Last Friday night I got to do something I’ve never done before. I got to experience hand holding. I’m sure that to most people this may not seem like a very big deal, but to me it was fantastic! There’s something very sweet and special about being 29 and getting to experience this sort of stuff for the first time. What others take for granted, is new and wonderful to me.
It’s definitely been a week of firsts. First time holding hands, and first time having a root canal.
I ended up going to the dentist on Tuesday (after spending most of the night laying in bed with pain radiating up and down the side of my face), and it was determined that root canal was needed. I know I mentioned that financially it wasn’t the best option for me, but I ended up deciding that I was just going to make it work, somehow. I was so terrified going into it. I totally trust my dentist, but I was genuinely scared of having a root canal. I’ve always heard such awful stories, and I didn’t want to experience one of those.
Laying there in the chair, as the dentist worked, I found a spot on the ceiling and stared intently at it. I began repeating Psalm 56:3 (“What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.”) and 2 Timothy 1:7 (“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.”) over and over. After several minutes, I was sure we were nearing the actual bad part of the root canal, and to my surprise, the hygienist looked at me and said, “He’s all done with the root canal.” That’s right, I wasn’t even aware that what I was terrified of had actually been completed. Yay for Bible verses, awesome dentists, and excellent numbing!
I think I’m going to have to go to the dentist this week. I’ve been putting this off for two and a half years. I really, REALLY don’t want to go. However, I’m at the point that I realize the giant cavity is winning.
I have a wonderful dentist. He really is pretty fantastic. He’s always been incredibly gentle and kind, and definitely keeps the scariness to a minimum. He even avoids making me feel even worse for being the worst possible patient on the planet. I’m really lousy at dental hygiene, mostly due to forgetfulness (I’m not intentionally bad, I honestly forget). Plus, whenever I get really stressed, the stress seems to attack my teeth before anything else. It’s a bad combination.
The thing is, I know that this cavity is going to require me to either have a root canal or have the tooth pulled. I don’t want to have the tooth pulled, but root canals are pretty much the most expensive thing on the planet. Okay, that’s an exaggeration, but for me at the present it’s just not financially realistic to have one. Which means I’ll have to have the thing pulled. Which is why I’ve been living with the pain of a bad tooth for nearly 3 years.
It’s true, I may be a pain weenie, but when it comes down to it, I’m super stubborn. Stubborn to the point of stupidity. I had to take dental courses in vet tech school. I know what an abscessed tooth is, and why it’s a bad thing. I know that after 2.5 years, this tooth probably should have abscessed by now. Which means I’ve had a grace period, but with the pain level I’m currently at, I think that grace period is reaching its conclusion.
I just dread the thought of having another tooth pulled.
Last Sunday I was in the car with the boy (really gotta think of another way to refer to him), and we were listening to a podcast. The hosts were interviewing an author, and the topic of old time romance novels came up. The hosts asked their guest what was different between romance novels written now and those written then. The guest stated that there really isn’t that much difference. Basically two people who shouldn’t be together get together, and live happily ever after. The host then asked about the sexy stuff. This is where it got interesting. Apparently, old-timey romance novels would use the statement, “making love,” and all they meant was that the guy said romantic things to the girl.
Now, I swear they were talking about novels written in 1905, and the boy thought they said 1605 (I’m thinking one of us has some hearing loss). He was greatly entertained by this tidbit, mentioned it a few times throughout the evening. I swear I probably turned about 18 shades of red each time it came up. This led to him coining the phrase “Doing it 1700’s style.”
Y’know, I know I’m not the most innocent person on the planet, but compared to most people my age, I’m still pretty innocent. I like the fact that I am still able to blush about things. I like that I’m with someone who isn’t pushing me to lose that innocence.
Today, I was really tired. I’ve been on this kick where I’ve been waking up earlier and earlier without the aid of an alarm clock. It’s by far, one of the strangest things that’s ever happened to me. Anyway, last night, I didn’t get to bed until the very wee hours of the morning, and I ended up waking up about four hours after I hit the hay. Which wasn’t exactly the plan. It also didn’t help that I had a full day of work ahead of me, and a 401K meeting.
This is the first time in my life that I’ve not only been eligible for a 401K, but also making enough that I can both pay my bills and invest some money. I’m pretty excited about this. However, the hour and a half meeting I attended was mentally painful. And kind of confusing. And generally a bad thing to be attending when only about half awake.
The longer the meeting went on, the more muddled my brain got. Basically, I know I got handed a pile of paperwork, and that it should make a lot more sense than it does. Also, I learned that at my age I’m apparently supposed to be aggressive in my investing, or else I’ll get old and be poor. Honestly, it was all I could do to follow which page we were on in which set of papers out of the pile.
Thankfully, I’ve got until Monday to figure out how I’m going to plan for the future. Hopefully, I’ll get some sleep between now and then.
Well…today happened. I’d like to pretend it didn’t. I’d like to rewind back to when I woke up at 7 a.m., and start the whole thing over. However, I haven’t got a TARDIS or a DeLorean, so today is just going to forever remain the way it is.
