Why do we all make New Year’s Resolutions, knowing that in all likelihood, they’ll be forgotten & discarded by March—silently, and without accountability?

Why is January 1st the day we all feel compelled to commit to life-enhancement? Other than the fact that it’s New Years Day, it’s JUST a day: an arbitrary date, like any other. Maybe New Year’s Resolutions are universally generic because it is essentially just an ordinary day.

Of course goals and aspirations are necessary. Humans (Humanity) cannot advance without propulsion. Motivation drives us forward, enabling us to forward to take the next steps towards our personal definitions of greatness?

Although ultimately, our goals are not what push us forward, WE do. By themselves, goals do not inspire achievement because the mind induces action independently of—and often without—a specific stimulus.

So, why not pick an arbitrary day, and make a commitment TO YOURSELF, FOR YOURSELF, not because everyone else around you is doing similarly?

So today, I decided to go back to the gym. I was being ridiculous: I stopped going because last time I went, the ex called and ended a 2 1/2 year relationship over the phone. IN JULY.

Now, to be blunt, I know that’s crap. I’m over the ex. So, why didn’t I go? Because I was lazy. I had a convincing excuse (at least in my own mind).

Ultimately, people fail to achieve their goals because they refuse to acknowledge reality. It is often far easier to live life on the fluffy white cloud of falsehoods than it is to face facts. It became inexorably clear that I was not going to the gym because I was being a LAZY Fuck, not because I was the ‘jilted’ or ‘damaged’ woman I attempted to convince myself I was. Belief in platitudes is easy, but certainly NOT innocuous.

If we are able to convince ourselves to believe illogical bullshit, why can’t we conversely convince ourselves to believe in reason?

Man can decide whether or not to LIVE reasonably. Reasonability & Rationality are values we choose to adopt for ourselves. Nobody can be rational on our behalf. But it is far more difficult to see things as they truly are rather than our own romanticized images. Feelings are products of ideas and values, held consciously or subconsciously. Feelings are not tools of cognition or a guide to action. How can you think rationally if you place feelings above your perception of reality?

So Today, on a random Wednesday, I made a commitment to myself. NO MORE BULLSHIT. Go back to the gym, laugh in the face of the lies to which I clung.

Put Butch Walker on my IPod, and Rock The Fuck Out.

And the reality is that I didn’t think of the ex while I was there at all. Not Once.

I’ve known for a long time that the only one I can unquestionably trust to protect myself is me—and I’ve learned that the most effective armor is indifference.

I taught myself to regard everyone indifferently, everyone important—everyone who could otherwise potentially hurt me.

But if someone has the potential to hurt me, doesn’t that indicate that I have an underlying concern for what they think?

Lately, I’ve begun thinking that my indifference is inauthentic. I think I have convinced myself to feel (or to not-feel) that way because it is so much easier than actually caring about what people think or say or do. At least they can never hurt me if I don’t care.

Take men, for example:

I always consider men replaceable. Like actors in a movie: if they fuck up, or ask for too much, it isn’t hard to find another. Until you start to let them in, and they begin to show you the things about them that aren’t so easy to replicate. When you begin understanding each other, when you can tell what they’re thinking when you look in their eyes. That’s the scary part. That’s the point of fight-or-flight—the point at which I usually run away.

The ones I kept around a bit longer were the ‘safer’ ones. They were the stunt-doubles for the ones who really mattered to me: the ones I pushed away with all of my strength before they could do so to me.

The extras were meant to fill the void in my soul. But how much of that gap can sex really fill? How much of that emptiness exists due to lack of sex? I’ve made love to one man in my life, and had sex with many. Sex is generally arbitrary.

I have no regrets. Really, I don’t. I think regretting the past is a waste of the present.

I don’t feel guilty for reducing those men to the placeholders they were for me.

I know I played a similarly marginal role in their pasts as well.

The roles women play are black or white, and generally, these are the characters we play over and over again.

We are the beautiful, angelic ‘mother archetypes’ men want to marry, but whom they will not fuck. Or, we can are the whores they fuck and then discard.

Of the latter, who among them doesn’t recall agonizing in high school over the boy who told them they were not ‘girlfriend material?’

‘Girlfriend Material?’

What the fuck does that mean?

Did he mean I couldn’t love him enough?

Because he could not be more wrong!

