Confession #11: Jingle, Jingle

So for loving Christmas so much, I am really not much in the spirit of it presently. Today's Confession: Jingle, Jingle! Ho ho! All I want for Christmas is a little dignity. So, my washing machine has been acting out...but only on the delicate setting, which is the setting I use for my most prized articles of clothing. As a result, a dress which happens to make me feel so much prettier than I really am was ruined by soaking too long with a pair of blue jeans (as the timer on the machine is what is being quirky). So, I wake up this merry morning, with the intent to finally dispose of Thanksgiving leftovers (I know, that should be yet another confession, right? I didn't get rid of Thanksgiving leftovers until Christmas)...so I intend to dispose of these down the garbage disposal in my sink...after all, it is called a garbage disposal and its purpose is to grind up food, apparently, according to Wikipedia (I know, an excellent source of information) to transform food particles into water to effect more efficient disposal. So I empty a container of really old food into the sink, push it down the drain and flip the switch of the disposal to find that--oops, nothing happens. So, husband comes home from work, turns on the dishwasher, and finds that the food I attempted to get rid of is swimming in the water generated by the machine into the basin of the sink, and he says, "Did all that stuffing go down the disposal?" He follows that with, "I don't like putting whole food down the disposal." What implication would you see in this remark? Well, maybe I am just an irrational, emotional woman (confessions 12 and 13) but I inferred some blame was being transferred in my direction through that retort. I mean, who else puts food down the disposal in this two person family if he doesn't, right? What I want to know is this: if I shouldn't use a garbage disposal to dispose of food, what should I use it for? To top that off, I made my usual mint double chocolate cookies for Santa tonight (and we all know I am not Santa in this household) and I kept them in the oven a minute or so too long and they are crispy...I don't know about your Santa, people, but mine likes chewy, soft cookies, so I am feeling a bit crappy right now because #1 I ruined a dress that makes me feel like a hottie, #2 apparently, I ruined our garbage disposal by using it to grind food, and #3 I ruined my own cookie recipe by making the batch too crispy...I am a horrible, horrible wife because I have failed my domesticity this Christmas Eve, and on top of that, instead of thanking God for the birth of the savior he sent for me, I am throwing my very own pity party in cyber space.

Confession #10: All I Want to do is TRAVEL

Barcelona: I want to see the buildings created by Antoni Gaudi, The Casa Batlo and the Sagrada Familia. Casa Batlo is a private home that was constructed in Gothic taste to resemble a dragon, while the Sagrada Familia is The Church of the Holy Family, also Gothic, ornate, intended as a masterpiece palace of worship. I became acquainted with the works of Gaudi by viewing Samantha Brown's Passport to Europe, and in the episode devoted to Barcelona, she visited the aforementioned creations. Seeing mere glimpses of these monolithic establishments on a television screen induced the desire to go there myself.

Greece: I want to see the crystalline coasts and feel the ancient sand beneath my feet. I want to see the Acropolis of Athens, early Christian Thessolonica, and Olympia.

Rome: I want to visit the Vatican, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, the Trevi Fountain. I want to breathe the holy air and feel the cobbled pathways beneath my feet.

And this post could go on and on forever because there are so many patches of this earth upon which I long to tread. I want to wander the world and learn about the past and see it for myself.

Confession #9: I am Obsessed with Anne Boleyn

Thanks to my recent enrollment with Netflix streaming through my husband's X-box 360, I have quickly consumed all 20 episodes of the first two seasons of Showtime's series, The Tudors. I am intrigued by the complexity of all of the historical players; the ambition and betrayal on all sides led to downfall after downfall of noteworthy personages.

My favorite character, Anne Boleyn, has just experienced her famous demise, at the sword of the executioner of Callais. This was the conclusion of the second season, and I actually feel grieved that the Anne character will no longer show herself in the household of the King.

Because of my newfound fascination with this unlucky queen, I have borrowed The Challenge of Anne Boleyn, a biography written by historian Hester W. Chapman, from my local library. What surprises me most, since I have begun reading, is that in spite of some creative liberties taken thus far by producers of The Tudors, much of what is portrayed is accurately aligned with the record of the past.

I only wish this fascination would have revealed itself to me three months ago when I visited London, because I would have appreciated all the Tudor lore I encountered in that storybook city.

Below is a photo of Natalie Dormer in Showtime's The Tudors.

