un abrazo

Sometimes I’m really awkward when it comes to hugging…  Over time, I’ve (subconsciously) developed these random rules for when I feel the need to hug people.  And there are exceptions, depending on the person.

What is wrong with me?

So, let me explain a few (or all) of my rules:

1. I generally don’t hug people/friends if I’ve seen them within 21-30 days prior.

I’m so awkward when I encounter people/friends who don’t follow this rule… the hug may not happen until 2-4 minutes after we’ve said our “hellos”, and at that point, it’s just weird.

2. Always hug family – unless you’re staying with them.  In that case, you hug them when you first arrive, and you hug before your departure.  My dad is an exception.  I hug him as much as possible.

Actually, there are probably several exceptions to this rule… My family (crazies on all three sides) rocks 75% of the time.

3. It’s okay to give and/or receive hugs when you or a friend is having a bad, stressful, or super awesome day (I prefer to give high-fives for the super awesome-ness).

4. Once I find out someone is an awful hugger, I will never initiate a hug with that person – unless they are a very good friend.  Then I’m forced to tone down my hug-ness, in order to match their lack of hug-ness.

Honestly,

5. If someone is a great hugger, they get extra hug-ness from me.  I love good hugs :)

6. Person I’m forced to hug at all times: Jessica -  my best friend/sister from another mother.

7. Person I force my hugs on as much as possible (because he hates them): Adam – my pal.

8. Person I enjoy hugging for an awkwardly long period of time (because she thinks she’s too cool for me): my 14-year-old cousin.

9. When I meet a new person and we have a good conversation, they get a hug.

10. When I meet a new person and have a terrible/overly awkward conversation, they probably won’t get a hug (unless they initiate one).

Because I subconsciously came up with these rules, I’m not sure if I’ve listed all of them… but this is from the top of my head.  Go ahead and call me crazy – I can take it.

ups and downs

Yes, it’s been forever since I last posted.  I apologize.  Anyway, I have plenty of good things to write about in the next few days, so get excited.

Starting now…

For some reason, I’m almost constantly analyzing my level of happiness.  What makes it fluctuate, and all that jazz.  Right now, the main things that cause my happiness level to rise and fall are my friends, financials and the [lack of knowledge about my] future.  Sorry – I had to keep the F thing going.

Anyway…

F #1 – Friends: My friends make me happy most of them time.  Actually, they keep me sane.  Sometimes that doesn’t directly translate into happiness, but I appreciate the fact that they keep me from screwing up my life in a major way.  I’ve been good at picking a diverse group of friends, not culturally (I kinda failed at that), but personality-wise.  Each group/person taps into a different quality I possess.  It keeps me feeling whole, I guess.  Nine times out of 10, my friends keep me in a good mood; but there are those random (infrequent) times when they really bother me.  For the most part, it’s a temporary sadness/upset-ness, but hey – didn’t someone say there’s no joy without pain?  Yeah, I think so.

F #2 – Financials: Holy hell, I’m poor.  Thanks to my two years in hell grad school, I’m now over $70k in debt.  That’s a ton of money to drop in two years – and sadly, I’m not sure if it was worth it.  Anyway, my mountain of debt, “three-somed” with the high cost of living in NYC and my low paying job make “enjoying life” a little difficult.  Sure, I’m creative – I can think of inexpensive ways to have a good time, but I find myself dishing out the cash more than I can really afford to.  This especially sucks when something like a $250 round trip flight to Peru comes along, and I can’t afford to drop $250 at the time.  Or when I really want to visit friends in DC, VA or Atlanta and flights are $275+.  Every time I have to use my poor-ness as an excuse for something, my happiness levels drop (of course).  I’m truly sick of it, but it seems unavoidable.

If there’s one thing I’m learning while being poor, it’s that being poor sucks and I do NOT want to stay this way for very long.  Thankfully, I’m not the type to wallow in self-pity (although it does hurt for a little while) and I have ways of getting myself out of that slump.  First, I tell myself this situation is only temporary.  I won’t be in a low-paying job for the rest of my life.  My student loans and rent won’t take up such a major percentage of my monthly salary.  I’ll be able to pay for bigger chunks of my debt.  This should be happening within the next two years.  Second, what doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger, I think.  Like I said before, I’m totally over this “being poor” thing and I’m in a position to make the necessary changes in my life so I don’t have to continue living this way.  I’m currently working towards that goal (even if it’s slow moving).  I will feel super awesome on the day when I’m more financially stable – within two years, hopefully.

