Sunday

Happy Sunday everybody.  Apart from going to Mass super-early, I have taken the day off.  I've done some laundry and changed my bed linens, but apart from that it's been gloriously lazy.  I'm currently in bed with my frozen feet tucked underneath a fuzzy, warm blanket while I surf the net and listen to The Girl Who Kicked a Hornet's Nest on audiobook.

I worry I'm getting a migraine, though.  My vision's gone a bit wonky today in my left eye.  It's just a hint of the migraine halo, but it's enough to make me think that reading or watching TV might not be in my future this evening.  I'm sure sitting here on a computer isn't the best idea either.  Merp.

My roommates brought home a couple of bunnies last Monday.  They're super cute, and my roommates seem to be going out of their way to keep the apartment clean now that there are animals.  They are messy (my roommates), and it's been a constant source of irritation and stress for me while I've lived with them.  I'm not a neat freak, but I like organization, and I despise things being dirty.  For example, I always keep the kitchen clean.  Partly because it's more convenient for the next time I want to cook, and partly because leaving food messes attracts bugs and bad smells and is just... gross.  Blech.  The kitchen still doesn't get cleaned when they cook, but they've been great about vacuuming and keeping stuff off of the floor, because they like to let the bunnies hop around the living room when they're home.

I'm moving out in June anyway.  I'm actually going to start packing up my car this week, and I'll be bringing a load of things over to my parents place and That Guy's apartment on Thursday.  Since I'm getting out of debt, my parents have graciously offered me a room.  I don't really want to move home -- I like having my own space very much -- but I get along with my parents, and it will absolutely allow me to pay down debt/save money.  It won't last longer than a year.  Ostensibly I'll start saving up for a wedding this summer too.  That Guy says he's going to propose before August, and we'd get married in the summer of 2014.

Sometimes I wonder about that.  I love him very much.  He's my best friend.  But I worry about how good I'll be as a wife.  I worry about being a good spouse.  I have a hard time letting things go, including some things that happened early on in our relationship.  They still hurt my feelings, still come up more often than I'd like them to.  That Guy tries dealing with them (and succeeds, usually), but I definitely fear he'll get sick of me.  He says he knows he's made mistakes that have contributed to this, so he feels like it's only right that he help me out now, but I also think that, eventually, he'll just decide it's not worth it with me, and we'll break up, and the next woman he likes he'll just try to do better from the get-go so she doesn't have these same issues to deal with.

I fear that a lot.  I also feel like being alone can't get me hurt.  I'm good at being single.  I fill my life with books and films and friends and family.  I've never sat at home pining for a boyfriend.  I don't sleep around to fill some void in my soul or drink to excess or anything like that.  I hate dating.  I like my own company.  I just have a hard time believing anybody else likes my company as much as I do.  That's why I fear people will get sick of me.  So I struggle with feeling like it'd be better for everyone involved if That Guy just moved on without me.  I've never loved anybody like I love him, and I've never seen myself with somebody like I see myself with him.  But can I let go of the hurt and the fear?  More than that, can I let go of feeling like I'm meant to be single, like I'm so good at being self-sufficient for a reason?  There are lots of people out there who can't stand being out of a relationship and who make self-destructive decisions when they're single.  Maybe I should clear the way for them?  I seem to be the opposite; I seem to fall apart when I'm with somebody else.  Well, that's not entirely true.  It's happened with two guys: my first serious boyfriend and That Guy.  The second serious boyfriend, the one between the first one and That Guy, that was an amazingly level-headed, stable relationship.  Not one with a viable future, but one that was safe and secure and which almost never involved arguments or hurt feelings.  Even the way we broke up was so sane.  It helped that it was a long-distance relationship, so I was, more or less, single the entire time.  Like I said: I'm good at that.

