hello. goodbye. meet me somewhere else. Friday, Jan 23 2009 

I am still getting a bit of traffic to this site, but I am not here anymore!

I live at http://mariasaidwhat.com now. Please come visit, and please update your feed readers!

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moved (again) Sunday, Jan 11 2009 

Sorry everyone! But this one should be permanent.


http://mariasaidwhat.com


http://mariasaidwhat.com


http://mariasaidwhat.com


http://mariasaidwhat.com

Update your feeds, etc. please!

I am so giddy for my own URL!

girlfriends Thursday, Jan 8 2009 

I don’t know why. I have so many I run to. But I feel like I have no more close girlfriends. At least in town.

Actually, it’s probably not true. I’m just feeling slightly lonely. Everyone has returned back to their respective school lives, and I’m working my ass off (not as much as I want, but still working my ass off) and I miss my high school groups.

I have no one who really I feel so comfortable with, with whom my guard is completely down. At least not in town. I am different people to different people, and I and I miss just having my guard down.

There are four people in the world I can really talk to like that, and none of them are around. At least for the moment.

gchats of doom Wednesday, Jan 7 2009 

my friend: i just tell people chicago now
me: you are from michigan!
what?!??!?
my friend: but chicago is more well known
me: we have the hand!
this makes me so sad!
my friend: i’m sorry, this is what it has come to

busier than expected Wednesday, Jan 7 2009 

I thought this week would suck. I applied for a 3rd job, but I haven’t heard back from the employer to schedule an interview yet, even though I have e-mailed her twice this week.

Since I took the year off, what kept me going was being busy. And this week, I have done just that. My job as a personal assistant has actually needed me everyday this week, so I went from thinking I would work one day this week to working every day. I also got called into my other job, so yesterday, I pulled double duty. I’m angling for a promotion there, so fingers crossed?

The point is, I am keeping busier than expected. No pulling of hair quite yet.

spit take/read carefully Monday, Jan 5 2009 

Came across this in my daily AM web searching:

http://failblog.org/2009/01/05/serious-text-fail/

Being 1/3 less employed really gives you the opportunity to find this shit. Fantastic!

The real point of this post being my internship is over and I have no idea what to do do with myself.

lime green and bright blue. Saturday, Jan 3 2009 

I’m jealous, green with envy. You think I’m confident, sometimes controlled. I’m sassy, suspicious, zesty, and stubborn.  I’m colorful, playful. I give, but I can’t take. I shoot from the hip. I get stung easily.

My bedroom is lime green and bright blue, but I crave modern simplicity.

Spunky, flirty, incapable of intimacy. “I (you) get what I (you) want.” (so says you.) A tangled web. Needs to learn to shut up, yet is irresistible when chattering away.

Intuitive, yet extroverted. Self-aware yet externally without awareness. Doesn’t know how to quit.

Sincere, yet not believable. A dynamo. Force of nature. And you love it. Unstoppable. But I need to stop. You hate the way I say “I’m sorry.”

Know-it-all. Knowledgeable. Smart. Silly.

slow blogging Saturday, Jan 3 2009 

http://toddsieling.com/slowblog/?page_id=10

What do you think?

dec. 31 makes you think… Wednesday, Dec 31 2008 

I had a crappy New Year’s last year. I was surrounded by friends, but I was left.. despondent. My decisions that were ones I carried through the rest of the year. This is cryptic, but I would rather not relive it. I was a victim of my own poor choices.

This year, I decided to do something different. My city is hosting a big New Year’s party, but I wasn’t interested. The crowd and the cold were not of interest to me. I work as a personal assistant to a local lawyer who happens to be a friend of my mother’s. She and my mom are going out tonight, leaving her in need of a babysitter, and I happily volunteered, satisfying myself on many levels. One, New Year’s plans, two, I’m making money and being slightly productive, three, I don’t need to weigh my options. In addition to the crappy experience, I also had to choose which party I would go to and that was stressful in and of itself. This gave me something to do, ensured I was safe and I could even socialize and have a friend over.

So now, I’m stuck watching three twelve-year-old boys (God, help me!!), and I am happy about my decision. Last year sucked. I’m glad to have made the safe choice. Hopefully.

