Tumbleweeds

Drunky Winkerbean

Wed, 07 May 2008 00:32:37 GMT

I think I have to preface this entry with these 3 small, but important words: I am drunk.

Yes, I am. At this point in time, I am ingesting my 5th Corona. Yes, I have to pee. I have been peeing for many hours. But mama loves her Corona.

In truth, I have been drunk since yesterday afternoon. What? Like no one else gets their Margarita on for Cinco de Mayo! (Did I just say, "get their Margarita on"? That is bound to be embarrassing in a few days, I promise.) Yeah, so...a few Margaritas in a Mexican dive bar in which my gf's and I were the only women in a land of rowdy Mexican dudes who barely spoke English. Uh huh. We noticed that they would only address our tetas, but dig-diggity damn did we not know that our drinks might have more than Tequila in them. (Yes, please add "dig-diggity damn" to the list of embarrassing shit I am bound to say today). Anyway, after one drink -in which we had trouble tasting anything other than Margarita mix- we felt really hot. Like, REALLY hot! Like, some deeply sweaty type shit going on, I'm saying. Yeah, we promptly left. We still think our shit contained more than we bargained for.

So, like over-grown college kids on any given night, we picked up some beers and drank away our old age! (Well, Sam got imported beer, because unlike college kids, she can afford to pay $15 for a sixer!) Whoo! And yes, I'm still drinking, okay? Can I get a TRL-style "Whoo!" up in the place? I'm saying, the kind of "Whoo!" that is misplaced and totally inappropriate? The kind of "Whoo!" that actually means, "I don't know what else to say so...Yay to me for being inane and vapid!" Yeah! Can I get that kind of "Whoo"? Whooooo!

Anyway. I don't even know how the hell I'm typing right now, but I'm just about at the point where "happy and fun drunk" becomes "sad and depressed drunk" and I'm not having it! NO! I have a lot of shit to be happy about.

So. I don't remember what made me want to write, but I felt like I needed to. I do have things I want to say, but...it's not fun, so...not gonna say any of it! I'm only thinking happy things today! Whoo!

This is beyond pointless, isn't it? I know. Also? I gotta pee.

Maybe someday I'll get around to posting a real entry with some real thoughts and emotions or something. I don't even know.

Ex-X + X-Why = (N)0

Wed, 26 Mar 2008 00:57:19 GMT

It took maybe an hour before the damn butterflies showed up! Maybe two before I was imagining what a future with him might be like; three before I was wondering if I'd hyphenate or just full-on take his last name; four before I was wondering if my mama would have liked him (+3 minutes to decide that she'd have loved him personally, but hated him for me); and five days before I realized I was losing my mind.

Yes, apparently I am a 16-year-old (give or take 16 years or so). I know. But he's the only one who has that effect on me. I confess to spending a few days thinking things like: "fate" and "soul mate" and "destiny" and "serendipity" and "kismet." I promise that I didn't say any of them aloud, though. I finally settled on "amazing chemistry" and let it rest, because that's all it really is in the end.

I wish I could explain it, but I really don't have the words. I just don't have the experience. It's both too much and not enough all at once.

I could not even form a prayer around it consisting of any more than "help me." It's all that came to mind. I realize that I have been inviting all of this madness by sort-of-waiting, half-hoping, and comparing everyone I've met to him and how he makes me feel. As long as I keep doing that, I'm never really open to anyone or anything else.

That sound you hear is a door closing. For good this time.

I don't know what the plan is, but it's time.

"Forgive me" is the only prayer left.

Obsession Pour Femme

Tue, 18 Mar 2008 01:55:49 GMT

I want to say things.

I want to say things that fill pages.

It's the lamest damn thing. I have so much I want to talk about, but at the same time? I don't want to say anything. It's like sometimes when I'm really hungry, but I'm just so tired of thinking about/looking at food that I can't even be bothered to eat at all.

I guess I'm saying that I'm actually tired of the sound of my own keys typing out the same words about the same things over and over again. The problem, of course, is that I wanna talk about stuff! I piss myself off.

I don't even care anymore. Well, sorta. I mean, I hate that I'm even thinking about this again. I really, really, really do. I hate that I care if he's thinking about me at this very moment. I hate that I wonder what he's doing. I hate that I want to talk to him. I hate that I had to stop myself from seeing him this morning. I hate that he wants to pick up where we left off and I want to begin again. I hate that he doesn't think it's at all awkward. I hate that I'm such a freakish over-analyzer!

