Category: My Musings

How Long Has it Been

Posted on by maljoylove

My last post was on my 25th birthday. I’ve been 25 for almost a month. I haven’t written in almost a month.

Last week was my bridal shower, which went beautifully. I was surrounded by wonderful people and given lovely gifts for Aaron and I to fill our home. I am most excited about my new juicer and a honey pot shaped like an apple. Aaron is most excited for the espresso machine and counter-top herb garden.  It was all light and feminine and I feel truly blessed.

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This weekend, Aaron’s parents discussed the potential of us moving out of our current home to a house/townhome they’d buy to live in after we had been there for a year. Aaron was excited to decrease his commute and monthly rent. I was horrified at the idea of moving to the boonies and having a longer commute.

Aaron’s parents explained it as a deadline– be ready for our next career moves by the time they want to move in; we can move in whenever we want and pay less rent than we do now on our current house. I had mentally put myself on a deadline, but this makes it real. Sooner or later, I’m gonna have to walk the walk. I’m going to have to… do something to advance my career.

Me ignoring my responsibilities.

As a first step in making better decisions, I’m going to write every Sunday and Thursday.

Today let’s cover things I’m obsessed with right now!

TV SHOW: VEEP. I cannot believe I didn’t watch this show as it aired live, but I’m relieved I didn’t, because I’ve been binge watching like mad for the past week. It certainly allows me to relieve my own hostility between each character’s sharp insults. Selina Meyer is a terrible person and I would love to vote for her.

BOOK/CURRENT EVENTS: “Bad Blood: Secrets and Lies in a Silicon Valley Startup” by John Carreyrou. It’s the story of Elizabeth Holmes and the quick rise and even quicker collapse of Theranos. Elizabeth dropped out of Stanford to build a company that would completely revolutionize the health industry, eliminating the need for tubes of blood to make a diagnosis in exchange for a tiny finger prick put into an automatic blood analysis machine. She was backed by the nation’s ultimate economic, health, and military bigwhigs… and it was all a lie.

Elizabeth Holmes’ Fortune cover made her a star. Stars tend to burn bright… but they burn out, too.

MOVIE OBSESSION: I had been waiting to see “Midsommar” since I saw the first trailer about four months ago. It came out July 3 but I went to a 7PM screening the night before because I couldn’t wait. It was two and a half captivating hours. It’s been compared to “The Wicker Man” for being another example of cinematic folk horror, but I’m comparing it to “The Shining” in that both films succeed because they are so creepy. The whole movie has you on the edge of your seat because of how unsettling it is. There’s gore, uncomfortable nudity, and (unlike “The Shining”), a shocking opening scene that hits you RIGHT before the opening credits. The average viewer was chilled out of the ocean after seeing “Jaws,” and I guarantee “Midsommar” will make you second guess your next trip to the Nordic region.

This movie is beautiful and confusing. People in unstable relationships beware.

Last one:

BEAUTY PRODUCT: “Orgasm” blush by NARS. My cousin told me to get it YEARS ago, calling it an “essential”. At the time, I agreed! Then contouring became all the rage and I was terrible at applying blush so I ended up never using it again. My mom had it in her cosmetic shelf and I threw some on before my bridal shower, and it truly gave me a youthful glow. I bought it again the other day and I cannot wait to use it! I’m hoping it’ll wake up my complexion more so I look more alert during the work day.

These are a few of my favorite things!

I thought of something funnier than 24

Posted on by maljoylove

Today is my 25th birthday. More specifically, at 11:30 PM (just half an hour from now), I will be 25 years old.

I’ve heard playful references to a “quarter-life” crisis hitting at 25, and I can’t say I don’t feel the vibes of it! I don’t look at it as a sudden awareness of my mortality, or a worry that my life is over before it’s even started. I think about it more in terms of a celebration of what is to come.

At 25, I’ve barely started my career. I haven’t gotten married, become a billionaire, and started a happy adorable family. That’s what success looks like, or at least the American Dream, right? I don’t know anyone who’s hit all of those checkpoints at 25, so suffice it to say, I’m certain my best years are still ahead of me.

This hit me in a wave on Sunday, when Aaron took me to a fancy restaurant for a pre-birthday birthday dinner. They were told that there was a “birthday” in our party, so they asked my name before seating us. When I said “My name is Mallory,” they replied, “Happy birthday, Valerie!”

