All posts for the month February, 2014

I’m Gonna Be 16 For A Minute

Published February 25, 2014 by Malia

Tonight, after work, I got to go have pie…with my boyfriend!  And he even realizes that I refer to him as that.  Which makes it totally more awesome, and makes me sound like a teenager.  And I’m okay with all of that.

I’m 29 and I have a boyfriend. My first boyfriend.  I’ve never actually been in an official relationship before, so this is all really new to me.  Which explains the fact that apparently I’ve been smiling a lot and giggling about the dumbest stuff on a pretty regular basis.  I’ve never actually gotten to use the words “boyfriend” “girlfriend” in any relation to my personage before.  It’s new, and really kind of wonderful.

You know what I’m really enjoying?  The communication.  There are no games.  He knows that I had a freak-out moment last Thursday, and that didn’t freak him out.  (Which is good.)  He doesn’t talk down to me, and he listens to me.  Even to my disgusting work stories.

About that freak-out last Thursday.  I have a fear of being happy, and I tend to sabotage any possibilities of happiness.  Yeah, it’s as messed up as it sounds.  I fear that if I am happy, it will all go away immediately, and I’ll be left devastated.  I’ve had plenty of experiences to back up this fear.  Which makes it really hard to get beyond.  Last Thursday, I found my brain playing the game of “Yeah, you’re happy now, but just wait, it’s all going to be gone so very, very soon.”   I ended up talking this out via text with my “sister” (she’s my sister, just not by blood).  I related to her my fear that I was going to sabotage this.  As I was venting out my feelings a thought occurred to me.  Is God still God, still in control, and still good, if I do get hurt again?  I thought on this for a long while, and finally acknowledged that the answer is “yes”.  This led to the thought, “I am the daughter of the most high King, and He wants good things for me.”  All the leading I’ve received from Him leads me to believe that this relationship really is of Him and really is a good thing.  Ever since I acknowledged to myself that I really do believe that God wants good things for me, I’ve had complete peace about this relationship.  And I’m not even worrying that much that I might do something to ruin it.

So, I’m going to enjoy getting to say that I’m a girlfriend (even though, I really have no idea how one goes about being a girlfriend), and I’m going to do my best to live in the present.  Enjoy the time I get to spend with this man, and be patient.  God’s timing is perfect, and I’m going to enjoy being happy and at peace.

Don’t Mind Me, I’m Just Watching The Unicorns Frolic

Published February 20, 2014 by Malia

Last week I was driving to work, and suddenly an aria burst from my lips.  (O Mio Babbino Caro in case you’re wondering which one.)  Which was…weird.  I realized a few days later that I wasn’t just having arias popping out of my mouth, I was singing along to anything that was on.  Radio at work?  Yup.  Puppet music for new show we’re putting together?  Yup.  Random Youtube videos?  Yup.  Broadway tune that randomly popped into my head?  Yup.

What was even weirder?  I was and am enjoying singing.  Now, I’m sure that what everyone else is finding weird is the fact that I find all of this weird.  The truth is, I haven’t enjoyed singing or playing any kind of instrument since March of 2004.

See, back in March of 2004, I was a freshman in college.  A music education major.  I got off the bus from choir tour, and received some life changing news.  News that had several nasty effects on my life, but one in particular was that I began to hate music.  Me, who had spent all of her life adoring music.  I had loved music so much that when I was sixteen, I chose voice and trumpet lessons over getting a car.  That’s some real love of music.

As the weeks passed from that day in March ’04, I came to realize that my voice wasn’t really as great as I thought.  People put up with it because they were kind.  I wasn’t that great of an instrumentalist either.  Sure, I thought I was, but all the evidence pointed to the fact that my ego was just a little bit blown out of proportion.

I slowly pulled away from the world of music, and stopped singing.  Stopped listening to music.  Only pulled my trumpet out when forced to.

Fast-forward 10 years, and for some reason, along with the dormant emotions that have suddenly woken up, I’m suddenly singing and playing again.  Not because I’m being forced to, but because I genuinely want to.  My voice has changed.  Looking back, I realize that my voice wasn’t the greatest in the world, but I really did have a beautiful soprano voice.  It’s now more mezzo-soprano, but I’m okay with that.  I don’t even care if people hear me sing, I’m singing for my own pleasure.  There’s a joy in it that I’m rediscovering.