He can’t even imagine how much love I have inside me…

But it’s locked away so tightly…protected and shielded because if I don’t protect myself, then who will?

Because if I allowed him to see, how do I know he still wouldn’t cast me aside, kick me out of his way, stopping only to buff my tear stains out of his shoes…

So the truth is that I DO care. When I attempt to force myself to think a certain way, when the motive is not genuine, I fail every time.

The truth always becomes apparent, though usually only to me, when I cry by myself.

And then I dry my tears, re-shine my battle-scarred armor, and prepare to fight again.

Every Jewish ’single’ knows that a J-date membership is practically a cultural requirement.

I posted the below as my profile, primarily because I wanted to see how many people would actually take the time to read it vs. how many would just email me because they’re distracted by my boobs.

So Far I’ve heard from:

157: Untouchables (too short, too fat, too dorky, too pretty, too rich ['I have a BMW' as introductory line], too dumb, etc.)

20: People who live more than a 3 hour flight from Chicago (i.e.: Australia, Israel…I mean really, what IS the point??)

15: People who say exactly the following: ‘I’m just your average, sweet, ambitious, Jewish guy looking for a girl with a huge heart to spend my free time with.’

7: People who aren’t even Jewish (Can anyone explain this to me??)

5: People who think Ayn Rand is a ‘feminist, women’s libber’ or don’t bother to Google her and instead, ask who ‘HE’ is

2: Women

My J-Date Profile:

ABOUT ME:

“I’m not here because I can’t get a date on my own, or because I am not content with my life as it is–but it WILL get my parents off my back, which is invaluable. I’m not going to say the usual things because I’m not a “usual” person. I’m NOT looking for a “nice Jewish boy”–you have to have an edge. I cannot be fake: I value integrity–I’m true and authentic above all else. I never do anything half-way: I do it completely, or I’m indifferent. I believe that the worst thing one can do is live life in the middle, and that isn’t to say that I’m an “extreme” person, but that I’d rather do nothing than do something heartlessly. I’m selective about who I allow in my life; I see people as they are, rather than as I wish they were. I seek original individuals who say what they mean, and mean what they say. It drives me absolutely crazy when people can’t take the time to spell-check, or can’t learn useful, non-English phrases when in foreign countries, or believe something is true just because CNN said it was so. My friends and I are absolutely loyal, and would go to the ends of the Earth for one another. I don’t play games, don’t take bs, treat people with dignity, and live life with passion and adventure ALWAYS. I’ll drop everything and hop on a plane if the situation merits. Being a lady is extremely important to me–but so is independence: I DO know how to jump start a car and re-format my computer. Underneath the tough exterior is a woman who melts around kids and allows babies to drool all over her best clothes–but I am definitely NOT sunshines and puppydogs sweet. I like interesting music (latest favorites: Butch Walker, Postal Service, mostly Indie stuff)–but sappy Tony Bennett songs I never tell anyone about do reside in my Itunes library–obsessed with Ayn Rand, and most importantly, kick ass at scrabble…all my pics are less than a month old what you see is what you get.”

MY PERFECT FIRST DATE:

“Everyone talks about how “our eyes locked and we just knew.” PLEASE. It doesn’t matter what we do; I’m more impressed by the company than the cost of the meal. If it’s right, it’s right; if not, no hard feelings…Let’s face it, we know within 5 minutes when it will work and when it won’t. I’m generally indifferent anyway: a relationship starts with–but is not gauged by–the first date. Just as the best date does not guarantee a strong relationship, a bad date does not ensure the opposite.”

MY IDEAL RELATIONSHIP:

“I would do anything for him, not just to make him feel good, but because it makes ME feel good to give of myself to him; we SINCERELY live without regret, and see obstacles as opportunities to grow. We feel a sense of triumph because of what we have overcome in our pasts and are excited about the challenges of life…An ideal relationship ultimately encompasses that which cannot be defined in words.”

MY PAST RELATIONSHIPS:

“The Six Month Rule: The things that matter most today will not matter so much in six months. When you break up with someone it destroys a piece of your heart, but your heart heals with time. It’s better to part ways than try to make a doomed relationship work. Never take responsibility for others’ mistakes. WHEN PEOPLE SHOW YOU WHO THEY ARE, BELIEVE THEM THE FIRST TIME–never base your opinions on what you wish people could be, and never make excuses to justify unacceptable actions.”

