-I find it weird how I constantly run into things. If there’s a wall or door or trash can or cabinet or anything other than air around me, I’m likely to run right into it. Then, of course, the bruises don’t show up for days, and by the time they do I have no memory of what exactly I ran into to cause said bruise. So bizarre.
-So, more than one co-worker has mentioned to me that I need to lighten up. I have no idea how to go about this. It’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor, I do. I’m just hesitant to laugh about things until I truly know someone. Plus, many years ago I used to laugh all the time, then someone told me it was too easy to make me laugh, and apparently I thought that was a challenge. On top of that, I love my job so much, and I’m terrified of doing something that could be construed negatively, and make them decide to take my job away from me. I love where I am and what I’m doing.
-I’m so pumped that summer movie season is finally here! Ironman, Star Trek, Man of Steel, The Lone Ranger, and a handful of other things that I can’t even think of are all in the process of opening and I’m super excited!
-I don’t know how it happened, but I truly am loving being single. I’m not anti-relationships or anything, although I think God will have to put a flashing neon sign above the head of my future husband that says something like, “This one. He’s not too bad. You could do way worse.”
-I truly enjoyed Jurassic Park 3D. It is a film that translates quite well to the 3D medium, and lawyers should always get eaten in 3D.
-I wish I wasn’t such an introverted chicken. I really wanted to go to Krypton Comics for free comic book day, but I was too freaked out by the idea of going.
-My head is starting to head back to migraine land, so I’m going to wrap it up here for now.
12 hours from now, it will all be over. This performance that we’ve been working towards since January will be presented in the morning. Normally, I’m a little nervous, but this time I’m having a full on Tangled moment.
That’s right, hand me a frying pan and I’d totally be Rapunzel right now.
Okay, so the reason for all the nerves is this. This is the first performance that I’ve been in the director’s chair for. I’ve directed songs before, but I’ve never been in charge of a full performance. What we will be presenting in the morning is actually a concept I came up with about 15 years ago. Up until now, there’s just not been a good time to do it. Starting in January, our church started working through The Story. Basically, this book is the Reader’s Digest version of the Bible. By the end of the year, we will have done a condensed walk through the Bible. Well, the performance we’re doing, presents different Bible stories (starting in Genesis and ending in Revelation) with a twist. It fits perfectly with The Story.
I’ve learned so much in putting this performance together. It’s been kind of overwhelming. I’ve learned tons about being a leader vs a dictator. I’ve also learned quite a bit about the young men and women who make up our team. I’ve found that they’re hard working, fantastic young adults! I’m so incredibly proud of them. This is by far the biggest, most intense performance we’ve ever done, and they’ve stepped up to the challenge.
I know that there will probably be moments where a sign gets missed or lip sync is off, but I honestly believe it’s going to be a good, God-honoring performance. At the end of the day, it’s not about me (which is a tough lesson for someone who’s as selfish as I am), or even about the team. It’s about presenting the message of the Bible.
So, I’m going to try to get some sleep, and pray that this will be a fun and fantastic performance!
Also, I just have to share what our stage looks like…
This is the view from the front. There’s actually a whole other side wing that juts out that I couldn’t get in the straight on picture. Hence the side view.
To give you a idea of how tall this thing is, the lowest point is about 4 feet tall. We have to stand on super tall ladders to reach the top when putting this together.
I had an interesting moment this week. I was standing at work, looking at a cup with an amputated toe in it.
That’s right.
A toe.
From a human.
Now, being a vet tech, I’ve been present for plenty of surgeries. Working in a medical lab I see blood, and other things (I’ll call them sunshine, butterflies, and daises, to try to keep you all from completely losing your lunch). However, this was the first time I had ever seen an actual body part that was separate from the body.
Standing there, looking at the toe, I found myself feeling overwhelmed with love for my job. Seriously. By far, that toe sighting was the coolest things that happened this week at work.
Now, “normal” people would not find this to be cool. They wouldn’t think that it was a highlight of their week. In fact, they would look at me and think, “What a freaky weirdo.” And, you know what? They’re probably right.
I’ve reached this point, though, where I’ve pretty much stopped caring what people think about me. It’s too time consuming. Besides, I like that I’m a weirdo.
