I used to spend a lot of time trying to come up with content for this thing. I didn’t want to come across as too sappy, or too emo, or too over the top. I should probably warn you that I no longer care. Sure, the ultimate goal is to share something humorous yet thought provoking… in theory. But the truth is, I’m just happy I feel inspired to put finger to keyboard again. So if I feel like writing something, I will write something. And if you don’t like it, shut your stupid face.

This week I had my first visit with a new therapist. I figured it was time for some maintenance. Plus I really really like talking about myself to someone who is required to give me their undivided attention…. as if you didn’t already know this.

It had been about 6 months since I have had any sort of official therapy and I had nearly forgotten how helpful it is. I truly believe that ANYONE can benefit from talking to an unbiased someone every once in a while. It really puts things in prospective. Granted, 9 out of 10 times – my sister, my friends, and my coworkers give me the same advice that the therapist gives me… but somehow it’s different when you pay someone to listen.

Since it was my initial visit with a new counselor, we had A LOT to cover. Three hours worth, in fact. Three hours of me giving her the rundown of every idiosyncrasy of my character, and every hardship I have ever endured. While it felt good to tell my story, it was a bit exhausting- to say the least. But it did make me realize something.

I’m dramatic. I’m emotional. I over-think and catastrophize every situation. I have a bad case of ADHD.  I have major sleep anxiety. I have general anxiety in nearly every situation in my life. I have a bit of an inferiority complex. I have absolutely no control of myself when I drink liquor. I’m constantly teetering on the edge of hypomania. I have a major case of body dysmorphia. I will probably never have a comfortable relationship with food.

I could go on for days about my emotional and behavioral issues, but what I realized was that I’m OK with it all. In fact, somewhere over the last year, I’ve learned not only to accept- but also to appreciate some of my issues… or at least the fact that I can acknowledge them and work towards dealing with them.

In the very least, they don’t freak me out as much anymore. The difference between this session, and the first time I met with a counselor last year is unbelievable.

That being said, I can’t help but imagine a world where I didn’t have to worry about keeping myself in check. Where I didn’t have to use “tools” like mindfulness and meditation to calm my nerves or talk myself down from cliffs. And especially where I didn’t act on such impulse all the time. Like, can you imagine if you could program yourself with your own, personal panic button that would prevent you from saying and doing things that you immediately regret?

Por ejemplo: Oh yay! Bob Schneider is playing my at my radio show’s Christmas benefit! He’s my favorite musician in the entire world. I should walk up to him and tell him about how much I love him.. and keep talking for about ten minutes until he looks like he might take off running in fear.

ACTIVATE PANIC BUTTON

Carissa. Take a deep breath. If you want to say something to your most favorite musician in the world, fine. But for God’s sake, he doesn’t want to hear your life story, or how you once drunkenly wrote him a facebook message proclaiming your love. Just. Stop.

Por ejemplo #2: I’m at a co-workers birthday party drinking a little wine. Just the night before I decided to swear off liquor because SOMEHOW I ended up waking up on the bathroom floor of a boy’s apartment who I actually really like. Boss hands me a shot. Boy, I sure do love shots. Especially warm cinnamony whiskey shots. And it would probably make me a lot more fun to talk to.

ACTIVATE PANIC BUTTON

Hey girl hey. If you take that shot, it’s all gonna go down hill. You’ll end up making an ass out of yourself in front of all your co-workers. Then you’ll proceed to call that boy you dig and ask, no beg him to pick you up. And THEN you’ll call your dad 10 times telling him you don’t know where you are. So, no… Don’t take that shot.

Sighhh… if only.

Instead, I have to learn these things the hard way. Stupid human body, unequipped with panic buttons. But I guess then I wouldn’t have anything to work on.

So until someone learns how to reprogram my head- I’m just gonna embrace my poor decisions and nutso brain.

ACTIVATE FREAK FLAG

I had a breakdown at the end of my first senior year of college. I had just finished failing algebra for the 4th time, and I was looking at an entire summer of leftover classes and working at the job from hell, literally.

Ironically, the job that the devil built had the clever facade of being a “Christian Costume shop.” Meaning: they played nothing but Christian music, hung up fliers about God all over the store, and rented church groups costumes at a deeply discounted rate. But they didn’t fool me. No sir. From the first day, I could feel the heat in that place.

The owner was one of those men who worked hard to make a good first impression. He would offer a “God Bless you” at the end of a sale and would fake-laugh his way through conversations with elderly women trying on wigs for a Senior Citizens ball;  but anyone who had the terror of working for him knew better.

The first day I was there, he informed me that I had “the handwriting of a five year old” and that “that was a sign of stupidity in women.” The second day he told me that it was inappropriate for me, as a woman, to hold such lengthy conversations with the male customers. The third day, I overheard him call his wife an retarded bitch in his back office. The fourth day I showed up in a jean skirt and he informed me that the vaccum cleaner had broke, and that I would need to get on my knees and pick up every sequin on the floor… IN A COSTUME SHOP. The fifth day, he decided to berate me in front of a customer. He came out and apologized to the customer for me being an idiot, and continued to talk down to me. The customer, a lovely older African American woman, asked to speak to him in private and when she walked proudly out of his office,  she  looked at me and loudly said, “MMM girl. Don’t you ever let any man talk to you that way again. If I was you I’d walk out of here right now. ”

The sixth day, he was extremely angry with me for embarrassing him. I tried to stay out of his way, straightening and re-straightening the costumes on mannequins, and organizing the piles of fake mustaches and prosthetic bloody noses into stacks. I tried hard not to let him see that I was crying when he told me he was surprised I was a college student because I “had to use a calculator to figure out the tax on a tuxedo rental.” Then I realized I was really in trouble when I went to the bathroom and found out, that unfortunately; my womanhood had struck once again at a very inopportune time.

I only lived a few blocks away, maybe a 5 minute drive there and back, but I knew he wouldn’t just let me run home to grab something real quick. So I decided to be honest. I approached him like I would a king or a really mean teacher- with my head down, and simply asked “I am having woman issues, would it be OK if I ran home for a second and changed clothes?”

