That Noise in the Basement...

Hello all.  Today (or yesterday if you are reading this a day late) is a historic day.  Well, it's a historic birthday.  The technology of yesterday is over the hill.  My childhood counterpart is weeping inside.  The feeling of growing old has hit me yet again and now my aching knees have a valid reason to give out on me.  

The Compact Disc is 30 years old.  

I was driving to work today when I heard this on the radio.  I almost blacked out behind the wheel (not really, but for dramatics let's pretend I did) and wanted to cry a little.  I remember the days of being an angsty teenager blowing my entire paycheck at Sam Goody or Best Buy purchasing CDs and thinking to myself, "These will never go out of style or become obsolete."  Boy, was I wrong.

I posted the CNN article to Facebook along with the Macy Fact that my first CD purchase was, in excellent musical taste, The Spice Girl's debut album.  That was the first CD that I ever owned.  That was also the same time that the first VHS I ever owned (other than anything Disney related) was Clueless.

Come on ladies, it is the Bible. 

I was on the phone with the best-far-away-friend talking about all the first musical purchases that we had made as kids.  We both agreed that the first CD we ever purchased was Spice Girls (I knew I loved her for certain reasons) and that the first soundtrack we ever owned was to the film Titanic.  But I got to thinking about all the other firsts that I associate with music.  I am not talking about the first cassette tape I ever owned (Michael Jackson's Thriller) or the first tape I got as a gift (TLC's CrazSexyCool), or the first cassette tape that I bought for myself  (Paula Abdul's Greatest Hits...not proud of that one), but the memories that I keep close to my heart because of music.  The songs that when you hear them, memories come flooding back.

If I had to make a mix tape to the music of my life, I know that at least Side A, or Disc 1, or whatever you call it now, would be filled up.  Let's see...where to start...

Track 1: The Andrews Sisters "A Bushel an a Peck."  My mom sang this song to me as a kid.  She would sing it to me to put me to sleep.  It was even my ringtone for her in college.  People can testify to this.
Track 2: Cinderella "A Dream is a Wish your Heart Makes." She is still my Disney Princess.  I am just waiting on my Prince Charming to show up with my glass footwear. 
Track 3: Jim Reeves "Bimbo."  This was my mom's favorite song when she was little.  This was also her first record.  I never heard it until I found the old record in a thrift shop.  I see why she loved it. 
Track 4: Rednex "Cotton Eye Joe."  I did a drill team routine to this song when I was in 6th grade.  At the time I felt so cool.  Now when I look back at it, I want to kill this memory with fire.
Track 5: Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch "Good Vibrations." Almost much as I want to kill this one, too.  As a kid I did competitive roller skating.  I did a routine to this song.  It involved sequins and glitter.  It was a dark, yet sparkly, time of my life.
Track 6: Oasis "Wonderwall." Because everyone had this as "their song" with someone they used to date in Junior High or High School.
Track 7: The Postal Service "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight." My first kiss was to this song.  Nuff said.
Track 8: Kate Nash "The Nicest Thing." I love this song.  It made me feel like I wasn't the only sappy girl who couldn't get a boyfriend in college.
Track 9: Tom Waits "In Between Love." To the one guy I was in love with in college.  You know who you are if you're reading this.
Track 10: Beyonce "Single Ladies." This song screams all night cram study sessions before Senior Seminar with my two best Lit Chick partners in crime.  Dancing in the kitchen making cup cakes...that's what Lit Chicks do!      
Track 11: Marilyn Monroe "Diamonds are a Girls Best Friend." My girl! I don't care what anyone says, Marilyn just rocks.  This is the best choreographed scene she was ever in.  Watch and enjoy.   
Track 12: Eric Clapton "Tears in Heaven." The one song that I listened to on repeat after my dad passed.  One of his favorite artists and this song just makes me think of him. 
Track 13: Johnny Cash "Get Rhythm." It is a Macy Motto.  Get rhythm whenever you can! Listen to this Cypress Hill mash-up.
Track 14: The Smiths "Asleep." It was hard to pick just one sad British pop song from my favorite band of all time.  But this one was just so deliciously emo when I was in High School that it became my anthem.
Track 15: Alanis Morissette "You Learn." Life is such a jagged little pill.  Swallow it down.  This is the anthem for me and the best friend. We have been through so much that the only way to keep on keepin' on is to remember you live and you learn. 