As if loving my gross job, and being obsessed with geeky things doesn’t make me weird enough, I’m turning into the Crazy Puppet Lady.
My mom started working with puppets before I was born, so I can honestly say I was born into this life. When I was six, she and dad went to Sunday School Convention in Peoria, and they came home with my first puppet. She was the ugliest little girl I had ever seen, and I loved her dearly. I named her Jill, and she was the first puppet I used the first time I stepped behind the stage curtain to perform. From there on, I spent my entire childhood and teen years puppeteering. Sometimes we had big teams, and sometimes our teams were just made up of mom, dad, and I.
When I graduated from high school, I thought my days of working with puppets had come to an end. It was one of those things that had been fun for the time that I had done it, but I just put it down as a part of my childhood. For a while, it was the end of it. I had a break for a few years.
Then, in early 2009 our church seriously approached our family about starting up a team. So, we did, and even though the changes a bit every few months, it’s consistently a fantastic group.
I’ve noticed a change in me, since we started team again back in ’09. When I left home back in 2003 and went to school, I really didn’t miss team or miss being a puppeteer. When I moved away in 2011, I missed team and puppeteering almost more than anything else. It really had become an intricate part of me, and not being able to do it every week was a misery.
When I moved back home last December, I had not job and no clue about what was next for me in life, but I had team and I had my puppets and somehow I knew it was going to be okay. In fact, the first weekend I was home, my parents helped me make the videos I posted at Christmas:
Now, the girl in the video is Penny, and she’s my girl. She came into my life back in 2009, and I couldn’t quite figure out what to do with her, and what was worse was that I had no clue how to give her a voice. It may sound silly, but there’s a lot more to giving a voice. You have to figure out the personality and create this whole other person. So, it was exciting when Penny started finding her voice. (Side note: Yes, I realize that Penny is a puppet, and this is not a delusional thing. However, she’s become a part of me. Hence, I refer to her as a separate individual. It’s hard to explain without sounding slightly insane, which I’m pretty sure I’m not.) Last December was the first time that voice really started to make an appearance. Last weekend, though, that voice got put to the test.
Last weekend was Creative Ministry Festival. We go every year and take our team members. Since Creative Ministry Festival is all about Creative Ministry (Puppetry, Clowning, Illusion, Dowel Rod, etc… for more info check out http://www.creativemin.com), I took Penny with me. Last year was the first year I took her, and I had this adorable 1950’s poodle skirt outfit on her. Well, a week before this year’s festival, I realized that I couldn’t take her wearing the same outfit this year. That’s when my Pinterest addiction kicked in (you may remember me referring to this addiction a few weeks ago in reference to a cake tragedy). I remembered seeing a tutorial on Pinterest about taking a superhero emblem t-shirt and making a matching tutu for it. The instructions for the tutu didn’t seem to difficult, so mom and I went on a last minute hunt for t-shirts and correctly colored tulle. We found a Superman t-shirt and a Batman t-shirt. Then, we found sparkly tulle in red, yellow, and black, and regular tulle in blue.
Thanks to my dad, I didn’t have to spend days cutting out 3 inch strips of tulle. He has this really cool circular knife and quilting mat that I used to cut the tulle. What should have taken me days took approximately an hour.
As you can see, I had a lovely pile of red and blue, and black and yellow. I then had to turn these piles into tutu skirts. Since I’m not the world’s greatest at finishing craft projects, this was it’s own challenge. However, by the day of the festival, I had created two unique tutus:
Friday night, I took Penny in her Superman outfit:
And on Saturday, it was time for Batman:
The cool thing was, because she had these unique outfits, people were more inclined to come talk to me (which is good because I’m not exactly good at socializing with strangers). Not only did people talk to me, but Penny was able to talk to them. She had finally found her voice, and started getting pretty comfortable with it.
Then came Sunday.
Since this Sunday (April 28th) is our team’s spring performance, I asked the pastors if Penny could do the announcement. I was given permission, and immediately freaked out. It was one thing to talk to strangers, it was something completely different to interact with people I know. What would they think? Would I just make an idiot out of myself?