I asked That Guy if he thought my struggle to move on meant that I wasn't meant to be in a relationship, but he said he didn't know what it meant.  That kind of hurt my feelings.  I wanted him to tell me... I don't know. Something else.  Anything else.  It makes me feel like my hunch is right.  Maybe too many bad things have happened and I've just made myself impossible to be with.  It seems easy not to take me seriously as a life partner.  None of my boyfriends have.  That Guy does now, but didn't when we first got together, and it impacted me deeply.  It makes me think that, whatever he says, it's never going to be as serious as I always hoped it would be, from the moment I met him.  I let myself feel too much, maybe.  I let myself think I meant as much to him as he almost immediately meant to me.  Nobody'd ever meant so much so fast, everybody always had to spend lots and lots of time getting to know me before I let them in.  But with him I felt it right away.  I loved him before we ever even dated.  And maybe that was a mistake.  Maybe if I hadn't felt so much so fast, the mistakes he made in the beginning wouldn't have meant so much, hurt so much, and wouldn't have left such wounds.

He's sorry.  I know he is.  But I fear that if he could act that was once, he could act that way again.  I know why he did back then.  He had baggage.  But now I feel like I have baggage.  He dropped his off, and I picked it up.  Stuff I haven't thought about for years, stuff that didn't have a negative impact on my last relationship are having an impact on this one.

I wish I knew what to do.

I wish I felt as safe and secure and stable with him as I do with myself.

Lady Friends

I'm 28.  My three best female friends are 39, 39, and 43.

I always had a hard time, when I was growing up, relating to other people my own age.  Then, around the time I got into high school, I only had a hard time relating other girls my own age.  I wasn't snobbish or distant towards other girls, and I didn't prefer hanging out with only guys because I was trying to get closer to them for dating opportunities, as some girls assumed.  It's just that I was at my most comfortable around guys.  My sense of humor, though not based on fart jokes, is more masculine.  My way of speaking is more direct.  My tastes tend to run towards things that guys like, too, like science fiction, kung fu movies, and comic books.

That's not to say I also don't like "girl" things.  I like them especially now that I'm older.  Pretty clothes, makeup, shoes, Jane Austen novels, cupcakes... It's just that, when I was younger, I was more at ease with men than with women.

I realize now that I've kind of handicapped myself, however.  My three best female friends are all more or less like me.  They're also older women, which I think makes a huge difference.  We don't get together and talk about our weight or gossip about what each other is doing.  We talk about... well, everything else.  They have a wisdom and calmness that I crave, being at the tail end of what is likely the most anxious decade anybody ever goes through.  (Seriously.  Twenties.  Yuck.)

But I kind of wish I had closer female friends my own age as well.  Not at the expense of the three best female friends I have, just in addition to them.  I've met a few, and I want to be closer to them, but I don't really know how to go about doing that.  My friendships all develop organically, and age never really entered into the equation.  It wasn't until years after I'd grown to love and trust my friends that I realized all of them had over a decade on me in age.  And it never bothered me.  I kind of liked it.

But these three other women I'm thinking of who are closer to my own age are all really nice.  And I think that, if That Guy and I eventually get married and start having a family, these women will likely be starting the same thing (two are already married, and one is likely to be in another couple of years).  It'd be nice to have women to share these experiences with mutually.

I guess this might be the first time in my life I actually have to work for a friendship.  Normally I have to work to maintain one, but setting one up seems harder.  That Guy tells me that I'm already friends with at least two of these women, but I don't know.  I feel a little insecure about it.  It doesn't help that I'm not really able to spend time with them outside of my time with That Guy.  (I met both of them through him; they're married to or dating friends of his.)  I feel like female friendships need to exist separately from relationships with other people.  That Guy is "friends with" everybody in his circle, including people he doesn't really know that well.  They're all friends by association.  Is that a guy thing?  I have all kinds of classifications for people I know.  Coworkers, acquaintances, buddies, friends, close friends, BEST friends.

Anyway.  Something to think about on a chilly Sunday morning before Mass.  Maybe I'll pray about it today.

Later, gators.

Huzzah!

I just made seven months of car payments in one month.  And it's the first day of the month, too.  I'm hoping I can send even more before February is over.  The more money I send to the finance company, the closer I am to reaching my goal of paying off my car by my 29th birthday in June.

