Retail Therapy
I’m a firm believer in the need for balance in one’s life. And that extends to one’s blog — or at least my blog. Therefore while I was considering sharing some realizations I came to through the course of my day yesterday, I’ve decided to instead opt for a lighter topic — namely my latest product obsessions.
I am a dream consumer. If I find something I like, I will not only buy it, but buy multiple quantities of it, and extol the virtues of said product to everyone who will listen. That said, I don’t do so broadly — a product has to really impress me.
Right before Christmas, I experienced the joy that is Jo Malone products. It came about because I ended up having to kill about 5 hours in Heathrow Airport, ended up playing in her store there (with the help of an enthusiastic sales associate!) and voila, I ended up spending way too much money on fragrance. Still, despite the expense, I find her products totally worth it. How cool is it to mix your own signature fragrance? And the quality of her products are top notch. (By the way, my signature fragrance? A combination of Amber & Lavender and Nutmeg & Ginger. I’m a spicy sort of gal. Though it is entirely possible I’ll decide to revisit this combo once the warmer weather months hit.)
Now my latest beauty/cosmetic obsession appeals to a different side of me. While Jo Malone appeals to my sense of class and extravagance, Lush appeals to the rock chic within. I think of it as sort of a cooler, more modern, edgier Body Shop. The products are unique, all natural, and cleverly packaged. The product descriptions were fab. I think my favorite was “Goth Juice”, a hair gel that claimed to contain the essential ingredient of the tears of Robert Smith (how I loved him once upon a time!) There seems to be a real emphasis on making your shopping experience an interactive one. (I got a great hand massage from the young man who asked to demo a scrub on me, which was just lovely and not weird at all.) The product names are delicious too. Who can resist the thought of Angels on Bare Skin? Or Silky Underwear? Textures are varied and unique too, which is great for those of us who like to touch everything and appreciate a tactile experience. The online store is fun, but if you have an opportunity, check out one of their retail locations in person. I haven’t had so much fun since I discovered my first Sephora store.
Finally, I resisted the trend for quite some time and swore I wouldn’t give in, but after several days of wearing shoes that destroyed my feet, and knowing I had much more walking time ahead of me, both by necessity and by preference, I broke down and bought a pair of crocs. However, I did not buy the clog looking ones (which I’m sure are quite comfortable, however there would be no way I could get away with wearing them for business meetings). I bought a pair of cleos which really do resemble a pair of simple strappy sandals. And oh my gosh my feet are happy. I finally “get it”. The appeal, that is. I feel as though I could walk for twice as long with these babies on my feet, and find an extra spring in my step. Happy feet make a happy girl. I admit it, I’m a crocs convert. And aside from the fact that these are the most comfortable shoes ever while still looking pretty cute, I love the fact that crocs is a company with a conscience. So I actually feel good about spending money on them (even if they were significantly more expensive in Australia with the current exchange rate than they are in the US.) So I guess this is my formal apology for any former disdain for crocs. Any company that makes shoes for the purpose of happy feet while having a social conscience and actively participating in bettering communities around the world is a company that gets not only my business but is worthy of my shouting from the rooftops how much they rock.
Contemplating the thrill of it all
So, yeah, I’ve been a slacker with the whole blogging thing. Part of it is that there isn’t much to report. But part of that is because I haven’t found it in me to contemplate much lately. And contemplation seems to go hand in hand with blogging, at least for me. Why the lack of contemplation? In a nutshell, fear. Who knows what thoughts will rise to the surface if one gives them a chance to do so.
That said, I managed to do some long overdue contemplation today, which I will attempt to put into some kind of cohesive form — no promises though. Overdue contemplation leads to an overload of thoughts and emotions that seem to both flow freely and jumble together all at the same time.
I spent most of my day here. 
This is, in my opinion, one of the best beaches in the world. It’s not so much about the sand and the surf, though they are fantastic, but the whole atmosphere of the place. A resort town where shoes are optional, people walk everywhere, and there is so much to see around every corner from eclectic little shops to musicians in the streets. Strangely enough, halfway around the world, there is something about it that feels very right to me — like in some strange way I am home. Or at least at home in some alternate universe.