Great songs aside, I get this a lot. Valerie, Melanie, Melody, Molly, I’ve heard every mispronunciation and seen every misspelling you can imagine. It’s gotten to the point where I don’t bother correcting people, and I’m certainly not offended by it by any stretch. You don’t meet many Mallorys, and according to my parents, I was not named after the character from “Family Ties,” they wanted to name me after my great grandfather Morris, and the name “Melissa” just didn’t feel right.

I last wrote about redefining expectations, and I think that my expectations are so ambivalent because I have two diverged dreams of what I want: I want to be that IT woman, the Anna Wintour-esque powerhouse type who has the corner office that gets written about in Forbes. I want to take NBC by the hand and lead it into the world of streaming digital media.

And then there’s another part of me who, if given thirty million dollars, would want to pay off my student debt, donate some of it to charity, and then go move to Australia and just eat fruit and surf all day. I went surfing once and I liked it, but I’d love to learn now and actually stand up on the board. Then I’d walk onto the shore and up to my beachfront house that has WiFi in every room and a coconut tree out back.

I think as far as mid-life crises go, being torn between two ideal universes is pretty mild-mannered.

Rather than focus on the potential, I want to focus back on the present. I didn’t have a big ostentatious party to celebrate my birthday, but I had an office of colleagues and work friends decorate my desk, sing me “Happy Birthday,” and bring me cake and pie and smoothies and balloons. I received a flurry of texts and messages wishing me happy birthday. Voicemails were left, as were letters and mail packages.

I genuinely don’t remember what I did for my 24th birthday, but I think I’ll remember today. The love I felt and the gestures I received made my heart feel so full.

Between the gifts and the well-wishes, I felt very grateful for the life I have. My family is kind, my friends are thoughtful, and the people in my space are open-minded with warmth in their hearts. It makes me want to hug the whole planet! If my life is this good now, at 25, I can only imagine what kind of life I will have when I hit that “mid-life crisis.”

After they had taken my “name” at the restaurant, they took a photo of Aaron and I, framed it, and wrote “Happy Birthday, Valerie!” in pretty calligraphy. It serves as a firm reminder to me of what I want from my future:

At 25, I am too quiet to correct someone who mispronounces my name. At 50, every room I enter will be one where everyone knows my name.

To the world, my friends, my family: thank you for a wonderful birthday, and a wonderful first 25 years. Let’s see what happens in the next 25!

gary

Reevaluating Expectations

Posted on by maljoylove

I’ve been struggling a lot with expectations for myself lately. I feel like my brain is forever running at a million miles an hour while still somehow only actually getting 1 mile in distance. Maybe the reason I struggle so much with weight loss is because my brain is constantly moving and digesting, so I think I’m burning more than I actually am.
I feel like I keep compounding expectations for my body and my mind, expectations that I set for myself based on expectations that my fiancé, friends, and family set for me. When it comes to my weight loss for this year, I keep trying to live like I lived when I lost weight the first time around, but that isn’t necessarily possible. At that time in my life I was desperate, walking everywhere, and had the opportunity to live a life away from everyone else’s opinions. Nowadays I don’t have any of those luxuries. I am forever en communicado with the people I love and my city is only walked two streets at a time by the bold jaywalking tourists. I’ve joined the rat race and it shows.

I think most people would agree that having people is easier than being alone, and I’m not saying that’s not fair, but it puts you on a different wavelength than you are when you have only yourself to give you feedback. I feel like now I’m working as another entity, as a friend/sister/daughter/girlfriend, when I should be working as Mallory, who happens to be all those things.
It’s possible that it all comes from an increasing volume of responsibility, in which all of these people who influence me may have an impact on my choices, but they will suffer little to no consequences of my actions. That level of responsibility is only going to grow as I continue to develop as an adult, so maybe my being stagnant in my own mental state or the presence of my mental roadblocks stem from a fear of failing with that inevitable additional responsibility. It’s almost as though if I were to stay in the same place, it’d be impossible for me to move up and have more responsibility.
It’s impossible for me to have no outside influence at this point in my life. But I should at least lessen their impact or not even include them in my day-to-day. I can still keep my life separate from theirs without shutting anyone out completely. How am I supposed to grow if I let everyone else do the growing for me?