He looked at me like I had asked him if I could take a body shot off of his man boobs, and said “No. You’re going to have to deal with it. You should have known that was going to happen today, or are you some sort of whore?”

At that point, I could no longer hold back my tears. I made my way to the bathroom and proceeded to have the biggest break-down of my 23 years. I cried audibly, and didn’t care if the customers could hear me. And then, I sat down on the dirty bathroom floor and called my dad. I told him I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t spend the summer being talked to like I was an idiot. My dad, being the amazing person that he was- told me to do whatever I felt I needed to.

I didn’t want to walk out and admit defeat; but the truth was- I was broken.

Looking back, it wasn’t just the job. At the time, I was heartbroken that a boy that I had been in love with for four years was now in a serious relationship. I was jealous that so many of my friends had graduated and were taking real jobs, some of them had even already moved away. The end of my college career was close, and I still had no idea what I really wanted to do with my life. So I packed up everything I could fit into my car, and I drove home.

It may sound rash, but it ended up being the best decision I ever made in my life.

The second I got home, I started applying for summer jobs with more tenacity than I had shown in my previous 4 years of college . I didn’t really want to stay at my parent’s house for 3 months, but I only had limited work experience, so I applied to jobs that I knew I could handle. Within a week, I had a handful worth of phone interviews with summer camps.

Unfortunately, I had forgotten that my voice mail was a rap that said – “Hi you’ve called Carissa and she’s not here, she’s probably out studying or drinking some beer, so leave her a message or call her back- but if you don’t then that is whack, wicca wicca wicca.”

Luckily, I eventually landed a summer job teaching dance at a camp in upstate New York, (which is really another story in itself) but it was amazing.

Until recently, I had forgotten how invigorating it could be to take things into my own hands. For so long, I’ve let myself fall into a pattern of “I’ll change things when the time is right.” I thought that it was fine to continue with the same  mundane jobs, the same happy hours, the same nightly patterns of watching Netflix on my computer… I figured that eventually, life would hand me the opportunity that I needed to make things right.

And in a way it did.

When I first found out I was laid off, I was devastated. I bawled until I couldn’t breathe. I concentrated on the fact that I would no longer have health insurance and I wouldn’t be able to see my therapist, AND OH MY GOD HOW AM I GOING TO PAY FOR MY $140 A MONTH YOGA CLASS???

And then I took a step back and realized that life had handed me what I had been asking for for so long. For the first time since my first senior year of college, I wasn’t tied down with a lease, or a boy, or life I didn’t want to walk away from. I was free. So I took it. I packed up my bags, spent a weekend with my wonderful inspirational aunts, and started applying for jobs with a vengeance.

That was 14 days ago.

Today I started my first day at a new job in a new city and I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been doing comedy workshops and RIGHT NOW I’m writing for the first time in 6 months. I’ve been reconnecting with old friends and making new ones.

Long story short, I have no idea where this decision will take me, but I’m nothing but excited. I can’t wait for tomorrow. I freaking love the liberation of being free!

Annnnd now you have a Backstreet Boys song in your head. Win for me.

The last week has been so crazy I don’t know my ass from my mouth. No wait. That’s a little weird. But it’s true. I may have lost my mind a little. You might say it’s somewhere up my ass.

It’s not like I’m literally shoving cinnamon toast up my butt or scratching my mouth or anything, but I honestly haven’t had a second to get a grip on what’s going on in my life. My phone was dead for three days straight and I have spent as much time on twitter and facebook as I have watching trashy reality shows on MTV, which is not at all.

It all really started going high speed last Thursday night. I had to work on Friday night, so Thursday evening I turned on my reserve used only in emergencies energy mode. The movers (my parents) were supposed to arrive at my house at 8am on Saturday so I had to have everything ready and packed.

In the past, I’ve always treated a move like a getaway. I usually spend about an hour running around stuffing things into black trash bags with absolutely no organization tactics. Sheets and shoes and roller clips and the random dirty pair of underwear would be smooshed together with a package of incense and a game of monopoly. Which, really isn’t a bad way to go as long as you never have to unpack.

This time though, I really wanted to do things differently. I’m tired of living a life of clutter. I’m sick of never knowing where anything is. I hate that I only wear 10 out of my 200 t-shirts.

And so I did.

It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t fun- but it’s something that I’ve been needing to do for the last 8 years.

I literally cleaned out my life.

And it feeelllllllsssss good.

I went through every item of clothing, every shoe, every ratty pair of underwear- and I threw everything out that was old or didn’t fit, or that I hadn’t worn in ages. I threw out the 3 year old box of chocolates from a Valentines Day past. I tossed the napkins that my ex-deaf boyfriend and I had used to communicate on on our first date many years ago. I let go of the scratched mixed- cds that I kept hoping science would come up with a cure for. I gave up my old vintage purses that I haven’t used in years. I found notes and cards that were stashed away in the bottom of my drawers and in between the pages of my favorite books- I gave them one last read- and I tossed them (most of them).

I realized I had been holding on to so much that I didn’t need. I’ve always been bad at letting go; but it was time. Most of the stuff I threw out was trash, but a lot of it were things that I was holding onto for sentimental reasons. It’s not that I want so many THINGS in my life, but I think I’m just an emotional hoarder.  I don’t ever like things to really be over. I hate saying goodbye. Even when something is finito- I don’t want to lose the proof that it happened.

But you know what I’ve realized the last few days? Every time I picked up an item that I’ve kept to remind me of something- I either already clearly remembered the moment, or it was something that I would have rather not remembered. Things come and go for a reason. The important memories stick with us even if we don’t have a t-shirt to commemorate the event. I don’t need to keep a ticket stub to every movie I’ve ever gone to. I’ll remember the good ones, and I’ll push the bad ones from my mind without even meaning to. I don’t need a letter to remind me of a relationship that I don’t even want to remember. I don’t need to save every shirt I’ve ever loved. I got to say a happy and healthy goodbye to all the things in my life that once were so important, and now I feel better.

And even more, for the first time in ten years I can shut my dresser without having to put my entire body weight into it. I can open a drawer without having to sit in it first to push it’s contents down. I can open a box without seeing every broken relationship staring me in the face. I finally feel that I can truly take the next step in my life.