So after having a good wander around the town and taking a long walk along the shore, I found myself sitting in the sand. I watched the families playing in the breaking waves. The lovers walking hand in hand along the beach. The birds (which were more attractive than any seagulls I ever see at home) fluttering here and there in search of food. The surfers way back in the ocean, seemingly watching over it all, occasionally gliding toward the shore only to paddle back out to the depths. And there was a little girl in a pink tutu. She was there with her mother and two older sisters, and clearly the free spirit. Chasing after the birds. Splashing into the surf, just a little bit deeper than the others. Plopping down in the sand and letting handfuls of it run through her fingers. I found myself envious of the little girl in the pink tutu. I wished to feel that free, that alive.
I watched the sunburned tourists pack up their gear and head back to their hotels, reminding me that this primarily a holiday town. For some reason I heard my parents’ voice reminding me that this isn’t real life.
But as i watched the sun set over the blue waters, I thought to myself “Why can’t this be real life?” Why must “real life” consist of drudgery and entrapment? Why can’t real life be as free as the little girl in the pink tutu? Why shouldn’t there be joy and wonder in every day life?
Is it so crazy to wish for a real life that entails all of this?
I thought of a quote I saw somewhere: “Life isn’t about finding yourself, but creating yourself.”
I guess this means that if this is the reality I want, I’m the only one who can make that happen. And that’s quite a terrifying thought. I’m the one who needs to figure out how to get from point A to point B. I’m the only one who can do it. And I won’t have any guidelines or roadmaps to help me do so.
The dangers of contemplation. Realizations may be more terrifying than anything.
As day turned to evening, I wandered back to catch the ferry back to Sydney. Thinking about these things. Thinking about the last time I was in this part of the world. More specifically when I came home from this part of the world only to have the bomb dropped and my marriage and life as I knew it shattering into pieces. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Yet I couldn’t help but remember who I was then, and compare it to who I am now, the good and the bad. And as I sat on the deck of the ferry with my feet propped up on the railing, looking up at the moon, a light rain began to fall. I felt the cool droplets on my face, mixing with the hot tears that had somehow escaped from my eyes without my noticing. Cleansing. Refreshing. Washing away regrets. Preparing me for something new. While listening to the lyrics of the song playing on my mp3 player. And perhaps really understanding them for the first time:
It’s a secret no one tells;
One day it’s heaven, one day it’s hell.
It’s no fairy tale;
Take it from me,
That’s the way it’s supposed to be.
You will fly and you will crawl;
God knows even angels fall.
No such thing as you lost it all.
God knows even angels fall.
You laugh, you cry, no one knows why
Behold the thrill of it all…
You’re on the ride
You might as well
Open your eyes…
Jaded
Baby
You’re so jaded
‘Cause I’m the one that jaded you.
~Aerosmith
No, I haven’t given up on blogging already. I just haven’t had a topic in quite some time. The debris seems to be settling, and the drama subsiding. Only constant internal monologues remaining. I sometimes wonder if this is normal when one lives on one’s own. To be honest I’ve never completely lived on my own full-time before in my life. It sounds a bit ridiculous, I know. So I don’t know how much of what I’m experiencing is normal for a person living alone, or how much is a reaction to recent events. It’s a little unnerving at times, I have to admit.
One theme I keep coming back to in conversations with others (and that blasted internal monologue) is the subject of being jaded. How jaded I am now. How jaded I ought to be. How jaded I should have been all along. As soon as my previous life as I knew it started crumbling people warned me that I would be jaded forever going forward. While analyzing the breakdown of the marriage, I chided myself for not being jaded enough all along.
However, I came to a different conclusion just recently.
There is no reason I ought to have been jaded. Being jaded would have meant questioning every joy I did experience. Being distrustful. Being cynical. And, yes, perhaps had I known then what I know now, I ought to have been those things. But I’m glad I wasn’t. Because you are supposed to trust in your spouse. You are supposed to treasure joy for what it is. And you are supposed to embrace life events and feelings rather than be skeptical of them. So, no, even if some people may call me naive or foolish, I’m not sorry I did those things.
And to that point, I don’t want to be jaded now or in the future. Sure, I may be more cautious. Sure, my heart may be more tender. But I want to live my life; not sit on the sidelines making cynical comments about it. I want to experience emotions full throttle; not simply the watered down versions. I don’t want to live my life with kid gloves on. What is the point of living if one doesn’t do so fully and completely?