Getting back to basics

Posted on by maljoylove

I said that I only wanted to write when I felt positive, or when I felt neutral. Hence, I haven’t written in almost two weeks.

I’ve had some nice moments in the past two weeks, and I can’t say I’ve felt particularly depressive, and yet I’ve been uninspired to write. I’m emotionally drained. I’ve come home at night wanting to write and clean, and then I get in the couch and I just… sank into the cushions.

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I feel unproductive and lost. I need a burst of energy, an inspiration to get me moving again. I felt good this week drinking celery juice and I just got my hair done, but something is definitely off about my mental state. My social media detox lasted about three days, and now everything is back on my phone.

What can I say, Youtube drama doesn’t last and everything is back to normal! Maybe I just need a new normal.

I want to take this little brain hibernation positively, as though it’s a sign from the universe that a change has to come. I just don’t know where I need to manifest this energy. The stress from my work is coming to an end this week, as mostly everything and everyone has been migrated. That will probably help my brain return to a more positive place.

There is a crow screaming outside my house right now.  I went outside to see if it was, in fact, a raven (I’ve made that mistake before), and I threw out the dead flowers that were sitting on the counter. It was a step in the right direction.

I need to steam my clothes. I need to do my nails. I need to chop up some celery to make juice in the morning. I need to clean my space!

I will be back. My brain just needs a spark. Let’s spark some Joy.

 

Joy is my last name. It’s fine. Thank you.

Good Vibes Only?

Posted on by maljoylove

I’ve wanted to write this week almost every day, but each day it was motivated by a negative emotion! I don’t want to be just overwhelmed by dark energy.

With that, I think I want a social media detox.

This past week has been almost too much for me emotionally. A nasty law has me questioning my own autonomy, my favorite platform is overrun by exposure of imperfections and inappropriate behavior, and an Instagram model is just crushing my self esteem right now.

I think if I hopped off Twitter, Instagram, and Reddit for a while, my brain might begin to connect with myself again. I’m wondering if maybe my inability to define my brand, the look I want to bring to the world, stems from an inability to find what *I* like. I feel like I’m so concerned with how other people are living their lives and what other people are doing that I’m not paying attention to what *I* want. Instead, I’m focusing on how other people are living the life that I want… being beautiful and living by the ocean. I WANNA LIVE IN BATHING SUITS AND DO SUNRISE YOGA ON THE BEACH EVERY DAY. How does that work?

I feel like I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I don’t want to see that stuff anymore, but I think I should be aware that it exists. It’s almost a cycle of nonsense. I should be cognizant of the manipulation of truth, inflated egos, and political issues that impact others, even if it doesn’t directly impact me.

People keep in touch with me on Facebook, so I want to just keep Messenger open, and jury’s still out on Pinterest. I love finding recipes on Pinterest, and fashion inspiration, but I have a lot of weight loss topics in my thread regularly, varying from different workouts (helpful) to yoga girls with abs in sports bras (hurtful).

Again: pretending that fit, healthy women don’t exist feels very “ignorance is bliss.” At the same time, not constantly having it shoved in my face may help my self-esteem.

I think I want to go three months without it. I think it may also help me be more productive, since I tend to get lost in my social media accounts without noticing time passing by, only to then be running late because I’ve been staring at my phone.

Writing that out actually solidified it for me. Productivity wins. I just removed Instagram, Reddit, Pinterest, and Twitter from my phone. Youtube is staying, only because I tend to find new music in my “Recommendeds,” but I admit that most of my addiction comes from Youtube sending me down rabbit holes. I think if I turn on enough of the right kind of video, I can re-calibrate what Youtube THINKS I want to see and I can get a fresh start that ONLY has music, meditations, Alan Watts lectures, and… I don’t know, ASMR videos? I do kind of like those.

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It’s a Tide Ad. No, it’s Zoe Kravitz in a 2019 Super Bowl ad for Michelob. Fun fact, ASMR is quite lovely but finding a non-uncomfortable GIF of it is a challenge. 

I’m hoping that not being as distracted by social media will help me read more, listen to more podcasts, and become a better listener in general. I get the sense that Aaron gets peeved when I “scroll” when he wants to talk to me, and I in turn get peeved when he wants to talk to me when I’m trying to focus on what I’m looking at on my phone. This will eliminate the problem, right?