As usual, I broke into an audible cry as I drove away from my old house. Even though we were only there for 8 months, we had a lot of good times there. But as I unpacked, I started feeling better and better about the things that are to come. I’m excited about starting my new, clean life. I’m ready to start collecting new memories. I’m happy.

Life- I hope your wearing a sturdy cup- cause I’m ready to grab you by the balls.

This has actually been a big thing for me in the last few weeks… “self forgiveness.” I was recently forced to make the toughest decision of my life and sometimes I feel like hitting myself over the head with a stapler, because I’m not sure I did the right thing.

Lately, I feel like I’ve really been struggling with the concept of “let it be.” I curse myself for my lack of self confidence and my inability to be content. I carry on a facade of being “happy go lucky,” which is usually true in the moment. It’s later on, once my brain takes some time to process things that I go on this irrational rollercoaster of emotions.

It’s not only my mind that I have to forgive myself for, my relationship with my physical self has always been a bit rocky.

I don’t think I’ve been particularly kind to my body in the past.

I have starved it and overfed it. I’ve allowed myself to drown in alcoholic binges. There have been times in my past where I’ve gone on blind food binges.
I haven’t always respected myself when it comes to men. I’ve consciously let myself be taken advantage of.

I know that I have some issues, but I think I do a pretty good job at facing them. At least I have self awareness, but I’m not always sure that’s a good thing. There’s quite a bit of truth to that old saying “Ignorance is Bliss.” Oh Plato, you genius you.

I doubt there will ever be a time in my life when I’m not struggling with myself… when I’m not punishing myself or pushing myself to be better at life, but I do hope to get a little bit closer to being content.

I go through phases. Sometimes I’m all about discovering new bands and feeling on top of the world because I found something amazing before the rest of the world got a hold of it. Other times I like to delve into genres that I wouldn’t ordinarily listen to- like country, R & B or soul. Lately though, I’ve had the urge to fall back on some of the music that has gotten me through the tough times and the best times. Lately I can’t seem to get enough of it. I’ve been walking around with ear buds stuck in my ears, singing like there’s no tomorrow. I get home from work- and instead of turning on the tv- I put on some Paul Simon and dance around my house like I did when I was a kid. I can’t wait to work out, because I know for at least an hour, I’ll have some quality ear-time with my ipod. I’m a nerd that way, but I don’t care. It makes me feel alive, and after the last few months- I need that more than anything.

I also mentioned a couple weeks ago that I’ve been keeping track of all the things in the world that truly make me happy. About 90% of those things have been music related. The other 10% have been nerd-tv related, but that’s a completely different post.

Since I’ve been on a cheese-fest here lately, I’ve decided to share some of my all-time-favorite happy songs. These are all songs that have meant something to me at some point in my life. Not all of them are “happy” in the most obvious sense, but they all have the ability to move me.  Most of the songs that made the list are ones you know, and probably seem cliche. But so is your face.

And now, in no particular order:

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Huey Lewis and the News: Power of Love

Before ipods and all that shizzle, there was a little thing that we called the “the mixed tape.” I made many. Most of them were made with songs that I taped off of the radio. Sometimes I would even record my voice in between the songs and pretend I was a radio DJ. Shut up. One of the mixed-tapes that I remember with the most clarity, was one that I labeled “Put On A Happy Face” in purple magic marker. This is the song that inspired that mix. Later, when CD’s and MP3′s were all the rage, I made a mix titled “Happy Go Lucky.” The first song among a very random NSYNC/Rolling Stones/The Beatles/ Belle and Sebastian compilation was, once again, “The Power of Love.” I don’t know whether my love for this song stemmed from my love for “Back to the Future” or whether it just struck a chord with me somewhere along the line, but to this day- I cannot hear it without smiling. A few months ago, I had a pretty rough break-up with a guy who had a major hard-on for Huey, and I was a little scared that this song would somehow lose it’s… ahem… “power.” But alas, it still does it for me.

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The Cure: Mint Car

BAHHH!!!! I’m listening to this now and I can barely type because I’m dancing in my chair. Just hearing the first chords makes me want to skip down the street and pick flowers and have a down feather pillow fight and roll down a steep green hill. I’m a HUGE fan of The Cure in general, but this song really does it for me. Even when I’m not feeling particularly happy about relationships, this song somehow manages to give me hope. I hope that one day I feel half of what Robert Smith felt when he wrote this.

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Meatloaf: Paradise By the Dashboard Light

This song isn’t about a happy situation. In case you’re not familiar, Meatloaf wants to get laid, and he wants it bad. He promises this chick the moon and the stars and a wedding ring if she’ll just drop her panties. When she finally does, all he wants is out. It’s actually quite hilarious. This is one of my favorite songs in all the land. Not only because the story makes me laugh, but it brings back memories of when I taught dance at a summer camp  during college. I was the leader of our “summer olympics” and made up an epic parody of this song about our “white team.” It was greatness. And we won. Or at least came in second out of three, I can’t remember. But I do remember all 8 minutes of the original lyrics, and I sing them at any chance I get. It’s fun for me to annoy people sometimes.

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Peter Gabriel: Solsbury Hill

I don’t have much to say about this song, except for it makes me smile. I think that Peter Gabriel wrote it about when he was leaving Genesis. It’s all a little bitter sweet. He knew that it was a tough decision, but he also knew what was best for him at the time. I feel that way a lot. People don’t necessarily understand why I do the things I do. I don’t always make the smartest choices in life; but I rarely do anything without putting a lot of thought into them. No matter what I do, things seem to fall into place eventually. I think that’s what this is about. And I love it.

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Billy Joel: Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Ahhhh… Billy Joel. I love him with all of my soul. And I like rhyming. But honestly, “The Stranger” is one of my all time favorite albums of all time. Again, I don’t think most people would say that “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant” is necessarily a “happy” song all the way through. It’s about reminiscing about happy times though, and sometimes that’s almost as good as actually living in a moment. Sometimes events seem better once they have some time to settle in. The other day, one of my facebook friends described this song as being a sandwich. I think that’s exactly what it is. A beautiful, delicious, piano-man sandwich. I want to eat it up over and over again. Especially the middle part with all the good stuff.