It makes me feel like shit, but if something new is going to happen between us, I don't want it to cost me anything. I don't want to have to talk or change or adjust or commit or give or care or think or feel. I just want him to kiss me. Forever. So dramatic, yes, but also? Very true. So why can't he just do that?

I don't want to think about it, but I can't stop. I'm obsessed with it. I'm tying myself into knots trying to figure out a way to get him to be casual with me. I love, love, love that he thinks I'm amazing. I don't understand it, but I do love it so very much. I'm just not anywhere near as great as he appears to think I am. This isn't some false modesty or low self-esteem type shit either. It's fact. And if I'm being honest, most of my trepidation about being with him for real is about wanting to keep his fantasy alive. I would love to be all the things he thinks I am, because that girl? Awesome! I might try to date her myself if she were real.

So, I suppose I'm insecure. It happens sometimes, I guess, but I don't like it. I want to be able to show him all my icky sides and have him still think I'm the best thing ever. The things he likes about me are true and effortless, but what about the things he's just assumed? Is the doubt I feel a lack of faith in myself or him or God or all of the above?

Ugh. So sick of myself.

This is the only part of my life where I still struggle mightily with just letting it roll. I always have to question and control it. If it is at all possible for God to be annoyed by someone, I imagine that He's half past fed up with me and this very subject right here.

The good news is I finally feel like eating.

One Day Of The Weak

Thu, 13 Mar 2008 01:41:49 GMT

Sigh. I am so ridiculous!

As I was innocently working at the job I love today, I happened to look up and there he was. Yes, him. We work the same route once a month, but I haven't seen him in that way since a long time ago, so I wasn't expecting it in the least. He was just standing there looking at me. I tried to just leave, I promise I did, but my curiosity won out:

K: Well, well, well. [Smiling cutely]
Me: So...how are you? [Smiling cutely back]
K: I'm good. How are you?
Me: I'm okay.
K: Still working around here, huh?
Me: Once a month, yep.
K: [Opens arms] So...come here. [Best hug ever!] God, you smell so good.
Me: [Melting a little at the way he said that] Sigh.
K: So what's going on with you? Seeing anybody?
Me: Nope.
K: How about since me?
Me: Um, no.
K: [Staring at me intently] Really?
Me: Well, I mean...no. Not really, no.
K: Ah! I see, "not really"?
Me: Ahem. You?
K: Nope. [Goofy grin]
Me: Okay. [Goofy grin]
K: So, when can I see you?
Me: What? I mean, like um, what?
K: What do I have to do? Do you want me to get on my knees right here? I will for you.
Me: What? No, that's not even necessary.
K: Seriously, I've been trying for...what, like, 3 years to have you, right?
Me: Kevin...I...what?
K: Yeah, 3 years. What do I have to do?
Me: Kevin. Kevin! Kevin? You had me. [Immediate regret for saying it due to the look on his face]
K: [Expression softens like a million times over] You never let me just be with you. That made me think things. Like you were hiding something.
Me: I know.
K: I want you to call me. Just talk to me.
Me: Kev...
K: No. I'm leaving it up to you. Whenever you're ready, okay? Just call me if you want to see me. Or just to talk to me. Okay?
Me: I don't know. I think...
K: When. You're. Ready.
Me: We'll see.
K: Seriously, call me. [Automatically smacks me on the ass like the old days, amusing us both]

Yeah, so...sigh. Also? We totally kissed. And, yes, it was as amazing as always. What? I'm weak, okay! I know, but I couldn't help it. Yet, I didn't get any butterflies. I didn't even get nervous or panicky like before. My heart feels nothing. I'm finally completely and totally over him. Why would I go back to something that could not be anything more than it had been in the past? Because I'm weak, that's why!

I'm not going to do anything, though. I'm leaving this in the hands of God because I don't know what I'm doing. Maybe Kev is the one for me, but I'll be needing a brick wall, please.

Fear Factor

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 21:40:31 GMT

"Are you in the dark right now in your circumstances, or in your life with God? Sometimes God puts us through the experience and discipline of darkness to teach us to hear and obey Him. Don't talk to other people about it; don't read books to find out the reason for the darkness; just listen and obey. If you talk to other people you cannot hear what God is saying."

Hmm. Interesting, no? It's an excerpt from my devotional for February 14th. (Yes, I am That Christian. I need it in daily bite-sized chunks. Leave me be.) That's actually the last one I've done because I seriously did need to take a step back and stop trying to pressure God into doing what (I thought) I wanted.

So, what is God saying to the neurotic woman who wants everything she doesn't have? I don't know. Yeah, I was expecting some great epiphany too, but...not so much.

