Life

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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 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.

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.

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.

What’s in a name?

Published January 31, 2014 by Malia

Call me Malia.

No, seriously, I want you to.  That’s my name.  I happen to be one of those lucky few with a name that I actually like.  Scratch that.  I adore my name!  My name was selected carefully by my parents, and I’ve always loved how different and unique it is.  The year I was born, the most popular names for girl babies were names like Jennifer, Ashley, and Nicole (just to name a few).  While those names are fine and lovely, I always felt pretty special because I had such a wonderful name.

Today I had to call my dad at one of his jobs.  I told the receptionist my name, who I was, and who I was calling for.  In fact, I ended up saying my name twice.  Now, when she went to transfer my call, she said, “Okay, Maria, I’m going to put you on hold.”  Really?  I said my name twice, I have excellent enunciation, and it was a clear phone line.

Why do people have so much trouble with my name?

Growing up, I always had people telling me, “I just can’t ever seem to get your name right.”  My high school superintendent had to have me tell him the proper pronunciation at graduation rehearsal; because after 3.5 years of me being in his school, heavily involved in music and drama, he still had no idea how to say my name.

My name is always getting spelled strangely as well.  Meleah, Melea, Milia, and Maila are just a few of the versions.  And I’ve heard as many different pronunciations.  And yes, I realize that technically there are several different accepted pronunciations.

Last summer, I had one of the worst experiences with my name.  I had only been at my job a few months, and I had taken a specimen to another department.  The woman I took it to (who has since retired), asked me what my name was.

Me: Malia

Her: How do you spell that?

Me: M A L I A

Her: Oh, (this is how she pronounced it) Maul-ee-Uh

Me: (trying to remain calm and polite) *nervous laugh* Um…No…It’s (me pronouncing it) Muh-Lee-uh.

Serioulsy?  Who in their right mind does that?  If I tell you my name, I expect that you aren’t going to try to tell me how you think it should be pronounced.  If you tell me your name is pronounced Jenny, Phil, or Raxacoricofallapatorius, I’m going to accept that.  I won’t call you Genie, File, or Raslkdfjpqoiwfen.

It really does baffle me why it is such a challenge for people.  It’s five short letters, and it’s pretty easy to say.

So, if you’ve got a name people constantly butcher, let me just say, “I know those feels.”

A Semi-Haunted House?

Published January 26, 2014 by Malia

Yesterday, I was at lunch, and the announcer on the radio said something about, “Want to own a semi-haunted house?  Check out so-and-so’s blog.”  I didn’t catch the name of the blog, but even now I’m baffled by the concept of a “semi-haunted house.”  How does that work exactly?  Are the ghosts working on a time-share system?  Does Jane Austen have the house this week?  Then after she leaves, will Ghengis Khan be staying for a month?

Also, does a semi-haunted house mean exorcisms are half price?

While I’m on the subject, think of all the title possibilities for the sure to be made “based on a true story” movie…

-Kind of Paranormal Activity

-The House on Did You Hear Something Hill

-Nightmare on El

-Friday the 12 1/2

-Ghost? Busters

-The Amityville Scare

And of course, my personal favorite: Polteriguess?

How do you feel?

Published January 25, 2014 by Malia

At the beginning of Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, we see Spock retraining his brain on Vulcan.  The computer is running him through all these exercises, and then it stops and says, “How do you feel?”  Spock becomes quizzical and replies, “I do not understand the question.”  Spock’s mom then shows up and explains how being half-human means he has feelings.  This leads into a discussion about the illogical-ness of human feelings.  

And then Spock and his friends go back to 1984 to get some whales.  

I’m  ashamed to admit it, but lately I’ve been feeling a bit numb.  Okay, that’s an understatement.  I am numb.  It’s been coming on gradually, and it’s really been the last two days that I’ve noticed how numb I’ve gotten (I’m not really sure how long this has been going on, either.  I do know it’s been a long time since I truly felt anything.). Emotion-wise, I literally feel nothing.  I don’t feel happy, or sad, or sympathetic, or anything that I should be feeling.  In fact, when I get into situations where I need to show some sort of emotion, I find myself mentally saying, “This is a sad situation.  Be sad.  Remember sadness?  You need to act like you feel that way right now.” 

Unfortunately, I think my brain is just wired wrong.  No matter what emotion I tell myself I should at least act like I’m feeling, the completely wrong one makes an appearance.  As of right now, I’m sure that there are probably some who think I need to be locked up in the loony bin.  Normal people don’t smile when they talk about how a family member has just died (y’know, unless the dead family member was horrible, which hasn’t been the case regarding my dead family members).  