IN ADDITION: I find that nine times out of ten, I can’t watch a show straight on. More often than not, I need to be doing something else on social media while I watch something. Maybe not having that extra stimulation will help me focus on what shows actually hold my interest, maybe even what foods hold my interest!

I think this will be good in the long haul. I wonder how long I can actually last! I don’t want to leave social media forever by any means, I kind of just want to wait out whatever’s happening, and stop being so consumed by it. Cold Turkey feels the way to go. Deleting the apps feels almost safe.

Only good feelings from here, folks! Toxic stimulation begone. Mallory’s going to give the real world a try.

The Prince(ss) Skinny Legend That Was Promised

Posted on by maljoylove

I feel like I’m going through a strange transition in my journey of self-love. I find myself engaging in more toxic habits, as in, binge eating without abandon. I’ve gained weight, and I’m really disappointed in myself. But with that, I’ve had photos taken of me in the past tow months, and each time I’ve looked at them, I’ve thought I looked good.

I scrutinize instantly, without thought, and sure, after a while, you find something to hate. But more often than not, my thought has been “oh, I look cute!” rather than “Diet starts tomorrow.” Two nights ago, Aaron and I went to a late night Disney event. Not wanting to do anything when we got home at 2 AM, I made the pre-emptive choice to go makeup-less to the event. I look pretty, in my opinion, in the photos from that night. Granted, that could’ve just been Disney working its trademark magic, but who is to say the magic couldn’t have also been me?

Self love is a weird journey to travel. You have such a delicate boundary between loving your body by giving it clean water, maintaining your hygiene, and feeding it greens, while simultaneously living vicariously and ordering dessert because life is too short. I’m such a “Have some chocolate every night to stay sane” kind of girl, and I stilll don’t know if that’s toxic behavior.

My mom, out of the kindness of her heart, bought me some pretty dresses to update my summer wardrobe. I was freaking out to try them on, but they all fit and flattered! Meanwhile, six hours ago, I was freaking out at my reflection about having a thick upper body (too big a chest, larger shoulders).

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Raw footage of me in the bathroom looking at my shoulders this afternoon. But actually, “Neil Patrick Harris/Taylor Swift.” SNL, NBC. 10 January 2009.

I felt most comfortable in my skin when I was thinner, and I acknowledge that I need to make healthier choices when I eat. I also want to work out harder, I’ve been so sleepy when I get to the gym in the morning that I don’t push myself to the hardest I can go. I want to change that.

More than that: I feel like I’m so close to being unstoppable, but not being conventionally beautiful (read: meet society’s standards of beauty) keeps me from truly excelling. I agree that standards are changing, but I still feel like more likely than not successful women are fit and healthy. Michelle Obama comes to mind, as do the most accomplished ladies in my workplace. Not a hair out of place, full face of makeup, body by spin class (I say, having loved Soul Cycle but it’s not in my city yet? I DEMAND IT), that describes a lot if not all of the women I aspire to be, aesthetically.

At my most confident, imagine: strong, smart, compassionate, loyal, friendly, ambitious, talented, AND beautiful? That girl conquers the world. I feel like that is my destiny. I want that as my future. I want it as my present, but I’m ready to work towards it. Whose to say that by the time I get to “Mission Accomplished,” I’ve moved up a step or two in my career?

But with that, I have to go to sleep at a decent hour. It’s 9:50 (didn’t I JUST say I was going to stop being on the computer at 8 PM?), and it’s time to get in bed.

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“Here Comes the Sun.” Gilmore Girls, The WB. 13 May 2003.

 

Thoughts on Gratitude

Posted on by maljoylove

I feel like lately, I’ve been struggling with me. Work has been stressful with golf season in full “swing” (come back I’m not done), and I have a lot of self-imposed pressure to look perfect for my wedding in 200 days (give or take). I’ve had mini breakthroughs along the way, but I’ve noticed my low moments more and more and felt powerless against them.

This weekend has left me with a lot of gratitude. I’m lucky that I have family who made me feel safe and loved. Out of frame of this shot sat a kind of person I didn’t think existed until we met. I’m grateful for him.

