Best Christmas Present

This is a hands-down, no contest answer. The best Christmas gift I ever received was my Samantha Parkington American Girl doll in the sixth grade. This was around the same time I had stopped believing in the flesh-and-blood existence of Santa Claus (Santa is about the spirit of the season, so yes I believe in Santa.) I had begged my mother for one of these (expensive) dolls for years. I also was skilled in the art of snooping for my gifts, so I pretty much knew what the line-up was going to be each holiday. However, in the sixth grade at Christmas, low and behold Santa brought me my SAMANTHA PARKINGTON DOLL complete with school desk, school accessories and lunch box!! This was one of the more fanciful gifts Santa had brought me...probably ever. So the fact that I didn't find the item in advance when I'd pretty much sniffed out the rest of my gift line up was...suspicious. It made me really start to second guess myself on this not believing in Santa business. I'm not sure when my mom finally divulged that she sent it to my grandparents' house (why on earth would she do THAT?) but it had me going for a second.
For a couple of reasons, Samantha reigns supreme on the best Christmas gifts EVA! One, she made me believe in the magic of Christmas. (Macy's helps keep this spirit alive in me, but Samantha started it!) Second, you are never, NEVER too old for these wonderful dolls. I'm not a doll or toy collector, but I could take each one of these home and have a high old time brushing their hair and reading their corresponding stories. They are fabulous toys for any child and serve to educate children on important points in America's history by bringing it to life in their homes.
I am sad to report that they have since "retired" Samantha, as well as my other favorite, Felicity, from their doll line up. (HOW can you retire your Revolutionary War doll, American Girl?!) I had long planned on getting Felicity for my unborn daughter because she had the prettiest outfits...and is educational!!...and has red hair. Which, on a side note, I always thought I'd have a red-headed child. The retirement of Felicity as well as my marriage to a man of Indian descent has brought me to the realization that this probably is not going to happen...
On a final note, if you are ever looking for an (expensive) gift for me, may I suggest the Julie Albright doll? Around the time I received my Samantha doll, I had also pined for American Girl (then Pleasant Company) to make a 60s/70s inspired doll. So inspired, I wrote them a note detailing why it was an important time in American history and letting them know that their fan base (a 12 year old me) would like a hippy doll in the line up. I got my wish, now I need the doll!! To top it all off, she's from San Francisco and has a Chinese best friend. She was made for me!!

A visit to American Girl Place in Los Angeles for my 27th birthday.
You are never too old for American Girl dolls!

Photo of Yourself Without Makeup

Well, this is cruel and unusual punishment. I have flat hair (the price one pays for not needing a flat iron and the ability to wash and go), dark circles around my eyes (not just under them, and the circles coupled with the bags are an inherited trait), and really blonde lashes. Really long, but really light unless I'm wearing mascara, which I don't need a lot of. If I put on mascara, I get stopped on the street by women who tell me I have beautiful lashes, so it's an even trade. On the plus side, I don't color my hair. I don't have to, it's a decent color on its own and has some natural highlights to it. I also (finally) have decent skin. I also won't be having children because my skin is all to the credit of my oral contraceptive. And I like my eyes. I play them up the most when I get made up. I am also OK with my giant schnoz. Overall, I'm pretty happy with my looks. 

Talent I Wish I Had

I wish I had a couple of the talents my husband possesses: the ability to argue/debate and the ability to absorb information as quickly as he can. I have a decent memory, and I am an intelligent person, but he's one of those people that knows everything about everything because he read it once. He's also a fast reader, which makes me even sicker that he can absorb information that quickly. I'm a pore-over-every-word-and-puncutation-mark person.

He can also argue until he's blue in the face...only he never turns blue, he just keeps yakking. He doesn't care that he's wrong, he just wants to take the opposite stance and argue for it. My favorite example of this was when we were with a friend of his who can really get him debating. They're colleagues, so they argue over everything at work. This guy is really laid back, and my husband is always wired. This friend and I liken these arguments to shaking up the baby and handing it back to the parents...he always presses my husband's buttons and then leaves me with him, continuing to spout his arguments. My problem is that I just don't care enough to argue with people. I have my views and I could give two hoots what you think of them...I also hate arguing over anything remotely factual for fear that don't know all the facts. I like to think before I speak...this puts me in a minority of the population. Anyway, this friend was saying that so-and-so at Stanford should have won a Nobel Prize. My husband's immediate response was "well they did!" The friend, knowing that this was completely false, said "they did?" My husband, realizing that there was no way to argue this incorrect fact tried to backpedal by saying "well, no, but they should have!" His friend and I laughed so hard, I nearly had to pull the car over. My husband was completely sour grapes about it, saying that it wasn't that funny, but it was! I wish I had half the guts he did to argue with people. As you can see, it just comes naturally for him.