I keep wrestling with the idea of getting a second job. I 'm just not sure... If I lived in the same city as That Guy or if we were married I'd do it, because then I could see him in the evenings or whenever he and I were both home.  But I don't know if it'd be great for our relationship right now to have that kind of separation.  Not that I'm saying we'd break up or anything  if I picked up a second job.  Nothing like that.  He's SO supportive of my sprint towards financial freedom (having given me the inspiration to begin with).  I guess, truthfully, I don't want to give up that time with him. 

I guess these are the problems you want to have, right?  *L*

My life should be car payment-free around the time I move at the end of June, too, which means I should be able to start socking money away into savings.  That Guy and I are going to have to pay for our own wedding after we're engaged, so I want to try to get a head start on that as soon as I can.  I'm not a princess -- as a matter of fact, I will probably be a huge grouch throughout the wedding planning process.  I need to start praying on that. --but I want our wedding to be simple and elegant.  We'll have a really tight budget, but it's important to both of us not to go into debt for any of it: the ring, the wedding, or the honeymoon.  The way I look at it, I'd rather go small, significant, and paid for now, and, later on, when we've been married five or ten or fifteen years, and we have no more debt (other than a house, hopefully), we spend two weeks in Paris or Rome.  (Or both.)  I almost said, "And he can buy me a huge rock," because that seems like the other obvious "upgrade," but I'm not a "rock" sort of person anyway, and I think I'd probably hate to give up the ring he proposed to me with.  The rings I've pointed him towards when he asked for my opinion are all very modest.  (I think he was surprised I didn't want more diamonds and things.)  I have small, thin hands, so bling looks kind of ridiculous and gaudy on me.  Honestly, I'd be happy with no engagement ring, just a wedding band, but he insists.  I understand the reason.  It's an investment in me, he gets to ask me on one knee and be traditional and sweet.  I'm going to be embarrassed and cry and my ears will turn red and get really hot, and I'll cry a lot more.  *L* 

Speaking of moving (was I speaking of moving?  I think so.), even though I already know where I'm going, I couldn't help looking at the website of my old property manager.  The unit I used to rent is available, and I was SO tempted by it.  I loved that place.  It was built in 1902, it has wood floors and (non-functional) beautiful tiled fireplaces in both the living room and the bedroom.  *le sigh*  I keep saying if That Guy gets kidnapped by aliens and we don't get engaged and married I'll try to get back into the building.  All the units are really cool.  There are only four, and each one is different.  I think it's a converted boarding house.  Oh... Gosh, I miss that place so much.

I won't think about it.  I'm going to a good place for a good price that will help me get out of debt and pay for a wedding.  No regrets!  Make it happen!

I'm off to listen to more of The Dave Ramsey Show before I get to leave work.  It's sooooooo slllooooooowwwwwww today.  Blerg.

Later, gators.

Give this man a medal.

My boyfriend is just... so patient with me. *L*

Ramseynista

When I decided to become a Catholic after a decade as an atheist, I think a lot of my friends were worried I'd become all obnoxious about religion.  Now I do believe in living my faith, but I'm not an evangelist in the usual sense.  I don't approach strangers and ask, "Have you heard about Jeeeezus?"  So my friends and family were relieved that I took my faith very seriously, but also kept it pretty personal.

But then I found Dave Ramsey.

And now, instead of worrying that I might whip out my Bible at the table when we go to dinner, my friends live in a state of anxiety that I might whip out my budget.  I cannot stop talking about this guy and how he's changed my life.

That Guy introduced me to Dave Ramsey when we started getting to know each other, and a few months after we started dating, I began to notice weird things about my boyfriend.  For starters, payday was just the day he got paid.  It wasn't a biweekly event that triggered bipolar highs and lows as he moved from relief that his bank account would have money in it again for the first time in a week and a half to dread about all the money that would shortly be removed from his bank account to fear about how he'd make it to the next payday.  Which, as you've probably already guessed, is what payday was for me.

Now I'd have told you I was doing pretty great financially.  And, compared to a lot of my friends, I was.  My bills were (usually) paid, nothing ever got shut off, and all of the collectors who called me or sent me letters were talking about debts that were at least five years old, so... you know.  I wasn't complaining.  I'd never visited a payday lender, and when it had come time for me to buy a new car, I hadn't had to go to Drive Time or some other buy-here-pay-here place.  No, I'd been able to walk into a real, reputable dealership and get financing.  Also a ridiculous interest rate that was only slightly better than what a scummy buy-here-pay-here place would have charged me, but that wasn't the point.  The point was my life appeared to be pretty stable.  I didn't have the embarrassing, obvious "BROKE" labels taped to my forehead.

