Somewhere along 97 or 98, I was in the ninth grade, and was a shy, pimply-faced teenage girl who had never had a boyfriend. On Valentine’s Day, I watched in horror as EVERY single girl received cards, flowers, and most importantly, stuffed animals, besides me. One girl, in particular, received at least eight stuffed animals from five different 14-year old suitors. I was mortified.
I rode the bus home in silence, crying my eyes out all way. Every February 14, I attempted to fake ebola to get out of going to school. It didn’t work, and buckets of tears ensued.
Since that day, I’ve had it out for Mr. Cupid, or this holiday I’ve dubbed Valloween due to all of the crapola in the stores loving put out on January 2. Even when I was 18 and finally did had a boyfriend, something has always rubbed me the wrong way about mushy, red… stuff.
Fortunately, I married someone who feels the same way about the Valloween. Yea, I don’t think we’ll celebrate it this year. At least not with balloons, or jewelry, or bears, or importantly, balloons.
P.S. The guy I married has the body of Chris Pratt and the face of Chris Pine. This really isn’t relevant, I just wanted to put that somewhere, in some post.
Pinterest, and some cat vomit stuff
[I should note that that this blog post isn’t meant to offend anyone; it’s simply my prospective on this particular subject. I have a lot of friends who still use Pinterest, and that’s totally fine.]
Last year, the storage space on my phone was so full that I couldn’t even take a photo. In an effort to clear some things, I deleted the Pinterest app, thinking I’d add it back later. I never did, and I slowly stopped logging on through my desktop.
I’m not a crafty person. I can’t bring myself to make a chandelier out of wax paper and a hot glue gun – believe me, I tried. It just doesn’t happen for me. I love cooking, but I like to serve healthy recipes, not ones that resemble something the cat barfed up. I don’t dress in today’s fashions, so that part’s mostly out, too. Then the real reason: my “Home Ideas” board.
My home is never going to be a pristine mansion like many of the pins I had. Barring lottery winnings, I’m never going to build secret hideaways, sleeping porches, or have a kitchen that opens to an outdoor bar. Pinning those things made me feel insecure, incompetent, and worst of all, materialistic.
In the past year, I’ve changed the way I view objects in my life. I’d rather spend time sustaining a full and adventurous life rather than worrying about the fabric shade of throw pillows. Don’t get me wrong – I still want a warm and comfortable home, but life is outside, a whole wide world ready to take in.
Oh, and one more thing – Chevron stripes look like a couch a dude from Mad Men should be smoking Lucky Stripes on.