Second, the big news…

Here is my new blog!!!

It’s called A Patchwork of Daydreams and I’ll be prettifying it up over the next few weeks, but it is, for all intents and purposes, ready to go.

All I ask is that you respect my request to restore anonymity to my blogging. I’ll have an alias and C.B. will be getting a real name alias. I fell in love with my Cabana Boy, but really, he has become so much more to me than that pet name I dubbed him with so early on in things. Rex and Luna will be keeping their real names, you know, so things don’t get too confused.

And as to why I picked something that I didn’t even give you all as an option, well, I’ll tell you.

It was down to Terminal Verbosity and Porcelain in a Paper Cup World. C.B. and I were sitting out in the giant wading pool he bought for the back yard (that’s what happens when he can’t find good supports for a hammock…he goes and buys a giant blow up pool) and I asked him which of the two he liked better. He felt (and I agreed) that while I often do run off at the mouth (fingertips?), there are also times when I’m short and blunt. And I also felt like if I used Terminal Verbosity I’d end up with a jet engine motif on the new blog. Porcelain was the one that actually appealed to me more, but it also focused a bit on a negative aspect of my existence, which is that I never quite feel like I fit into my environment. While it is true, it’s not necessarily something I want to define my personal thoughts day to day.

I also started to mention the chasing butterflies idea and how it had come from a post I’d written that really spoke a lot about who I was, and that’s when I remembered another part of that post. The part where I said: I chose the unknown over stability…because I’m a daydreamer. My life is a patchwork of my dream driven decisions, and I suppose I’ve led a life less usual than some due to this fact.

And there it was, the title for my new blog.

So there you have it. Lilac Colored Glasses documents the last three years of my life and it will always be here in some form or another, although I may password protect it once I’m pretty sure you’ve all found your way over to the new place. Once I do so, you are more than welcome to email me and ask for the password. Chances are I’ll give it to you, I just want to assure my anonymity.

Thank you all again for making this whole blogging thing so worthwhile for me. enjoy the photos and I hope to see you over on A Patchwork of Daydreams.

I’ve come up with several potential names for my new blog and I’d really like it if you all could give me your input/opinions.

Violet Sky
Snagged from this song by MIKA, an artist whose music I’m really growing to love. I really relate to the concept of a perpetually shifting identity in the song, plus I’d be keeping the purple imagery, for consistency-sake, although I guess that contradicts the concept I’d be trying to embrace.

Porcelain in a Paper Cup World
Snagged from this song by Kerli from the Alice in Wonderland soundtrack. Not only does it reference one of my all time favorite books, but it also sort of reflects how I often feel out of place in the world, be it stateside or here in Europe. Plus tea parties can be whimsical and fun or alternatingly formal and severe. I guess I’d be juxtaposing my own nature onto the concept of a tea party.

Painting Flowers
Taken from yet another song, this one by All Time Low. If you get the wrong colored rose bush, why not paint it to look how you want it? Another reference from Alice in Wonderland, I see this as a much more entertaining and beautiful metaphor for the making lemonade from lemons thing. Not that I don’t like lemonade, but the idea of painting flowers, in my opinion is much more aesthetic. And personally, while life has given me many flowers, most of which I have, in some manner, been thankful for, they are rarely, if ever, the color I’ve wanted them to be. I’ve had to make due and try to paint them as I see fit. Some have turned out much prettier than others.

Butterflies and Bubbles (alternately Chasing Butterflies/Bubbles)
This one is referencing an original post of mine, here. That post is probably one of my most accurate and insightful observations regarding myself, my own nature, and my reactions to my own culpability. I sum myself up very well here because really, no matter how old I get I will always be chasing those butterflies and bubbles, sometimes to the point where I run myself right off the edge of a cliff without knowing it.

Terminal Verbosity
This is a last minute addition because damn. If you can read and understand all the stuff I just wrote and you’re not drooling on your keyboard by now, you should be able to get why this name popped into my head.

So yeah, please weigh in and give me some feedback. My next day off is Sunday and I’d like to make some steps towards moving then.

For now.

All of my posts have been backed up and saved, so all of the writing I’ve done on this blog so far is safe from being forever lost in the mucky mire of the internet.

However, I’m still not so keen on this yearly violation of my space. Plus, like I said before, this blog, as it is, no longer really reflects who I am or what my life is about anymore.

So what I’ve decided to do is go back to a hosted blog site (wavering on which one to use) and pretty much create a new blog that will link back to this current one in case anyone would want to read the old stuff.

I’m still trying to decide on a name for the new blog so I’d like to invite anyone reading this to give some suggestions. A few have crossed my mind and I’ll share those with you in a week or so, after I have a look at any suggestions you all might have for me.

In the meantime, I’ll most likely post here a bit while I’m working on the new blog’s setup/design/etc. because well, I guess I just can’t give blogging up for now. I’ve had at least ten ideas for posts in the last week and I’d be lying to myself if I said a stupid hacker had erased the joy I get from rambling on about myself.

I’m such an egotist.

I’m still deciding on whether or not I’ll pursue a new one or not, but if I do, I’ll post here to let any remaining readers know where you all can find me.

