OMFG..So Emotional!

"I can't tell you what it really is, I can only tell you what it feels like," is the one line that stands out to me in Eminem and Rihanna's new song "Love the Way You Lie". Now I've never been one to really relate to Eminem songs -- I had cast them aside as songs only people in stained wife-beaters holding beer cans or repressed middle American suburban teens (or both) related to.
We're talking strictly on an emotional level here people, it's not like I'm some violent, unstable and by the sounds of it, physically abusive, person. But I think everyone and anyone who has gone through an emotional crisis of sorts involving another person can find an "a-ha!" moment within Em's words.
I'm what I would describe as hyper-emotional...no, whatever one level up from hyper-emotional is, times a hundred, then cubed. It's not the most convenient stance to have on life, but I've come to accept that's how I'll always be and learned to live my life as such. I feel what I'm going through always -- and not just in my mind -- I mean I am in physical pain when sad, feel the life knocked out of me when upset and dangerously close to spontaneous combustion when irate. No matter how rational I know I should be, and how clearly I see the situation, I am always ruled by whatever emotion I feel brewing in my heart and spreading throughout the rest of my body (I'm skinny -- it doesn't take long!)
Now while I may be an extreme, many of my girlfriends are on similar levels in that they are ruled more so by emotion than by their more practical sides of their brains. Yes, we've all heard this argument before, it's in our biology, it's innate, men are from mars woman are from blah blah blah. Okay. We get it...we're more emotional. So now the real question is (as it always is!): What's a girl to do?!
Get busy. Honestly girls, we are our own best friends. Take the time to be a weepy mess on the floor with tissues, chocolate and whatever go-to music you need (I'm all about the Winehouse, Fleetwood Mac and really bad R&B) because goodness knows we need to cry through whatever craptasicness we're feeling. Then, pick your fabulous selves off the floor, shimmy into your slinkiest feel-good outfits and just throw yourself into whatever makes you happy. It's the best remedy for anything really, and moves you ahead in whatever direction you should be going.
I've decided to focus on my career and friends and have landed a slew of good jobs (modeling) already! Good things come to those to who seek them out...so get seeking.
So yes, it's definitely important to feel through emotions, or at least to me it is. But I've realized, especially as of lately, that you can't just let them overtake everything. Granted, I still have a couple good cries left in me about what's happened, but I've been happier today than I was yesterday, and the day before, and so on....and I can imagine it's only uphill form here on!
So our dear little Em was right; situations of the heart are definitely viewed as such. "Maybe that's what you get when a tornado meets a volcano..." Not quite as on point there, but maybe that's what you get when emotions meet a little common sense.
x

OMFGaga!

I had the opportunity to do a promo job at the Lady Gaga concert when it rolled into town the other night, and after, got to watch the concert as well. It seems like everyone these days is gaga for Gaga, but honestly I felt like her whole shtick was just kind of....lame.
Calm down now people, no need to get out the haterade and come at me with pitchforks and torches. First, let me go on the record as saying that I love her music. I'm a sucker for pop music, always have been and always will be, and Gaga is nothing else if not glorified pop music. She has consistently churned out the catchiest of songs -- so catchy that you can sing along before the song is over after hearing it for the first time. Her pop appeal is undeniable, and yet for some reason she feels the need to convey herself and ridiculously edgy. Emphasis on the ridiculous part here; girlfriend could of strolled onto stage with an anvil plastered to her head and I still wouldn't have bee surprised.
Obviously the crazy outfits (she was in what can only be described as a giant mushroom-monster costume for one song) and overly abrasive persona make her stand out from the rest of the writhing, almost naked pop stars out there...or does it? I found that during the concert, I was reminded of many other concerts I had been too; Britney Spears (pre-crazy), Christina Aguilera, Beyonce, and so on. Sure, Gaga would start off in elaborate costumes, but by the end of most of her songs, she was naked and writhing on stage. Lame.
Watching her predictably gyrate with male dancers and belt out over-produced pop songs revealed to me that Gaga really isn't any different than all the others; and I was a little disappointed.
Gimicky lameness aside, I love Gaga's message of support towards the gay community and those who are outside the box in general. She definitely cultivates a connection with her little monsters and spoke to the crowd many times on a personal level. Some one who thrives on the her connection with those going against the norm should of gone a little more against it herself...in my opinion at least.
Overall, the show was interesting to see if for nothing else than to watch a woman attempt to dance provocatively around on stage while looking like a plant that grew in a radioactive zone.
Ga-ga-oh-la-la indeed.