And if you'll indulge my wild fantasies: time travel, the ability to be in two places at once, and anything supernatural portrayed on I Dream of Jeannie and Bewitched.

Meaning Behind My Blog Name

Clearly, my blog name is a play on the word blasphemous.

When I started this blog, I was inspired by blogs on fashion, beauty, shopping, etc. by females (and sometimes males!) with full-time jobs and lives. It was inspirational to me that these people had careers in fields unrelated to their blogging topics and wanted to look good when they showed up to the job. I went through a long slump post-grad school and post-major health issue where I didn't care about my looks anymore. I didn't think that was "allowed" if I wanted to be taken seriously. Nor did I feel like caring when I was sick. However, after reading these blogs and finding out how many of my Facebook friends (from all walks of my life) shop at the same stores I do and are investing in their wardrobes now more than any other point before in their lives, I realized my weekly trips to Sephora didn't need to be my dirty little secret. Everyone else really was doing it, too!

I don't intend for this blog to be as large-scale as some of the great blogs I read. It's basically a place to socialize among my friends and serve as a catch-all for my superficial mental diarrhea. (Once, twice, three times a LADY.) Plus, I enjoy writing and they always say to pursue what you would do for free. If this had to become my part-time job like it seems to be for other prolific bloggers, I probably wouldn't enjoy it as much. However, I'm grateful for those out there who do put in the time because they really have revolutionized the 'fashion world' for real people. It's fun to see REAL people wearing the trends (and setting them) or swatching make up colors so we can see how these things look without having to rely on the magazines. Plus, I'm not happy with my body type, which is a constant battle, but for the first time, thanks to these blogs, I am happy with my wardrobe and have figured out what my individual 'style' is, eclectic as it may be. (Again, I live on Eclectic Avenue.)

So, as for how I came up with blasFEMMEous, it was a way to blaspheme, if you will, at those who naysay any of these topics and or write them, or me, off as trivial. Giving a damn about what "people" thought (short-lived as it was) didn't work for me. It fed into the NOT giving a damn about myself, which REALLY didn't work for me. Rock bottom? Going to work in a Chester Cheeto tshirt...more than once. Covered by a ripping hoodie with OLD NAVY emblazoned across the chest. Call me frivolous, but that's no way to represent myself or my employer. Nor was it any way to pull myself up by my bootstraps after a round with my chronic medical condition. But most of all the name serves as a little reminder to myself that not caring about what other people think really is flattering on me.

The Last Item You Purchased

Well, I'm supposed to say "shoes". With the way I walk, I wear holes in the toes of my shoes. I just wear shoes out, period, into an unrepairable state. The last time I purchased everyday shoes (tennis shoes and shoes that qualify as something I can wear to work) was October 2009. I wore holes into the tennis shoes by the following September (I did a charity walk and trained for it pretty hard) and by the time winter started, I had worn out the work shoes pretty badly as well...and I'm still wearing them and it's spring. Lord forbid it rains. I still wear the tennis shoes to walk the dog. I may keep them to do that, so I don't ruin the next new pair.

I have found the exact same work shoes online, all I need to do is reorder them. As for the tennis shoes, I'd like to get something slightly more stylish than these ones that I had, though they actually gave my foot the support it needs. Which means in order to (hopefully) blend these 2 requirements, I'll have to shop around.

My husband asked me yesterday (after purchasing himself a pair of Italian leather loafers) if I'd bought my new shoes yet. No, but I did take the paycheck on a small Etsy and make up run. Priorities! Shoe buying isn't fun for me...it's just a reminder of what I can't have. Jesus help our credit if bionic legs ever become a viable solution for me, because I'm thinking I am owed at LEAST $50K in back stylish footwear. Imelda Marcos will have nothing on me. (When my mom told me about her when I was a kid, I was instantly fascinated, in a train wreck sort of way. Guilty as charged.)