In Mr. Devotional Writer's defense, it hasn't been that long and it's not as though I haven't had any thoughts or feelings in my down time. I just don't know if I've heard what I'm supposed to be hearing. I guess I'm hoping it will come as a flashing neon sign. To paraphrase Dr. Maya Angelou, supposedly it first comes in a whisper and builds until it's a brick wall for the obstinately hard of hearing. She's probably right. Plus, some random guy was telling me (out of nowhere) that God won't do for us what we can do for ourselves. Hey, was that a whisper? Maybe.

Here's what I do know for sure: A certain someone (who stupidly thought he loved me) was dead on when he pronounced me afraid of everything. I am. Oh, I like to think I'm not, but I sooooo am. I am terrified of knowing that someone else has the power to change my life...for better or worse. I know it's not very liberated to think that I'd have to give up my independence, but I would. And if that's what I truly want, I should do it without fear. I can't do that. Not again.

I want to live in my own place. Alone. I want to pay my own bills. I want to read in complete silence. I want to stay up too late and get up too early. I want to have hors d'oeuvres for dinner. Every night. I want to spend too much money on celebrity magazines. I want to buy 6 more pairs of black shoes that I don't need. I want to take days off for no reason at all and do absolutely nothing. I want to hop in my car and go wherever, whenever. I want to go to Wal-Mart in the middle of the night just to look at random shit. I don't want to answer to anyone for any reason about anything. Can I do that in a real, healthy relationship? I can't. Inevitably, "I" becomes "we." ...Because it has to.

But also? I have no interest in being alone forever. Or for now. I don't know how to reconcile being intensely independent with being with someone who wants to blend his life with mine. Nor am I interested in being with someone who wants to be as independent as I do. I know! I'm fucked up, yo. And scared shitless of what that means.

What am I supposed to do? I don't know. So, I'm going to just give it a rest. I'm in no hurry. God knows what he's doing. I ripped my biological clock right out (and banged that bitch to death!) sometime last year and I haven't looked back. Can I tell you that I have never felt so much relief in all my life? It's not the most popular thing in the world, but here it is: I don't want children. I never have. I love them fiercely, but there are so many, many, many good reasons for me not to have any. And I feel good about it, because not one of them is "fear." Well, I was afraid that people (mothers, my family, potential mates) would think I'm totally selfish and not much of a woman, but you know what? I don't care.

I don't know if this is God at work or what, but I can finally breathe.

Ang. Grrrr. Ree.

Tue, 26 Feb 2008 05:29:02 GMT

I am Angry.

Yes, with a muthafuckin' capital fuckin' "A." Because people really fucking piss me off! And you know what I do when that happens? I swallow it. I push it down. I rationalize it. I think I'm letting it go, but it stacks right the fuck up.

And I? Am about to fucking snap in half over here. No. Fuck that shit to pieces.

Excuse me while I go apeshit on those I love:

C: [Redacted] Turns out that I was your BFF, dumbass. In every way. [Redacted] You act like you don't know, but just keep fucking with me, okay?

S: [Redacted] It was me who put up with you taking out your stress-anger on everyone. You were so mean and angry that everyone else avoided you. [Redacted] Did I shout that shit out? Never did, never will. [Redacted] Yeah, some of us don't do our wallowing in public, Debbie Downer. Get a journal. [I know.]

J: [Redacted] And now that I see you for what you are, you want me to call you? To come over? To move in with you? Are you high? Like...on some perpetually coked-out type shit? [Redacted] Your happiness is not my responsibility.

Randoms: I can't, okay? [Redacted] Move the fuck on. [Redacted] I don't care if you are a breast man or an ass man. Keep your promises to yourself. I am horrible at math. No, that does not make you superior. Stop speaking to me in Spanish. Don't insist that I am Hispanic or Other. Stop saying, "You're not really Black" as a euphemism for "You're not like other Black people." No, it's not a compliment. It's racist and insulting. See also: "You're so articulate, well-spoken, etc!" Yeah, we kinda know this means you didn't expect it. Shut up.

D: Not going to church and/or not being a fan of organized religion does not mean that I need to "come back to God." I haven't gone anywhere. God and I are better than we've ever been. I'm glad you care, but you can't save my soul. Drop it.

G: I get so frustrated because I don't understand. I trust that you know where my heart is and you will help me through this.

I feel a little better already.

(Right. So, I wrote this a while back. I was really pink-in-face-on-the-brink-of-tears-fire-breathing angry, so I thought I might need to sit on it a few days. That stretched into a week or so. At the time, I was really all about shouting out some super personal info about myself and others that just would not have been cool at all. I'm generally not a fan of self-editing, but it was beyond necessary.)