Not long after taking this photo we wandered over to Strawberry Fields, where dozens gather to commemorate John Lennon (who, yes, is not my favorite Beatle, but his music matters). A guitarist sat nearby and someone walked past and requested “Imagine”. The crowd of strangers sat on the benches and listened as this girl strummed and sang the words we all knew. Everyone quietly joined in for the chorus and applauded at the end (I know “and everyone applauded” is very r/thathappened, but it did, I swear. No whoops or cheers, it was very polite applause). A girl sat with her mother crying and thanked the guitarist for playing that song, because it was her father’s favorite.

I’m grateful for that moment of community and love.

Before heading to the airport we found ourselves at One World Trade Center. It reminded me to be thankful because, as Lin-Manuel Miranda once so eloquently put it, “senseless acts of tragedy remind us that nothing here is promised, not one day.”

There were many beautiful things about this weekend, from our hotel to the food to the weather to the multitude of dogs. An absolute peak came from visiting 30 Rock. Twelve years ago, I was an awkward middle schooler who was obsessed with “Mean Girls,” and excitedly watched Saturday Night Live for the first time as Tina Fey hosted the show for its return after the end of the WGA Writers Strike. I am grateful to have had her voice guiding me through high school and college and helping me fall in love with comedy, writing, and strong female friendships (I hold Leslie and Ann strong in my heart, but the first big one was always Amy and Tina).

I wanted to work for NBC after that first SNL episode, and I’m so happy to say that now I do. It reminds me of how far I’ve come, and how much farther I have to go. A lot can happen in twelve years, so who knows where I’ll be at 36?

So today, I am thankful. I’m full to the brim with love and appreciation for the time spent this weekend, and I’m equally grateful for all the steps and missteps that got me there. I think twelve-year-old me would be proud of our journey. I resolve (and dare I say manifest?) to keep her with me as i move forward with this week, with this season, with the next 200 days, and the next twelve years.

If you read this, thank you. I love you. You can do this. Flurm.

Not Boredom, More like Freedom

Posted on by maljoylove

Today I’m reflecting on Thursdays in London. When I studied there, I had class every other weekday except Thursdays. Thursdays were days I could do whatever I wanted with my time.

On Thursdays, I could sleep as late as I wanted (though most Thursdays, that meant nothing because they’d test the fire alarm at around 8 or 9 in the morning, making for a very rude awakening). Typically, after rising I’d read until around noon, then go to the gym. I’d come home, have a snack, shower, then turn on whatever show I’d been watching at the time (if memory strikes me, I flipped back and forth between Dexter, One Tree Hill, and Chuck) while I prepared dinner. Sometimes I’d do homework, sometimes I’d go for a walk, once in a while I’d go explore the beautiful things that London had to offer.

I did the latter mostly on the weekends, though, spare some weeknights. I was a broken-hearted girl who needed alone time to repair her thoughts, and a part of that was just figuring out how to exist as a normal person without the one who had recently chewed me up and spat me out like a distasteful piece of meat. Sleep, exercise, eat, don’t think about it. It was a nice routine.

Today, though, in present 2019, There’s no London. There’s no parks that demand to be strolled through, no quiet hum of tourists visiting the wax museum across the street, no homework to be put off for just one more episode. It’s just a day off of work, courtesy of the Founding Fathers.

It’s approaching noon and I still haven’t gotten dressed for the gym yet. I made plans to meet a friend for dinner and I’ve decided to return to the “gym, then eat” routine I had and will go for my gym session right before our rendezvous. My gym routine at the moment calls for a leg workout followed by thirty minutes of cardio, but maybe I’ll shirk that in favor of the same two hour gym routine I did back then, with a full-body workout followed by an hour on a “Gazelle” machine. I never knew what to call them, but they were these cardio machines in my London school’s gym that moved like an elliptical and a stair master and an arc machine combined, but were none of those things. Using them made me look like a gazelle galavanting through an African plain though, so the name fit. We don’t have “Gazelle” machines at the gym I go to here, so I might just settle for an arc trainer or the elliptical anyway.

If it’s packed I don’t know what I’ll do. I like going to the gym before work to avoid the HUMANS.

I made an attempt to read “An Infinite View” last night, but I opened my Kindle to find a dwindling battery. In it’s place, my sister had lent me her copy of “Call Me By Your Name” the last time I was home, and she recently told me she’d like it back the next time we saw each other. With that in mind, I figured I may as well read it before I see her next (which, allegedly, is next weekend). I got probably a dozen pages in before sleep came over me, and then I decided to continue reading it this morning.