I AM LOOKING FOR A:

“I think I pretty much clarified that above. I’m looking for a man who is strong, very masculine (“alpha-male” type), passionate, and definitely not “easy,” smart, worldly–A smart ass (one who REALLY is smart): the type who, upon receiving a syllabus from a professor in college, was tempted to correct it with a red pen and turn it in for extra credit. I’m picky, and superficial to a degree (who isn’t?). He must be: tall, aggressive, muscular, entrepreneurial. I am looking for someone like me: who lives life on his own terms rather than what conventionality dictates; who values original thought rather than second-hand opinions; who doesn’t hesitate to take risks; someone interesting and creative, who values Judaism and family and who loves with intensity; who loves to read, values education, has class; is traditional: believes in treating a woman like a woman and is looking for a woman who will treat him like a man; someone who believes in greatness not because of the impression it engenders in others, but because it satisfies his soul.”

So if you made it through without getting distracted by my boobs, feel free to let me know what you think.

I read an article about the development of a pill that will supposedly make the memory of a traumatic event less painful and intense.

Here are my thoughts…

In the past YEAR:

I went through 4 hurricanes.

I lived through 4 weeks without power, hot water, refrigerated food, or money for gas because of said hurricanes.

Someone broke into my apartment.

I had to move while another hurricane hit.

My cats and I got fleas.

My company went out of business when I was about to be promoted.

I lost 20 people I had hired, trained, and developed.

I moved across the country for a job I had no idea if I would like.

Broke up with the man I thought I was going to marry.

Left the job because I hated it and my boss was a demeaning prick and a total douche-bag.

My Dad remarried.

When I told him I was having a nervous breakdown, and begged him for emotional support, he didn’t call for a week and said I was being too sensitive. He yells at me when I ask him for $50, much less the money I actually need to buy FOOD (though it’s not even his money–it comes from a trust my grandpa set up)

For the second time in 12 months, I’m unemployed and I have no insurance.

I have to make up reasons to leave my apartment every day.

But you know what?

I didn’t write this for pity, tears, or sympathy. We all go through shit. It is what makes us human. The shit we endure makes us stronger.

My point is that I’m proud of my trauma!

My experiences are preparing me to be a stronger woman and a matriarch someday for my family. I wear my baggage like a medal.

We don’t earn wisdom through easiness.

My pain is my most valuable asset: I could lose everything tomorrow–but I would survive because of what I’ve overcome. People go through horrors in life. But that’s life! It is what enables us to progress as a human race.

If we take pills to erase the memories, then how will we advance? If a pill numbed the recollection of pain, would we ever learn anything more complicated than not to touch a hot stove?

Why can’t our scientists focus on curing AIDS or Cancer, instead of plying us with medications that will do nothing but weaken us?

The world is a Darwinian place–Survival of the Fittest is one of our most primal laws. If you don’t believe in that, you aren’t the Fittest, and your chance of survival is far more precarious than it is for those who have undergone trauma and survived.

Why is it that we always want the people we can’t have, and the people that want us are the ones we don’t want???

When I was 16, I learned to be indifferent. I could only go through so many teenage, ‘ga-ga’ crushes before I realized it would be a lot less painful to turn my heart to stone.

I would honestly rather have a Brazilian bikini wax every day for the rest of my life, and give birth to a half-a-dozen children (while getting said bikini wax)–than have a broken heart.

Physical pain is fleeting, but your heart takes time to heal…

So since this adolescent revelation, I have probably told my mother about 2 boys I have liked–one much more recent than the other.

And telling my mother is a big step because telling my mother will most definitely incite endless phone calls that begin with the usual small talk between mothers and daughters–but will inevitably lead to the question, ‘So, have you heard from ‘HIM’ lately?’

And then of course, if I haven’t, I have to relive the irritation, humiliation, pain, etc. that resulted from his failure to call me or return my call.

It is so much easier to remain indifferent than to care. But then of course, when I’m with the guy towards whom I REALLY am indifferent, all I can think about is the vanishing ‘HIM.’ So it’s not really fair to either of us.

What does it say about me as a person if someone is making love to me, but in my mind, I am making love to someone else?

