Humdrum.

My name is Orianah but most people call me Ori. Actually, everyone does and if you don’t, than we probably don’t know each other. I remember wanting my name to be Emily for so many years. I knew an Emily and  I envied her. She had the typical Roseau look; blonde hair and blue eyes. She played basketball and was popular. She even had THE last name. For those from a small town, I’m sure you know what I mean by that.

Instead of being named and being born with what I saw as the ideal life of a 3rd grader; I was named Orianah. I was a pudgy ginger with Harry Potter glasses before Harry Potter glasses were deemed cool. I wore Pamida brand clothes and was teased like a son of a bitch. Some kid in second grade called me a fag once. I was one of those kids that were bullied from 1st grade all the way through 9th. And after that, I didn’t let my ears hear the comments but my eyes still saw the looks.

So what. I was bullied and I dealt with it. I have insecurities but I’ve made peace with the assholes of my past. What goes around comes around is the way I see it and to be quite honest, if something shitty happened or happens to them throughout their lives, I have zero remorse or empathy for them. Call me a bad person if you must.

Someone told me in my adult life that they were just kids. That they didn’t know any better so I shouldn’t hold a grudge. I think I’ve overcome the grudge part. But that doesn’t mean that their hurtful childhood remarks didn’t phase me. It doesn’t mean that I’ll be able to conveniently “forget.”

I rambled a bit too much on that topic. I was thinking last night about biographies and how our biographies always seem to change depending on who we’re around. For example – If I were asked to write a short bio about myself for a company newsletter at work, obviously I wouldn’t write what I wrote above. It would begin something like this:

My name is Orianah, but everyone calls me Ori. I was born and raised in Roseau, MN and moved to Viking during my freshman year of high school I have two brothers, a mom, and a dad.

The classic humdrum that we all already know. So, what’s the opening paragraph to your bio? Does it change depending on who you’re presenting it to? Does it change throughout your lifetime? I know mine does.

The Truth Comes Out.

Obviously not every, but most of the photos in this blog are ones that I’ve taken. However, most of them haven’t yet been edited as I have postponed doing so for years. When choosing pictures to attach in each post; I quickly realized that I haven’t taken many pictures over the last 18 or so months. I think it’s a mix between being down right lazy and having no confidence to be a motivated person.

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I know what you’re thinking..what does motivation and taking a couple of pictures have to do with anything? I could go in circles about this for days but the gist of it is as follows: I’ve always been out of control when it comes to my physical appearance. I take that back; I’ve always cared about what I look like and have tried my best to look my best when going out but to be quite honest, over the last..two years probably; I haven’t put much work into myself and that is so far from wrong it’s ridiculous.

I don’t love myself. I’ve lost all self respect for myself. I don’t “dress up” anymore and when I do, I know that I don’t do it to the standard that I have set myself to in the past. I’ve never been high maintenance or gone to extremes when it comes to my appearance but I did used to give a shit. I used to get dolled up whenever I saw Channing and even before him; I’d always look my best. I’d buy myself new clothes almost every paycheck. I’d splurge on a pair of new shoes or buy gobs of lotion at Bath and Body. But I don’t do stuff like that anymore. I don’t straighten my hair, I never put eye makeup on anymore. I don’t even remember the last time that I actually went shopping for new clothes or shoes or hair products other than when I absolutely had to. It’s because I’ve “let myself go.” It almost makes me cringe to have to admit that at age 24 but it probably needed to be said. I’m not intentionally avoiding the obvious but if you have seen me recently you can see that I’ve gained a substantial amount of weight in a short time. I’m sure it has to do with the stress that I’ve put myself in front of over the last few years and becoming comfortable in my relationship but regardless it is irresponsible and definitely ludicrous.

I’ve always been overweight it’s not something new. Everyone that has eyes can see it. But where I am now is absolutely absurd and I take full blame for it. When I was younger; I’d be able to at least maintain where I was at for long periods of time. I was the same pants size in high school from 10th grade through college but after that it was just a downward (slow) spiral. However, since mid-2012 it’s gotten out of control and quite frankly, I need help.