But money still stressed me out constantly.  I never had enough of it to do what I wanted to do, and if an emergency came up, I never even had enough to do what I needed to do.  A few times I even had to go begging for enough gas money to get to work, and that experience always left me feeling ashamed, guilty, and worthless for weeks afterwards.

But I still thought I was in pretty good shape.  And, again, compared to a lot of the people I knew, I was.  I was normal.  After all, it's normal to have a car payment.  It's normal to live paycheck-to-paycheck.  It's normal to have a wonky, suffocating debt-to-income ratio.  When I lamented my situation to others, I was informed, with varying degrees of patience and sympathy, that I didn't have it nearly that bad and it could be worse.

So I was perfectly normal.  But you know what I've learned?  Normal is broke.

I learned that from Dave Ramsey, though it's something I think I always knew, something I think everybody knows.  We all think (because we're taught) that debt is a privilege.  I remember my first credit card being literally presented to me, the way a queen receives a crown on her coronation.  The only thing missing was the fancy velvet pillow.  It was a huge deal that I could now buy things I couldn't afford.  And I did.  And I couldn't tell you what any of it was or where any of it is now, ten years later.

I always suspected that there was something messed up about the way we handle our money in this country, but I could never put my finger on it.  For starters, I just thought I was one of those people who didn't have a head for numbers.  Never mind that, when I worked really hard in college, I aced my math classes.  Clearly, I had the foundation of basic addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division necessary to run my household on a basic budget.  I just seemed to think -- as many of my friends and family members do -- that as soon as money became the topic of conversation, my I.Q. went down about 75 points.  So I didn't talk about it, and I tried to think about it as little as possible.  And I kept doing this, while occasionally having to beg my parents for gas or food money, for a few years before That Guy came into my life and brought Dave Ramsey with him.

It would be tacky for me to discuss That Guy's financial history without his permission, but I think it's safe to tell you that he worked the Ramsey plan before we met and had a tremendous amount of success with it.  He didn't make it sound easy when I casually asked him about it.  He told me he worked three jobs at one point.  He told me about the trouble he got into, and what I got was that this wasn't somebody who had some gift with money.  This was somebody like me.  This was somebody who'd ignored his finances, assumed the norm (being broke) was, if not fine, well, normal, and who thought that when it came to money management, you were either born with what it took, or you weren't.  And here he was, debt-free.  Here he was, totally clear-headed about money.  He was proof that it wasn't magic; it was hard work and sacrifice, but not magic.

I wanted it.

So I shyly asked if he'd maybe help me set up a budget.  The next thing I knew he'd created a beautiful, custom zero-based budget spreadsheet for me over the course of an afternoon.  The first time we sat down to plug in my numbers, I marveled at how, when I gave every dollar a name, my money not only did what I told it to do, there was actually enough left over to save.  I'd never had any money to save before!  And suddenly, without getting a raise or a bonus or even a birthday card with an extra $20 inside of it, I had money to save!

I completed Baby Step One in the Ramsey Total Money Makeover plan (That Guy loaned the book to me): $1,000 in the bank for an emergency fund.  I came back from lunch with my deposit slip and had to resist the urge to tape it to my forehead and walk around the office.  I felt a weight I hadn't even known was there had been lifted from my shoulders.  And only a few weeks after completing this step, on the way to Washington D.C. at Christmas, both of my front tires blew out on the interstate, first one, then the other, eighty miles apart.  Never mind the hassle of trying to find somebody to come out and give roadside assistance on Christmas Day, never mind the feelings of ill-omen starting a vacation this way, I was absolutely dying thinking about how I was going to pay for it.  That Guy would have to loan me the money, which would put stress on our relationship and throw it out of balance.  Or my parents would have to give it to me, which would make me feel small and worthless and like a giant loser again.