I despise the notion of fairytale romance, even though deep down, that is what every girl wants. I’m not looking for a ‘nice’ guy, and don’t particularly care if I find ANY guy at this point.

I’m happy being single.

Unless ‘HE’ calls, in which case, I’ll turn and run!

I have made some changes in my life, and in turn, life made some changes in me.

Here is how I changed my life:

At the beginning of the month, I left my job–totally burned (I mean scorched)–my bridges. It felt so pure to speak my truth.

So there are days when I leave the house, days when I don’t–some days, I go to the White Hen for a bottle of wine at 12 am just so I can say that I saw the outdoors. This self-imposed solitary confinement has been so necessary for me…

I was forced to examine my degree of authenticity. I discovered that while one can proclaim from here to eternity that they live authentically, you have to actually Practice what you Preach in order to truly benefit from that characteristic. I never want to be the type to stand on a soap box, or to make myself a martyr.

I’ve been living in the middle. I have not been putting my heart into my job (or anything else). I don’t believe that your job necessarily has to be your passion because it can also be a means to live your passion–like artists who have ‘day jobs.’ But when you HATE your job to the point that you have no energy to even determine what your passion is, you are wasting your time and your life–which is far too short anyway.

I had to ask myself: If I were to die tomorrow, would I have regrets?

As far as my life as a whole is concerned, I have learned from every triumph and every fuck-up. I can never regret that which has made me stronger and has built my character as a woman.

What I would regret is that my daily life was miserable. I dreaded mornings (honestly, my coffee with hazelnut Coffeemate was the best part of the ENTIRE day, besides leaving the office).

So by staying in a job that was making me sick and preventing me from living a happy life, I was not being true to myself; I was not living the way I want to live–which is authentically, and wholeheartedly. I either do things completely, or I don’t do them at all.

But I wasn’t truly living that way because of obligations, and other bullshit reasons I created that essentially were meant to disguise my fear and anxiety about the ramifications of being unemployed for the second time in 12 months.

Now, here is how life changed me:

On Christmas Eve, my grandpa died. He was 90 years old. He was suffering. It was his time…

It devastated my mom.

I’m the oldest; I had to step up.

Of course, my sister brought the Wife Beater with her from New York.

I almost lost my mind at the funeral home because she belittled and disrespected me in front of my whole family, and I couldn’t say anything for my mother’s sake. I did run outside to cry. I would never show that weakness, even to the people who have known me my entire life. It’s not my way.

I broke, but I did not break my mother. It took all the strength down to the core of my soul not to totally ream out my sister and destroy her as only a sister can–and I allowed her to break me (temporarily of course).

But that isn’t sacrifice; it’s duty (to my mother, to my grandpa, to my family).

Sacrifice implies martyrdom, and I will never be a martyr because I believe that those who consider themselves martyrs are the weakest beings around. I can give to others, but I will never lose my sense of self in doing so–as martyrs do.

No, I dug my fingernails into my hands until I drew blood.

Said nothing when the Wife Beater called my mother ‘mommy.’

Said Mourner’s Kaddish for my Grandpa.

Wiped my tears and gave a eulogy.

And held my mother and sister when they cried.

And I didn’t cry myself because I knew that I had to be strong for the three of us.

I stood next to my mother at the cemetery.

I did what I knew to be Right and Good and Pure.

It was hell, but I think–I truly believe–that this was my grandfather’s final lesson for me. He knew what I could handle–and I could handle that. Maybe others can’t.

Life taught me that sometimes, you have to shut the fuck up, step up, and do what you have to do to be the best woman you can be.

So now today, there are several items remaining on my to-do list:

I have to go to the Unemployment Office.

I have rent and everything set aside for January, but Hell, I pay taxes, so why not take advantage of that which is in place for those in my position? Pride–yes, stupid, I know–has prevented me so far.

I have to come to some kind of resolution regarding my sister and the Wife Beater.

At some point, I’ll have to speak my truth to him too. He has a little sister. I want him to understand my Anger, my Disgust, the Utter Rage I feel in my heart when he hugs my sister, or swings my 5-year-old cousins in the air.

Just because he Claims he’ll change does NOT give him the Right to act as though he belongs in our family.

I personally believe that if you hit girls, you DON’T change. But if he believes that he will, I want to see some concrete ways in which he intends to become a man instead of the prick I see today. This is NOT to say that I will forgive or accept him. I just won’t want to kill him all the time, and maybe some of the fury inside will subside.