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Steve Winwood: Back in the High Life

This is, without question, the first piece of musical ear candy that I turn to when I’m feeling down. I know it’s cheesy. I know it is a bit cliche. But dude, it’s instant medicine for your soul. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself driving down the street with my windows down with this song as the soundtrack. It’s about opportunity and hope and all the good things about life. A couple weeks ago when I was feeling down, my roommate called to tell me that I had to watch the latest “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” episode, which was just a given. They used this song in a scene and LA was like- ” this will make you happy.” And sho-nuff, it always does.

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John Prine and Iris DeMent: In Spite of Ourselves

John Prine writes good songs. That’s a given. But this has to be the best love song of all time. It’s funny, it’s honest, and it makes people happy.

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Paul Simon: I Know What I Know

My Lord, I could probably make 3 posts just about the Paul Simon songs that I love, but that would get old really quick. This is one of those songs that I don’t really understand. I think it’s about just living in the moment and taking things as they come, but I could be completely wrong. It doesn’t really matter. This song reminds me of being a kid, of dancing around my room to one of my favorite albums (Graceland), and  that in itself, makes me ecstatic. I recently re-downloaded the album and have listened to it non-stop the last few weeks. It makes me dance like a crazy mad-woman and I love that.

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Hall and Oates: You Make My Dreams Come True

Well if this isn’t as cliche as they come, I don’t know what is. This is another one that reminds me of my childhood. I remember my mother popping in a “Hall and Oates” cassette tape on the way to swimming lessons and rolling my eyes at my mother’s obsession. Secretly though, I loved it. It’s another band that I could go on forever and a day about but truly, I think Marc Webb portrayed this song’s meaning best in “500 Days of Summer.” He showed the world what this song has always meant to me. It makes me want to snap my fingers and high-five strangers and now I’m officially a gay-wad. Is that word PC? Who cares? This song makes me not care about anything!!!

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Bob Schneider: Big Blue Sea

Again, not an inherently happy song, but one that has a history with me. Bob was kind of our guy in college. In high school it was Pat Green, but in college my group of friends were all Bob- fanatics. We went to as many of his shows as we could. We listened to The Scabs while we were getting ready and drinking Natural Light. He just reminds me of the best times. Two of my best friends in the world recently got engaged at a Bob concert. They are planning to walk down the aisle to 40 Dogs. I love that. I really don’t have a favorite song, but Big Blue Sea is always one of my go to’s when I’m feeling down.

Alrighty folks, that’s enough for tonight… but this post will be continued. Maybe not tomorrow, because I am a commitment-phobe… but soon. Sleep tight mutha ucka’s. And sing pretty.

As I approached my 28th Birthday, there were several times when I caught myself thinking of all the things I have yet to accomplish. In fact, I spent the last few weeks laying in bed at night freaking out because I’m STILL not where I thought I would be in my life. I don’t have the ideal income, I’m not completely self reliant, I drink entirely too much, I still have a bit of an inferiority complex, I’ve quit going to the gym daily, and I’ve found that I occasionally still slip back into old bad habits.

Today, though, I made a decision. I’m not sure whether or not it’s because I’ve been clear headed and sober for 48 hours, but while I was on the treadmill today, thoughts began pouring out of my brain before the blaring sound of LCD Soundsystem on my ipod could block them out.

I’m ready to quit focusing on all that I haven’t achieved. I’m ready quit putting myself down for lapses in judgment that I’ve made in the past. I’m ready to stop dwelling on all of my forgotten goals, and I’m ready to stop pretending that I can just sit here idle and the world will magically fix my problems.It’s time to take action.

First I want to congratulate myself on what I have achieved in the past year. Twenty-seven may have not been the best year of my life, but I think I’ve endured a lot of changes, some of which have helped me become a stronger person.

During my 27th year I changed jobs. I changed houses, changed cities, and changed roommates. I watched my family fall apart and had to learn to play the role of an adult with my parents. I helped to bring my family back together. I let go of relationships and learned that I deserve respect from others and from myself. I’ve had arguments with close friends and am learning how to compromise. I became a blogger and realized though at times I may go a little too far, I enjoy putting myself out there and love to write like no one’s reading. I’ve made new friends and reconnected with old ones… and I’m starting to understand the importance of friendship and communication.

But if 27 was a year of change, I think 28 needs to be the year of growth. I’ve decided to set some goals for myself, but I’m also not going to be too hard on myself ifI don’t meet them all.. because after all, I’m not perfect.

I want to be more reliable, and in turn not take people for granted.

A close friend of mine told me the other day that in just the last two months she has noticed that I am not near as flaky as I used to be. She told me that she had started to hold me more accountable to things that I say I will do… and while on one hand that scares the bejeezus out of me… it also made me proud. I used to enjoy being the person that no one could count on. Not because I didn’t want people to like me, but because I was lazy and wanted to be able to flake out of situations without people being surprised. For a long time I didn’t mind when people said, “Oh that’s just Carissa.. she probably just forgot.” After years of this behavior I’m sure that people have just come to assume that I’ll be the one who forgets to RSVP to weddings. People have come to expect that I’ll be the one who will arrive 2 hours late to the party, if I even show at all. I don’t know how I went so long without caring that I was “that” girl. I have come to realize lately that I rather enjoy it when people can count on me. It makes people respect me, and want to behave the same way in return. I plan on making 28 the year that people can count on me for a change.

I want to choose my battles… but also my apologies.

I’m not one to argue much with friends. I don’t like confrontation, but even more than that- I’ve always had a difficult time standing up for myself. Over the last few years I feel that I’ve made some head way in that regard. I’ve begun to feel passionate about my stance on my ideas and care a little more about sticking up for them, and I believe that this is a positive change. However, I’ve gotten myself in a few situations where I’ve gotten involved and I probably shouldn’t have.. It’s good to share opinions, but just like momma always said (your mom, not mine) there are times when things are best left unsaid. Sometimes it’s best to just let things play out and I think it’s important for me to understand that time is the best cure for some circumstances.