And then I remembered:  I had the money.  This was an emergency, and I had an emergency fund.  It took me a full twenty minutes to remember that money was there, but when I did, it changed everything about the situation.  We were blessed to find somebody to come out and help us, and we were doubly blessed that he actually gave us a deal rather than use the holiday and the urgency to rip off a couple of out-of-towners.  (You'd better bet I lit candles and prayed for him that following Sunday at Mass)  When the second tire blew (and, believe it or not, I actually laughed when it did.  What else could I do?  It was unbelievable!), we were blessed to have spare tire, to find a reasonably priced, comfortable hotel nearby, and to find a locally-owned tire place nearby the next morning, which gave us an even better deal than the man had on Christmas Day and put more air in our flat donut.  (They also got candles and prayers on Sunday.)

My point?  Life happens.  And when you're prepared for it, curses turn into blessings.  Take my word for it.

But the emergency find is only Step One, and I'd say that, of the pre-debt steps, it's the easiest.  The hardest?  I'm in it now.  Two words: Debt. Snowball.

The Ramsey debt snowball is intense.  If you do it right, it consumes your life, though I'd say it's less like a wildfire and more like a giant blanket.  The debt is the wildfire.  The Debt snowball is the thing that smothers it.  And I have wrapped myself up in my debt snowball like a human burrito.  It's all I think about some days.  I pinch every penny I can in order to have more dollars to throw at my debt.  I find that I don't even enjoy the things I used to fritter away my money on (though I will again someday when I'm debt-free) because I can't stop thinking about how much sooner I could pay off my car or my student loans if I hadn't gone to Starbucks. 

Ramsey would refer to me as a Nerd.  I love doing my budget, I live for the days I can enter an extra payment into my debt payoff calculator and see a month or two (or three, or four) get knocked off at once.  But I've actually started to think of myself a little bit differently.  I prefer to refer to myself as a Ramseynista.

Back when I reviewed books, I started getting a lot of self-help and lifestyle books that used the word "Recessionista."  It's a term that sprang up around 2009 or 2010, and it describes a stylish, fashionable young woman (a former "Fashionista") who's learned how to cut corners due to the Recession while still remaining stylish and fashionable.  I kind of resented the term, because, as a broke chick, I'd pretty much always had to cut corners.  I certainly didn't feel sorry for (or inspired by) the girls who "learned" that they could buy Marc Jacob bags and Christian Louboutin shoes on consignment and only spend $200 or $300 on the merchandise instead of full price!

But I did give them kudos for the branding.  "Recssionista" was a great, memorable word, one that the media picked up on.  But it seemed to me that the recessionistas were simply biding their time until they could afford to ditch the consignment shops and go back to the mall.  They were discovering clever little ways to beat the system while the system was obviously broken while still maintaining the appearance of the lifestyle.  And that wasn't me.

But I am a Ramseynista, 100%.  My favorite dates with my boyfriend are the Thursday evenings after RCIA when we do my budget together.  I may not have a Louis Vuitton bag that I only paid $500 for on eBay, but I have an emergency fund and the peace of mind that comes with it.  I might not have a shiny Macbook Pro (yet), but, go ahead, ask to see my biweekly budget projections for the next six months; it'll blow your mind.  I may not have a sporty little car, but I have a great car that will be paid off in full by my next birthday, and it will be the last car payment I ever have.  I like clothes and purses and shoes, but I love anticipating 401(k) and investments earning statements.  I love knowing that there is no reason, apart from just not giving a rip, that my kids won't be able to afford college, that I won't be able to afford to retire at 65, that my life will be one in which money is a tool and a blessing, not a burden and a curse. 

In order for something to change your life, you have to let it.  Embrace the Ramseynista within.  It's worth all the sacrifice, I promise, and my light at the end of the tunnel is currently just a pin-prick.  If you want to see some truly amazing things from some Ramseynistas who've gotten out of their tunnels, visit DaveRamsey.com. (Link opens in new window.)

Later, gators, and God bless.