Life is a mixed CD.  I have been saying that since college (literally...look).  I love that going through the songs made me think of the good, bad, and ugly times of my life.  Times where I was at my lowest and the times where I was so happy that I would scream the lyrics to these songs at the top of my lungs.  You can judge me for my music tastes, I do not mind.  I judge myself on some of them.  I still can't believe that I danced to Marky Mark.  That I KNOW is on tape somewhere.  It needs to be destroyed.  If that ever surfaces I pray to the Lord above that it does not fall into the hands of my arch nemesis.

So we meet again, Taylor Swift.  Prepare for battle!

This was a fun little blog tonight.  I appreciate you sticking it out with my and getting to the end.  I know this was a lengthy one, but it was filled with some good tunes.  Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go think of what my Life--Side B remix will include.

NOT THESE GUYS!!! AAAAAHHHH!!!

Night guys.

The Spinning Teacup of Doom...

***The following blog contains personal thoughts and rantings of a deranged lady nerd.  All characters are a work of fiction.  Any likenesses to anyone alive or dead is strictly coincidental.  Also, do not judge me on my spelling, grammar, or punctuation errors.  I don't make mistakes; I make improvements.***

Hey guys.  So I know that I haven't been around much...again.  And for that I am sorry.  I would like to say that work has been keeping me busy, or that I have been partying it up downtown, or that I have been flying all around the world with Christian Grey in his private jet.  But in all honesty, I have just been lazy.  I have done posts on kids today, reinvention, and most recently dating.  But I haven't had anything interesting to talk about this month.  Or so I thought...

My mother's birthday was the 14th of this month and I celebrated by watching all 6 hours of the BBC miniseries of Pride and Prejudice and eating an entire pizza (not in one sitting, although I bet I could do it).  I have been in and out of The Bell Jar, and I am just starting to realize who I can really count on and what I really consider important in my life.  Ah, life.  That 4-letter word that we all try to overcome.  We fill it with people, experiences, memories and when all is said and done, we take a step back and look at the masterpiece that was and is our existence. 

There are so many cliches when it comes to life: 

Life is a party.  Wear comfortable shoes. 
Life is a roller coaster. You have your ups and downs. 
Life is a bitch and then you die.   There is no second part to that one. 

My favorite, however, is, "Life is like a spinning teacup.  Maybe everything will seem clearer after we sit and spin in it for a while."  Basically, this little gem is saying that you just have to get in the middle of all the crap and wait for the ride to be over.  And if you're lucky, after the dizziness wears off you will have a better view on how to deal with the amusement park of life.  

Or you'll just want a funnel cake.  Either way. 

I tend to write when I am trapped in the spinning teacup ride of death...or life.  Whatever you call it.  I write myself emails, I leave little notes, I even one time decided to mail a letter addressed to myself.  I find it therapeutic in a way, that no matter what is going on in life you can be alone with your thoughts.  You can jot down what is bothering you or what you are angry about at that moment in time.  You can focus your frustration onto what really needs fixing.  You might be spinning, your might be sick, you might want to throw-up, but dammit when your eyes focus on that one thing life gets a little more clear. 

Things are changing in the world around us.  Fall is here (or what Texas calls fall) and before you know it the holidays will be knocking on our front doors.  This year will end as quickly as it came and we will be left at midnight watching that ball drop making a resolution that next year will be better than the last.  I might be jumping ahead of myself, but I am already thinking of a good resolution.  This year has given me enough headaches, enough sleepless nights, enough heartache and more than my fair share of puffy eyes.    

With 2 days to October, I am already dreaming of next year.  I am planning, plotting, and figuring out what it is I will be doing and who I am bringing along for the ride.  There is plenty of room in my teacup.  I hope that you will enjoy the ride with me.  But if you scream in my ear I will punch you in the throat :)

I would appreciate you passing my little blog around, and leave me a comment of what your favorite "life" quote is. 

Dammit.  Now I want chocolate. 

The Lit Chick Formula…

How did I become a Lit Chick? How does anyone become a Lit Chick?  You would think that we would have a secret society.  That we disguise ourselves in the shadows of book clubs when in all actuality we are rival street gangs that diagram sentences and participate in fight clubs.  For anyone who has ever said, “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me” was obviously never hit with a dictionary.  Our verbiage cuts like daggers, our wit pierces like knives.   