That being said, I still feel that one of my greatest weaknesses is how quickly I am to take the blame…. to say “I’m sorry.” I’m not saying that I shouldn’t apologize when I am at fault, but I should definitely recognize the times when I’m not. I spend entirely too much time feeling guilty over situations that I have absolutely no control over. I can’t be there for everyone all the time. It’s not my fault if my friend’s argue with each other, or if their relationships don’t work out. I can’t feel bad about not being able to be at two places at once. I can sympathize with situations, but I can’t always do something about them, and I need to learn to be OK with that.

I want to fill my time with things that make me happy, find new hobbies and get more involved with old ones.

I have a lot of passion for a lot of different things, but I feel like lately I’ve let a lot of them fall by the wayside. I want to spend this year getting back involved in the things I love. I want to perform more, and not be afraid to try new things. I want to improve my writing, and do it more often. I want to take advantage of opportunities. I want to embrace my talents and start looking to using them for my future. I want to join my sister on a birding adventure, ride the bike that has been sitting in my garage for 4 months, and start swimming again. I want to take one of the art classes in my neighborhood that I’ve looked into 5 times but never thought I had the time for. I want to meet some of you people and have some good conversation. I JUST WANT TO DANCE!

I want to live a healthier lifestyle, both physically and mentally… have respect for myself and treat my body like the temple that it is. Basically I want to be the best me.

When people I know see that I’ve lost over a 100 lbs, a lot of people assume that I am the epitome of good health, that I must have have mastered self control.  This couldn’t be further from the truth. Sure there are days, even consecutive weeks when I will work out 5 days a week, watch my portions, and count calories. But there are also days where I am so terrified that I will gain weight, that I will consume almost nothing so that I can drink a bottle of wine at night. There are other days where I will completely jump the wagon and not even care that I just ate an entire weeks worth of Chinese food, but will stress about it for days after. I don’t want to be this person anymore. I know this is something that I’ll probably always struggle with, but I want to find some consistency. My healthiest months are the ones where I am the most happy, and I want to feel that way all the time. I don’t want to be the kind of person who is always concerned about my appearance, or that people are going to judge me…. and for the most part I’m not. I want to get to the point (and some days I’m there) where I’m not concerned if I gain a few lbs, where I know that I will still feel comfortable and confident in my body no matter what size I am.

I want to stop smoking, and I’m only 2 days in but I think I can do this. I want to cut down on drinking significantly, so that I can remember the good times… so that I can enjoy the quality of my life. I want to brush my teeth every night and go to sleep early enough so that every once in a while I can get up and enjoy a sunrise walk.

I want to be more confident in myself. Sometimes I think I was more confident when I was bigger, probably because I had to be. I want to be able to walk into a room and KNOW that I’m fabulous, even if other people may not agree.

I don’t want to be so insecure in my relationships. I want to trust. I want to have more faith in people and human kind as a whole. I want to have the same faith in myself as I think some people have in me.

I want to enjoy everyday of 28, and not get bogged down by the little things. I want to make the most of this wonderful, wonderful life.

Thanks for sticking with me through 27, and through this ridiculously sappy post. Even this girl gets sappy every once in a while. I LOVE YOUR FACE!

2-The number of times that I’ve washed my sheets since I moved in, or any of my clothes for that matter.  (We don’t have a washer or dryer)

2-The number of times I thought my roommate LA used her secret powers to dissapear since I’ve moved in. (We have really weird accoustics in this house so I can never tell where her voice is coming from. It’s really scary when you think you have known someone for 9 years and you’re just now discovering she has the ability to dissapear.)

9-The number of times that our ghost has scared the living daylights out of me since I’ve moved in.

148-The number of pimples that I have on my face due to stress and poor diet.

2-The number of bottles of face wash that I’ve owned in my lifetime.

8- The number of boxes I have yet to unpack. Most of them have books in them, and it’s only when they are all packed up and available that I actually want to read them.

45- The number of times that I’ve cheated on my diet since moving in.

45- The number of times that I’ve said “Tomorrow I’m starting my diet again, for real.” psssha

123,433,123- The approximate number of Jelly Bellies that I’ve consumed in the last 2 months.

3- The number of times that I thought that our new coffee maker was broken and was spilling water. Turns out that I was just ambien-preparing the coffee late at night, then woke up and made it again in the morning not realizing I had already prepared it the night before. For those of you who are unaware, when you put double the water in the coffee tank, the water spills out a little hole in the back, causing crazy people to believe that the coffee maker is broken.

9- The number of days since I’ve been on Match.com.

3-The number of times that I’ve signed on to Match. That shit takes up a lot of time, that frankly I don’t want to spend answering emails from strangers. I have gone out with one guy a few times which has been really fun… I just don’t understand how people have the mental energy and time to put into dating multiple people…

48-The number of times that I’ve gotten out of my current shower and had morbid thoughts that I was probably going to slip and crack my head open because I don’t have a bath mat.

135- The number of times in my life that I’ve wondered if Paul Rudd is actually a vampire. (That guy never ages, seriously)

4-The number of times in the last month that I’ve had weird dreams that somehow involved the Mac guy from the “I’m a Mac” commercials. I have no explanation for this one.

50- (At Least) The number of wine bottles that have been consumed since moving into this house.

3-The number of weeks since I have last gotten paid. I’m going on no monies at this point.

4- The number of times I’ve said that giving out massages with happy-endings might not actually be that bad of a moonlighting gig.

3- The number of big gigantic ketchup bottles that I have finished in 2 months.

2- The number of boys that I was not actually dating that have broken up with me in the last week. One was documented here, which I still feel a little guilty posting about since I’m a really really nice person. The other happened shortly after. It was actually the first comment posted on that particular post…

I have copied and pasted it below for you lazy bones who don’t want to go and see it for yourself:

___________

Jake 1 week ago

_______

For those of you who don’t remember, Jake is my gay best friend/ex-roomie. He’s the one who used to blow dry my hair and make the “whheeee whheeee” sound when I wanted to overeat. He used to break in my high heels and would  cook me dinner every night. I miss him. We weren’t so much peas and carrots, but we were definitely something like ketchup and baked potatoes.