Well, when church started, Penny and I went into the sanctuary (and yes, she was still in her Batman outfit). Even though I pretended I couldn’t tell, I could sense all the people staring. It was the first time that any of our puppet had been seen outside of the stage. Now, the number one rule about manipulating a puppet in public is that the puppet has to stay alive. This meant that I couldn’t put my arm down to my side, and Penny had to keep reacting like an actual person would. We got through the first song without problem, and then came the meet and greet time (basically 3 minutes where people can wander around and say a quick hello to each other). This is when something completely unexpected took place.
Penny and I were standing with mom, and I saw this little girl and her mom come walking over. The little girl wanted to meet Penny, and so Penny and she talked. Then, after she left, her dad brought her older sister over (these girls were about 5 and 7), and Penny talked with her. Then, after she left, two little boys drug their Grandmas over. One little boy reached out and started shaking Penny’s hand (thankfully, I had the quick reaction to grab the arm rod so Penny could actually shake hands with him). What shocked me was watching these kids interact with Penny.
I can’t talk to kids. I grew up and only child, and I had to exist in an adult’s world from birth. Yes, I had a childhood, but I don’t think my brain was ever truly a kid. Sure I liked to play and hang with friends, but I didn’t think like a kid. This has made interacting with children a huge challenge for me. I don’t want to talk down to them, but I never know what to say. However, with Penny, I could talk to kids, and they talked to her. It was my Grinch moment. It was the moment my heart grew two sizes. Each kid made me cry (which is next to impossible. I almost never cry, unless I’m watching some manipulative movie or commercial). It was the moment that I knew that I really have become the crazy puppet lady, and I’m completely okay with it.
Oh yeah, the announcement went well. I think it’s the only time the statement, “You can’t say no to someone in a Batman t-shirt and tutu.” has ever been uttered in a church.
Occasionally, on here, I mention my slight liking (scratch, and replace with super huge addiction) of Pinterest. I usually get sucked in on the “Geek” section, but occasionally I do wander over and check out the “Food” section. This is a dangerous section for me, because while I’m pretty craft challenged, when it comes to food I’ve got a little bit of talent. Not only can I cook, but I can even make it look somewhat presentable. Now, last year, I discovered something on Pinterest called a tie-dye cake. It looked super difficult to make, but after reading the instructions I decided it was worth a try. Here was the result of the first experiment (I ended up with enough batter to make 2 cakes). I called this the Jackson Pollock Cake:
This was the second one:
Believe me, those cakes were as good as they look.
So, anyway, last fall I was on Pinterest, and I stumbled across this:
This beauty is a Whopper cake! The entire outside is covered in malted milk balls. Now, I’m not a big Whopper fan, but my dad is. I knew immediately that this was the perfect cake for his birthday. After a few months of pondering this cake, I knew that I had to at least try to make it. So, since dad’s birthday was today, I set about making it this weekend. It started out well.
I had to layers like the one above. I also had the largest bag of malted milk balls I’ve ever beheld. I know the quality’s not good, but trust me, that’s about 6 lbs of x-large Whoppers:
I got up super early this morning (6 a.m., which for me is crazy early. I told my dad that he knows that I love him if I’m willing to get up then just to decorate a cake). Here’s what the cake looked like when I finished:
Sure, the Whoppers weren’t lined up completely perfect, but for an amateur cake that I was decorating from memory of a picture I’d seen a while ago, I was pretty happy (also, there’s a raspberry and chocolate filling that while it sounds like a weird combination, wasn’t half bad).
Okay, so you’ve now seen the pretty, perfect cake.
What happened next probably would’ve been avoided if I had ever purchased a cake safe type carrier. However, I make a “fancy” cake about once every year, so it’s not something I’ve ever thought about getting.
We had decided that since neither mom, nor I should have all that sugar readily available to us (she’s type 1 and I’m type 2 + I’m on a serious weight loss plan), it would be better to take in for the kids on our puppet team to share in. Now, we tried to figure out a good way to transport the cake, but we had nothing it would fit in. Eventually, mom agreed to hold it while I drove.