We are the proud, the few, the cat ladies…we are the Lit Chicks.

In my studies, I have found that there is a simple equation as to how unsuspecting girls gets transformed into crazy, articulate, grammar checking, spelling Nazis.

You take:

1 part girl, any age will do

2 parts fantasy, Disney and Fairy Tales preferred

1 part fiction, either fan, non, or semi

Equal parts dreamer and romantic

A dash of nerd, a pinch of geek

A sprinkle of social awkwardness

Mix ingredients together and place in either a library, book store, Shakespearean sonnet read-a-thon, or creative outlet and let simmer for the length it takes to read “Gone with the Wind.”

Remove, serve in second-hand store attire, sweater and horn rimmed glasses optional, and enjoy. 

SUCCESS!  You just grew your very own Lit Chick.  

"She's alive! And she can read Latin!"

I was cleaning out some papers this afternoon and came across one of my journals that I had back in college.  It was the semester I was taking Children’s, Young Adult, and Women’s Literature.  That, my friends, was my turning point into madness.  That is when I became Lit Chick Macy.  Instead of credit cards falling out of my wallet when I dropped it, library cards went flying.  The phrase, “I don’t want to see that movie.  The book was better,’ started making its way into my vernacular.  Coffee became my best friend.  I would snap instead of applauding at poetry slams.  I even refused to go on a date with a guy because he had never heard of Paradise Lost!  

#nerdgirlproblems

Not to jump topics, but speaking of lost, upon finding that journal, I realized that going back and rereading my 2008 counterparts ideas made me feel nostalgic for how I used to be.  What I used to care about.  I missed me at that point.  I knew who I was at that point in time, and I want that back!  I was the artsy girl who liked French films and wanted to be a secret smoker like Margot Tenenbaum.  I would stay up late at night and read and recite poetry like it was the ABC’s.  I miss it all.    

Moving to Austin was the best decision I have ever made.  But for the past 9 months I have felt stunted, my mind clouded by thoughts of my parents, old friends, relationships that never were, romances that will never be.  I have re-placed myself physically, but not mentally.  I lost myself in the move. 

Along with winter coats and lunch boxes, I might find myself here.

So what do I plan to do?  I plan to get myself back.  I want to be someone I am proud to be.  I want to wake up in the mornings to a routine and a lifestyle that fits who I am now.  I am not the same person I was when I was living in Fort Worth.  That chick is long gone, and to be honest, parts of her can stay gone.  I am keeping only the best from my former self and allowing it to stay her in ATX.     

Henry David Thoreau said, “Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves.”  I am finding myself again in Austin.  I am taking the best parts of my parents, mixing them with the ingredients I care to keep of myself, and rolling them around and shaping them together to make a new person.  We are all evolving, even we book worms.  Perhaps the next stage for us Lit Chicks is transforming into Literature Ladies.

Now if you will excuse me, I have some personal business to take care of.   

Like sands through the hourglass…

 So are the days of our lives.  

What am I doing?  No seriously, what am I doing?  I am drafting this blog post at 11:40 p.m., listening to “Blackbird” by The Beatles, full off Taco Bell and contemplating how I am going to burn off the calories that were in the red sauce they put in their burritos.  I am sitting in front of my computer, staring at the blinking cursor and it taunts me like it has many times before.  

I remember back in college when I had decided to drop the education part of my degree plan and focus strictly on English.  That little cursor and I became best friends.  When I would stay up late writing papers and essays about poetry, when I would draft non-fiction stories for the fun of it, and when I would need an outlet for expression that little cursor and I would make the best of the situation and create some awesome writings. 

It was in 2009 when I last remember feeling totally right with the world.  Or should I say “write” with the world.  I was in my last year of college, I had my own column with the university paper, and I had written a play that was picked up for a summer theater production series.  Things were starting to feel right, that I had finally found my calling.  

Then shit got real.  

In the span of 6 months, my father had passed away, my mom’s health started to deteriorate and I was working full time while taking 15 hours worth of classes just to finish my degree.  I was the sole bread winner of the family, and in between probate court and shuffling my mother from doctors appoint to doctors appointments, I had little time to focus on my writing career…or lack thereof at that point. 