What did I purchase as of late? Some eyeshadows from Lily Lolo in the UK (a set for a friend, and 1 jar of Miami Taupe for me...I'm trying to pace myself on the shadow addiction.) A BUNCH of goodies from my latest obsession, the Etsy shop Epically Epic Soap Co. Their scent Basmati Rice is my fave. I have it in the solid lotion, and I also just ordered it in the hydrating hair/body mist and perfume. Then I got it in a custom lotion with mango scent, like mango and sticky rice. And I bought a lip balm for a friend for St. Patrick's Day (shamrock shake flavor) and the Bullfrog (peach/cherry flavor) for me. (I also have their Turkish coffee lip tint. Love it.) And finally, since they're known for soap, I got a lychee scented bar soap. All in all, very Asian goodies! And then this other blog I love, Phyrra, did a review on Original Moxie hair products and gave a coupon code. I'm on my last bottle of conditioner, so I got the Featherweight conditioner and a sample of the Get Fresh shampoo. I need squeaky clean shampoo that clarifies and conditioner that is light and detangles. Plus, this company is Ypsilanti, MI based. Go figure! (Check out the review and coupon code here.)

So that is exactly how much time I can waste perusing for products. I'm hoping by having shiny hair and a made-up face, that it will draw the attention up from the holes in my shoes. Seriously, I will rectify it soon...I have to, or I'll look like a hobo next to my Italian leather loafer man.

The Last Book I Read

Books are an occupational hazard for me. I work with them, so many migrate home with me and clutter up my shelves. I constantly have to purge. They clutter my desk at work. I can't purge there, I have to work with them. I spend a majority of my day with books, and spent the majority of the last decade hitting them in college and graduate school. So to say that I have very little mental capacity for pleasure reading is an understatement.
Because I work with books, I get a million book suggestions for my pleasure reading list. I have simply been unable to keep up with what other people want me to read. Granted, I don't mind getting book suggestions for work (makes my day easier!) nor do I mind getting books as gifts. What I do mind is when people brashly suggest that "you don't read" or "you won't read it" or "you don't have time to read it anyway" because I haven't read what they want me to. For this reason, I have stopped discussing books and swapping titles in general. I have enough mental clutter when it comes to pleasure reading thanks to my job, I don't need to get it elsewhere.
I will say that grad school and the nature of my job feed into this mental block as well, as both required me to be detail oriented. Read: OCD. I don't read as fast as I want to (I live with a Stanford PhD student and the rate at which he devours boring-to-me-information literally puts me to shame) and I constantly find myself stalling out halfway through books. I hate doing anything halfway and letting info get stale. I just rewatched an entire season of the Tudors to refresh my brain before proceeding. In addition, I always pick up books I "should" be reading rather than what I WANT to be reading. I feel guilty if I actually get enjoyment out of a book. It means I'm not working hard or slaving over it.
So, to not leave you completely hanging, I will say that I love biographies and memoirs. I like books that take me back in time (and I also love films that are period pieces.) I don't read a whole lot of fiction, but when I do it tends to be a bit on the macabre side. I loved learning about Edgar Allan Poe and Sylvia Plath in high school English. I revisit them now and again. I like a lot of things from the New York Times Bestseller lists (celeb tell-alls, current events, hot new fiction titles hitting the book club circuits.) I love it when books are turned into movies, even if the movies aren't as good as the books. (I'm looking at you, Twilight.) And, like most aspects of my life, there isn't a whole lot of cohesion to my bookshelf...what can I say, I live on Eclectic Avenue.
With the debut of the iPad 2, which I'm pretty sure I'll be purchasing as an even-more portable alternative to traveling with my laptop, I hope to find the enjoyment in reading again. For now, I'm mum on the last book I read, the current book I am reading, and what I plan to read next.

Something I refuse to do.

I thought long and hard about this one. There's not a lot I outright 'refuse' to do. I'm open-minded and I generally try anything once. I have a long list of dislikes, but I've generally done the science to conclude why I dislike something. However, the issue of conformity comes to mind.