Wow.

There really is no amount of words to describe the past month of my life. I could seriously fill an immense chunk of virtual notebook pages if I tried to touch on everything that has gone on, but I think most of you out there got the gist of it.

On May 23 CB and I flew to my home in Pittsburgh, on May 30th I turned 29 and we were legally married in a beautiful ceremony in the heart of downtown Pittsburgh. Most of my friends and family were there to celebrate with us as well as 13 of CB’s family members as well. A couple days later we flew back to Belgium, barely finished unpacking and then welcomed my parents and my brother and his girlfriend to Gent for our Belgian wedding reception on June 12. No ceremony the second time around, just a spectacular and pyrotechnic (hopefully there will be pictures soon so I can explain what I mean) dinner and party where CB’s family, friends and colleagues (along with some of my blogging and barista friends) could come to celebrate our marriage. Not many brides have the opportunity to wear their dress twice, but like many other things in my life, I guess I got to do something unique.

On top of the wedding festivities, two other major things have happened.

My brother Scooter proposed to his girlfriend while they were on the Eiffel Tower in Paris and she said yes.
And CB’s doctoral thesis was finally 100% accepted by the jury selected to review it by Ghent University.

So aside from becoming a happily wedded wife, I’m also gaining a second sister-in-law (eventually) and a doctor (Ph.D) for a husband.

And after all of that, when I finally got a day or two to sleep in and pay some attention to the inner workings of my head, I really began reflecting on where I am in life compared to the same time last year.

I won’t drag you through any linky flashbacks, but I will say that this time last year I was jobless and hopeless and frustrated. I was feeling like a failure in my language abilities and I had run out of anything to write about because I found myself doing nothing but complaining.

And now, here I am, working full time, looking into starting up an intro course to French (not that my Dutch is even close to perfect, but it’s pretty fluent according to what most people have told me), married and realizing that, for now, at least, my life has reached the next plateau.

My biggest choice currently is whether we should go to Paris or London for a weekend getaway in August.

And I’m looking at my blog and realizing that, well, the me that started it is no longer entirely the me that is writing it. I’m not the timid suburban daycare worker trying to find her way in a new relationship and a new city anymore.

Methinks it’s high time for an overhaul!

(and no worries, there will be lots and lots of wedding photos, we just need to compile them and take out anything we deem too fugly for public viewing)

I don’t mean little factoids, but rather moods or behaviors. I also can tell you that these discoveries are fairly one sided (with a few exceptions, of course, like the first time I ever saw CB really drunk, which wasn’t until earlier this month).

For example, let me first introduce you to two of my friends, Blingy and Strong Mama (formerly referred to as my Dutch and Romanian colleagues):

Blingy

Strong Mama

Blingy and Strong Mama are probably my first real real friends here in Belgium (there’s also La Capitana and Chica, who I’m sure will end up in another post at some point). By real friends I mean that I met them on my own, we got along wonderfully from day one and we hang out outside of work.
I know those are things that sound simple, but for me, it’s actually a big thing to make friends. I have many acquaintances, but only a few real friends. Up until recently I met most people either directly through CB or through his prodding me to socialize. My coworkers from the call center in Antwerp were all very nice people but I never felt motivated to ever spend time with them outside of work and my two coworkers from Brussels were a. primarily French speaking and b. not people I could really relate to whatsoever.

So anyway, the three of us went out on Thursday afternoon, just to hang out a bit before I’d be gone for almost 2 weeks and we had a blast, like we usually do. It’s not that we did much…mostly walked around Gent in search of an open restaurant with a terrace because Strong Mama is pregnant and craving meat and fresh air a lot of the time. We eventually found a nice Turkish place with an open kitchen and terrace and fake palms trees.

Afterwards we went on a long ambling walk in search of the best gelato in Gent. I know where to find this amazing ice cream (a little place called Nonno on the Korte Dagsteeg), but not a short way to get there from where we were. On the way, CB called and said he was finished working so I asked him to come meet us. We all sat with our ice cream and chatted before I finally said goodbye to my friends who headed back the train station and CB and I came home.

Once we got back, CB looked at me strangely and asked me if I’d had much to drink at the Turkish place.
Because he’s never seen me acting like I was with Blingy and Strong Mama with the exception of when I was under the influence. Because I was acting carefree and silly and giggly. Because I was with my friends.

And he’s never actually seen that before.

I guess we can say I’ve lost my ball, but the chain is still wrapped around my neck. Well, more like my thighs/butt, upper arms, waist and especially my boobs.

And you’re all probably still very confused.

I’m talking about my weight, a topic which I usually avoid, but occasionally address when I feel like wallowing for a while.

See, I haven’t really mentioned it but over the past 3 months or so I’ve really been watching how I eat and I also started biking to and from work. Five days out of the week I count the calories I’m eating and try to stay between 1200-1300 a day.

And I’m a staunch bitch those five days.

The other two days I allow myself leeway and try to eat within reason, without counting.
But honestly, I usually let it get out of control. Or at least I was until finally, this past Thursday and Friday when I wasn’t counting, and also didn’t gain any weight back.