I was searching the archives of my old school newspaper, The Shorthorn, and I found my columns and articles. In my opinion, they aren’t half bad.  In my mother’s opinion, they were great!  She couldn’t wait for me to get home every Friday with a copy of the paper to show her my clippings.  My dad had my every publication, every article I had written clipped and on the fridge like a child who brought home a perfect spelling test.  They thought I was brilliant.  The fact that they got to see my name in print makes me smile.  It also makes me feel like when I make my student loan payments each month my degree wasn’t in vain.  

Check me out here. 

I had a thought tonight.  I love my job and my career.  I couldn’t ask to work for a better company.  But I really miss that feeling of seeing my name printed next to an article that I wrote.  That feeling I would get seeing my ideas and thoughts in the hands of others.  That was such a thrill.  I decided something tonight.  While I sit here, still listening to The Beatles, I made the decision to get back out there.  Even if it’s just one day out of the week, I want to get my thoughts back into print. I am not doing it for the money.  Hell, in college I was paid $7 a column.  That is what I considered drinking money for the weekend.  It’s for the love of the art, the love of the game.  

I am challenging myself to put all those scribbles I have in journals into thoughts and writings and get them out into the world.  I may never be a hard hitting journalist, but I will be published again.      

As God as my witness…

The 5 Stages of Dating...

If only I could have a romance like The Princess Bride. 

Dating.  For most of us, dating is a fun way to be social, meet new people, visit new places and create new relationships.
If we are the lucky ones, dating will ultimately lead to romance, marriage, babies, joint checking accounts, family vacations and the white picket fence.
But while some of us (like myself) are still out there in the dating world, there are many emotions and feelings that we come across when deciding to go out with someone new.  Some are good emotions, some suck, some make you want to chew off your nails and pull out your hair.
I have a theory when it comes to dating.  I have been in the wedding industry for over 7 years.  In that time, I have seem and heard my fair share of good and bad dates.  Some of them are hilarious and some are extremely romantic.  But no matter how the initial first date goes, there are always the same feelings associated with meeting someone new.  Nervousness, anxiousness, confusion, attraction, they are all mixed into to one big ball of sweaty-clammy messiness.

When a person is grieving, they say that there are 5 stages to dealing with pain:
1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Barganing
4. Depression
5. Acceptance

Each stage is characterized by what emotional level the person is at.  If they are at the beginning of the process, the middle or even the end, it all depends on the person as to when he or she will go through each stage.  We all deal with grief differently, but we all go through these steps to some extent.   

Like grief, I believe there are 5 Stages to Dating.
I would like to share those stages with you.

The Lit Chick's 5 Stages of Dating Hell, or, It's either this or end up alone with 72 cats. 

Stage 1: Attraction (or as I call it, the "Eye Candy," stage.)
What is the first thing we notice about the opposite sex?  If you said anything else but looks you are lying.  I hate to say it, but that is what we do.  More times than not, our first initial attraction to someone is based on physical appearance.  Now that might change once you get to know someone's personality, but not enough of us decide to see beyond the book cover.  There has to be that first spark of interest. Now this leads to my second stage...

Stage 2: Uncertainty (or the "Dear God, I hope they don't have a RAP sheet," stage.)  
Putting a name, a voice, and a personality to the face is both fun and awkward.  You already know you are attracted to them physically, but if they end up being a total idiot that will more than likely ruin whatever charming features they have.  To give you an example, I went out with this guy once who was attractive, polite, and seemed sincere.  Yet during the date, he had no grasp on how to act in a social setting and, might I add, he also had no grasp on his drink.  He proceeded to drink himself stupid, thinking that every drop of alcohol made him more irresistible.  Little did he know...
It is the uncertainty of that first date that can drive a person crazy.  Which leads to my next stage...

Stage 3: Over-Analyzing (or the "Why hasn't he called me back, yet?" stage.)
Did I get food in my teeth? Did I forget to use the napkin? Did I freeze up like a Miss America contestant during the interview question? All of these things AND MORE run through your head when the first date ends and you are dropped off at your door.  For us girls, I say we have it worse.  It is a little more nerve wracking for us ladies than for you gentlemen and it is very hard for us not to go...how can I put this delicately...batshit crazy.