 

With the exception of being a law abiding citizen, save for a few instances with my speedometer, I don't really conform well to social norms. Or any norms for that matter. I distinctly remember an elementary or middle school assignment in which we had to come up with an adjective that described us for each letter of our name. After playing around with my dictionary, I decided that N was for Non-conformist and aptly described me. When you're a mini-adult, there's not much you can wish you knew then what you know now. It seems I knew myself well even then.

 

When you grow up in a town of hundreds of people (and I guess it's not really a town then) conformity can kind of be expected. One would think that being born different is what gave me my natural affinity for doing the unexpected, but it was my mom's no bullshit, no nonsense attitude that really shaped my independent nature. There are a lot of families who spend time caring about their public image (say, political families) or conforming to social laws they subject themselves to for a bevy of reasons (say, religion). With the things I went through growing up (which, at this point, you're probably sick of hearing me detail, or in fact even sick of hearing that be the root cause of why I am the way I am) we simply didn't have the time to care what people thought. We had a day to get through, and following societal rules (religious, political, or whatever) just had no place in our lives.

 

I suppose in the eyes of some, this makes us lawless athiests. We're actually Catholic Democrats. Politics and religion are just two examples I used of things I don't conform to, or adhere to strict definitions of. They're 2 out of 3 things you're not supposed to talk about at the dinner table, so I found them to be useful examples. I suppose to complete the trifecta, I will say that I believe homosexuals should be allowed to get married, and that conformity is the reason why we have to talk in terms like "allow" and "believe" when talking about this issue.

 

Unsolicited advice is also part of this post. It seems a sudden jump, but for example, that I take birth control and "believe" in gay marriage and also consider myself Catholic really throws people. They then feel the need to tell me what Catholics en masse believe, or Christians, or the Pope. Advice really pisses me off. So does being told what I am, or am not, in terms of a definition that is used to describe a mass of people, much like a cultural stereotype. It's an insult to both my intelligence and individuality. 

So, in short, I don't conform well. I don't do what's "expected" of me on a societal level. I'm a free-thinker and I don't ascribe to every point on the spectrum of a belief system just because I am "supposed" to. I think before I speak, I don't do what I'm told (unless you sign my paycheck) and I think for myself. 

 

The Best Part of My Day: A Love Letter to My Dog

I really screwed up this Blog-A-Day thing last week. Well, back on the horse I go.

Today's (last week's) topic is: the best part of your day.

The best part of my day is simple, really, and anyone who has a dog will agree. The best part of my day is going home and opening the front door to see my doggy wagging her tail. It's rare that Molly isn't waiting for me at the door. If she's in the bedroom, she knows the sound of our car being parked in the carport below. If she's near the front door, she knows the jingle of our keys. And, in the rare instance that she's sleeping too deeply, I simply call out to my welcoming committee and she emerges from the bedroom, stretching and wagging her tail.

 

My dog has taught me a tremendous deal about the simple things in life. I bought her fancy dog toys her first Christmas. She prefers the $5 item from the clearance rack. We bought her a dog bed (she has multiple beds in fact), and she rescued an Ikea pillow on its way to the trash to use as her kitchen pillow. Her favorite treat's ingredient list consists of one item: dehydrated chicken breast. Dogs are a simple animal that live by the Moulin Rouge philosophy: all they want is to love and be loved in return.

 

Going home to Molly is the best part of my day. I watch the clock at work not in anticipation of giving my brain a rest, but rather in anticipation of racing home to my (8 year old) puppy who will kiss me with her stinky breath, chase her bought-on-clearance-chicken toy (now sans stuffing), and sit on the couch to watch Oprah with me. Dogs are the keepers of the schedule. I can't just go out after work without going home to take care of her first. Molly knows I am coming home based upon her internal clock. So long as I stick to the schedule, she will be waiting for me at that front door. Dogs are a commitment.

 

That said, Molly is the one constant in our lives. She is the glue that holds us together and is a source of unconditional love. When we adopted Molly, we didn't realize that she would teach us a lesson about the vows that we had said three months earlier. That we learned what unconditional love really means from our dog is no exaggeration. There is not a mean, vengeful or grudge-holding bone in her body. Her biggest faults are those bad breath kisses and squeezing in between us on the couch. And, OK, she's a food thief. But regardless of what she steals off of our plates, Molly always keeps up her end of the commitment, and as an imperfect human, it can be difficult to feel worthy of how much loves she gives to us, her family.  That our dog's biggest faults are love-based demonstrates the perfect character and nature of dogs. I believe a great majority of dogs are born having already attained enlightenment.