Two days ago, I mentioned to mom how surprised I was by the fact I was singing.  I told her that for the first time in forever I actually wanted to sing, and I’d been catching myself singing all the time.  Mom just looked at me and said, “You’re happy.” Which, oddly enough, is what a friend on Facebook said, yesterday, when I mentioned that out of the blue I’d lost 10 pounds.

I guess I am happy.  It’s weird.  I’ve not felt truly happy and at peace in a long time (and by long time I mean 10 years).  I’ve got a job I love, other aspects of my life are starting to make some sense, and I can honestly say that life is generally good.  So, I’m going to be silly, and probably talk to much, and possibly be a general annoyance, but it’s been so long since I’ve even wanted to be any of those things, I’m okay with it.

Surreal, But Nice. Not just nice, Absolutely Fantastic!

Published February 16, 2014 by Malia

This has been a crazy, ridiculous, oh-so-very memorable week.  And, yes, there’s a boy.  Well…not so much a boy…”guy” is a better term, since he’s almost 5 years older than me.  A guy friend I’ve known for years, that I never expected would be interested in me, and honestly, shocked the daylights out of me when, last Sunday (2/9), he asked I would like to go on a date with him.  I said yes, and then had a whole week to be as nervous and hyper as one of those silly little lap dogs.  

And, you know what, I shouldn’t have been nervous.  I shouldn’t have been freaked out.  It was a lovely, wonderful date.  

All 11 hours of it.

Yup, I’m not sure if there’s a world record for first date length, but I’m pretty sure we’d be in the running.  

So, the question I’ve now received multiple times, “What did you do for eleven hours?”  

Excellent question.  The answer?  We talked.  And talked.  And talked.  And talked.  Watched things on Youtube (I’m now aware of a group called The Doubleclicks, and my life is much better for it).  And then we talked some more.  Eventually, I realized that I had worship team practice at 8:15 this morning, and staying up really late wasn’t terribly optimal for me.  

Y’know, I know there are a lot of people who probably would find the idea of 11 hours of talking boring, but really, for me, it was absolutely perfect.  When it comes to important life things, I’m a processor.  It’s part of why I write this blog.  I have to sort out my thoughts.  All that talking gave me insight as to what was going on in his head, and also helped me to relax from nervous Chihuahua mode.  

So, now, 24 hours after the end of the first date to end all first dates, here’s what I feel like sharing with the world (some things are just to important to share with the world at large)…

-He’s really nice, and kind, super smart, and a genuine gentleman.  Things like holding open the door aren’t a foreign concept to him.  

-He’s seems slightly intuitive about me.  He got me flowers!  And not just any flowers.  He got me my favorites, and I think he’s slightly psychic because I don’t know anyone who knows my favorite flowers.

-He’s a super geek, and not a sports nut.  Do you have any idea how exciting it is to know someone who can tell me pretty much anything I want to know about comic books, but doesn’t care that I don’t give a tiny rat’s patootie about sports?  I don’t have to feign interest about stuff, because it’s stuff I’m actually interested in.  

-He has a TARDIS.  Yeah, I should have just put that, and nothing else.  I should have just written, “We went on an 11 hour first date, and I finally got to see the full size TARDIS he built that’s in his backyard.”  (Pictures of which will show up here at some point in the near-ish future, hopefully).  

Okay, I’ll stop gushing, I’m starting to sound a little annoying, even to myself.  (Did I mention there’s a TARDIS????)  The last thing I feel like mentioning is the fact that I had genuinely given up on guys and dating.  Years and years of pain and disappointment had led me to the point of finally deciding that I could be happy being the crazy cat & book lady.  I honestly believe that God’s hand is in this situation, because I really, REALLY, did not see this coming.  And yet, when he asked me out, the only thought in my head was, “This makes absolute sense, and I really want to go.”  

I don’t know where this is going for sure.  Although, crazy as it may sound, I definitely know where I hope it’s going.  The only thing I know for sure is that I’ve been talking to God a lot, and for once I haven’t been telling him a list of demands.  The very few things I’ve said, “God, it would be really nice if…but, if not that’s fine.  I really don’t mind,” all those things have happened (and odd as it sounds, if those things hadn’t happened, I really would’ve been okay with it).  Now, I’m not saying that God is always going to give me what I want, and thank heavens he doesn’t give me what I deserve.  I’ve spent most of my life with the answers to my prayers being, not now, or just plain, no.  This is all an incredibly new experience, and I’m really glad that so far there’s been pretty clear leading going on.  