So cut to the chase, you’re probably screaming, man up and tell us how much you’ve lost!!

Well, the answer to that is about 32 pounds (14.55 kilo) and I’ve lost 2 clothing sizes.

How much more do I have to  lose to meet my goal and to be at a more or less healthy weight pre-breast reduction (haven’t mentioned this, but yes, I plan on getting my DDD’s reduced to C’s)? Well, another 20 pounds.

And I find that I’m constantly asking myself when I will finally be finished losing weight.

Really, it feels like the last 15 or so years of my life has been spent trying to lose weight. Be it from peer pressure, the desire to share clothes with all my size 2 friends in high school, or doctors telling me I was overweight (according to bell curves, which in my opinion, is bullshit, but it’s not like trips to nutritionists and dietitians for more accurate measurements is cheap). I played soccer 9 months of the year from the time I was 9 until I was 18, but I was always overweight.

I still am, and I probably always will be overweight, although I think 5-10 pounds over is acceptable. I just don’t want to be obese anymore. I want to shop in regular stores and I don’t want to cry when I look in the mirror. I want to actually see eating and food as something to enjoy, rather than an exercise in mathematics and guilt. Because yes, counting the calories works but it makes me neurotic and pushes me into such a concrete mindset that I actually get nauseous and lose my appetite if I can’t accurately calculate how many calories I’m eating. And if I’m put in a position where I lose track of my daily calories, I quickly spiral into massive overeating for the rest of the day because I feel defeated until bedtime.

It’s just that, I feel that anytime I stop counting, I stop losing. Or worse, start gaining.

I’m currently 197 pounds (89.6 kilos). It is the least I’ve weighed since I was about 23 years old. It’s not what I wanted to be for my wedding, but it’s 60% better than it was 6 months ago, when the only thing I hated about my dress was the body that was in it. Every time I feel discouraged or disgusted I keep in mind that I’ve gotten more than halfway towards something that used to feel impossible.

I just have to find the resolve to keep going till the end.

I continued looking for a minute, trying to remember the fish and the name, but then I noticed something that totally erased my analytical interest; his mouth was still moving as he bobbed along on the current. The poor thing was still alive.
“Probably got hit by a boat propellor,” CB said, matter of factly.
I shuddered as we turned away and continued walking, stating that things like that really made me consider vegetarianism.

Which is true, but there was something else niggling at me as well.

That wide-eyed, wounded animal, relentlessly pushing water over his gills, despite an obviously fatal injury.
Was he scared?
In pain?
In shock?
Simply operating on instinctual cerebellar autopilot as his consciousness ebbed away?

It just seemed so unfair. Not that the fish would die, of course, as that’s eventually what every living thing does at some point – but the suffering. That was the thing that struck me so hard. There’s a small part of me that crumples and folds slightly when I witness the helpless suffering of pretty much anything, really. Uprooted trees, trapped insects running out of air, injured animals, dying Parkinsons patients… obviously it takes longer for that crumpled part of me to recover in some cases than in others. But I still feel it every time. I avoid watching the news because of it and I’ve decided not to pursue certain careers because of it (nursing, veterinary sciences). I’m unhealthily empathetic.

And while I know there was probably no way that the boat that hit the bream could have known to avoid it, and afterwards there was probably no way to save it, I still wish there was something to be done. Something to even out the utter injustice of any creature having to suffer needlessly.

You know what I mean?

After we’d been tortured enough, we all went to the Drupelkot for a jenever (gin) and then to my Mexican coworker’s house where we all had some tequila and quite a bit of amaretto as well as a few appetizers before heading back to the center for dinner and lots of wine at a Turkish restaurant. We ended up in a salsa bar where my manager talked me into trying a caipirinha (she didn’t have to try very hard to talk me into anything at that point) and I rounded it all off with two Westmalle triples. Needless to say logical thought was no longer an option.

Apparently I had a lot to say about ninjas and bazookas while my Romanian colleague was driving us home/to our respective crash pads.

Last night I was treated to a nice vegetarian dinner by the wives/partners of CB’s friends and CB’s sister while CB was off being drowned in booze by his friends. After dinner we went for a long gondola ride through Gent, stopping for an apperitief under a large willow tree.

All I was told was I had to dress like the 1940′s, with a flower in my hair, so I made my best attempt, although I wore jeans for the part I have pictures from and changed into my skirt later when we reunited with the menfolk. Half of them had to leave early because they were no longer able to behave themselves in public. If I can convince CB to let me post any of it you’ll be hearing more about it later. I will just say I’ve never seen him drunk before, especially not dressed up as Rene Artois from ‘Allo ‘Allo!, so from what I can tell his night was pretty interesting. Anyway, it ended up being the anniversary of when Belgium was liberated from the Germans in WWII so we finally ended up at a ’40′s themed party in a club in town where we did a little dancing, encouraged our respective menfolk to drink extra water, and finally headed for home.

So, like I said, two veeeery different parties, but both very enjoyable.
Makes me wonder what my Pittsburgh bachelorette party will be like…