for two and a half hours straight, until my mom came home from work and found me.

I overcame a lot of sadness for four years, until my junior year of college, when I broke down again. This time because I was scared. I had just turned 21, I was partying constantly, I wasn't going to class, I was failing class, I shut myself out to a lot of people. One night, on Thanksgiving break, after an elusive argument with my boyfriend (aren't they all), I took half a bottle of Tylenol. I just wanted to fall asleep without feeling anything. I woke up feeling sick, dizzy, nauseous... I knew I had done something wrong but figured, like always, I would push through it. My aunt and goddaughter came over, and the two year old was not making me smile as she usually did, but rather her presence, had made me hurt even more. As soon as they left I started crying, telling my mom I needed help. I didn't feel good and I just wanted to talk to someone. Our car was in the shop at the time, and my mom immediately called a cab to the hospital. That was the first and only time I have ever smoked a cigarette in front of my mom.

...I remember my shrink asking if I had thoughts of hurting myself or thoughts of worse, suicide. I remember starting to cry and saying, "I would never kill myself, that would hurt my friends and family so much... but I think sometimes life would be easier if I wasn't in it." She asked me if I had ever sought help, I told her twice. Once I went to a counselor, but I stopped calling her back for appointments; and once we brought a shrink into the house, and I never returned his follow up call the next day, but instead, had my mom tell him I was fine. This shrink shook her head, she knew these stories all too well. I told her I thought I was fat, ugly, stupid, and troubled.  People would be able to get over my absence. She told me I was beautiful. She said she couldn't find anything wrong with my looks and to never let anyone, especially myself, convince me otherwise. She said I couldn't be stupid, because after going through so much, I was still a junior in college, pursuing school with ambitions. "Some people come in here because they have some really BIG problems," she said. "But some people, have a lot on their shoulders, like you. They're just sad."

Depression is very real. I met some very, very sad people in the psych unit. A girl not much older than me who couldn't feel any ounce of love for her little child, a man who tried killing himself  and was found after his mishap a few days later by a family member, someone who lost everything and everyone as he suffered from lupus, and a bipolar schizophrenic who found herself more of a regular at the unit. These are people I think about daily. Are they feeling any better? Does she love her child yet? Is he still going or did he give up? Has anyone come back for him? Have the voices settled down in her head? 

I was prescribed an anti-anxiety pill and an anti-depressant, though I have since stopped taking them, I know that sometimes these drugs can help.  Some people feel empty inside, some people feel weird. I felt the happiness that was in my heart multiplied and sometimes I found myself talking too much about my family, or myself, or how well I was doing in a certain class. Once I got off of the medicine, I was able to just be normal.  I'll admit, once in a blue moon I feel sad. But all of these events have led me to feel as I should... it's not always rainbows and butterflies, but I feel functional. I am no longer going through the motions, but living to reach my full potential.

"Hard days are the best because that's when champions are made. If you can push through the hard days, then you can get through anything."

 - Gabby Douglas