Blasphemous Rumors

Tue, 29 Jan 2008 06:45:09 GMT

I once said God is "funny." I'd like to exchange that for a "hilarious," please.

I know it was forever ago, but as of late I have been thinking about Kevin. Yes, I know, but I was just kind of idly wondering if I had made some great mistake. And by "idly wondering" I do mean "full-on obsessing."

Wait. Hear me out.

It's not as though this sudden attack of rueful regret isn't well earned, okay? In the last two weeks I have met two men. They both started out normal enough, but as I've learned, a huge helping of "normal" always comes with a side of "WTF?"

Guy #1: Normal quickly stirred into overly touchy-feely/kinda sex offender-esque; only to be poured into a huge bowl of "Oh, yeah...I'm married." That last little tidbit I heard from someone else he was stalking. Someone who isn't quite of legal age.

Guy #2: He was very nice, actually. Friendly, cute, funny and respectful. And then. Suddenly, he whipped up a batch of "God has ordained that we get married and have kids. No, there is nothing we can do about that. Yes, it's meant to be. No, you can't disagree. Fate is bigger than the both of us."

Yes, so...I know that Kevin came with a heap of problems, but in comparison to who I'm meeting now? Shoulda, coulda, woulda, you know? But being that I would be an asshole to contact him and there is no way in hell he'd contact me, I needed to stop thinking/beating myself up about it.

So, I prayed. I prayed that God would help me to move on. That was 4 days ago. Kevin and I ended up face-to-face. Yesterday.

There he was smiling at me and making me feel beautiful all over again. He was so happy to see me. Oddly, I was thrilled to see him, too. Beyond how I had forgotten just how hot he is, I remembered how amazing he makes me feel. After a few moments, I became acutely aware that people were watching us stand there smiling at one another like we were both deranged. Finally, we said our "hellos" and "how-are-yous." I could have kissed him then. I know he wanted to touch me. I'm not even sure how it ended, but I remember he was gone and I was having a full-scale panic attack. I nearly passed out. No, really.

I didn't find out if he's moved on, but I'm sure he has. And here I am obsessing more than I was 4 days ago. See? God equals hilarious. I'm not sure what it means, but I don't believe in coincidence. Maybe it's simply the beginning of God helping me to finally get over this.

Somehow.

(BTW, "Blasphemous Rumors" is a song by Depeche Mode. Some lyrics: "I don't want to start any blasphemous rumors/but I think that God has a sick sense of humor." Personally, I wouldn't say God's sense of humor is sick at all. I may seem bummed, but trust that I am always amused.)

The Year In (P)Review

Sun, 06 Jan 2008 04:55:50 GMT

You know, reading back through some of my entries might make a person think that I am unhappy all the damn time! Seriously, that's such a weird thing considering that in my day-to-day life I'm actually pretty upbeat. It's so odd to realize that I only tend to document all my angst. That's one for the therapist, I think.

So. It's 2008! Yay! I love the beginning of a new year. I mean, I know it's cliche, but it really is like a whole new start. I was perusing the Cosmo (I know...) at the job I hate today. Just flipping through, you know? I swear it had nothing to do with looking for the article on "Dirty Sexy Sex" advertised on the cover. No. I swear.

Ahem. Anyway.

I was flipping through and came to that little horoscope guide-type chart to my exciting new year in love-and-whatever, hot-sex-Cosmo-sux-like-for-reals, same-shit-different-month thing. It's not that I believe in any of it (Christianity has broken my hopeful superstitious spirit), but it just made me realize that here I am at the tippy-top of an entire year that could bring anything. I realize that some of it could be bad, but...whatever! Bright side! By this time next year, I could be in love or engaged or married or with child (what? I'm old, so "with child" comes with the territory). I could have a new job or a new friend or just new shoes. I could win the lottery or meet Ben Affleck or pose for Playboy. I could write a letter or an article or a novel. I could learn to ski or cook or swim.

Yay to possibilities! Unfortunately, I can't say that I won't feel any of the angst that I just luh-HUH-huv to document, but for right now? Totally excited!

Also? Yes, I know I won't be posing for Playboy. But I did check out Adrianne Curry's "spread" (I know...). And...ew. I don't care what those "bunnies" like to spew forth, that shit is not tasteful. No, Adrianne, it's just not. Maybe there are raunchier ways to show off your new salty fun bags and artfully groomed cootie-coo, but...that was plenty, thanks. She and her chick-on-chick-on-chick fantasies (played out in pics with her real life BFF, no less) can stop assaulting my memory at any time. Ew. Way to choose a winner, Tyra.