I finished it about half an hour ago. It hurt my heart. First love tends to do that. You sit there, knowing the ending, wishing the ending were different, that someone will bite the bullet and just fight for it. No one does.

I paused halfway through the book to check on Aaron and plug in my headphones for my workout later. He grumbled about me leaving bed so early without saying good morning (to my credit, I gave him a kiss on the forehead before slipping out to our reading nook). I not-so begrudgingly got back into bed to give him a kiss good morning and run my hands through his hair. His hair smelled sweet like marshmallows.

I think a lot about my choices, and what I’ll remember fifty years from now. The thoughts usually come on Saturdays, when I don’t want to get up and go to the gym. I think, “Fifty years from now, will I remember waking up and going for a workout, or will I remember rolling over to face him, he who wrapped his arms around me in his sleep and rather purposefully or subconsciously refuses to let me leave his loving grasp, and snuggling deeper into his chest?”

The winning thought is: Fifty years from now you could be dead, because you chose to stay in bed all those mornings instead of doing something good for your cardiovascular system. Sacrifice this morning to stay alive younger longer. You can start phoning in your health when the grandkids arrive.

This morning I got to sleep until I was ready to wake up (Aaron’s seven AM alarm for work, which sounds early, but is a reprieve from my traditional 4AM wake up call), then read until I finished my book. Now I get to sit here and write. Later I’ll go to the gym, then have some nice dinner with a lovely friend, who is still pursuing Whole30 and will probably tease me for quitting while staring lustfully at the granola in my smoothie bowl.

I wish every day was like this. No crack-of-dawn workouts, no 8 AM customer phone calls, hakuna matata. It’s a freaking tragedy that we don’t get to enjoy our youth while we still have it.

I’m not going to bemoan the loss of time or the rat race anymore. I’m going to go make myself some lunch and then do the dishes or fold my laundry. I’ll have to leave around 3 to get my full workout in before I go to dinner (and rinse off so I don’t look like a worn out, post work out mess in the restaurant).

For all my worry about my future, my weight, how much I read or don’t read, how much I miss London… at least I got to have this morning.

Too Tired, Can’t Sleep

Posted on by maljoylove

Here’s a few late-night metaphors: I spent today looking at bedding for my future home, but while every major model will forever profess the pros of a silk pillowcase, the animal cruelty behind it just isn’t worth it. I’d rather lay my head on it’s equally capable but far more elusive counterpart, bamboo. With that, sweet dreams are far from my mind with the onslaught of rude awakenings:

  • I’m done with Whole30. The literature on it seems toxic and seems darker than what it offers at the surface level. The mentality is removal of all of life’s indulgences, even going so far as to saying brown rice is bad for you. The truth? Everything in moderation, INCLUDING moderation. Brown rice every day probably isn’t the better way to live, but to say it should be removed entirely from the diet is ridiculous. Tofu gets an equally bad rap with that crowd.
  • I tried to indulge my sweet tooth with some chocolate marshmallows tonight, but it just wasn’t a good time. I’ll give Whole30 that, it gave me what I wanted: a temporary detox to revitalize my eating habits.
  • My Grandpa called me yesterday. Have I mentioned him yet? Retired accountant of the New York City bigwhigs, been married to my grandmother for almost sixty years, raised three feminist women in the sixties and seventies. He has traveled the world three times over and every cent that doesn’t go to hospice for my grandmother goes to charity. He is a man among men, and clearly my mom’s ability to always be right has come from him.He thinks I’m not being paid enough for what I do, and I should look elsewhere for better opportunities.

I want to start there, actually, since it’s the one weighing on me the most:
I want to stay with NBC so much, and he’s right. All this binge-watching of “Gossip Girl” has reminded me of how much I want to live in New York City, working at NBC and climbing the corporate ladder. But do you hear how vague that is? I do. I know I want the perks, but I don’t know how I want to get them. There are all the stories of people starting out in the mail room and answering phones, and then they end up buyers and department heads. I love bread as much as the next girl, but the ends of the sandwich aren’t interesting to me right now. What’s the deli meat, a really well-timed networking event? A portfolio created during off-hours as the extra pickles?