Oh, and did I mention?  He built a TARDIS.

The Saddest Ramen Ever

Published February 13, 2014 by Malia

My earliest memory is from January 28, 1986.  Since I was just over a year old, I’m sure you’re wondering how I remember what day it was.  Well, to be honest, I had to look the date up;  if you look the date up, you’ll find it’s the day the Challenger exploded.  Yup, my earliest memory is watching that tragedy.  It’s just as clear in my mind today as the day it happened.  We were living in Denver so my dad could attend seminary.  The church we went to/led music in, allowed us to live in the cottage next door to the church.  There was a daycare at the church, and they invited mom to bring me over so we could watch the Challenger lift-off with the daycare kids.  Clearly, the teachers had no idea (no one did) of what was going to happen.  The explosion happened, and there was this general scramble of panicked teachers trying to get the tv turned off, before we kids were scarred anymore than we already were.

Fast forward a few months to my next earliest memory (it was shortly before I was 2).  I’m sitting at home, it’s evening, and the atmosphere at the dinner table is uncomfortable.  I remember we were all eating Ramen, and I remember being incredibly sad about it.  However, I also remember feeling that I had learned my lesson.  So, what led up to the sad Ramen eating?

Well, as I mentioned at the beginning, dad was going to school.  Even though he worked whenever he wasn’t in class, we were pretty much broke.  Mom’s the budgeting queen, and to this end, she scrimped and saved so we could do something special.  We got to go to Chick-Fil-A.  We hardly ever got to go, and it was a family favorite.

We were standing in line, and for some reason I decided to throw a temper tantrum.  I’ve always been strong-willed, and my parents gave me an opportunity to decide to behave.  They told me that I could either stop and I would be able to have my chicken nuggets, or if I didn’t stop we would go home where there would be no chicken nuggets.  I decided to test their resolve and the boundary they’d established, and the tantrum continued.

And we got out of line, went home, and ate Ramen instead of chicken nuggets.

Now, I’m sure there are people reading this that are thinking that my parents were horrible people because they did this when I was so little.  I disagree.  I think my parents were completely right in their actions.  I was an intelligent kid (even when I was really little), and looking back on it, I know I completely understood what was going on.  By following through, on what they said would happen, I learned that they would do exactly what they said.  No empty threats, no, “If you don’t stop that, I’m going to count to ten,” which would be followed up by, “C’mon, stop it.  I’m going to count to ten again.”  By following through, I learned that my parents knew I was a manipulative little brat, and I was not going to get away with things.

So, what effect did that day have?  I never misbehaved in public again (you can ask my parents if you don’t believe me).   Mom and dad were able to take me to nice places, and not worry about my behavior.  It was common for other restaurant patrons to come up and compliment and thank my parents for doing a good job with me.  Not only that, but we had people pay for our meals more than once because they were so impressed.

Growing up, my parents were my cheerleaders, my support system, but most importantly, they were my parents and not my friends.  When I grew up they remained all the above listed things, and they became my friends.

The Wheels Of My Mind Are Trying To Turn, But The Hamster Might Be Dead

Published February 12, 2014 by Malia

And if you think that title makes no sense, you have probably had quite a bit more sleep than I have in the last 48 hours.  Things are happening in my life.  For once, it’s things that are good, but they are things I really didn’t expect.  To top it off, they are things I really don’t want to screw up.

Here’s the question I’ve been struggling with.  Have you ever had something become a very real possibility, and even though it was something you never expected, you realize it’s something you desperately want?  Not only that, but once you’ve realized that, you’ve become terrified at the thought of it not becoming a reality?

A few weeks ago I was writing about feeling numb.  I don’t know what happened, but in the last few days my emotions have awoken from their dormant state, and returned with fervor.  I’m now so overwhelmed with feelings I’m struggling a bit to make sense of all of them.  However, I will make sense of them, and everything is going to be okay.

Like I said, good things are happening.  Hopefully, sleep will happen as well.

