liebe es etwas was man gibt und nimmt

Love is something man gives and takes. When I was a child in Germany my Aunt Vida handed me a little round metal box to place my hair ties in. On top of this box was a picture of a young man and woman with this saying above their head. The saying was simple to translate in German, and was one of the first German phrases I learned.

Since then I never forgot the saying. Although it is terribly cliche it has always struck me as true to the core. Growing up as an adolescent and dating in my twenties, I partook in my fair share of give and take. Despite the numerous times I was sure I had fallen in love, in hindsight I never experienced a balanced exchange until I met my fiance (MML). Although we both have rather serious job paths (he is an engineer and I am studying to be a lawyer), when we are together we revert to being two children in a playground sharing toys and giggling. He is absolutely shameless, and goes to any extreme to make me laugh. I, on the other hand, have to do little to make him laugh as he finds most of what I do funny (mainly because I am a natural klutz).

There has always been a tangible balance in our relationship. He gives, I take and adore. I am so happy that he gave me something that I just have to give him something too! Before him, I was always hesitant to trust others and to give any part of myself away. He taught me, through sharing, to trust. By being kind to me, he taught me to believe in others again and effectively chipped off my hard outershell. I am unsure whether he was concsious of the fact that he was disarming me through kindness, but either way he played it off so smooth that I have never really cared to ask.

My MML showed me how to give and take by example, and no matter what happens in my life, I will always love him.

Blessed Roadburn

Since getting engaged, my fiance and I have adopted the most engaging puppy dog on God's green earth. He is a cute, clumsy, and energetic labrodoodle whom we could not love more. This afternoon as my fiance was taking out the trash, Griffin (our doggy) ran outside behind him and got hit by a car. I cannot tell you the gambit of emotions that surged through me when I heard he was hit.

After several hours in the emergency room with him, the vet discharged Grif with 4 bottles of medicine. He luckily did not break anything, however, he is severely bruised and has bad roadburn on his belly where he was dragged. Additionally he has some soft tissue damage to his knee which we will have to watch out for. Overall though, he is okay.

When I was 5 I was hit by a car while in Germany with my mom. Like Grif, I was bruised with a couple of scratches, but overall okay. Doctors said I was lucky, and that an angel was watching over me. I cannot help but think the same thing about Griffin today. My Big Guy is going to be fine by the grace of God. Thankful hardly expresses how I feel.

Ode to my love for Cindy Sherman

I just watch 15 minutes of a documentary made about the life of Cindy Sherman. This little wispy blond woman from New York puts on prosthetics, wigs, make-up, and what ever else is necessary to change her image so that she can accurately create parodies of human beings. I have been a huge fan of hers since the 1990's when I saw her exhibit at the Art Institute as it travelled through Chicago. I was 15 at the time, and heavily into "the arts," and completely picked up all that Cindy was putting down. The images are striking; each layered with commentary about the human parody she has created. Truly impressive.

I want to go to MOMA in New York just to see some of the art that they featured in the documentary.

I urge those who have not seen her work to check it out.

Update.

I did not get managing editor. Although, I licked my wounds with a bottle of wine and the Ru Paul Drag Race, I am still upset. I really wanted that position, and while I know that Articles editor is a great position, especially because I am an amazing sales person (thank you Nordstroms, Casa Del Flores, Alfred Sung, Estee Lauder, and Animation Creation), I still cannot help but be pouty.

I am guessing that my self imposed glum is all for nothing, and that in actuality I am blessed with my position and will be happy in it, however, I just hate when I build myself up and get knocked down.

How happy is a clam really?

Nervous hardly describes my current mood. Just conducted my first graded CFI client interview, and had the client completely clam up on me! She would not tell me a thing. She just sat there and looked at me. When I asked her questions, she simply gave one word answers. I tried to make her comfortable, but she just would not divulge information. In hindsight, I should have probed. I should have been more forceful with my questions, but I wasn't and I just know I did not get the information that I should have gotten. Well, I guess I can only go up from here.

My mind has now turned the corner, as I have one last big event today. My speech for managing editor. It might be terrible for me to say this, but I honestly think I would be the best person for the job. If there is one thing I am good at it is organizing events and people. While there are many other competent people, I can honestly say that I have a nack for working with others and helping them manage tasks. Likewise, I am an event planner by make and mark. Putting events together, and getting them to run smoothly is something I pride myself on. Furthermore, I enjoy doing it. There is nothing as gratifying as when you plan something, you work hard to see it through, and then it goes off without a hitch. PERFECTION! Let's just hope I am able to eloquently express this to the voters, and that I don't clam up like the client I interviewed earlier.

Wish me well!

Dinner for two?

I was a really chunky kid growing up. I weighed a lot more at 11 than I do now. I fought long and hard to get thin and to keep it, however, I still have serious food issues.

For the second time in 2 weeks I have gone on a tirade regarding food. My fiance ordered a bunch of Chinese food for dinner and ordered only items that he liked without regard to what I was going to eat for dinner. While this would be more understandable if he did not know me or my sensitivities, it is absolutly inconceivable given that he does.

Phrases like "You ordered nothing for me because you are trying to starve me on purpose;" "Have I gained that much weight that you don't want me to have dinner?; "Why are you being so mean to me?; "This is our first meal together in a week, and you don't even consider me;" and "You have sharing issues!," abounded all night.

While he picked up the phone to call in an order for me it was too little too late, both in terms of dinner and the fit I was pitching. I refused to let him order me food, and continued to pout all evening. Suffice it to say, I know I blew it out of proportion, but when it comes to food I admittedly have problems.

I am a size 2 now, however, I constantly think I am large. Thus, when someone forgets me at dinner time, I have the most irrationale emotional response. I immediately think they are trying to get me to not eat because I am big. I take it personally, and fly off the handle. Crazy, I know, but I cannot help it. I end up with an inferential chain like the following; I have gained too much weight; I am huge; he doesn't know how to tell me, so he has just decided to stop enabling my eating habits.

Healthy, no?

I guess I am the model for rational behavior.