I miss the way he used to sing “la la la la, la la la la la, la la la la la la la la .. ooooooooeeeeeeooooooooooooo,ooooooo ahhhhhhahhhhhhahhhhh (Lovin You, as performed in National Lampoons Vegas Vacation) No one, I mean nobody can hit that high note like he can.

On the same subject, if we break up, who will sing “I will Always Love You” at my wedding???? That is assuming someone will marry me of course.

I admit it has been hard to keep up a long distance (30 miles apart) relationship going, but I’ve had a lot going on… plus this thing goes both ways. I don’t see Jake coming to see me every weekend, or calling me every night. Isn’t the boy supposed to call the girl? Ok, Ok.. maybe the same rules don’t apply in a gaylationship. But still… I’m hurt.

Against All Odds

I thought it was a joke at first, but in the last week I have been getting numerous texts and Facebook posts that have lead me to believe that he is serious about breaking up. It upset me a lot, but it wasn’t until what went down on Facebook last night that I realized I needed to take action.

I have no idea how to do that thing where you screen shot facebook, but this is  how the status updates went down…

Jake ____ would like to officially announce to the world that I’m ignoring Carissa____. It’s been a long time coming…ooooooover “it”…whatever “it” is, or was!

Although this isn’t the first time that Jake and I have argued, it IS the first time that I have realized just how much of a serious problem us breaking up could mean.  Not only am I missing out on good times with my favorite goy on the planet. (Goy is my word for gay boy, duh.) But I am also potentially setting myself up for a scandal. It hit me like a thousand cactus pricks in my ass (no pun intended) that not only does Jake own the domain name for “CarissaJaded,” but he also has the sole ability to keep me from ever becoming president. Let’s be honest, I may not be the most obvious gal for the job, but I’d like to keep my options open.

So my response?

I used to be the kind of girl that watched all sorts of shows. In high school, I had a daily line up of TV that I would “just die” if I missed. Daily, I would leave giant notes on the kitchen table, reminding my father to push record on the VCR at precisely 7:00pm so that I would get to watch “Beverly Hills 90210,” “Party of 5,” (I would have done ANYTHING to be a Salinger) “Friends,” or “Felicity.” I would rush home from dance class to catch up on “Dawson’s Creek” and “Louis and Clark Superman.” Every Tuesday night I was glued to the TV to catch the latest episode  of “Buffy.” I even managed to schedule my classes so that I could be home to watch the daily disaster of a soap that was “Passions.”

It was only recently that I realized that most of my friends still have their TV rituals… and I do not. Oh there are a few shows that I still watch and enjoy when I manage to catch them (usually on TIVO,) but there aren’t any that I would change my schedule around to watch.

Yesterday as I was eating dinner, I sat down to watch the second episode of “Parenthood.” I had managed to catch the first episode (on TIVO) and had really enjoyed it. About five minutes or so into the episode I got up to check my email, and never came back. I thought about it a few times, but finally decided that I would rather watch “Star Trek” for the 14th time than get involved in a TV show. Even as I was clear in my decision, it bugged me. Why wouldn’t I give this perfectly adequate show a chance?

And then it dawned on me. I have developed a relationship pattern with television that is nearly identical to the relationship pattern that I have with men.

When I was young and care free, I fell in love easily. I would watch any old show that came along, and I would watch it with passion. The shows that I watched didn’t have much depth, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that they entertained me. Most of the shows that I watched in high school, ironically ended about the same time that I graduated. Either that, or I lost interest when I moved away and didn’t have cable. It was the first time I realized that shows ended. That made sad. I grew up with those programs. I learned from them, both literally and figuratively. Then they were just gone, some without warning, leaving a big empty gap in my life.

Some of the shows that I watched in high school ended up in syndication, which kept my interest for a while until they became redundant. Eventually I quit watching them all together as my taste in television began to change.

I had to try out a few different genres before I really figured out what interested me. There was a time when I was all about the drama. I liked the shows that would leave me with a cliff-hanger, having to wait a full week to see what would happen next. There was a very short amount of time when I really liked the trashy shallowness that reality shows had to offer. For a while,  I was even really taken with educational programming, and stayed glued to TLC and The Animal Planet, for no other reason but because sometimes it feels good to spend time with someone who watching a show that can teach you a little something. Eventually they all bored me.

Then I found myself in a long pattern of falling for the more “quirky” types of shows like “Mr Show” and “Greg the Bunny.” I became obsessed with “Arrested Development,” and  “Freaks and Geeks.” They were the unconventional types of shows that didn’t interest everyone, but I saw that they had something from the beginning. It took me a while, (probably right around the time that Pushing Daisies got canceled) before I realized the fundamental problem with these types of shows. For whatever reason, lack of self-promotion or maybe self confidence -these shows never last. They almost always leave me are canceled within 2 or 3 seasons, leaving me without any sort of closure.

I have finally gotten to the point where I am afraid of falling for a show and investing my time in it. I’m scared that as soon as I do, it will go off the air, leaving me wandering what would have happened next.  Even the shows that that I love that I have been more been more faithful to like “Scrubs” eventually become finicky. I  hear one week that they have been canceled, only to be renewed at the last minute, and eventually they will completely jump the shark. (God Bless you “Scrubs.”)

I think I finally know what I’m looking for. I want the whole package… something that is,  for the most part- thought-provoking, funny, and with just enough drama to keep me interested. The problem is that you actually have to invest a little time into something to know for sure if that’s what you have, and that is down right frightening to me. I know that I will never find a show that I love if I never turn on the TV. I also know that no show is perfect, but there is bound to be a television show out there that would appeal to me long term.

Maybe it’s time that I end this ridiculously long metaphorical post and go watch that second episode of “Parenthood.” Although please believe me when I  tell you that you should read no further into the title of that show. I was talking about boys here, not babies.

I’m not a fan of ending a post with a question, but have you ever felt this way? and how do you people get over this (for lack of better word) jaded-ness?

I am still planning on posting about each of them, but I figure I’ll start with the one that was both asked the most, and the one that will be the most difficult to recount.

So here it is for those of you who were curious: the story of how I was almost a contestant on The Biggest Loser (though it is not nearly as exciting as it sounds.)  I really hope I’m not gonna have NBC on my ass for talking about it, but I’m pretty sure that I’m in the clear after all this time.