 

For proof, just spell "dog" backwards.

 

 

The Workspace

In an attempt to blog more, I have stolen an idea from a friend (an idea which she stole as well) with daily suggested writing topics. Said friend and I decided to make this a five day a week occurrence on any given topic. Said friend also chose the most boring topic to start. I'm going to refrain from reposting the list of topics and just go with it. Thanks a lot, S, for choosing "your workspace."

My workspace sucks. There has been a long pause since I typed that. Where to begin? Probably with the positive. I have a great sized cube, an L shaped desk that's a decent size, and cube neighbors who are usually working from home. I'm shoved back in the back corner of the office where there is little traffic. I am usually by myself. I enjoy blasting music in my headphones. It really keeps me going. I love my new Betty White calendar for the year, and I have a photo of my husband and dog, one of my best friend's daughter, and a photo of my best friend's store. I have a map of Europe that I drool over on a regular basis, willing myself there. I have photos of Kyrgyz soldiers. Yes, that's right. 1. I want to go to Kyrgyzstan. 2. I like military uniforms of the wintery wool variety. I have a few cards from a vendor we work with in Kenya.

Since I work with books, they pile up. There is no avoiding this...this is what we do, we all have piles of books. I am also a post-it freak. I won't remember anything unless I write it down. I leave cryptic notes to myself, and there are piles of reminders around me at all times. Should I become old and senile, I will already be used to writing notes to myself. I have always been like this, since I'm a visual person.

So, I'm generally elbows high in things that are made of paper.

The L shaped desk is annoying. I can never decide where to place my dual monitors. For years, I sat in the corner of the L. Since I have a tendency to suffer in silence, it never occurred to me to move my monitor and get myself out of the corner until my shoulder started to bother me from all of the neck craning. I am the type of person (is there a type of person?) that can sit uncomfortably and be so distracted I don't notice it until minutes later. A high pain threshold is to blame. It sounds outrageous, but I can literally sit uncomfortably for a long time.

I'm starting to see the merits of furniture and flat working surfaces as I age. Sitting on the floor is also a habit of mine (outside of work) that I have started calling myself out for in the past few months. When your 15 pound weenie dog is sitting stretched out on the couch while you're on the floor, you realize something is out of balance. My disability kind of feeds into all of this, since I have a delayed sense of feeling, sometimes, in knowing when I'm uncomfortable or should be sitting another way, and since sprawling out on the floor was easier for me when I was a kid with casts on my legs. I could put everything I needed around me and crawl to get whatever else I wanted to use at the time in my room without having to hobble around my bed on crutches. Doing stuff on the floor was a habit that never really went away and was comfortable (I think?) up until recently.

Calling yourself out in your head for these things feels as ridiculous as it sounds. "Why are you sitting on the floor? Why are you sitting like this? Wouldn't your arm stop hurting if you moved your mouse pad?" Sometimes, since I don't have feeling, I don't realize the restrictions of a human body. I always stumble when I try to bend sideways to move around things. (No one's knee moves out to the side...why should mine?) A few times in the past few years, I have thrown out my back for sitting ridiculously. It always happens when I bend my leg out to the side and make a sudden movement the other way to reach for something. The last time I hurt my back for sitting this way was the last straw and the beginning of constant assessment of the way I am sitting. It's annoying. It's also for my own safety. It's also because I came to the realization that this is not an indicator of my inability. The knee-bending was a literal light bulb moment. I'm always asking my husband "does this happen to you in your normal body?" It's a strange place to be after almost 3 decades on the planet. I always made the assumption that my body was to blame, and that there "everybody else was doing it", which was not always the case.

But since getting out of the corner, it has helped some of the neck and shoulder pain I've been having since a stressful holiday travel season. It also helped for me to raise my chair a few inches. I'm always the one in the conference room who sits in the chair and goes rolling because my feet don't touch the ground. I've found I don't always have to be at the lowest setting, and it's more comfortable. Using the side of the L for my mouse keeps my arm upright and on the desk. I still fiddle with the monitors. It could stand to be decluttered in the near future, but I think I'm learning how to sit.

So, in my normal fashion, I have taken a topic and managed to talk about something else entirely.