"Hell, I'm not even that insane. Hat's off to you!"

I cannot speak for my gender, but I can speak for myslef, and hell yes I over-analyze everything.  From how fast he ate his dinner to how we looked together in the window of the restaurant, I dissect every part of the first few dates of a relationship.  You drive yourself crazy, going in to sub-stages of the dating realm. You go from "If he never calls me, I will be heartbroken.  No one will ever want me.  I should just buy box wine and adopt cats," to "Screw him! It's his loss! Beyonce was right! All my single ladies put your hands up!" You go back and forth until you make yourself dizzy and depressed.  Leading to my next stage...

Stage 4: Connection (or the "He finally called back!" stage.)
You survived the first date.  He called asking for a second.  You are prepared, relaxed, calm, cool and collected.  There is less fear of rejection.  You can breathe and laugh.  He didn't take one look at you and run in the opposite direction.  You may even let your guard down.  You are able to make a better connection to one another.  The awesome thing about this stage is that things are exciting.  They're new.  You get to wear your favorite outfits, try things you normally wouldn't do by yourself and get to know the person's likes, dislikes, quirks and ticks.  Over the span of how ever many dates it takes you two, you hopefully become closer as friends first than lead into an exclusive relationship if things go that well!

You made that connection...that love connection!

Stage 4 is my favorite stage.  You have to get through the bad to get to the good.  Stage 3 is shitty, but you have to get through it to get to Stage 4.  You learn to laugh with one another, make memories and inside jokes.  When I date in this stage, I act like I am seeing an old friend first.  That helps to calm my nerves.  If I think I am meeting an old High School friend for drinks I tend not to psych myself out like I would if I was thinking I'm meeting them for date # 4.  You get comfortable. You get to be you.

Leading to my last and final stage...

Stage 5: Exclusivity (which is the "Table for 2" or the "Sitting in the tree," stage.)
Macy and Jake Gyllenhaal sitting in a tree...
Hey, it's my blog.  I can dream, can't I?
You've been on more than a handful of dates with each other.  You have no interest in seeing anyone else. You feel somewhat okay with him seeing you without make-up and you are alright leaving a toothbrush at her place.  Congrat's kids!  You're exclusive! Unsubscribe from all those dating websites, change that Facebook status, and tear up that card from speed dating.  You don't need it.

We all aim to be at Stage 5.  It is the happy place of the relationship/dating world.  But the only way to get there is by going though the first 4.  You can't jump through them, you cannot pass go.  You have to do it.  We all do.  Trust me, I have tried to skip a stage before.  It does not work.

I admit to rushing into relationships too quickly and either thinking there was something there or trying to make myself think that there was something between us when there clearly wasn't.  Sometimes, you get so caught up in the idea of being with someone you don't really see that perhaps you are meant to be alone right now.  You cannot force romance.  You have to let it happen naturally.  I am a big cheerleader for love.  I have been sitting on the sideline a little too long, though.  It is time I get back into the game.  You know, before I adopt any more kittens or drink myself into a slumber off of Franzia. 

 

Somebody get me a curly straw!!! NOW!!!

Please comment and share your thoughts on dating.  Follow my blog and lets see if there is a need for a Part II on dating from the Lit Chick.  I know this was a little longer read than you guys are used to, but I hope you enjoyed it.  I enjoyed writing it.

 Have a great week guys!
  

"Fat angry woman with frizzy hair..."

Hello guys! No this is not a ranting post like earlier this week.  This is really just a post to laugh at.

While I was checking the stats on my blog this week, I was looking at the traffic sources and kinda playing around at seeing how most people have found out about the Lit Chick. Most of it came from Facebook and Twitter (simply for the fact that I pimp it like hell on both social sites) but there were a couple different things that shocked me when I looked up the Google searches that can bring you to my lovely little blog.

Thanks to the images I use, you can find my blog by searching "sister from another mister" (thanks to my blog post about Ashley), "1950's malt shop" which will bring up my "Don't make me gag on your swag" post, and "old school movie scream" which will bring up my "Blondes make better victims" blog post.  But there was one search that just made me cackle.  One phrase that when I plugged it in to Google and hit search actually made my sides hurt from laughing.

"Fat angry woman with frizzy hair"

You don't believe me?