So, what a fucking year! I have never grown more, but I have never had so much shit happen one thing after another. But I have also never been so confident, so content with who I am and where I am. People can choose to be around me or choose not to be around me. I can choose to be around them, or not. I’m not so fearful of saying ‘no,’ and realize that being a ‘Pleaser’ is equivalent to being a martyr.

I’m only going to do what I want to do, and be around people who matter, and be happy–no not just happy, Joyous.

Friends, Booze, and Time will cure all your woes.

But also…Here are Some Other Things I’ve Come to Appreciate Recently:

1. I realized that when you break up with someone, it destroys a piece of your heart, but the beautiful thing about humans, is that we are resilient.

Your heart will heal with time. Cry as much as you need to, spend hours under the covers feeling sorry for yourself, stare out the window, go shopping…whatever…just do what you need to do to get through every day. Eventually life works itself out.

2. I don’t want to play games anymore.

Why beat around the bush? Sometimes you are just not meant to interact with certain people. Generally, your gut feeling is right. I don’t care if it’s someone you want to date or someone who you want to consider your friend: If someone likes you, they like you, if they don’t, they don’t. Why is it such a big deal? Why do we take things so personally? I am not looking for someone to string me along. Sometimes it is just better to part ways rather than try and try to make a doomed relationship work.

3. Don’t take responsibility for the mistakes that others make.

Why should I pay for someone else’s mistakes? My misery hurts nobody but me.

4. when people show you who they are, believe them the FIRST time.

We tend to base our opinions of people on what we WISH/WANT them to be, rather than who they are. It isn’t easy to write people off. But it’s more painful to turn a blind eye and fail to acknowledge who they really are. We resort to making excuses for people in our minds to justify behavior that is unacceptable. But, we’re only lying to ourselves because sooner or later, they’ll hurt us again.

5. The best lesson that I learned at year 24 is that you have to be unconditionally true to yourself and stick with what you know is right.

Surround yourself with people you really like and don’t associate with those you don’t. Be open and honest and the people who respect that will skim to the surface, and everyone else will go on their way.

High school was over a long time ago; life is not a popularity contest.

I’ve decided to be bitchier (in a take-no-bullshit way)

It’s made me happier (I think).

I’m going to stop being so nice to everyone–it’s corrosive to the soul.

I have come to the conclusion that the majority of people suck and it’s better to have a small group of friends that you actually enjoy being around rather than surround yourself with idiots who know nothing and are inconsequential.

I am so sick of being disappointed by people because I expected better of them. My father told my grandpa that on Rosh Hashanah, he was going to a ‘client dinner’ in the city for business… What really happened? He and his wife, her daughter, her daughter’s husband (the only one of the whole lot I actually like), and I had dinner.

They invited their doggie daycare people to join us, instead of inviting my Grandpa. Now, I am generally not adverse to the company of doggie daycare people, in fact, I had no problem with their presence that night. At the time, I assumed that my Grandma and Grandpa had declined to join us due to my Grandma’s health. But the truth was that my father lied to my Grandpa about where he was going to celebrate the New Year, and invited virtual strangers instead.

It sucks to be disappointed in your father, but I suppose it’s something to which I’ve grown accustomed.

I was always “daddy’s little girl.” He was my hero, my world. I looked up to him like a deity. He was everything to me, as I [thought I] was to him. But, he was talking to me about his marriage to my mother–to a staggeringly inappropriate degree–when I was 15, and continued to do so until he married his new wife (six years later).

I forgave him for that in spite of the fact that it tore my mother and me apart for the duration of that six years.

He took away my naiveté about when I was a little girl, and now as an adult, I cannot trust anyone.

There are so few authentic people in this world. I’m so sick of being hurt, that I’m just going to have a ‘take no shit’ attitude towards people from now on. I was raised to be nice to everyone. To be the good little girl everyone expected me to be.

But what is the point of being nice to people who are not nice back? Why go to the ends of the Earth for people who don’t deserve it? Why put myself out there, when all that does is allow people to crush me? Fuck it.

Sometimes, I am terrified by the sorts of people I see in the world. It is hard to find people who are reliable–people who say what they mean, and mean what they say. I always get a gut feeling about people when I first meet them. I don’t get a good feeling about that many people. I started to question myself because until this point, I had more faith that people are basically good.