OMFG...love in this club.

This weekend went surprisingly well for me, considering the mess that occurred only days before it. I've got to admit, I have freaking awesome friends.
So I kept my promise from my last post and slipped on a body-con dress, slick nude heels, smudged some eyeliner on and ta-dah! -- embarked on a night out on the town.
My lovely friends and I hit up Maison, a new club in the city for some remixed Sade, vodka-Redbulls (we work long hours people!) and more cigarettes than I'd like to admit. As I glanced around the club last night from our corner booth, I realized that for the first time in a long while, I felt happy. Maybe it was the four drinks in me, but I honestly felt like balloons were on my shoulders and I was upright and functioning after a long time in disrepair.
That's the thing about a good night out -- sometimes it's just what you need. Of course getting wasted and dancing (okay, wobbling is more like it -- you try hitting the dance floor in a skintight dress, 4-inch heels and immensely skewed motor skills) aren't actual solutions to life's problems, but they sure as hell help you get you to where you need to be.
I spent the night remembering how much fun I had just me, on my own, and not within a relationship. Sure, this seems to be a pretty obvious fact, but when you're lost in something for so long, it takes a little push to see your way out of the maze. I flitted from person to person I had not chatted with in forever, I huddled in corners with my girlfriends poking fun at other club-goers (seriously, don't wear Ed Hardy to a club. Just don't.), and most importantly, I felt relevant and excited about life in general.
Last night was the perfect mixture of fun, mingling, and love from good friends made into a post-break-up cocktail especially for me. I can't say I'm still not sad about it, but the edge has definitely been removed from the blade and I feel as though it just might not be the end of the world after all.
x

OMFG....:-(

Sorry for the delay in posts all you lovely blogees. I've been going through the midst of my first heartbreak and suffice to say it hasn't been fun. Actually, the mood I've been in lately resembles putting a pillowcase over my head, stuffing my face with cupcakes (at the same time, no less..it was tricky at first but now I've mastered it) and blasting Amy Winehouse's "Back to Black" on repeat, all the while thinking "Where did it all go wrong?"
Okay, I can joke about it now, but it really has been an exceptionally painful time in my life. I had never been in love before this (neither had he) and after one ridiculously perfect year, and one not-so-perfect year, we realized it was time to move on. I won't get into specifics, but it involved both of us realizing staying together would not be fair -- to either of us. At 23 I know I'm young but I can't help that this all feels so...final.
What is it with girls that we think every first love is the fated "one?" I had actually convinced myself in the back of my head, although I denied it, that he was it for me. And, even after just a week of reflecting, I realize how silly of me it was to think that!
Being some one who is both hyper-sensitive and hyper-aware makes for an interesting combo...mainly that I know exactly what the hell is going on to a point that I know things I'm feeling are ridiculous, yet I have to feel them anyways. It's almost like I'm too conscious for my own good. I know that I'm heart-broken now (seriously, I've felt like my stomach has been ripped out for the past couple weeks...and although the random spurts of bursting into tears has calmed down, they still happen) but I guess what makes this all bearable is that I know it's for the greater good. I know I love him, more than I thought I could love some one this early on in my life, and the same goes for him. In order for us to be happy right now, we can't be together and whether that's final, or just for right now, only time will tell.
As much as it sucks, this needed to happen. Girls, (and boys), break-ups are hard on everyone. I feel as though a part of me has died, but it's a means of maturing and realizing what your needs are. The one thing all relationships have in common is that we learn about ourselves, our needs, our deal-breakers, within them. I now know that I require within a relationship (or, at least a serious one) and that's a good thing.
While I'm not quite recovered yet (I still have mixed feelings of wanting to throw things at him and wanting to jump into his arms when I think of my ex) I know that one day I'll look back on this situation now, turn to my new boyfriend Robert Pattinson and say "Well I'm glad I did that!"
Kidding aside, the tried and true remedies for a break-up are the same as they've always been: friends, keeping busy, and a couple good boozy nights out. The weekend starts tonight, so I plan on doing all those three things, especially the last one.
Chins up for all your heartbroken girls out there who feel my pain! And more importantly, bottoms up!
Cheers.
x