Bad Dreams, Better Reality

I had a dream last night that I was being held hostage.  Well, not really hostage.  There was no ransom.  This man was just keeping me locked up and telling me about all the horrible things he was going to do (or had done) to my loved ones.  It was awful.  I can't exactly remember what the man looked like except that he was pretty normal.  I mean, he didn't look like the type.  It seems to me that, at one point in the dream, I thought he looked like a college professor or something.  And he didn't say anything about hurting me.  I didn't feel as if my life were in danger.  He just seemed to want to do brutally awful things to my friends and family and boyfriend (and even the animals I love) and then let me go. 

So, anyway, I woke up at 4:40 this morning completely wigged out and scared.  I hate it when my own head turns on me that way.  Having an anxiety disorder is bad enough sometimes when other people are involved, but when I'm asleep and my own brain comes up with this stuff and won't leave me alone, it's awful.  I had the hardest time getting out of bed this morning because I was still freaked out and really exhausted.

I should have known it would happen, though.  I was on edge most of the day yesterday.  I even had to take something in the middle of Mass.  It seemed like there was so much noise, and I couldn't block it out and focus on Monsignor.

Sometimes I hate that this happens to me.  It makes me feel weak and damaged.  Even though it's been like this my whole life; it just wasn't diagnosed until last year. 

I wonder if it will get better when I'm married?  A lot of my anxiety right now is centered on That Guy and whether or not he'll get sick of me.  It seems like it's more difficult for me to be in a relationship sometimes.  More difficult for me than for other people, I mean.  I spend too much time worrying about doing something wrong, like it will flip a switch and make that person not love me anymore.  Or love me, but not be in love with me.  Make them not want to be with me.  You know?  I struggle very much with feelings of self-worth and self-doubt.  I know I'm capable of great things, like anybody else, I just fear rejection by others more than probably anything else.  It's the worst feeling.  The absolute worst.

And, yes, it's happened to me.  Not an, "I'm just not that into you," kind of thing, but actual rejection.  I think I'd feared it in the vague way most people do before that, but once I experienced it it became a preoccupation.  I never, never, never want to experience that kind of thing ever again, as long as I live.

Hoooooooo.  I feel like I need to take a deep breath.  Maybe stretch.  I wish I could get a massage or something.

I'm taking steps right now to try to be a stronger person.  Well, that's not fair.  I am a strong person.  In spite of all my anxiety, when it comes right down to it, I'm the person people rely on.  It's one of those weird things about me; I fear the unknown to the point of distraction sometimes (not all the time, but sometimes), but when faced with a problem that makes other people freak out, I'm right there with a cool head and a plan of action.  But, anyway, back to what I was saying.  I'm taking steps to build a stronger foundation for myself in hopes of eliminating a lot of the omnipresent fears I have, which sometimes make my whole world feel like it could fall apart.

The biggest thing is my finances.  I'm following the Dave Ramsey baby steps, and I'm currently in my debt snowball.  I filed my taxes on Friday and know what kind of refund I'm getting, and all of it's going towards my debt snowball.  My biggest monthly payment could be eliminated as early as August (though I'm going to work to get it knocked out even earlier than that.  It's a personal challenge to myself). 

Money has always been a major source of anxiety for me.  My parents aren't great with it, so I learned next to nothing about how to handle it.  I also bought into the myths about money, like "Everybody has a car payment, there's nothing wrong with it," and, "Credit cards are a privilege."  I also got into a bad habit (inherited from my mom) of equating shopping with happiness.  So when I was sad?  I went shopping.  I still struggle with this sometimes, if I’m honest.  Though, the few times I’ve actually gone shopping on purpose, I’ve discovered that I actually hate it.  Like, hate it.  That Guy likes shopping more than I do.  I can shop more easily for stuff for the kitchen or apartment or other people.  I love grocery shopping in really nice grocery stores (Fresh Market, Whole Foods, etc.), but clothes shopping makes me feel bad, mostly because I associate it with so much misery.  Meaning all my clothes shopping in the past got me into tremendously bad situations.

So, anyway, getting out of debt, following a budget, having an emergency fund, all of these things already give me peace of mind.  I can actually think about my finances to calm myself down when I’m anxious about other things.  Do you understand how insane that is for me?  I love it, though.  It lets me know that I’m on the right track.