We were about a third of the way to church when the first Whopper popped off the cake. Then all craziness broke loose. Whoppers started popping off left and right. They made a strange sound as the suction of the icing let loose. Then, the cake started to shift. The top layer was going one direction while the bottom layer stayed put. Most people would probably have gotten angry and started yelling at each other, but that’s never really been my family’s thing. No, this morning marks the first time that I had to pull over to the side of the interstate because I was laughing so hard I couldn’t drive. It wasn’t just me, either. Mom was cracking up as well. (Dad, being mostly deaf wasn’t quite aware of what the situation was.) Finally, we got control of our laughter, found a piece of cardboard to try to keep the cake separated from mom’s shirt (the pants were a goner at that point), and I finished the drive. When we got to the church, here’s what we found (quick, remember the beautiful cake picture from above. Scroll up if needs be, cause this ain’t pretty…):
And here’s a picture of my mom’s arm:
You can kind of see just how far the cake was sliding off at that point.
Thankfully, more of the cake survived than we thought had. People got to share in the remnants, and dad’s got a couple boxes of cake casserole in the fridge.
The important thing to me, about this situation is the fact that no one ever raised their voice, no one ever cast blame (although, let’s face it, I really need to invest in a cake carrying container), and even tonight we are still giggling over the disaster. I don’t know if anyone else’s family would have been so cool about what happened. A lot of people would’ve turned on each other and used terms starting with “stupid,” and upped the ante from there.
So, Happy Birthday, Dad. Next year I’ll try to keep the cake in one piece until after you’ve had your first piece!
-I love my job! I really, really do. However, because of the sensitive HIPAA (HIPPA? I’m too lazy to actually Google the acronym right now), regulations, I can’t really talk much about my job. I’m not 100% certain what qualifies as invasion of privacy. Yikes! Maybe just mentioning that I have a job that I love is invasion of privacy.
Probably not.
Anyway, much as I love my job, it has it’s own unique moments. For example, yesterday. There was an issue, with a situation (vague enough? no one feels I’m invading their privacy?), and it resulted in this:
Okay, it wasn’t really Ursula, but there was this moment where I was sitting at my station, and all of a sudden this gal from a different department stormed into our department and came and towered over me. She’s a very tall, big gal, and even though I’m heavy she makes me look minuscule When I saw the wrath on her features that were looming over me, all I could think was, “Oh crap, how have I angered Ursula, the sea witch?”
Now, equating someone you work with to a Disney villain/villainess is hardly kind or fair. However, I wasn’t looking to be fair at that moment, I was too terrified to be logical. Anyway, much like a predator can smell fear, this gal seemed to sense just how freaked out she was making me, and she used that to her advantage. The situation did get resolved-ish, but it’ll be interesting to see what happens Monday.
-One cool part of my job is all the different types of bodily specimens I get to see in a day. I see things removed in surgery (I don’t do anything with those, but they come in our department so I usually see someone else working with them), and all sorts of bodily fluids and other things that normal people run far away from. However, there is one specimen that it’s going to take me a while to get used to dealing with.
Semen.
About once a week I’ll have to ferry a cup of this stuff to another department. I know that in light of everything else I see, this should not ook me out, but there’s just something creepy about having to handle it. Maybe it’s because of the way it’s obtained.
And I’m thinking that’s probably about all I should say about that (before absolutely everyone stops reading).
-Camp NaNoWriMo starts on Monday. Basically, this is kind of a practice for NaNoWriMo in November. This is the first year I’ll be taking part in Camp NaNo, and I have absolutely no idea what I’m going to write about. So far the only useful suggestion I’ve been given has been, “Anything with dragons.” Which, as everyone knows, dragons automatically make any story better, so that was something I’d already been considering, but it was nice to have it affirmed.
-I’m starting to seriously think about getting my own car. I know I need another thing to pay on like I need another hole in my head, but it would be nice to have my own vehicle again.
–Oz: The Great and Powerful opened this weekend, and so far all reports I’ve heard from friends are in the positive. I am anxiously awaiting my turn to see it!
-I’ve been thinking a lot lately about what brings two people together and makes them consider marriage. I’ve known people who got married simply because they thought the other person had a cute butt (also, looking back, I think there may have been alcohol involved in their decision as well). What amazed me was that these people were confused as to why they didn’t have a great marriage. Then, there’s people who marry someone who seems like their perfect counterpart, and things either go brilliantly, or fall apart so terribly it makes others question whether marriage is really that great of an idea. After watching The Mirror Has Two Faces again (for the umpteenth time) last week, I have to agree with the idea of marrying your very best friend. I know this isn’t a new thought on planet Earth. That’s how it should be. You should marry someone who knows you better than anyone else. Someone who knows why you do the strange, quirky things you do, and finds it all endearing. Now, I have no magical idea that marriage is a happy-happy fun time wonderland. In fact, I know just from observation that it’s ridiculously hard. It’s tons of work. Why would you want to try to tackle that with someone who isn’t your best friend, and doesn’t really know you that well?