I was going to publish a meme, but I’m over them. I’m hoping this experience leads to a more positive year… But I don’t know what’s ahead. But I am certainly not looking back.

(edit) I’m thinking I didn’t make the best choice. Kids are difficult.

falling out of snow Saturday, Dec 20 2008 

I loved Aqualung back in the day. The day being high school. Back on the heels of my first relationship, and it’s up/down and uncharted territory, then to the break up and subsequent makeup and then break up once more, the further I explored that album, the more I loved. First, “Brighter than Sunshine,” then “Strange and Beautiful,” and “Easier to Lie,” as though you have heard any of those. I know you haven’t. I loved emo/indie music (and to a degree, still do). But right now, I’m falling out of love.

Snow and I have had a simillar up/down this past season. I used to defend it, I used to throw down for the snow, and be snow’s biggest cheerleader, but now, I’m not exactly a fan. Yesterday we got the blizzard of blizzards, and I think my car may be stuck in a snow bank.  This isn’t for sure, simply conjecture. But if it’s so, I’m not so much a happy camper, and snow, you and I, well, we’re going to need to take a break.

new pair of boots matching my new attitude Thursday, Dec 18 2008 

Dancing in her apartment, I felt cozy comfy in a place I didn’t belong. It isn’t my home, but the girl is. We put on our make up in the morning, preparing for lunch with our other friends. I zipped up my new shoes,  retail therapy for a rough previous day, the elephant gray representing nothing anywhere near my present state of mind, gray, which was a sunny golden yellow. Initially I thought the gray to be fabulous but turned out to be too much foreshadowing.

She lives on the second floor, and we trudged down the stairs to my car, which was astonishingly absent. We searched a minute more, and accepted it was gone. Furiously, I stomped in to the office of her apartment complex, demanding answers. I had parked there a hundred times before, never without issue, never without waking up in the morning to find my car exactly where I had left it the previous morning.

My car. Was missing. I wasn’t sure if it was towed or stolen, but I remembered an experience from when I was younger. I lost my mother in the mall around the holidays. Seven year old me was terrified, yet practical. I marched up to the mall security and told them to page my mom. After I managed to be practical, and for a brief moment before, fear raced through my entire body. The moments were tied together in my mind, a familiar fear consumed me. Although a car is material, it was also what I depended on, much like when I was a child and how I depended on my mother.

My friend called the people we were meeting, informing them of the situation, while I was unable to do anything but let my blood boil. And so it did. I opened the door to the office, searching for words.

“Um… My car? Missing.”

The girl looked at me like I was nuts.

I asked her if she towed my car, and still, the genius she was looked at me blankly.

My friend took the reins, explaining the situation, understanding my impatience for idiots especially in times of aggravation. Then the other two showed up. I glanced at them before getting back to business, this girl searching for my car was disgustingly pea-brained, and equally impatient with me. I struggled to do the fear-mongering I so despise my mother for using when dealing with peons. I hate her for doing it, but it’s ever-effective. I failed miserably, noting I should have watched and learned instead of criticized and shaking my head in shame.

I gave up talking to them, and turned to my friends, who were in crisis-management mode. The three of them saved me from despair, and kept my disgust to a minimum.

We got my car, and the weekend, anything but pleasant, found its ups in their faces. I looked at my boots as we piled into my friend’s matching car to retrieve my own. I was silent, disturbed at the constant grenades of poo which seem to constantly erupt in my life, directly over my head.  I thought they were awesome initially. Now they became too much of an echo of my problem, of my mood, as a general representation of my life.

(edit, 12:50 a.m.) if only things were so simple as putting new shoes on and suddenly, everything’s right.

sick. as in disgusting. Wednesday, Dec 17 2008 

I definitely just received this e-mail.

Marisa,

You have a great blog. I just wanted to say that right off the bat. I am sorry to hear about your accident though but glad to hear you are doing all right.

I also wanted to email you and ask if you would consider working with Eden Fantasys. We are an online adult community and retailer. Over the last several years we have worked diligently to create a safe, secure, nurturing online environment. We have brought together reviewers, contributors, experts and more from all over to create this unique community. The Eden Fantasys community is open to any individual who might have questions regarding sexuality and intimacy. There are numerous valuable resources such as reviews, guides, forms and expert chat.