That Guy is the person who got me started with this.  I told him once that, even if we broke up, he’s changed my life for the better in a permanent way.  Not that we’re in danger of breaking up or anything, my point was just that I wanted to let him know how significant this is.  And also?  We’re on the same page financially, before we’re even engaged.  We don’t have combined finances, we operate separately, but both of our budgets are transparent to each other.  We’ve talked in GREAT detail about how we feel about debt, loans, spending, etc.  We both think Dave Ramsey is more or less a prophet (*L*).  I see the way other people talk (or don’t talk) about money, and I know That Guy and I have something different.  Beautifully different.  And because of him, even if I wind up on my own, my life as a single, debt-free person will still be beautiful.  It’s a gift.  I hope I can pass it on to others someday.

Wow!  Would you believe that the way I felt when I started writing this post is completely different from the way I feel now?  See?  I told you talking about money calms me down.  *L*  What a complete turn-around from this time last year.  Thank God.

Later, gators.

The Eyes Have It

Is there a certain part of your features that you like to play up?  I like to make sure my eyes are done properly before I go out.  It's amazing to me how a bit of concealer, mascara, liner, and shadow can make a huge difference to my appearance.  I don't wear much makeup, but I get a little obsessive about my eyes.

For a long time I only ever wore brown mascara.  Somebody told me that people with my coloring shouldn't ever wear black because it was too harsh.  But I bought some black mascara once because it was all they had at the makeup counter, and I was too impatient to wait or to go home and order some online.  And, as it turns out, what they say about black mascara being a staple is true.  It doesn't look too harsh, I think.  It really makes my eyes pop.  I will say that, if I didn't want to look too sultry, I might go with my old brown color, but these days I really like the contrast of dark black lashes against the color of my eyes.  (Blue-green.)

I'm a bit of a snob when it comes to brands, though.  I don't buy the most expensive (though I keep wanting to try a high-end brand, just for fun, but not until I'm out of debt), but I definitely don't go any lower than Clinique.  I have used Almay in a pinch, and I'd say it's the best drugstore brand I've found.  My eyes are really sensitive, and it doesn't make them itch, water, or burn.  Clinique's Naturally Glossy mascara is my favorite everyday brand, though. The lash-doubling stuff is good, too.  Anything that thickens is fine by me.  My nervous habit is picking at my eyelashes, so they can get thin.  Though wearing mascara keeps me from doing that, which is another reason I'll take the time, even on hectic mornings, to make up my eyes.

I also wear reading glasses while I sit at my desk and work, and I think us ladies who wear frames more often than not have an advantage when it comes to our eye makeup.  It's like we walk around wearing picture frames around our peepers all day, right?  I thought glasses would hamper my makeup look, but, if anything, it's enhanced it.  I feel like I use liner and mascara differently now; it's definitely more dramatic.

One thing I'm kind of chicken about, though, is color.  I see some neat looks on Pinterest and some of my favorite fashion blogs, but I think I'd feel way too conspicuous walking around with green or blue or orange eye shadow.  I tend to wear taupe, light pink, smokey gray-browns, and chocolate browns.  Sometimes I'll add gold or an off-white in the inner corners.  Pretty boring, right?  I feel like I've outgrown crazy makeup looks, though.  Maybe if I have a daughter someday I can live vicariously through her cute makeup and fashions.  (Which reminds me, I hope she is into genuinely cute stuff, not club-"cute" stuff.  I know this will make me sound a million years old, but THE THINGS GIRLS WEAR THESE DAYS!)

In other news, I just started delving into Netflix on That Guy's PlayStation 3.  I realize I'm out of the loop here, but DOWNTON ABBEY!  YAY!  I've only seen the first season, but I adored it.  I know some pretty major things happened in episode one of the latest season, but I don't mind knowing.  I still want to catch up.  Besides, half the fun is seeing all the clothes.  :D

I remember watching Upstairs/Downstairs when I was a kid on PBS.  We didn't have cable for a long time when I was growing up, so I have many fond memories of PBS shows.  It's funny now, because it makes people think I'm cultured or something.  Sometimes I don't like to disabuse them of this notion by telling them my family was just really broke. *L*  I'm not complaining, though.

Well, to my Netflix.  Later, gators.