I suppose I should start this with a little background. This is pretty much the story that I had to tell a million times during the audition process, so I suppose it is pretty pertinent.

I was never one of those kids who could eat whatever they wanted. I started watching my weight around the age of 10, and even more so when I got more into dance. It wasn’t that I was ever really “big” per se, it just didn’t come as easily to me as it did to others, or at least that’s the way it felt back then. I remember being in dance class and having to wear two piece outfits and feeling completely uncomfortable.

The older I got, the more uncomfortable I was with my body. We had to do monthly weigh-ins at dance, and there was nothing that plagued me more than the thought of gaining a pound or two and having it announced to everyone. Eventually my body image problems escalated into a full-fledged eating disorder. I am not going to go into details now, that might be better fodder for a TMI post, but let’s just say that eventually it got out of hand. Right before college I decided it was time to seek help.

I started out college as a dance major, which meant that I spent a lot of time in front of mirrors. At the same time I was trying to put a stop to my eating disorder, which consequently (and rightly so) made me gain weight. I knew that if I wanted to quit being destructive to myself, I would have to stop spending so much time examining myself.

I quit dance. I pretty much quit exercising altogether. I started eating and held it down. I learned to enjoy life without worrying about food and exercise and what people thought about the way I looked. I drank a lot. I ate horribly because I grew up being a terribly picky eater and really didn’t know any better.

And you know what? I had a fucking blast.

I was conscious, even at the time, that I was gaining weight at a rapid pace, but at the same time- for the first time that I could remember- I was really happy. I found new passions and I met people who didn’t talk obsess about their appearance. I found out that people liked me for more than my appearance.  I am aware now that I switched out one destructive behavior for another, but looking back- I really have no regrets. I don’t think that I’d ever be where I am now without going through that stage. I wish it could have been avoided but it wasn’t, and I’m a better person for it.

My first year after college, things started to get a little more difficult for me. I knew that I had gone to the other extreme, and I knew that I had to do something about it if I wanted to be healthy or if I wanted to live, for that matter. I noticed that people started treating me different because of my size. People can be really mean, and although I usually held my head high and shook it off, it hurt. Bad.

I’m a relatively small person (5’2″, or 5’3″ if you’re looking at my driver’s license) and when I went to the doctor and found out that I had reached 250 lbs I went into shock. I had completely avoided doctors and scales for the last 6 years, and although I knew I was big, I had no idea it was that bad.

I was working as an intern for a local on-line newspaper at the time, and when I learned that The Biggest Loser was holding auditions across from my office, I joked that I should try out. I had never seen the show, (it was only in the second season at the time, but I have still never watched it!!) but most of my friends watched it religiously. With a little encouragement from my closest friends, I decided that “all jokes aside,” this might be a good opportunity for me. After all, I did always want to be on tv (though not necessarily in a sports bra) and I knew that gut wasn’t going to lose itself.

When I walked into the first audition, I really didn’t know what to expect. I had filled out 20 pages of questions about myself, and was told that there would be a group interview. I remember walking into the restaurant (Dave and Busters, of all places) where it was held and being completely overwhelmed by all the… well the extremely large people. The majority of the people there trumped me in size by at least 100 lbs. I waited in line for nearly 3 hours before the first round of interviews.

They finally called my group of about 20 people into the “interview” room and sat us in a circle. I remember  being squished between two people and I was afraid that I wouldn’t be seen. They asked questions to the group and I was intimidated by all the loud, overbearing, (for lack of a better word) people fighting for attention. I didn’t do anything to stand out, I just sat back and waited for them to ask me a question directly, and when I answered I was nervous as hell.

And then after the interview as I was leaving the room, I tripped and fell, taking about 3 chairs down with me. I laughed and said something awkward, I’m sure… but afterward 2 of the casting people started laughing and talked to me a little longer.

A few weeks later I got a call that they were interested, and they asked me to make a video showing a glimpse of my life. I had no idea what to do, how to make a video, or how I should come across. So I got out my huge old camera and basically tried to do just what they asked. I filmed a little bit of my home life, some clips of me rapping at a bar, and made a spoof of an NBC “The More You Know” public service announcement.

After I sent my tape in I didn’t hear anything for another month or so. When I did, they asked me to go for another round of one on one interviews at a local fitness club. During this interview they had me tell my story and wanted me to cry a lot, which usually comes easy to me, but when put on the spot, it was nearly impossible. At one point the even wanted me to “dance” for the camera. I fell during this portion too… Not cool Carissa.

After another month that was full of phone interviews, background checks, and more paperwork- I was asked to go spend a week being sequestered in LA. I had to sign  (what seemed like) a thousand page contract and was not supposed to tell anyone where I was going. I was supposed to pack for 3 months, in case I got cast for the show.

The time I spent in LA turned out to be the most boring week of my life. They put me up in a really nice hotel room, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to any of the other contestants. I couldn’t leave without the accompaniment of one of the production assistants. Other than a 10 hour physical where they did everything but drug test my hair, and a few interviews and psychiatric evaluations- I spent the majority of the time dancing in my room with the air conditioning vent blowing on my hair whilst pretending I was in a music video. I started to convince myself that I wasn’t there for  The Biggest Loser after all, but for a reality show about the crazy things people do when they are trapped in a hotel room.

Every day they sent home more people. The production staff and casting directors all told me that the producers were digging on me, but I had no idea what to really think about any of it. Eventually the last day came around, and I was told that morning that in a few hours they would come to get me to take cast pictures and so I could get my t-shirt.

I waited…

and waited….

Finally, after several hours of pacing I called one of my favorite casting directors to see what was going on. She came up to talk to me in my room and I could tell it wasn’t going to be good. She basically explained that at the last minute they decided to go with another contestant. One of the producers was worried about the stigma that would come with having someone on the show that had previously had an eating disorder. She said that they really liked me and that there was a really good possibility that they would put me on the next season.

And yes, I basically went through the same process a year later… only to be told once again that “my story” wasn’t right for the season. I even got told at one point that if I could find a “bigger person” for the couples edition and make up a story about my relationship with them, that I would for sure get on.

