29 candles.

I have promised myself I will not cry this birthday. At least out of sadness. I'm not a good birthday person. Some people relish in the delight of being acknowledged. I pray someone will remember. Every birthday I cry. Because every birthday I realize I've "done nothing with my life." Which, although untrue, feels accurate. I haven't traveled enough, I'm not the artist I want to be, my love life is waning, my career looks like a door stop, and I realize I was much prettier the year before. It's not pretty, but it's what I do. So this year I've decided on acceptance. Acceptance of all things that plague each b-day with a frown. I plan on being content. Maybe not happy, but content. I haven't quite decided if I'll really celebrate it. Just go through the day with the mentality of gratitude for being alive and moving forward. I've traveled more than most, been to places I've seen in books and replanted myself on the map by pure impulse. I'm an artist in spirit, so even if I don't have pencils and a pad, I'll create. My love life is my own fault. Call it daddy abandonment issues, but I've finally decided solitude is not for me. I used to think of myself as an introvert. The extrovert in me is rethinking that. I'll be a wife, a mother, and build a family and revel in being domestic. And the career will come, even if it's by my own creation (Creative Director, CEO, why yes, thank you). And the prettiness...well, let's hope I haven't hit my peak yet.

I'll be content with my 29 candles. I'll celebrate 30.

Pictures, the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

The days of unlimited worldwide communication are upon us. My friend in NYC is only as far away as my blackberry. That said, some forms of media should be uploaded with a wee bit more discretion aka the picture. Mind you, I myself have gone a little overboard with my camera. I have more pictures of myself than is ever necessary. Maybe if I were a model it were to make more sense. But I'm not. And it doesn't. So anyways, what I've been noticing is the rampant uploading of ALL your pictures. The digital camera and your memory card of 200 ALL being uploaded to share with everyone. There's you and your friend Sherrie in front of the couch, there you two are again in front of the drinks making the pout, then again with the sexy look by the porch. All fun and I get a little camera happy myself, but I don't need to see ALL of them uploaded for the glory of how often I was caught in front of the food table (which would probably be every 15 minutes). And the most unwelcome is the "ugly picture". The one where you look like you just ate something that upset your stomach. Or like you've cut too many rugs. Those pictures. Which for some reason everyone thinks are hilarious. Well, that is, until their "ugly pictures" make the page. I do not want to see a minute by minute capturing of your 2 hour night. Same people, same place, different faces. One of my friends is always left taking a picture of the girls every time we go out, to the point he said "don't you have this picture already, ten million times?!" Sadly, yes, we do. And doesn't the whole picture taking actually take you away from living the moments because you're spending so much time capturing the moments? I'm all for capturing a great time, but I miss the film camera, the one take, the not everyone has to see what each picture looked like; when it was click and that's it. And there was no upload button. Film was printed up, you either got your shot or you didn't, and the ugly pic met the trash can. And you were left with really great memories and a photo album.

My advice: Just upload ten. Ten of the best pictures from your time and let everyone else get to imagine the great time that was missed.

Paternity Test Tuesdays

So I'm listening to the radio, this time in AZ. And a commercial comes on. For Paternity Test Tuesdays. Where should I start? 1. Why does that sound like some kind of happy hour? 2. Really?! 3. If you plan on having sex, it might be a good idea to stick to one partner at a time, or in a given cycle, and maybe, I don't know, use protection and Paternity Test Tuesdays could become null and void. 4. I should really stop listening to the radio.

Discount Boobs.

I live near LA. Let's consider that the context. So I'm driving, with a local radio station playing, when a commercial hits. This DJ's talking about her boob job, how you too can get the boob job at such-and-such plastic surgeon's office and the best part is there's a DISCOUNT simply by saying you heard about it from her. Errrrr. So yeah, the wrongness of this all. One, that we are now hawking plastic surgery on the radio. Two, it's surgery. Real surgery. Three, that IT'S FOR A DISCOUNT! I mean, maybe it's me, but something seems really disturbed about getting surgery at a discount. I'm waiting for the part when they say if you call in the next 30 minutes, you get a free compress for your head. Whether you agree with boob jobs is one thing. But discount boob jobs? Does this surgeon have a real license or was this an on-line class that emails your degree, which you can frame nicely at Aaron Brothers. It's SURGERY! They are putting you to sleep and using scalpels. Shouldn't you NOT be trying to get a discount for that? Who knows, you could wake up and the two new additions could be pointing in two different directions. Or lumpy. Or whatever. But you got a discount. Where do they save the 15%? Do they get it done 15% quicker? I mean whether or not you want new boobs is one thing, but I'm going to venture a guess that the good surgeon is probably not paying for radio time. And you might want to invest a little in something you're going to have to be seeing every time you de-robe. Merely my opinion.

I give up.

So it’s that time of the year again, Lent, where I take my bad traits and try to the best of my ability, to clean my act up. When I was younger I gave up chocolate. A couple years ago it was shopping. Every once in a while I give up cussing, when every other word had become an expletive. This year I’m trying to focus on the positive. My disposition has never been such; I tend to lean toward moody and morose, so I figured, what the hay! My list this year: no complaining, no worrying, and writing 5 things I am grateful for each day. I’m sure talking about how hard this is, is a form of complaining. And that statement probably doesn’t help matters. I never realized how much I complained and worried until I gave it up. Yesterday it became so apparent that I stopped talking. It was the only way I’d make it through the day. I also hadn’t realized how much I worried. So much so that even with headache medication I got a horrid headache on Saturday…too much stuff in my head, nowhere for it to go. It just brings to my attention that maybe I really should stay quiet; that whole, “if you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything.” Though giving up talking wasn’t part of the plan. And I’m sure complaining in my head is a form of cheating. I sat down last night to write five things I was grateful for and came up with four. Then took the next five minutes to go over my day minute by minute to find that fifth piece of gratitude. I’m struggling. Though the fact that I’m struggling is probably a good reason that this is exactly what I need to be doing. Maybe one day I’ll be one of those cheerful, smiling people that others just are attracted to, my positive nature just drawing people to me. Well, I’m not that much of a people person, so maybe not drawing everyone. I am hoping that this experience makes me appreciate things more, notice the good stuff, and maybe spread a little happiness. If I manage only to not feed more complaints into a world already inundated with negativity, this will be worthwhile. And more focus on God than myself is always a good thing.

Paying homage to V-Day

Found these on one of my design subscriptions, Six-Word Memoirs on Love & Heartbreak. They're fantastic:

Married by Elvis. Divorced by Friday.
Should have read the pre-nup.
Not always perfect, but so worthwhile.
Crazy unfaithful liar now a therapist.
Irony is, I owe him gratitude.
This could be love, you in?


Six-Word Memoirs on Love & Heartbreak from SMITHmag on Vimeo.

Daily dose of news

I've taken to watching Anderson Coopers' 360 podcast. That and my CBS podcast are about the only news I can handle. So, 360 had a report on Phelps. Everyone's heard of Michael Phelps "fall from grace" from the picture released of him taking a hit from a bong. I think people are making way too big a deal out of it. I wonder how many of the prosecutors have taken a bong hit in their lives, but I digress. Now they have round up a total of 8 individuals who were in on the "bong party" as part of the case (though I do hope that the one who sold the picture in the first place is part of that group, but that's just me). I find the whole thing rather ridiculous. But what I did find amusing was this: the guy who owned the bong was "caught" when he apparently tried to sell it on ebay for $100,000. Lol. I have nothing more to say.