The best I can say about today? It was definitely a comedy of errors. If something could go wrong, it did. It was like Murphy’s Law was having a national holiday just for me.
The worst part? I let my mood get really bad. I’m not proud of that. The combination of the noise, the pounding headache I’d had for hours, and everything going wrong just sent me to foul mood central. Which led to me not being a terribly nice person to those around me. Which, I felt bad about, but the more irritated I got, the less I even tried to be pleasant. It was a really nasty, vicious cycle.
So, now I’m going to bed, and hopefully I’ll awake headache free, and my mood in a better place.
Really. I should. I’m sitting here with a whole story idea in my head, and I’m too scared to sit and put it down on paper.
I’m a chicken. I’m not proud of this, but at least I’ll own up to it.
The thing is, I’ve discovered that when I start to write stories, they tend to be a little dark. Scratch that. They tend to be really messed up and super dark. Which, if you’re Stephen King definitely works in your favor. However, if you’re me, it just tends to be scary. I don’t like to think that there’s that much darkness in me. Or, maybe I just don’t like acknowledging that my brain is able to come up with stories that are really messed up.
Of course, maybe if I actually completed my stories, instead of freaking myself out with them and quitting half-way through, I’d have something awesome.
And maybe, it’s 2 a.m., and I should be sleeping, and instead am in the process of realizing that Stephen King and George R.R. Martin have written pretty messed up stuff, and they don’t seem to regret it or be freaked out by it. It’s 2 a.m. and I just realized that this post lacks any grammar correctness.
So…yeah…it’s been a crazy month. Good crazy, really good crazy, but crazy all the same. Four weeks ago I was terminally single, and now I’m not. In the last three weeks, I’ve been on more dates than I’ve ever been on. I’ve got so many emotions all fighting with each other, that I’m almost at a loss to know which one I feel the most. My world definitely has been flipped upside down, and you know what? I’m perfectly okay with it.
I’m not exaggerating when I say that this guy is a really good guy. I’m not making it up when I say that he treats me amazingly. He’s doing awesome at the whole being in a relationship thing. Which is a good thing…because having never been a girlfriend before, I am completely clueless when it comes to being a girlfriend. I’m so happy, but I also find myself worrying. Which is stupid, since I’ve been following that classic advice Just Be Yourself. (FYI, I’ve heard this advice waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much lately…)
So, what do I worry about? I worry that I’m being too clingy, too needy, too talkative, too forward. On the other hand, though, I worry that I’m being the exact opposite of all those things. Thank heavens, he’s been super patient with me, because I fear that I’ve been a bit of a mess over the last few weeks.
So, I’m going to take deep, calming breaths. I’m going to try to relax. I’m going to do my best to continue to try to just live in the present and enjoy it. Most importantly, I’m going to be happy.
Once upon a time…there was a girl who loved to sleep until at least ten every morning. It was pleasant, and since she didn’t have to be anywhere until 1:30 in the afternoon, it worked well for her. Then one day, she began to wake up earlier than ten. Way earlier. Like, 3-4 hours earlier. And she was okay with it.
Did you guys know that 6 and 7 a.m. are real times? I used to. Back in the days of school and such. They weren’t times that I enjoyed acknowledging the existence of, but I put up with their existence. Since I started working at the lab a little over a year ago, I’ve been on a schedule where I stay up quite late, and don’t get up until sometime in the ten a.m. hour.
Something weird has been happening, though. For the last week and a half, I’ve been waking up consistently between 6 & 7 a.m., every single day. Without aid of alarm clock. It even happened Tuesday morning, after I’d been out doing karaoke and pancakes until 3 a.m. Crazily, I’m finding that I’m not even that tired. I’m a little tired, but not the mind-numbing exhaustion that I normally feel when I have to get up that early.
I mentioned this fact to my mother and the boy, and both gave me the same answer (which was a little freaky since I had the conversations with each person separately). They both were in agreement that I now have a reason to get up in the morning and not hide under the covers. Which, the more I think about it, I realize is true.
Last night I did something I haven’t done in almost a decade. I sang, solo, in public. I don’t know if I did well or really terrible. I don’t exactly trust the opinions of drunk people. I should mention that I wasn’t drunk. All I drank last night was a soda, no alcohol in it.
And I just realized how off track I’m getting.
A few weeks ago, I wrote about how I was finding myself singing pretty much all the time. I also mentioned that it had been a long time since that had happened. Last night, I went to karaoke, and finally got my gumption up to go pick a song and put myself in the queue. I picked Skyfall, because it’s one of my very favorite songs, and I decided that if I was going to fail, I was going to do it on a pretty epic scale.
When my turn came, I got the microphone, and as the first line passed my lips, something incredible happened. The fear, the lack of confidence, the overwhelming insecurity that has hounded and haunted me for the last ten years vanished. My voice was there, and it was strong (like I said, don’t know if it was good or not, but there was definitely some power there). For the first time, in a really long time, I suddenly didn’t care what anyone thought of me.
Something inside me has started to break free, and it’s pretty fantastic. I’m starting to unlock parts of me that I’ve kept locked up for years because of fear and hurt and fear of being hurt. I struggle with the idea of being vulnerable, but I think it’s time I am.