The more this shit drug on, the more angry it made me. I am all about a little cheese and even a little drama, but I wasn’t going to lie on television. I also got sick of fake crying about my situation. I have been through a lot, but while I was a bigger person, I was still happier than I had been when I was sick.

To make a long story short, while the whole experience  pisses the hell out of me…  I still think I owe the majority of my weight loss to the Biggest Loser. After the last audition process, I grew really tired of waiting on someone else to fix my problems for me. I knew that if those people on tv could change their lives and lose  a ton of weight, then I could do it to… with or without Jillian Michaels.

And I have.

People ask me all the time “how I did it.”  I get really nervous every time I see someone that I haven’t seen in years because I know the question is coming. It makes me happy that people have noticed the changes that I’ve made, but I still get really flustered when it is brought up. I am proud at what I’ve achieved, but at the same time it kind of bothers me that it is such a big deal… even though I know it is.  I wish I had some magical answer. I hate when people say that their weight loss was just a result from working out a few times a weak and cutting down on cheese. I also get mad when people assume that I have had some sort of surgery or that I take diet pills.

The truth is, it wasn’t easy. It still isn’t. There are days when I feel weak and want to take the easy way out. There are days when I want to skip the gym. There are days when all I want to do is eat a pound of Reeses Pieces. And there are days that I do fall off the wagon and eat a good amount of Reeses Pieces, though now they are few and far between.

I’ve lost over a hundred pounds the last 2 years and there are times where I will see myself in the mirror and not recognize who I see. I’ve changed on the inside too, but all in all, I’m still the same person. I’ve been at both extremes and sometimes I am confused at where I stand. I still get really annoyed when I hear people making fun of  “fat” people, because in a way, I’m still that person. I can also now talk for hours about how addicting a healthy lifestyle is, and how much it can do for your mental state. I’m not sure I will ever be done with this journey. I don’t think it’s necessarily even a journey of weight loss, so much as it is a journey of figuring out how to make the most out of my life.

And there it is. Thanks for sticking with me throughout this ridiculously long post.  I actually feel better having talked about this, even though I don’t usually do so…. I think I’ll stay away from the serious for a while though. It hurts my head. Happy Humpalicious day people!

I woke up today in the best mood that I can remember being in, in a really long time. I don’t know if it is because I actually got some sleep or maybe I’ve finally been hit with some Christmas cheer, but either way, I’m going to run with it! I had a great, relaxing weekend. I finally got my Christmas shopping DONE and I got to spend some quality time at the Cinema which really does wonders for my attitude. On Saturday night I went to a “Tacky Christmas Sweater” party which was also a blast. I really love any opportunity to dress up in tacky clothing.

Sunday morning I woke up and checked my purse for all of my belongings, just as I usually do as I am very prone to losing things, and I was extremely bummed to find that my camera was missing. I spent the majority of the morning playing Sherlock Holmes/the guys from the Hangover trying to figure out where it might be. Just as I had written it off as forever lost (like everything else I’ve ever owned,) my friend LA (who I had ridden with and then slept on her couch) called and said she found it… in her purse.

So now I’m pleased to announce a truly momentous land-mark in my life. This Thursday will mark the one year anniversary of my camera and I. The longest relationship that I have ever had with a piece of “technology.” This includes computers, phones, voice recorders, and ipods. I never thought we would last this long. Oh sure, there have been a few close calls. I’ve come close to losing camera more than a few times, and he’s had to endure a few hard drops… But alas, we have somehow made it through this long year together. I’d like to thank all of the people that we’ve shared memories with and who have helped to keep us together this year. I am blessed.

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, moving on.

Move over John Cusack, there's a new man in town.

I didn’t have time to put up any proper reviews today, mostly because after I saw Avatar in 3D last night, I spent about four hours looking up pictures of Sam Worthington and updating my Blockbuster queue with every movie he has ever made. Most of them don’t look like they will be very good, but I’m not biased where hotties are concerned.

Hopefully I will eventually get a chance to write a review, but for now I will just say that I was really surprised at how much I loved this movie. I had been really skeptical ever since the first trailer came out, and even wrote a post a while back about how I didn’t get the hype. I listen to a lot of film-related podcasts, (my favorites are The Movie Hour and Film Spotting) and this movie has been discussed for over 2 years now as one of the most anticipated movies to EVER be released. After watching the trailers, I had pretty much written Avatar off as nothing but a big-budget popcorn film that would be pleasing to the eye, but wouldn’t have an intriguing story. I was very wrong. I was hooked on the plot from the beginning- and the 2 hours and forty minutes really flew by.

I also saw “Everybody’s Fine” on Friday night. I’m not sure where I got the idea that this might be at least partially comedic (uh… maybe from the trailer) and I’ll let you form your own opinion, but I will tell you that for me, it was one of the most depressing films I have ever seen, right up there with “Rachel Getting Married.” If you read my post last Friday, you may remember that I was kind of an emotional wreck last week, and this movie really didn’t help the situation. I started tearing up about 10 minutes into the film, and straight up bawled the last 45 minutes. Maybe I needed a final round of therapeutic tears. I was exhausted by the time the movie was over and got a great night of sleep, so maybe I suppose it was worth it.

I’m going to go ahead and end this so that I don’t get depressed again thinking about that shitty-ass sob fest I had on Friday night, but before I do let me crawl out from under the rock I’ve been hiding under and ask you, how the hell am I just now seeing Vince’s Shlomi’s “Slap Chop” commercial? Last night my roommates and I were watching a CNBC special on “escorts” and high-end prostitution rings, ironically enough, when we were graced with the slap chop commercial- not one- but four times. This commercial in it’s pure form is entertaining enough. It boasts such lines as “This tuna looks boring. Stop having boring tuna. Stop having a boring life, “ and “You’re going to be in a great mood all day because you’re going to be slapping your troubles away with the Slap Chop.” And of course we cannot forget “ “You’re going to love my nuts.”

After a quick google search, I found out that DJ Steve Porter has taken this infomercial to a whole new level. I guess there is a chance I can owe my chipper mood to watching this about 6 times already.

I realize I’m about 5 months late on viewing this video, but if you’re like me and are oblivious to infomercials, enjoy.

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