It’s much more heartening to believe in that.

But over time, I’ve noticed more and more that my instinct is spot-on. I can sniff out the liars and the fakers a mile away. My unwillingness to believe it is what results in getting hurt.

So I’ve decided that I’m only going to be nice to the people I like. Why should I go out of my way for people I don’t? Why do I need people to like me when I don’t really like them?

I’d much rather go my own way and believe in my heart that their opinions are of no consequence to me. I know who I am, and I like who I am. I would never pretend to be someone I am not, so why associate with those who do? Why lie about that which is an integral part of who you are?

It is a lot easier to see and accept people for who they are rather than experience the pain of expecting/hoping/pretending/convincing yourself they are something that they are not, and never will be.

Don’t you wish you could go over your pain limit like a credit card?

Don’t you wish you could pay it down like you can do online?

One click, and you’re better! $200 and it lessens?

Is pain like a credit card though?

One more cashmere sweater, and you’re back where you started again?

More work

More paying for things you acquire that make no difference in general

And then, one day, you find the PERFECT pair of jeans, and they just fit, and they make your ass look fantastic, and you spin around in the mirror at Nordstrom, admiring your new, gorgeous pants that are going to make everything great! They go with the cashmere sweater you bought last week, except THESE will make all the difference because they are so perfect!

And then the bill comes.

…And then you hear that song on the radio…

And your jeans ripped because you had gravity issues one day and your stiletto heel got stuck in the sidewalk grates on the once-benign bridge over the Chicago river.

…And it felt like a punch in the stomach…

And you still have to pay for them even though the world is inherently unjust.

I forgot what this was about.

Oh yeah

So anyway, I don’t think paying down pain is any more a possibility than paying down your debt–especially when you live downtown.

You can’t pay a doctor to heal your pain if you still want to feel it…

You can’t pay a Visa down if you still want to go shopping

…You are in control of your feelings, as ugly as that is to hear…

You are in control of your spending, as ugly as that is to hear too

…So splash some cold water on your face…

Write the check

…Cut the crap…

Cut up the credit card

…And wait another month…

And

…And…

And

…It is so easy to say…

But sometimes you fall and tear your favorite jeans

…And sometimes you remember that time when…

And no one is there to kiss it and make it better

…And you just want to cry, even though you’re in public…

And you just want to cry, even though you’re in public

And then someone asks you,

“are you okay, miss?”

And then you realize that,

“Yeah, I’m getting there”

The things that seem like a big deal today are really not such a big deal six months later.

For the most part…

Out of my life and out of my heart…Is what I wish I could convince myself to feel.

I feel so much better than I have, but I know I have a long way to go. I bitched out his girlfriend. (yes he has another, already…some people just don’t like to have a vacant side of the bed…he’s using sheets I bought that we slept on…yuck) I showed an ugly side of myself. I apologized.

mea cupla

We all fuck up sometimes…

But regardless, I am teaching myself that I deserve more…someone better… someone who buys flowers more than twice in two and a half years…someone who thanks God for me every day…and I do the same.

Rather than cringe.

Pain sucks, but it makes you stronger. Broken hearts are broken dreams. Some dreams are meant to die. Some dreams turn into nightmares. Your boyfriend should not piss you off so much you want to hit him sometimes, and he definitely should not call you a cunt and throw you on the floor.

Live and learn

What I consider pain right now will be nothing in six months

Six months.

It seems like an eternity, but it’s really nothing.

Everything will be different six months from now.

Yeah. Right.

Time puts everything into perspective.

But isn’t it interesting that time is what we’re always trying to waste…

kill…

pass…

spend…

It seems like we’re always waiting for something in the future, but what if the future doesn’t bring us the answers?

I guess we have to learn to live in the moment.

Live for today. Is that the meaning of life?

But what if today is a shitty day?

What if tomorrow just is the same shit on a different day?

I guess we can’t live for what if’s.

Live for what is.

Accept it and move on. I think life is about eternally processing the things that bother us, and coming to various conclusions that make us feel better.

Maybe the conclusions are just more bullshit, but maybe that is what life is:

A bunch of shitty piles you have to clean.

And then maybe one day, things fall into place?

I think that maybe, I would rather get a maid.