Posted on by shirindawna

losing faith.

lately i’ve been bombarded with stories about cheaters/liars/jerkface boys. it makes me so so sad.

‘i want so badly to believe that there is truth and love is real’

i don’t understand. what’s the point of being in a relationship if you’re gonna cheat and lie and run around? if that’s what you wanna do, go be single! i just don’t get it.

in all fairness, i’ve been guilty of boyfriend borrowing. it wasn’t intentional. and i was young. and selfish. and very, very different. now, i know better. (read: got a taste of my own medicine and it was BITTER!)

in any case, i don’t condone cheating. or lying (unless it’s absolutely necessary. for instance: no, i’ve had those boots forever! i didn’t just buy them yesterday during my lunch break).

one (read: several) of my ex-boyfriends think it’s okay to text me obscene comments about umm…you know…the ‘stuff’ (mom, dad, and current boyfriend: i have NEVER done anything inappropriate, not till i’m married, i promise!) anyway, it’s gross. pathetic. and really really sucky for their new girls. at one point i may have found it flattering. i mean, i love the idea that my exes are all sitting at home crying over losing the best thing they ever had. but now, i just feel horribly for their new girlfriends. and of course it sends me down the whole ‘was he doing this while we were together?!’ path. and that road is just ugly. so, i’m staying off it.

but seriously, all the stories about liars and cheaters make me sick to my stomach. and make me want to never get married or trust anyone. it’s sad.

please world, stop making me sad.

Posted on by shirindawna

this is the fear, this is the dread, these are the contents of my head.

i’m suffering from massive blogger’s block. at this point, i have seven half-written blogs. i can’t bring myself to finish them. i’m not sure what my malfunction is…if i had to hazard a guess, i’d say it’s a bad case of the crazies mixed with a little wanderlust.

i battle the crazy on a daily (read: minute by minute) basis.

the fact is, i’m completely neurotic, often anxious, and get caught up in these insane hypotheticals that i invent in my own head. i don’t know why i’m sharing this. i don’t know why i share most of the things i do…especially since i’m not really a fan of sharing. ask my mom. (about my inability to share, not about what a head case i am)

don’t get me wrong. i mean, i think i’m fabulous, but i recognize that even in all my amazing-ness – there is room for improvement. let’s not get too deep here though, that’s a different topic for another day. i just spent the better part of the morning trapped in my head over-analyzing something that i just need to let go.

apparently, ‘letting go’ for me somehow translates to ‘i need a vacation’ (just go with it). and so i’m sitting here…thinking/plotting/planning where i’d like to go. and then i realize: it doesn’t matter where you go, honey. you gotta take all your crazy with you.

so, for now. i’m staying put. in my head.

watch out, world. (read: poor, sweet boyfriend who has to put up with me)

Posted on by shirindawna · 1 Comment

mad libs for lovers.

once upon a time, i had a boyfriend. boyfriend & i broke up. i decide to write ex-boyfriend lovely, heartfelt letter. i poured my heart and soul into it. i shared everything i had always wanted to tell him, but never had the guts to say. instead of tucking it away like you’re supposed to do with such pieces of writing, i sent it.

fast forward a few years…i come to find that ex-boyfriend has taken MY letter and sent it to another girl AS HIS OWN! what the cuss is that about?! don’t steal my words and sentiments and pass them off as your own. i still can’t understand how she would’ve ever believed that those were his words. i mean, really?! he can’t write like that. the letter was clearly from someone with far more self-awareness than he has (no time for modesty, the letter was really really good).

anyhow, so i’m telling my best friend about this and he thinks up a great idea. i should just do standardized letters for people. mad libs for lovers, if you will.

some of the possible themes we discussed:

i love you so much
i’m sorry i cheated (with your sister/mom/dad/brother/best friend)
you should get tested
i hate what you got me for my birthday
the baby isn’t yours
i want you to move out
my life was better before you
i’ve never been happier
our breakup makes me sad, but i look so good (without you)

did i forget any?

Posted on by shirindawna

race to the altar.

i was thinking today…about past relationships. and the whole contest thing. you know what i’m talking about: the ‘i’m so much happier without you and i’m in love and he’s so much better than you’ thing. it’s a contest. sure, we don’t admit it. or really talk about it…but it is. and if your ex-boyfriend gets married before you, then you lose. (yeah yeah, put aside all that marrying the right person crap. blah blah. i KNOW! clearly, i know. still single, remember?!) anyway, even less talked about is the whole race among girl friends. of course we all want our best pals to be happy. and blissfully so. but i won’t lie and say i didn’t relate to kim kardashian’s (self-indulgent) temper tantrum as her younger sister lived out her wedding dream. (albeit, khloe married a laker not a saint. tomato. tomatoh.)

wrong timing. wrong guy. wrong state. wrong ring. wrong, wrong, wrong. i know (without a doubt) that i’d rather be single than with the wrong guy. the fact is, i don’t believe in divorce and i’d rather spend eternity alone than with someone i’m not completely crazy about. but sometimes (read: very recently since turning 29), i wonder…why not me? why hasn’t it happened for me yet?

and then, i remember: i’m exactly where i’m supposed to be. sharing my thoughts in a very public diary and thus ensuring that it’ll be a long long time before it’s my time. and i’m okay with that. most of the time.

Posted on by shirindawna · 1 Comment

dylan vs brandon?

shirin circa 1991 was team brandon. completely.

jason priestley: my first celebrity crush (i’m choosing to ignore my actual first crush. jordan from nkotb. it was a crush-fling really. super intense. super short. super embarrassing)

anyway, back to brandon. i had pillowcases. i had a heart shaped locket with his face on it. i got rid of my ken doll so barbie could hook up with a cool, cool priestley plastic replica. complete with brown suede jacket, plaid boxers (yes, i peeked), and silver medallion necklace.

i was obsessed. i gushed to my 6th grade boyfriend about my love for jason (sorry ben, you were smart…but not so dreamy). sweet sweet jason. he was intelligent, kind, from the middle, dreamy, and those eyes. ooooh THOSE EYES! they changed colors, you know. i had a poster (ripped out of teen beat, i think) of his face. it was a 2 page fold-out from the center of the magazine so there was a tear in his cheek from where the staple was. it annoyed me that the magazine would defile him in that way. i was also peeved that there was a luke perry photo on the flip side. so on the rare (read: frequent) occasion that i pressed my prepubescent face against jason’s and whispered sweet nothings, i was always concerned that luke would hear and think i was talking to him. yes, i feared that luke perry would show up at my door and expect me to love him the way i loved brandon. yes, i’ve always had irrational fears. it used to be wolves. now, it’s poodles. only the standard ones, the miniature ones don’t bug me much.

anyway, today i saw a photo of luke perry. and i thought, DAMN! why was i so into brandon again? i mean, i’ve always been a sucker for the whole ‘i’m broken and desperately need fixing’ thing. plus, dylan had his own place and that foxxxy old car! and then i remembered (read: googled incessantly for the next hour) those eyes. and so while jason priestley circa 2009 does not appeal to me, in the least ~ there DID exist a time when brandon walsh was my walking dream.

alas, give me a sweet, intelligent, dreamy boy from the middle over the spoiled, alcoholic, too-cool guy any day. sigh. my dear sweet brandon, i’d pick you over dylan, time and time again. you were (and always will be) my first true love (read: lusssst) crush.

i’d like to think that i’ve matured…and i have. but my taste in boys has remained largely the same.