Satan Pox

Published February 11, 2014 by Malia

It’s totally a real thing.  And by “real” I mean it’s the name I give to anything that makes me feel less than 100%, but I’m too stubborn to go to the doctor and get diagnosed.  This is the main reason I’ve been a bit silent lately.  I’d been feeling gradually worse, but a week ago Monday, it hit really hard.  So, I spent most of the week recuperating.  It’s now a week later, and I still don’t feel great, but I can at least string words together in a semi-sensical way.  (Yes, sensical is a word.  Be nice to me, I have Satan Pox.)

Apart from this bout with Satan Pox, life has been mostly quiet.  I guess I just wanted to check in with the world at large, because I feel off when I take time off from blogging.  So, hi, World, I’m back!

Worried? Stressed? Filled With Anxiety? Join the Club.

Published February 7, 2014 by Malia

Mom says that when I was born, I had this worried little look on my face.  Apparently it was such a good impression of my dead great-grandmother, it earned me the instant nickname, “Little Wilma.”  (Wilma was the dead great-grandmother, and apparently was a bit of a worrywart. I felt I should probably clarify that).  I didn’t used to think I deserved the nickname.  Lately, though, I’m starting to think I do.

A few years ago, I went through the terrifying experience of being unemployed for over a year (after being employed at what I thought was a long term job for 3.5 years).  It was at the end of that year that I went back to school for a year and a half.  The time from when my last “real” job ended until I was employed at my current job was two and a half years.  It was a horrible time in my life, especially the first year when I was job hunting.  I came to believe that I was the most worthless waste of space on planet Earth.  It didn’t help that there’s was this constant thought in my head that I didn’t even deserve to have a roof over my head.  Even now, I’m very aware of the fact that I should have been homeless.

When I got hired at my current job, I was so excited.  It was my dream job.  Working in a lab.  Wearing a lab coat.  Being an integral part of the medical community, but not having to actually deal with patients (just, y’know, what comes out of their bodies).  Even now, just over a year there, I still get excited that I get to work there.  However, with the excitement comes a whole slew of other emotions.

I’m really scared and stressed out.  Every day, I’m filled with panic because I love my job so much, and I don’t want to lose it.  And the funny thing is, that’s not even something I’m looking at having happen.  Everything has been really good.  My co-workers are great.  My boss is great.  The work is fantastic.  My last job and those years of unemployment just messed me up so bad, I’m really struggling.  I have a co-worker that has told me, more than once, that I need to “lighten up,” and I wish I could tell him how badly I want to be able to.

Not only that, but I wish I could figure out how to lighten up.  I’ve basically got six years of baggage hanging over my head that I’m trying to figure out how to deal with.  I really want to be able to let down my guard and start letting my co-workers in, because right now I’m not sure I seem to terribly different from the Ice Queen, Lady Mary.

There’s no news, like snow news?

Published February 4, 2014 by Malia

I live in Nebraska.  Home of really bizarre weather.  And, this winter has been no exception to the rule.  We’ve yo-yo’ed from the mid-50’s to the negatives in less than 24 hours on a pretty regular basis this winter.  Surprisingly, we’ve been rather on the slim side when it comes to snow.  Today we’ve been getting the first real, “epic” snow of the year.  Along with serious snow comes lots and lots of updates from the various news stations regarding the snow.  Which I find to be weird.

I understand when there’s thunderstorms and the news needs to update us on the severity and if there’s tornadic activity/possibility.  I don’t understand why they feel the need to do the same for snow.  If I want to see what it looks like outside, I’ll look out the window.   I do no’t need to see the live camera footage of the conditions outside.  It snows here at some point every winter; if you can’t figure out what snow is or that it can be dangerous to drive on, it may be time for you to move somewhere warmer.  Like Tahiti.

How To Talk To Other Human Beings

Published February 1, 2014 by Malia

Does anyone know?

I used to be mildly successful at this, and tonight I realized that I’ve gotten really rusty.  It doesn’t help that I spend most of my waking hours focused on things that come out of the body and what kinds of tests can be performed on them.  Plus, most of the things I’d want to talk about are censored by HIPAA.

The thing is, I want to be able to talk to people and not come off sounding obsessed with myself.

So, I guess it’s back to Social Skills 101 for me.  Because, while it’s fun to be weird and quirky; it’s also important to be able to converse with normal human adults about things that you don’t need to see a doctor for.