Confession #8: Comfort Food

I ate, not merely one, but two chocolate mint brownie bars for breakfast this morning. And my body warmed from the inside out with each and every bite. I knew when I woke up that the only satisfying nourishment for me today would be the indulgence in my most favorite dessert, probably my most favorite food, in the whole wide world. I first tasted these morsels of heaven a little over a year ago, in Florida, when my husband, Phil, made them for me on my birthday in lieu of a cake. Every single bite I take of these luscious desserts makes me groan with delight! I am not sure whether it is the layer of mint frosting, made with confectioner's sugar and butter and mint extract, or if it is just the fact that the love of my life baked them for me with care...regardless, these chocolate mint brownie bars are and ever will be my soul satisfying comfort food.

Confession #7: Denial

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, denial is "the failure to acknowledge an unacceptable truth or emotion, or to admit it into consciousness, used as a defense mechanism."

My question of myself, then, is for what purpose did I, from pre-pubescence to present day, require such a mechanism of defense with regard to a desire to procreate? Why, from such an early age in my existence, have I resisted the innate maternal instinct I share with womanhood? It is true, I can no longer resist this urge to be a mother, and I am finally reconciled to--no, embracing my very real desire to have a child, which thereby means I have cast off the cloak of opposition with which I have for so long enshrouded myself. But, what has changed within me? What has empowered me to unveil myself from the denial I have masqueraded behind through life?

I do not have an answer, yet I present my confession here. The desire I have, I have always had...from the age of four or five, at least, and for some reason, which I cannot understand, I labored to prove to the world that I was, somehow, detached enough from the feminine instincts, empowered enough by logic and reason, to shun motherhood for life. On my part, this was a personal requirement to suppress the unacceptable truth of my instincts--to thwart the proverbial biological clock, which has suddenly begun to tick tock its way into overdrive.

Confession #6: How I Feel

So, I think I might have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but I have never been diagnosed...I am working on that in my own way, but below is a poem I call "OCD," as it portrays the feelings and thoughts I deal with, which seem, to me, to be Obsessive Compulsive thoughts...so how is that for a confession?

My thoughts are on a twisted journey,
Weaving a web of juxtaposed images;
Forming bonds of endless frustration
That torment my mind in the day and at night.
These thoughts harass all that is pure within me,
Pointing their fingers and laughing hysterically.

I am aware these intruders are on a fierce journey;
They hasten through canyons developing in me,
To chip at my joy and increase the frustration
Caused by fears and doubt in my mind. Hysterically
I cry as the juxtaposed images
Gallop across my mind at night.

I obsess and obsess of what could be; hysterically,
I assume the physician's role to analyze the images,
Hovering, as a summer storm cloud does hover at night.
Oh how I wish I could take a long journey
From the anxiety building and taunting me;
The tumult of the cyclone incites frustration.

Peace only comes while I sleep in the night
When my dreams create clear images
That ward off the frustration.
Captains, they sail and serenade me;
Billowing waves press forward on this journey,
As flocking seagulls cacaw and cacaw hysterically.

I see these thoughts for what they are, images
Conceived by the marriage of lies and frustration
At the sound of a thump or a bump in the night.
They have taken me on an anxious journey,
To find out what sources of fear lie within me;
What has caused me to dwell on such thoughts so hysterically?

My spider-thoughts, with their venom, hysterically
Jeer and leer in my mind in the night;
They prey on my hope and spin lies within me--
I fight them with all of my might in frustration;
I long for the peace of hopeful images,
Akin to those marketing an exotic journey.

My thoughts are on a beaten journey,
Hysterically battering the frustration in me;
Constructing a pyramid of haunting images.

Confession #5: Shoe Fetish

I never really thought I had a shoe fetish. My weakness is clothing...billowy tops, trendy jeans, smart trousers, but I never really went bananas over a pair of shoes before. That is, until I went to London.

My fifth confession: I bought six pairs of shoes in London. I have transitioned from being a stiletto woman to a ballet flats girl...there is just something about being chic in comfort that ruffles my feathers. So before flying across the sea for my week long holiday in London, I did a little comparative research for just the right pair of flats at just the right price, and I found this adorable pair of t-straps from the department store Debenhams.
I visited the Oxford Street location on my very first day in the city, but I did not find the shoes, so I settled for a brown pair of bow flats, and well, to my pleasant surprise, there was a massive shoe sale, so I also bought a pair of black flats, as well as some adorable silver mary jane flats.
I should have been satisfied, right? I mean, three pairs of leather flats, fashionable, and all under 60 pounds! But, I couldn't stop there! No, later in the week, I determined to find my red t-straps, and find them I did, as well as a great pair of oxford style ballets and some gold slippers, as well...my husband was writhing in astonishment as I brazenly tore open my handbag to thrust my plastic across the counter to the prim British sales clerk.So, I never considered myself to be a shoe fiend, but perhaps my time abroad has altered my condition!