F #3 – [Lack of knowledge about my] Future:  omg.  I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up.  Most of the time, I don’t think about this, but when I do – I freak out a little (reducing the happiness level).  Where will I be in five years?  I don’t know.  I could be married.  I could have kids.  I could be living in Costa Rica.  I could be sitting on my ass in NYC (I don’t want that).  What makes me feel better is the fact that it’s okay to not know everything.  I need to focus on the now and the not-so-distant future.

the little sister i’ll never have

The cutest thing happened to me today.  My 14-year-old cousin told me she loved me.

Yes, it’s the same cousin from I’d rather not…

We started an email chain a couple of weeks ago, just to keep tabs on each other.  This is a very unusual event in my family (keeping in touch) but it’s happening.  She tells me about the trials and tribulations of 9th grade and I tell her my quarter-life crises.

It’s odd because I remember when she was a baby…  Now we’re talking about college.  And boys.  And divorce.  And the economy.

They grow up so fast…

As we were saying good bye (on gchat), she said “Love you, cuz” – and my heart melted.  She’s the little sister I never had :)

running update

This afternoon (and last Thursday), I ran/walked 5 miles.  Five stinkin’ miles.  It was probably 3.5 miles of running and 1.5 miles of walking – but still.

a) That’s a long time to be on a treadmill (a little over an hour)

b) WTF.  I can’t even believe I did that.

c) 10 miles?  In two workouts?  What?!

I’ve finished my C25K program, but it’s too early to start on the half-marathon training.  So, I’m repeating week 1 (and maybe 2) of the training until my 16 week countdown begins.  I guess that would start in mid-December.

Have I mentioned the fact that I’ve lost about 11-ish pounds since I started in September?  I’m also down a pant size (which sucks a very tiny bit because now I have to buy new clothes – with money I currently don’t have).  Anyway, it’s not much, but the weight loss component is slightly secondary to the running thing.  I’m monitoring the foods that I eat, but I’m not dieting or anything.  I think my Wii Fit is happy with my progress :)

my love for singing

I love to sing.  All the time.  Especially while working, walking to/from work, running (this isn’t easy), walking to/from anywhere, showering, sitting in front of any computer, cooking any meal, getting ready for work/bed/any event…  The only times I don’t love singing are while I eat, sleep and watch TV.  Makes sense, I guess.

Since I sing while I sit in front of my computer, and I sit in front of my computer most week nights (especially if nothing good is on TV) I do a TON of singing between the hours of 8p-12:30a.

This late-night singing is kinda a “bad habit” of mine – considering the fact that I have 2 roommates and one of them goes to bed at 10:30p.  I’m pretty sure I was doing this while I was in high school, at UVa and while I was in College Park, but I don’t imagine anyone actually enjoys this.  I’m not sure I would enjoy it.  At least I’m not loud, I guess.

No complaints so far.

Not to brag (I feel like such a douche for saying this – but whatever), but I’m not a terrible singer.  I like to think all those years of choir (8, I think) and the fact that my parents named me Deva (I hate myself for saying that) work to my advantage (honestly – can you imagine someone named Deva or Diva who couldn’t sing at all? It would be a tragedy).  Anyway, I’m no Diva (not even close), but there are worse things than my singing.

Side note 1: I apologize for the ridiculous use parentheses in the paragraph above.  I also apologize for the quasi-bragging.  I should be smacked.

Oh – I just thought of one of my favorite memories: For my 4th birthday, I had a very small birthday gathering.  Being the diva I was, I had to be the center of attention – so I broke out my My First Sony and proceeded to sing.  And what did I sing?  Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror.  To this day, it’s still my favorite song, and now I know the correct lyrics.  My parents were slick back then and recorded me singing that song… I really wish I knew where that tape was.

So yeah, singing is my favorite hobby.  I’m singing as I write this.  My roommates are probably hating me right now (except for the one sleeping), but I mostly don’t care.  The evening concerts will continue until someone politely asks me to stop.

Side note 2: My roommate who has loud sex with her bf is not allowed to complain about my singing.

like father, like daughter

My dad and I have a ton in common.  Including the fact that we’re obsessed with egg nog.

We’re having breakfast together in a couple of weeks while I’m in DC.  The first thing that crossed his mind while making plans was drinking egg nog…

That is why I love my father.

And yes – wherever we eat breakfast will serve egg nog.  If anyone knows of any breakfast places in DC that serve egg nog, please let me know.  I can’t wait to drink gobs of egg nog this holiday season :)

is that your real name?

This is a first (no, it’s not coffee – it’s a nonfat chai):

Who is Divon?  Charbux has somehow managed to give me a completely new name.

For those who don’t know – my name is not Divon.  It’s Deva.  And yes – it’s pronounced like Dee-vuh, or Diva.  No, it’s not short for anything. Yes, it is my real name.