-Realizing that my weight truly is something I’m using as a defense, I’m making moves forward (somewhat drastic moves, for me at least) to deal with it. I find myself, sometimes several times a day, having to tell those memories of hurt, “You have no power over me!” It’s all very Labyrinth. It’s true, though. Just because something happened doesn’t mean that it has any right to control who I am or what I do. Yes, everything that happens serves to shape the person we become, but to live in fear and bondage and pain isn’t okay.
-Every time I watch Thor I come back with the same two questions. Spoiler-ish alert. 1. How is it that Thor manages to return to Earth in Avengers? The end of Thor kind of left him stuck at Asgard. Is Thor 2 going to solve this? 2. Why are people such big fans of Loki? Sure, he’s a great bad guy, but I’m a little weirded out by how girls seem so drawn to him. He’s malicious and greasy. Also, the way he toys with those around him is kind of emotionally abusive.
-Daylight Savings Time. Not really looking forward to it, but am awfully glad there’ll be an extra hour of daylight each evening.
-I solved the issue of fans being mad that–Spoiler Alert!–Matthew was left the way he was at the end of Downton‘s most recent season. At the beginning of next season, he should suddenly regenerate into David Tennant, and we find out that he’s actually The Doctor. Also, I would love to see the Maggie Smith character as a companion!
It’s that time of year again. “Weekend to Remember” time again.
Let me explain.
Every year, for approximately a month, my church will bring up “Weekend to Remember,” reminding all the married couples that this is something they should look into going to. Best as I understand it, it’s a weekend where a married couple gets together with other married couples to learn about being married, and to spend quality one on one time with each other remembering why they got married in the first place. With some couples, this seems like a good idea, but I’m thinking that there are probably some couples out there who’d much rather not remember why they got married, and if they do remember it’s going to cause more strife than lovey-dovey-ness. What do I know, though? I’m not married, so I can’t really offer any true judgement or expert opinion on these sorts of things.
This has gotten me to thinking. There really isn’t much available to Christian singles. Why is it that married couples have so many resources and weekends and classes available to them, but singles are pretty much left on their own? Are we considered less in need of help and support, simply because we have sole control over the remote?
On top of that, I decided to try Googling resources available to single Christians, and it’s amazing how many dating sites came up for me. When I tried looking for support, the pages I found mostly looked cheesy and archaic, and were filled with ads for dating sites. Plus, I’ve yet to encounter a book for single Christians that isn’t focused on dating/courting. Don’t misunderstand me, all these things are good and have a purpose, but where is the support system? I want guidance on how to exist as a single person in the day to day world. I want to be encouraged that I’m just as valuable a human being without a man as I would be with one.
I’m not really sure where I’m going with this train of thought (I know, I know, great thing to admit on something being published to be read by the general public), so maybe I just need time to process this.
Last week I was talking with a friend, and they mentioned an acquaintance who was struggling with something. My friend kept telling me that this other person had bad stuff in their past, as an explanation for why this person is the way they are. Of course, this got me to thinking. Don’t we all have bad stuff in our past? Sure, my bad stuff may seem like nothing to you and vice versa, but at the end of the day, we all have things that have happened to us that have turned us into the people we are. When I was growing up, my mom would always tell me that I could either get bitter or better based on things that happened. Out of everything my mom has taught me, this has probably been the thing that has stuck with me the most.
The thing is, I’m a processor. Whenever something happens to me, I need time to process the situation. Now, depending on the event, my processing time may be anywhere from a few hours, to a few days, to several years. I’ve been processing something that happened years ago, and the conversation with my friend last week, kickstarted my brain back into functioning mode. I’ve been debating all weekend whether or not to write about this. I finally came to the conclusion that the things that I have buried in my life are only going to harm me as long as I chose not to face them and keep them buried inside. There’s freedom in talking about things. Because I don’t want to get sued, I’m not going to write out all details (like names or dates). Suffice it to say, what I’m about to talk about happened several years ago, and I have more fingers on my hands than people who know about this.