We have worked hard to maintain and take care of our community and now I want everyone to know that it is there for them. I have found a great way to raise awareness is by working with talented bloggers like you. By using mutually beneficial promotions such as reviews, contests and more it helps people to understand that Eden Fantasys is a safe and secure place for them as well. This is a great way to bring two communities together and open up lines of communication.

I really would love to work with you and hope to hear from you soon.

Am I supposed to be Marisa? Because my actual name is posted EVERYWHERE, including my blog e-mail. I am thoroughly disgusted. I need to shower. And isn’t it fantasies? I’m sure that’s the correct way to spell plural fantasy. Sick, sick, sick!

i’m fine. Wednesday, Dec 10 2008 

untitled

Still slightly numb. Still slightly shocked. Still extensively grateful.

If it hadn’t been for my massive car… I don’t know. If it hadn’t been for that guard rail… I don’t know. I’m so lucky to only be bruised in this weather.

It was thick, and wet. Powder was everywhere. Everywhere. The roads were painted with this coat of ivory. And I saw brake lights ahead of me. So I did the same. And then I slid, and then I spun, and then the crash. I thought I would end up in the ditch. I narrowly missed it. The guard rail started just in time.

I felt the accident coming yesterday. I felt my emotions on idle. I just wanted home. I wanted my cat. My blanket. My comfort.

Hysterics didn’t start until after I saw the damage; the back end… demolished. Demolished. But the car is running fine, so there’s an upside. No impact on the front.

I’m fine physically. And that’s that.

But I’m okay. A little pain, and my leg is terribly bruised. But I’m lucky.

things not good for my self esteem Monday, Dec 8 2008 

WordPress tells me what searches are used to get to my blog, and this was one of them:

maria is a loser

So I searched that term… and my blog is the top hit.

Oh, for crying out loud!!! You cannot be serious.

I’m going to go retreat into loserdom and write my English paper now. Which I should have started days ago.

the one where i go all martha stewart all over your asses Sunday, Dec 7 2008 

I was reading “Real Simple” today, and decided I was going to make. Peppermint bark was one of the ideas they gave for Christmas gifts, and this was my test run. Unfortunately, I didn’t get the idea to blog it until after it was already made. Oops…

It’s super easy. Just melt the chocolate, crush the peppermints (I used candy canes) in a gallon bag, and then combine. I also topped it with pretzels to make it a bit different.

I look so scrubby, and this is a cell phone cam pic:

r2xy-0bf2e50bbaf4bcb06c240e9c7a270c84493c8993

The bark:

12635631

Ta-da!

my way… Saturday, Dec 6 2008 

“Do you want to get married?” my boss asked me, after one of our co-workers had described a particularity difficult day in her marriage.

“NO.” I said, with force, as an absolute. “I’m never getting married.”

“Yes you will,” he shook his head at me, as he does frequently, when I amuse him especially. A darling man, he’s never been married. He’s so generous, so forgiving, ‘an excellent uncle,’ he tells me. “That’s the great thing about not having kids: you have nieces and nephews, and then, it’s all cake; it’s all icing: it’s always easy. You’re there for the good, for the fun, and you can high-tail it when it may be bad.”

“I’m not getting married,” I repeated, this time much with much more intent, and turned and pivoted, as I learned to do in dance class when I was so young, so many years ago, and walked out of his office. My long hair flipped over my shoulder, and I strode out, confident, indignant, and contemplating. He was left, still amused, still convinced he was correct in his assessment of me.

He probably is. If I say, “I’ll never…” it’s mostly because I don’t want to be told I have to. I don’t want it to be expected of me to do something. I am so fiercely my own person, if I do something, it’s because I want to, not because society or whomever says it needs to be so. For me,if it’s black, it’s really white; if it’s up, it’s down, left, then right.

I don’t like to feel like my existence is being threatened, that I have to do something because someone else expects it to be so.

So when it comes to how to conduct blogging, I’m torn. On one hand, this is my outlet. This is my passion. This is my thing. And I decided to do this, despite my begging, I can’t get anyone else to start. The problem is, I can’t write about anyone else. Not even when others have inspired my need to vent, need to scribe, it’s not my place, because of a little thing that I, ironically enough, demand: privacy.