This has clearly veered off of the subject that I started with but in short my weight and the stress that initiated the gain is why I have sheltered myself. I have ditched my brother in going to concerts because I didn’t want to be that fat sweaty freak in the mosh pit. I’ve bailed on catching up with old friends because I’m not only embarrassed of myself but I’m embarrassed for them to have to be seen in public with me. I don’t go to certain restaurants because they only have booths. I’ve skipped family reunions and weddings because I didn’t want to be the hippopotamus cousin. I even stay quiet and don’t interact with my boyfriends family, niece, and nephew as much as I’d like to because I’m afraid that I’ll look like a fool or get hot and sweaty in front of them.

I don’t go swimming. I don’t go to amusement parks. I don’t hang out with friends. I don’t make new friends. I don’t go on adventures or to concerts. I don’t do spur of the moment. I don’t dance like no one is watching. I don’t do anything and it’s not because I don’t want to; it’s because I’m afraid of what people will think which really is a bunch of bullshit. It shouldn’t matter what people think but it does.

I’ve limited the enjoyment in my life because I’m addicted to food and can’t hold a spirt of motivation or determination for more than 7 minutes. I’ve never actually admitted this to anyone in anyway except to my mom because sadly, we share the same issue. I’m hoping that in being honest with myself and to the public that this will help me to overcome hurdles that I practically refuse to jump over. One day I’ll get the balls to post a before picture, but today is not the day.

I have every tool that I need to become a happy and healthy individual but all I need is a push, a real get the fuck going push. Will you push me?

To Do Or To Don’t.

I have three drafts in my bin waiting to be published but they are more or less (for lack of a better word) lame. I’m sure all the ones I’ve posted are border line uninteresting but I really don’t know what to say I guess. Honestly, I’ve been playing the “safe” card which probably is both on the bloggers do and don’t list depending on who you talk to.

I took this weekend to kind of reflect, if you could call it that. I don’t know what I’m doing really. I mean, do any of us? Are any of us ever satisfied? I feel like I’m in the same spot I was in three years ago only with a better paying job and a nicer apartment. I don’t have any idea what to do with my life. Is that unusual for a 24 year old woman? Maybe it’s social media rubbing everyone else’s lives in my faces and not giving me a chance to decide where I should be. Married, two babies, a big house, horses, lots of land, long gravel driveways, concerts, parties, promotions, masters degree…What am I doing?

I’m playing the pity party game, that’s what.

Part of this whole new blogging adventure is to find myself and to forgive myself. To deal with the decisions I’ve made and if I’m not happy; than to change them. Well how the hell are we supposed to do that? It’s impossible. Everything has a price tag. It’s not the price tag that is frightening it’s the amount on that price tag. It’s down right expensive to do anything. From traveling to buying a home to starting a family to going back to school, it’s fucking insane.

What did I do on this fine Sunday night? I watched six episodes of GIRLS and am downloading 24 years worth of CD’s onto my computer. Right on! Wrong.

I was talking to my brother yesterday about my blog and about how I didn’t know where to really go with it. His response was: Well it’s a blog isn’t it? Don’t you just write? Sure, but what do I write about? Do I write about my life or do I write about frilly happy things? The last time I was bluntly truthful, I received backlash from twelve different directions. I wasn’t always offensive but there were posts that may have been. They were opinionated and sometimes not always the popular opinion. They were personal and raw. Really real.  I had family, friends, friends of the family, random people, you name it; play telephone with my personal life like they were front and center. Now, I’m not having a total out bitch fest because I knowingly blogged to the world and it was open for everyone to see; it was just the fact that I shared pieces of me and the absolute ignorance of people that I actually know – fired at me as if I were Hitler. But as soon as all hell broke loose, I stopped writing about the truth and I candy coated everything. I couldn’t trust anyone with my life and I wasn’t happy.

The truth is, those posts are the ones I felt the best with afterwords. I felt like I was actually able to take the bottled up emotion out and put it to good use. It was freeing even if some people didn’t like it. And for me, looking back, it is a record of how far I’ve come. We often forget about the big things, that at the time, make or break us. They more often than not get pushed back into to small moments that we vaguely remember or usually even forget. But when it’s written down and re-read years later, it’s still pure and alive.

So I guess before we say “enough about that” I’m really just at a cross roads. Should I use my blog as a creative outlet about my life? Not that’s it’s overly exciting but that would provide me with the most obvious source of material. Or..do I pull snip-its from parts of my day here and there and end up with a mediocre (no one will take offense to) blog?

My first followers blog title is actually “A Good Blog Is Hard To Find.” Is that a sign that maybe I should just go for it?