When I was growing up as a pastor’s kid, every Sunday I almost always found myself standing at the back of the church with my parents after service. We would greet the congregation as they filed out heading for their cars and their lunches. Part of this ritual involved having my hand shaken, and getting hugs from nearly everyone who passed through. I never gave much thought to this practice, it was just what we did.
One Sunday, as people were passing through, one of the guys (he was probably in his late 20’s) gave me this hug, and for the first time in my life I got seriously creeped out by a guy. I brushed it off, and told myself it was nothing.
Except it wasn’t.
The next few weeks, every Sunday this guy would make a bee-line for me, and give me a hug that was just a bit over the line and intimate. One week, I tried hiding behind my parents, but not make it obvious I was. Unfortunately, that didn’t dissuade him.
Finally, after about a month of this, things came to a head. I came up with a plan to avoid this guy. As the service ended one Sunday, and we were walking to the back of the sanctuary, I asked my dad if I could have his keys so I could go to his office. He fished them out, and I quickly made my exit. My plan was to lock myself in his office and hide until everyone had left. I had just stuck the key in the door when I heard someone say my name, and by instinct I turned. There stood the guy. “I didn’t get my hug.” he said. He then proceeded to push me into the place where the door met door frame and give me this hug that to this day makes my skin crawl. Now, other, smarter, more savvy kids would’ve fought and gone running. I was in such shock I just stood there frozen with a brain that wouldn’t work, at all. Just then, this guy’s brother-in-law walked in, and I was released. Creepy guy took off, and I finished unlocking the office door, ran in and shut and locked myself in.
Not long after that creepy guy and his wife stopped being around so much, and I didn’t get any more awful hugs.
Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why my parents didn’t do something. Truthfully, they didn’t know until a few years ago, long after all this happened. I never said one word about what happened, and mostly blocked it from my memory. I was certain that I must have been a bad person to have something like that happen. I was certain it was all my fault. I no longer believe it was my fault. I’m not the naive innocent little thing now that I was then. I now realize that this guy had problems, and I just happened to be someone he set his sights on.
I really thought I had pretty much dealt with this. Then, this last week, I started thinking about the fact that even though nothing truly “bad” happened (although, I firmly believe if his brother-in-law hadn’t walked in something bad would’ve happened), this quick moment changed a lot in my life. I really shut down emotionally. I used to be this person who cared about other people and wanted to help and take care of them. I was definitely an extrovert. Following the hug, I slowly became more and more internalized, and now I’m a full-blown introvert. I struggle to force myself to be around people. The biggest change, though, is this:
No, I’ve not been turned into a llama. I do, however, have major issues with being touched. There are 10 people (this isn’t an exaggeration, I can count them all on my fingers, no toes needed) I know that I am willing to let touch me without wanting to physically push them away and then go and shower. What I find alarming is the fact that as much as I want a guy in my life, the idea of being touched terrifies me (and let’s face it, physical touch is part of relationships). I’ve also come to realize that much as I hate how heavy I am, I’ve not mentally been into losing the weight. Sure, I’ve given it a good go, but my mind has never been connected with the program. I think I’ve been using my fat as a defense. While there are guys who don’t mind fat girls, most guys avoid them. Being avoided because I’m fat means that I’m not going to get touched.
I’m sick of this. I’m horrified that I’ve let someone else’s issues have such an invasive effect on my life. He was a slimy sleazo, and yet his actions have had more influence over me than I thought possible. I refuse to let him win anymore. I’m tuned in now. I’m worth more than I’ve chosen to believe, and it’s past time for this weight to come off.
Tonight is just one of those nights. It’s been a super strange week, and now I find myself torn between wanting to just be left alone, and yet being so lonely I want to go be with my friends. It’s a vicious circle. Anyway, the week is just kind of ending on a meh note. Plus, I have all these thoughts in my head and no one to tell them to, so this is going to be my dumping ground, so my thoughts don’t eat me up… (the you I mention isn’t directed towards any particular person, just people in general)
-Don’t compare yourself to me. I’m not you and you aren’t me. We’re different people with our own separate issues. I’m not comforted when you jump in on every single thing I say to tell me how you have the exact same problem.