And if I have a problem with someone, it’s not my place to blog it. And that’s when I get fiercely protective of this, my baby, my project. I want to be able to bust through any door, no consequence. Why shouldn’t I write about what I want to? There are obviously limits, but if it affects me I think it should be my right to work it out on here. I’ve lost friends over this (well, there were other factors, compounded by the fact I blogged), and as a result, I’m cautious, but I still believe I should do what I want.

But maybe it’s not. Maybe I should just listen to others, and accept not all things are my god-given right. If it’s my life, it’s my right to blog it. I can’t help you don’t want to be portrayed a certain way. This is me, telling my story. And I’m angry, and I don’t know how to deal except to write it. But for the moment, it will need to wait, until things are sorted out.

shelly: not impressed Saturday, Dec 6 2008 

I’m in my college town for the night, sitting on my bestie’s bed which smells of her boyfriend’s cologne. I’m attempting to get her to join me in this crazy experiment of blogging, and she’s just not having it.

She was already upset with me for using her computer, so perhaps I didn’t pick the best time to introduce her.

After watching Twitter’s introduction video, here was our conversation.

Shelly: Why do they call it tweet? Why isn’t it twit?
Maria: I don’t know. I think it’s because it’s a bird. You know, “TWEEEEEEEEET!”
S: Wait. I thought you hadn’t seen that video before.
M: I hadn’t.
S: Then why did you think it would convert me?
M: Because I thought if you saw it in black and white, you’d finally get it.
S: But it wasn’t black and white. There was some red and blue and green too.

www.twitter.com/mariasaidwhat

you must read this Wednesday, Dec 3 2008 

I’ve had two of my dear friends leave the continent for many many months. Emily blogged her South Africa trip at “Hello Babies and Welcome To Earth,” (see link on the right) and Hannah has finally started a blog about her Spain trip! She’s in Barcelona for a year. Go read:

http://shelteredl1fe.blogspot.com/

NaBloPoMo: FAIL. Monday, Dec 1 2008 

This has been a long time coming, but now that it is officially December, it’s safe to say I majorly failed NaBloPoMo.

Sorry, blogging gods.

I’ve been feeling lukewarm, at best, toward blogging for awhile. Some of this is indeed due to personal issues. Blogging has gotten to be a burden, almost. It’s not that I don’t enjoy it. It’s just I’m somewhat sick of defending it. I was nearly anonymous on here, I didn’t use my full name, left out several identifying details and yet still got “discovered” in ways I didn’t want to be… long story.

Also, I’ve almost run out of stories to tell. My life isn’t as interesting anymore, spending so much time commuting and being boring. The problem with me, specifically, my blog, according to my Ask and Ye Shall Receive review, is that I am not having nearly enough sex or boozing it up quite enough. There you go: boring. I have plenty of stories, just none of them my own, or any I am willing to give up here. And if it’s not my story, it’s not my story to tell here.

I’m not retiring, just complaining that I feel so lame and grown-up right now. I go visit school, I am zonked by midnight. I try to be less stick-in-the-mud, or Mom-ish, as my friends have taken to calling me, but I don’t know how. I want to write more. I am just unsure as to what quite yet. And it’s not like I’m not living; it just feels as though nothing is unique anymore, nothing is worthy. It’s gotten kind of, dare I say, blah. Kind of black and white, few other ideas mixed in between.

This is not an apology for being slightly muted, more of a, “goddamnit, i’m so fucking sick of my fucking writer’s block.”

Goddamnit. I’m so fucking sick of my fucking writer’s block.

weirdo or loser Sunday, Nov 30 2008 

I just sent an e-mail to my bosses at midnight on a Saturday. They are either going to think I’m crazier than I already am or I’m a loser at home on a Saturday cooking up story ideas, right?

Ugh. Freakshow.

Was this terribly unprofessional? Should I have waited until a respectable hour on a weekday?

The problem is, I’m only in three days a week, so I would want to start working ASAP and get my ideas down while they are fresh in my head. It was a grammatically correct e-mail, at the very least… 🙂

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