It's great, is it not?

 See? I am not a liar.  I wish that I was.  I told this to a few people already, including my sister Sally and the handful of close friends I have down her.  I mean I cannot ask for better material.  In all honesty, I am not upset by this at all.  I mean, yes I do have frizzy hair, I don't really tend to be angry, and I am working on the fat part.  But the main argument I have about this is after thinking about it for a couple days, I really don't agree with how just a few words could define someone. 

I would rather my blog be pulled up with the catch phrase "awesome 20-something with good fashion sense and witty sarcasm" or "blonde writer with humorous outlook on life blog."  But alas, I guess I can't complain.  People who search for those large, angry ladies will just be blessed to stumble upon my writings.  At least they are being shared.

On a lighter note, this time next week I will be on vacation, so that I am looking forward to.  Getting to see old friends and family and not counting my calories.  Okay, I will be watching what I eat, but I am not going to limit myself to salads and yogurt.  I am on vaca dammit! I need some carbohydrates!

Leave me comments on what tag lines you think should bring up my blog and what foods say vacation to you.  I will be interested to read what you guys think.  Have a wonderful 4th of July, and remember, fireworks are not toys.  Pretty to look at, but dangerous to play with.

Well, unless you are Katy Perry.  Then you're taking a walk on the wild side of life. Have fun, y'all. 

 

50 Shades of White...

Hey guys.  No, this is not a blog post about the Fifty Shades of Grey series.  So if you think you are going to read a posting about bodice ripping and sex, you will just have to stay tuned for another day ;) 

So...I normally don't rant about my work, and to be honest I know most of you really don't care to hear about what is going on in the wedding world (well, unless you are getting married any time soon).  But there is an epidemic on the rise and I can not keep quiet about it anymore. 

I have been a part of the wedding planning/event planning world in some fashion or another for the past 8 years, and even the most skilled Bridezilla Wranglers (like myself) are taking notice of this growing problem.  It has even crossed into the tuxedo world which is my specialty, and I am getting tired of it.  There are only so many bullets you can dodge in your day and only so many tricks you can use to put out the fires caused by a Bridezilla on the rampage!  And this time around, this wrangler is about ready to hang up her lasso and give in.  So here is the problem boys and girls.  Maybe you can help me.

Just how many shades of white are there in this world?!

I got into a discussion with my partner in crime Nicole about this subject at work and just how many shades (or rather, non-shades) of white actually exist in today's wedding world.  She actually gave me idea to blog about this and I must credit her with the awesome title.

Here are just a few, and you tell me you wouldn't go crazy over this load of bridal bullshit:

White (Oh course)

Off-white (Or ivory if you're feeling technical)

Diamond White

Soft White

Candlelight White

Eggshell White

Antique White

Anti-Flash White

Snow White

Splashed White (What the hell??)

Ecru (It's a really dirty white...it's been a bad, bad white)

Ghost White (Boo!)

Smoke White (That just sounds dirty)

Pearl White

Pale White

Magnolia White

Oleander White

Vintage White

...and my personal favorite...Hussy White...for the frisky brides!

See!  It is enough to drive even the most skilled wedding professionals mad! 

See what I mean!  When will the madness end!

Since when did the word "white" become so loose?  It's the whore of the color world! It needs to stay out of all the other shades and just be left alone.  You don't need to try and be different, you're good just the way you are. 

If I have one more bride come into my store and tell me her dress is any shade other than white or ivory my head is going to explode!  Seriously, I am going to let you in on a little secret: IT IS ALL THE SAME SHADE OF WHITE!! THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE IN THE COLOR!! I know...the image is shattered.

It is a ploy in my opinion (I really have no proof, just a theory) to make it hard on all parties involved throwing or planning a wedding for a bride and groom.  In reality, there should only be 3 colors:

White

Ivory

Black...for the offbeat brides like my Austin friend Nicole would do.  

Eat your heart out, Vera Wang.

No more shades or names are needed!  Why make something more difficult to match?  I am tired of cracking my whip at people about this.  Consider this your warning.  Change the color back to normal and stop making dresses in that shade.  I am not the only one who feels this way.  I speak for the entire wedding community.  Don't make us break off a toasting flute and use it as a shiv.  We are for real-real, not for play-play.

You have been warned.