And no – I didn’t change my name when I turned 18 so I could be “cool”.

c25k: done

On October 30, 2009, I finished my Couch to 5K training program.  That’s right… I’m officially (kinda) a runner!  More of a runner than I’ve ever been in my life.  I can run 3 miles.  Non-stop.  And I am so ridiculously proud of myself.

I still remember when I first started the program and I would itch SO BADLY.  All over my body.  It was like chicken pox with a vengeance.  And apparently it’s a real issue (and I’m not just a mess).

Nine weeks later, I have overcome the itchiness and my general laziness.  So – where do I go from here?

Here’s what I’m thinking: Use the month of November as my “general running” month.  I won’t start on my half-marathon training yet – I’ll put that off until December.  Things I need to work on this month are:

• Hills.  Hills.  Hills.
• Increasing my speed – just a bit.
• RUNNING OUTSIDE.

I promise to get this done.  Especially the running outside thing.  I’ve been avoiding that like the plague.

It’s time to step up my game.  Only 139 days, 7 hours and 33 minutes until my 13.1 mile run.

 

ing nyc mar(athon) 2010

For the first time in my entire life, I care about running.  Not only do I want to become a runner, I want to watch other (real) runners in action – especially now that a very small (super small) part of me can relate to them.

The ING New York City Marathon is next Sunday, November 1st.  Weather permitting, I would love to go and watch the runners.  The more I read the race website – especially the Course Strategy – the more excited I become – not only for the thousands of runners participating, but also for my own race (Yes, the one I haven’t yet signed up for in March 2010.  I promise I’ll sign up before December 31st).

Anyway, how intense is 26.2 miles?  My brain absolutely cannot wrap itself around the idea of running that far.  ALL FIVE BOROUGHS. If I could high five every single runner, I totally would (except for the fact that I could get H1N1 or some other weird virus/disease).  They deserve crazy mad props for not only signing up for the race, but going through it.

I can’t wait until I have the guts to run 26.2 miles.  So.  Freaking.  Amazing.

First, I’ll tackle the 13.1.  Then I’ll probably tackle another 13.1.  Then maybe I’ll try the 26.2-er.

blog swap: daily obsessional in the house

Thanks to the folks at 20SB and their mad blog swapping skillz, I have a treat for everyone!  As promised, please enjoy the wonderfully amusing post below from Mila at Daily Obsessional.

Femme Fatale Wishes & Ill-fated Dreams

Whenever you watch film noir, there tends to be two categories of women ever present: the angelic, supportive woman who stands by her man despite his hard shell and boozy ways (sometimes a wife, other times a lowly secretary) and the other woman (the bad girl). For me, this other woman has always been the interesting one.

In fact, I’ve always wondered what it’d like be her; this woman so determined to get certain ends, often money, that she will use any means, hurt anyone, murder anyone, and smile all the way through the whole rotten thing. The idea of that kind of imagined power seems thrilling. Below I’ve compiled five reasons I’ve always wanted to be a femme fatale and one reason I decidedly don’t.

1. A little skin goes a long way.

In the days of Rock of Love Bus, the idea of subtle seduction tends to be lost on most of us.  Once upon a time, all Barbara Stanwyck had to flash was a little anklet and her man was ensnared. Now, that’s hot.

2. The bad girls get all the good lines.

“Kiss me, my Fool!”- Theda Bara
“I’m no angel, but I’ve spread my wings a bit”.- Mae West
”You’re no good, and neither am I,” ”That’s why we deserve each other.”- Jane Greer
“Spare me your brainless, countrified morality.”- Linda Fiorentino
“Personally, I’m convinced that alligators have the right idea. They eat their young.”- Eve Arden
“I don’t pray. Kneeling bags my nylons.”- Jan Sterling

3. Femme Fatales are kissed hard and often.


4.  Femme Fatales are always dressed to kill

The dark shades.The shady hats. The blood red lipstick. The trenchcoats. The robes. The gowns.  The cigarette, smoked just the right way. The look of a femme fatale is always utterly flawless.

5.  Anything is a weapon.

Two words: Ice pick.

And the one reason I really don’t wan’t to a femme fatale…

Almost every femme fatale gets her come-uppance in the end.  Whether she’s shot dead in her tracks Chinatown style, or taken away by the coppers Maltese Falcon style, a bad girl can’t catch a break in most film noir. In fact, often, it seems like the whole point of the thing is to punish the wayward women for her greed and blatant sexuality. Generally, this eventual demise serves to deter most of my femme fatale leanings.

Except, once in a while, the unexpected happens and the femme fatale gets away without a trace. Think, Kathleen Turner, in Body Heat. And the obsession continues.

Thanks to Deva for letting me call your blog home for the day. For those looking for more pop culture rants check out my blog Daily Obsessional. As for the literary minded my new writing blog is up and running. Enjoy.