I also have to consider that I’m getting married, and Aaron will need a job in New York, too. The job has to be perfect for him, because so long as the pay is better and we can still live in something live-able, I will be happy.

Here’s the problem: I don’t know what I bring that makes me worth hiring in New York. I know that they should be paying me more to STAY at Golf Channel, but they won’t. Even worse, I’m scared they’ll fire me if I asked for more. My direct boss is great and wouldn’t, but he’s not the one writing my paycheck. I really don’t know what the next step would be. I’m fine with biding my time, but I know what happens when you “wait for it.”

Miranda, Lin-Manuel. “Wait For It.” Hamilton, music and lyrics by Lin-Manuel Miranda

I guess my next step is figuring out what gets me hired. With the company in transition, the right thing to do is not abandon them. I do care about my teammates, and the people I work with are great. I want to stay with NBC for multiple reasons, chief among them being their content and culture. Now isn’t the time for risks, but it is the time for work. It’s time for work, and time for plotting PLANNING. Ugh, Blair Waldorf’s got me scheming.

As for the nutritional wake-up call, I’m not certain on how to proceed. I don’t want to backslide into daily Reese’s Cups and weekly Asiago bagels. That said, I don’t want to live without the foods that make me happy. I have the strangest mentality about food: I eat when I’m not hungry but craving food mentally. My tummy is fine, but my brain says “You need ice cream or you’re going to set yourself on fire.” I need to curb that brain energy. I think once I end that battle, the war will end with it.

It’s all easier said than done. Control your brain’s impulses. Apply for a better job. Apply myself to be more desirable to an HR representative. Learn French (is playing the lottery and running away to London still an option?). In execution, it’s a lot of work, and I have a stack of dishes piled up in my sink.

I think I’ll go to bed. Start with the dishes in the morning. Go from there.

Maybe read a book while I’m at it. I kept falling asleep during attempts to read “An Infinite View,” and not for the subject matter. I’m sleep-deprived.

Do dishes. Read a book. Get my life together. Check, check and check.

“Succession”. 30 Rock. Written by Andrew Guest and John Riggi, directed by Gail Mancuso. NBC, 2008.

I did a very, very bad thing

Posted on by maljoylove

I’ll be the first to admit, routine and structure are important to me. Unfortunately, my brain is like a microchip, and the tiniest grain of sand throws me off my game. My goal for tonight was to do my nails (forgot that my self-care routine puts nail care on Wednesdays, and hair masks are for Tuesdays — took care of that last night, thank you), flat iron my hair, do my laundry, read, take a bath to soothe my muscles, and exfoliate.

And then… I turned on Netflix. Started a new show called “You.” Gossip Girl is a stalker, a sociopath, I would guess. Chasing after a girl. My only problem is that this dude is pretty cute and super charming. Like THAT is a guy who needs to stalk and obsess over a girl. I mean okay, Ted Bundy was apparently dreamy and girls were all too willing to help him load something into his car. And it doesn’t help that Zac Efron is playing him in a movie this year.

I want to look up reviews for this show and see what other people thought of it, but I kind of want to not know? I want to decide my every opinion. Reviews for movies started meaning less after they gave “What a Girl Wants” a shoddy review, and THAT was a cinematic masterpiece.

I feel like I’m not supposed to like this character, Joe Goldberg, but he’s smart, well-read, looks after a little kid who lives in his apartment building, and is slowly removing the toxic people in the girl’s life because she’s a twenty-something who doesn’t know how to do that for herself yet. And yeah, she needs to GET TO THAT PART OF HER LIFE ON HER OWN, JOE, but he is being helpful. I’ve wanted to get rid of my friends’ trashy SOs when they wouldn’t take the initiative to do it themselves.

Ugh, I probably sound like the girls who swooned over Bundy during his trial. When he was on trial. For MURDER.

I swear, I’m usually more principled. I’m going to have time to get everything done tonight that I wanted to accomplish, it’ll just be rushed.

Unless this episode has a cliffhanger. Then my whole Thursday is going to be off after I’m up till 3 AM watching the rest of this show in one foul swoop.

Unless I go a full 24 hours without sleep and go to the gym right after I finish the show. I think I have another two years to pull that move off with some justice.

Except I feel like I need a full 18 hours of sleep.

Someone find me a timeturner. Or a book written by a pro on how to live a 36 hour day in 24 hours.