The way I figure it, I’ve been through what I can only imagine is one the most painful devastating events a person can experience. And I’ve survived. I’ve learned. I’ve evolved. If not for the pain there would be no reward.
So here I go back into the world, without my training wheels of jadedness to keep me from falling. It is through our mistakes and our mishaps that we learn and, eventually, accomplish more than we thought we could before.
Naked Finger Solution
Ever since I removed my wedding rings, I have felt like there was a giant strobe light focused on the ring finger on my left hand, alerting the media to my naked finger status. Even though I never wore my wedding rings 24/7, seeing that finger naked every day was bothering me. I even was paranoid enough to think that possibly other people were noticing my naked finger and looking at me with pity or contempt. Yes, I know this is crazy. On a completely materialistic note, I missed the sparkle of diamonds and the shimmer of light that occurred whenever I used my left hand to emphasize a point (especially if it happened to be in direct lighting).
While these are not good enough reasons to resume wearing my wedding rings (to put it mildly) I did discover a solution for my naked finger syndrome over the weekend. I was going through my jewelry box looking for earrings and came across my college ring. Not for nothing, but I went to a pretty well respected college, and my ring is quite classy: large, oval black stone with my school crest in gold, on a solid gold base. Sadly, I never wore my college ring very often. (I’ll admit that I mainly wore it for job interviews when I was just about to graduate college. I even tried to flash it around a bit, as if to say to prospective employers, “See! Good school! I must be a really smart chick, so you should definitely hire me.”)
When my ex and I became serious he gave me a pretty ring that I wore on my left ring finger until I did eventually receive my engagement ring. (I’m actually not sure what happened to that original ring as it seems to be missing from my jewelry box – very strange.)
Anyway, as you may have guessed, my college ring has now been appointed its proper place on my left ring finger. It’s classy (like me!) It’s smart (like me!) And most importantly, it symbolizes my accomplishments that I achieved on my own – for me alone. To others it may appear to be a simple ring, but to me it’s my “You’re a kickass chick with a brilliant future” ring.
Because Daughtry put it better than I could
Now that it’s all said and done,
I can’t believe you were the one
To build me up and tear me down,
Like an old abandoned house.
What you said when you left
Just left me cold and out of breath.
I fell too far, was in way too deep.
Guess I let you get the best of me
Well, I never saw it coming.
And I should’ve started running
A long, long time ago.
And I never thought I’d doubt you,
I’m better off without you
More than you, more than you know.
I’m slowly getting closure.
I guess it’s really over.
I’m finally getting better.
And now I’m picking up the pieces.
From spending all of these years
Putting my heart back together.
‘Cause the day I thought I’d never get through,
I got over you
You took a hammer to these walls,
Dragged the memories down the hall,
Packed your bags and walked away.
There was nothing I could say.
And when you slammed the front door shut,
A lot of others opened up,
So did my eyes so I could see
That you never were the best for me.
Well, I never saw it coming.
And I should’ve started running
A long, long time ago.
And I never thought I’d doubt you,
I’m better off without you
More than you, more than you know.
I’m slowly getting closure.
I guess it’s really over.
I’m finally getting better.
And now I’m picking up the pieces.
From spending all of these years
Putting my heart back together.
‘Cause the day I thought I’d never get through,
I got over you.
“Over You” by Chris Daughtry and Brian Howes
3 things I can be happy about today
1.) My good friend from college is coming down to spend the weekend with me. Shamefully, I haven’t seen her since my wedding even though she only lives about 2 1/2 hours away. She’s been very helpful through all of this, having gone through a divorce herself when she was quite young. She also still remembers me as the “cool chick”. I haven’t felt like a cool chick in a long time. I’m hoping she’ll help me find that inner cool chick again.
2.) We’re going out tonight — two single girls out on the town. Going to see a cover band, and plan on dancing up a storm, and singing along with the lyrics (possibly off-key, depending on the number of drinks we consume.) I can’t wait.
3.) My skinny jeans fit me again today! (Ok, technically they are not “skinny” jeans, but jeans that make me feel skinny. Or rather skinnier. At the very least they make my bum look good!) I tried them on two weeks ago and couldn’t even button them. There is some good coming out of this “divorce diet”. (Not that I’d recommend the divorce part, but the eating only for fuel and exercising to deal with stress is beneficial.)