-I use self-depricating humor so that people will know that I know what’s wrong with me. If I mention it first, then it takes the club away. No one can beat me up about something I’ve chosen to mock about myself.
-If you can’t survive without being part of a couple, then you need to be single. I’m not saying this to be mean. You need to know who you are. You need to know how to do things for yourself.
-I have the right words, and likely I have the right answers. Putting them into practice, though, is so much harder. I wish I was better at it.
-Yes, I spend to much time on the internet. No, that’s probably not going to change anytime soon.
-Why is it that we always try to blame the bad stuff in our past on current ill behavior? I’m just as bad about this as everyone else. Truth is, we’ve all got bad stuff in our past, but we make the choice everyday as to how we’re going to handle life. Yes, our past does color our viewpoint, and have bearing on how we behave, but that’s still not an excuse.
-I was informed today that I needed to start planning my funeral if I’m not going to eat right and start exercising.
-Why is there so much obsession over vampires, werewolves, and zombies? I find Faeries to be much more interesting.
-Sometimes I worry that my mood is so dark, I’ll never see the light again.
Oh my, it’s been a bit of a time since I last updated. The main reason is that I’ve had very minimal internet access, and I was super sick. Combined, these things equaled no blogging. I think I’m back to regular updates now.
Apart from being ill, interesting things have happened since I last wrote. I went on a date! It’s true. I’m not making this up. Granted, it was mostly a blind date, but the main point is that I got asked out, and I actually went.
The date happened this past Sunday, and I had a great time. We met at the Durham Museum, and then went out for Mexican. Despite the fact that I was prepared for it to be super awkward (it’s a first date, could I expect different?), I felt like I had known this guy for a while. I even realized that I could easily like him as more than a friend. He seemed to have fun, and not to be totally uneasy in my presence, so I figured that all was well.
I can’t explain it, but come Monday morning, I started getting this real uneasy feeling. My spider-sense was tingling. Based on nothing, my brain came up with this thought, “He’s never going to want to see you again or have anything to do with you.” I tried to push this thought aside, but it kept bugging me. I got really down during work, but I just blamed it on my meds. What I take for my diabetes, makes emotions a little more severe. Happiness can turn into being ecstatic, and feeling a little down can turn into a black pit of despair.
Yesterday, Tuesday, morning, I awoke to an email from this guy. It was my first contact with him since Sunday evening when I texted him to thank him for taking me out. I won’t share the e-mail, but let me share the real “highlight” of it. He didn’t feel that “special spark” with me that he always promised himself he would feel with the person he is supposed to be with.
Really?
Really?
Special spark?
Hello! That’s tons of pressure to put on a first date. Especially one that was essentially blind. We’d only communicated a few weeks before that. So, all in all that was not even 10 emails, a few text messages, and a 2.5 hour date. What did he expect? That within minutes of meeting each other, we’d fall madly in love/bed with each other? This guy didn’t want to go on a date in real life. He wanted to go on a date in a movie! Also, it really irks me that he made this decision based on a date that took place the day after he went to Beerfest and got fairly inebriated. Yeah, in my experience, being hungover, even a little does not bode well for making solid choices.
Another thing, if you’re basing your choice for a life companion based on whether there’s a spark, that’s a really bad decision. When I was growing up we lived in a house with a fireplace. The thing I remember about sparks is that there are tons of them, they burn bright for a brief moment, and then are gone. Who wants that? Just because there’s an instant click, doesn’t mean that you should walk down the aisle together. Even the best romances from fiction and tv are the ones based in friendship. Elizabeth and Darcy hated each other to begin with, and yet they’re considered one of the most amazing love stories in literature.
All in all, the more I think about it, the more I realize what I disaster I got saved from. He spent tons of time talking about himself and his friends and his cats. It was all I could do to get a word in edgewise, and he certainly wasn’t interested in anything I had to say.
I guess the true positive is that I took a risk, something I’m not good at, and I gained some life experience.
Also, being the super-mature human being that I am, I may have spent a good portion of yesterday and today referring to this guy as a douche-nozzle. Not a very polite moniker, but much kinder than anything else I felt like referring to him as.
Any Second Now... 