I wasn’t always this way.  I used to feel emotions.  I used to care.  The thing is, it’s been a brutal ten years.  Ever since March of 2004, for every moment of happiness, there’s been overwhelming heartbreak (and yes, I know some of it has been my own fault, and I’ll gladly take responsibility for it, but quite a bit of it hasn’t).  I think I’ve been trying to defend against further heartbreak by giving myself an emotional lobotomy.  If I can’t feel, then I can’t be hurt anymore, right?  I know it’s a bad way to handle things, and completely immature.

 Fortunately, I never said I was mature.

 However, I am interested in remaining a member of the human race.  Which means, like Spock, I must rediscover my humanity.  Because, like Spock, when the end of the movie comes, I would like to be able to say, “Tell her…I feel fine.”  

The eyes are the what of the face?

Published January 23, 2014 by Malia

A few weeks ago, I got to thinking about anatomy.  The stuff on the inside makes sense to me (liver, kidneys, brain, heart, etc…).  There’s a purpose to all of it, and it all looks pretty cool, too.  Then I got to thinking about all the parts of our bodies that are actually visible.  Which led to me sending the following text to one of my best friends:

“Nipples are weird.  Basically we’ve all got these little buttons made of flesh.  Doesn’t that seem weird?”

The reply?  “Have you been drinking?  That is so random…haha.”

I hadn’t been drinking, but the point remains that I find the whole concept of nipples to be really bizarre.  Sure, they serve a purpose as far as nursing goes.  However, if you’re not nursing, they end up just being these weird, almost mole-like protrusions on your chest.  And almost everyone on the planet has them.  (I’m assuming that there are people that are born without them.)  That’s weird, right?

Also, I’m thinking that I don’t appreciate my friends nearly enough.  Only the truly awesome friends will still acknowledge they know you even after they receive text messages contemplating the purposes of various parts of anatomy.

No Regrets

Published January 22, 2014 by Malia

Today, I was sitting at work thinking about how weird I find it that some people swear up and down that they have no regrets.  Really?  Nothing?  They really expect me to believe that there’s nothing that they look back on and think, “Yeah, probably should have done that differently”?  

I have my fair share of regrets.  They’re all things I’ve learned from, but I can’t help looking back at them and feeling sadness, guilt, and/or disappointment.  Things I wish I had done differently, things I wish I would have said (or in some cases, not said).  

Thinking on all this, I then started wondering, if you say you have no regrets, does that mean that you haven’t learned anything from your life experiences?  Why is it such a bad thing to have regrets?  I think it’s bad to brood and stew over something that you can’t change, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing to regret said thing.  Seems like it would be better to be someone who regrets and learns and becomes a better person; than someone who blows everything off, learns nothing,  and forever remains shallow and self-centered. 

I Think The Weather Needs Some Mood Stabilizers

Published January 21, 2014 by Malia

The weather over the last 24 hours has been truly bizarre.  Last night, I was able to sleep with my windows open.  Tonight, I’m wondering if I should use my Pac-Man blanket along with my TARDIS blanket.  The day was fairly nice when I went to work, but in the middle of my shift it suddenly got very dark (like it does before a thunderstorm) and there was a large amount of snow getting blown around.  When my shift ended there was no snow, but the temperature had dropped to near zero.  By the end of the week it’s supposed to be back up in the forties.

And, I’ve now achieved the lowest point of blogging.  I’ve actually started a post dedicated to the weather.  Okay, maybe not the lowest point, but not one of my best.  I guess I’m feeling a little frustrated tonight.  No guessing about it, I am feeling frustrated.

I love my job, and I would be devastated without it.  It’s one of the few jobs I’ve ever had that I’ve actually enjoyed.  Physically, it’s not a difficult job.  Mentally, though, it’s exhausting.  I spend over 8 hours a day doing my best to be 100% accurate.  I read and match names and dates and tests and tubes all day long.  By the end of my shift my brain is usually working on the same level as those stupid “Doge” memes.  (Very tired.  Much thirsty.  Such driving.  If you don’t think that makes sense, you’re right.)

What’s frustrating me is the fact that by the time I hit the weekend, I’ve got about enough energy to sit in a quiet room and make a scarf while watching PBS.  I’m young!  I’m healthy!  I hate that I seem to be turning into the little old spinster lady (complete with cat).

I don’t know that there’s really any point to this meandering post, and I’m not sure how it went from boring to depressing so quickly.  I guess I just needed to get it out there in the universe.