Confession #4: I Miss My Mom and Dad

I have lived away from my parents for almost three years now. Heart heavily burdened, I wallowed in self pity for the inception of my time miles away from the comforts of home, but at some point, when I saw leaves transform from celadon to auburn, and then when I felt the crisp autumn air, at some point in that first fall of my life, my worries vanished, as if blown with the leaves loftily through the winter air. A fresh bounce accompanied my every step, and I began to adapt to my new environment; I began to acclimate myself to calling this new setting home.

I speak to my parents, often enough, and I know they are just a phone call or email or instant message away; however, nothing can replace the comfort of my daddy's embrace or the repose offered by mom's gentle caress. When the bricks of life have been mortared and fixed upon my shoulders, for them to bear, I yearn to be there, in my parents' home, inhaling the aromas of familial love and that quiet understanding permeating the hearth, negating the requirement of conversation...

I confess...

There is no place like home.

Confession #3: The Cat Nap

I said I wouldn't, but I did. I do it every day that I do not work; I did it today, and I will certainly do it again! I slept on my couch with the afternoon sun peering down upon me through my bamboo blinds. I slept for two hours. I am not sure what your definition of a cat nap is, but I have cats, and when those ladies nap, it is for hours at a time. They nap for a few, then they get up to eat, poop, and play, then after a while of boredom, down they go again for some more zs. That is what I call the perfect cat nap! But my naps, the duration of my naps consists of two hours of lazy snoozing, nothing more, nothing less: 2 hours. I awake from these siestas feeling refreshed and jolly...a great combination.

So I said I would not take a nap today. I said so because it is Sunday and I always take naps on Sunday, but because of this, I sometimes have trouble getting sleepy for bedtime, which always makes Monday a little Mondayer. So I said I would not take a nap today, but I could not resist. The undisturbed couch cushions, so fluffy, so soft, tempted me with their comforting allure. The midday sun, with her massaging fingertips, consulted with the pillows, and together they attacked me, and I did not even attempt to resist. So I took my nap, and now I feel refreshed and jolly...a great combination. I said I wouldn't, but I did.

Confession #2: I Shake My Booty to the Beatles

Yes, it is true. Home alone today, the Beatles greatist hits were cycling through my mind, and as I always react when a playlist repeats in my brain, I plugged my ears with buds ablare, piping "Can't Buy Me Love." And what happens when music pumps directly into my mind from my iPod? Something magical! My hips sway and my shoulders shimmy, and before you know it, I am shaking my booty to the Beatles, and there is no greater kinesthetic activity than this! I work it out to "We Can Work it Out," and I hum along to "Ob-la-di Ob-la-da." My entire house morphs into a studio-or maybe one of those old dance shows for the teeny boppers...whatever it is, I am in the spotlight, rockin out to my ole pals, John and Ringo!

Confession #1: Blog Advertising

My dad is my best friend. The day I began my blog, The Hats I Wear, I betrayed to him my first rate idea to use the blog as a way of earning a little extra money. You see, I read this article in Glamour Magazine that suggested that advertising on blogs is an excellent source of income, so I thought to myself...I enjoy writing, I enjoy technology, I should try this...

After pondering over this notion for a week or so, I decided to follow through, which is not normally something I would do to begin with. Usually, after I brew over an idea such as this, I realize that the concept is absurd, and I almost NEVER follow through. But this time, this time I was going to make it happen. This time I was going to have faith in myself and no matter how insecure I felt about revealing my true level of nerdiness, I was going to network and work hard to get people to visit my site...

So I told my dad, my best friend, my plan, and as any loving father would, he set to work visiting my site on a daily basis, and occasionally clicking on the ads, which I agreed that I would not click on or encourage others to click on. Okay, so perhaps he didn't click occasionally, and perhaps my mom began clicking too, and perhaps I knew but did not discourage it...but there was a thrill every single time I logged into my AdSense account and saw the number of clicks and page impressions and the accruing balance of my account, and there was something deep, deep within me that yearned to believe that only a rare few of the accumulating clicks were my parents' and that many people...people from around the world were visiting my site and enjoying what I had to say, and that I was earning extra money on my own, by myself, doing something I am passionate about: writing.

So one thing led to another, and here I am beginning a new blog...a blog devoted to confessions...ugly, foul, dank-smelling confessions. This is my place, my haven of grace and freedom. And here, I plead guilty to the charge of invalid ad clicks, and here I willingly accept the consequence, which is that I will not have ads on another website again...and even if I did have a chance an hour ago, the posting of this new blog has officially precluded that from occurring...and I am okay with that.

To my readers (I would like to think there are millions of you all over the world gleaning inspiration from every syllable I type), I hope this is a place where you can find encouragement to be honest with yourself and the world, so that you can live with the peace of a pure mind and a virtuous heart!