OMFG -- Team Romance

With the latest Twilight installment hitting theaters last weekend, hysteria over the story's leading men, Edward and Jacob (for those of you living under excessively heavy rocks that's Robert Pattinson and Taylor Lautner reprising their, um, challenging roles of Brooding and Abs, respectively) to yet another fever pitch.
Pretty as they are to look at, it's more than just the actors who have created the intense following the characters have...it's the good old throwback to chivalrous romance. Bella, (enchantingly played by the uber-emotive Kirsten Stewart -- note the obvious sarcasm), is pretty much waited on hand and foot by either Brooding or Abs in all the movies, saving her from this or that. It's ridiculous, it's anti-feminist, and it's certainly a little controlling and creepy at times the point to which both devote themselves to her but it most definitely is, at least in the old fashioned sentiment of the word, romantic.
These two are really ruining it for all you modern men out there. Maybe I'm just jaded but the last time my man did something truly romantic for me was...well I can't even remember! And now with my mind all Twilight-washed I've raised my standards: save me the jaws of bloodthirsty vampires or we're OVER! Melodrama aside, gentleman do seem to be a dying breed in our post-modern world where gender roles are more equal than ever and individual is the label that reigns over all else. But let's not get all overly reactive here: I'm not asking for a chastity belt and my right to vote to be taken away; I'm talking about some simple, caring gestures and a little consideration from the men in our lives. I'll bet Edward never let revolving doors slam in Bella's face while he walked a consistent couple feet ahead of her. Sadly, this is a true story...many times over.
With two more films slated for release over the next couple summers, I'm sure I'll be reminded, along with many other woman, of how lovely it would be to have two hot young things fight to save your life. Near death need not be the only way to show a little consideration...heck I'd be happy if a door never made contact with my face again.
x

OMFG. Sex...

...and the City that is! I finally got around to seeing the creme de la creme of chick lit this weekend. Despite its predominantly negative reviews, I was pleasantly surprised by the film! Critics bashed it for being offensively extravagant in a just barely post-recession period...but come on people, no one exactly goes into Sex and the City 2 thinking "well here's a great example of realism!" Such decadent chick lit is lovely fluff; layer upon layer of ridiculousness meant to take the viewer away for two hours to a world where labels rule over logic.
Visual decadence aside, the plot was escapist, even surreal at times. Let's start with the obvious: [caution spoilers ahead!] Carrie and Big. So our annoyingly beloved Bradshaw jets off to the middle east (Morocco standing in for Abu Dhabi] and runs into her ex, granola-chomping, uber-friendly Aidan and they end up kissing. She immediately tells Big and comes home to --wait for it!-- a huge diamond! Um, what? Did I miss something here? Last I checked Carrie CHEATED on Big while on vacation...this being after months of whining and bitching over ordering in and watching movies instead of nights out on the town. If Carrie was living anywhere else and not in Carrieland she would of gotten a diamond removed from her finger, not placed on it!
Carrie isn't our only whiner this time around. The usually refreshingly sweet Charlotte is reduced to a weepy mother in denial whose startlingly uptight facial expressions caused unintentional laughter for me throughout the movie. So you have two kids. Big deal. Her and Miranda raise a half-hearted glass to all the mothers "without help" out there and then STILL complain about how hard it is for them to deal with motherhood! Let's reiterate here..Charlotte is Park Avenue wealthy. She has a doting husband who, despite his job as a divorce lawyer, is still a hands-on dad. She has a full-time nanny (albeit an overly-curvaceous Lesbian one) to take care of her two girls....not exactly the most empathetic situation.
Not surprisingly the best surreal aspect of the movie is spitfire Samantha! She looks even more flawless than she did during a series, a feat in itself as actress Cattrall is over 50. Her perfectly justified spunky attitude led to such memorable scenes as pelting condoms into a crowd of conservative men in Abu Dhabi and getting screwed every which way by not one, but TWO hot young men! All women past their twenties should be so lucky!
With its utter extravagance in materialism and utter ridiculousness in storyline, Sex and the City 2 really was girl fluff at its best...any place where a girl gets a diamond for kissing another man sounds like a fun one to be in, even just for two hours.
x