Happy New Year indeed.

The Cat Dragged In

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 00:46:39 GMT

One day, my best friend stopped speaking to me. Once, she sent me an email stating that she knew all she needed to know about me. That would serve as our final communication. She shut me out completely. I'm still not sure why.

That was eight years ago.

Yesterday, she called me. Out of the blue.

I answered the phone and there she was. All sunshine. "Merry Christmas! I'm making out my cards! What's your address?"

After eight years. Of total silence.

After 5 years or so, I finally let it go. I stopped crying. I stopped blaming myself. I didn't bring it up yesterday. I just talked to her. For seven hours. We talked about everything but that day. She told me how much she has missed me. Nothing more.

I miss her. I love her. And? I fucking hate her.

She asked me to visit. She told me that she still tells people stories about all the fun we had. She put her husband on the phone. He, at least, seemed to realize that the whole thing was pretty awkward. Especially since I suspect he had something to do with us not speaking anymore. Maybe he knew how much she talked to me about leaving him. Maybe he didn't know how many times I encouraged her to try to work it out. And she's still talking about leaving him. I think she's serious this time. Again, I told her to get some counseling to see if the marriage could be saved. But secretly? I hope she leaves him. Trust me, the reasons are very good. Reasons I don't think she even knows exist. But he knows I know.

Anyway.

God is funny. (Peculiar and ha-ha.) Cat was not exactly what I prayed for, but she's just the right answer.

And as dramatic as this may sound, with all things coming full circle it kind of feels like I'm done now.

Maybe I'm finally done.

Can You Keep A Secret?

Wed, 05 Dec 2007 03:37:59 GMT

Let me say that I love my friends. I really do. I love Claudie, Sam, Dina and even crazy Stace. What I'm feeling isn't about having mad love for all of my chicas, okay? I'm so glad they are in my life. Sometimes they drive me nuts, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, I'm no picnic myself. I'm aware that I can be annoying and judgmental and mean and dismissive and distant and just...well, me about things. I'd like to think they wouldn't have it any other way either. Ahem. So, what I'm about to say isn't about them not being enough.

It's just that...I'm lonely. I know it's so retro, but I'm not the kind of woman who can be all Mary Tyler Moore-the-gay-divorcee-and-loving-it, okay? I need hugs. I need someone to call me before bed and make me feel like I'm the last voice he wants to hear. I need someone to call when something crazy happens. Someone who loves me in a way that my friends just can't. I need someone to hold my hand and laugh at my stupid, stupid jokes. And, God help me, I need kisses. Miss them the most.

Yes. I need all of it. I know it's not very liberated or progressive, but I miss that stuff. A lot. All the time. It's my dirty little secret.

I can't apologize for it, but I feel like I should.

Evolution Revolution

Tue, 20 Nov 2007 00:02:33 GMT

So. I am so very aggravated! It's the kind of shit that makes you question people on a really visceral level.

Okay, look...I'm as fed up with the term "politically correct" as the next person, all right? It just doesn't mean what people think it does. I have found that what some like to term as "being PC," I like to call "not being a douchebag."

It's just not cool to go around saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. Personally, I think that's a basic tenet of being a decent human being. We don't always have the purest and kindest thoughts about everyone, but that doesn't give us license to just blurt out whatever foul thing we may think of one another. No. Not even if it's true, okay? That's just...basic.

I'm so over those who will continue to make the argument that things where so much better back when no one got offended about anything. Here's a news flash, y'all: People were offended even then! That's right, they totally were. In my (completely accurate) opinion, the whole "political correct" movement flipped the script on some widely sanctioned (and truly ignorant) shit. The whole concept made it so that those who were offended no longer had to be expected to grin and bear it. Suddenly, The Offended could speak up and make The Offensive stop being dicks! No apologies, no guilt.

Furthermore, it means that racism and sexism are no longer funny. Oh, be sure that I never thought either of them were chuckle-worthy, but a person could really be surprised by just how many people think they are the height of hilarity. I'm not even trying to vilify any certain race. We all do that shit and it's just not cool. I'll make allowances for things said between friends because...well, I would hope the reason is obvious. But when I say "between friends," I don't mean a person and his same gender and/or race friend sharing some giggles at the expense of someone else completely. Does that make sense? Okay, I'm saying that I don't think it's cool for me to sit around with another black person and make jokes about [insert race here]. (No...never.) But I will tease a [insert race here] friend if that's the kind of relationship we have and vice versa.

I know it seems like a ton of arbitrary rules, but it's really not that damn difficult. A person knows if what he is about to say could be considered offensive, right? I think he should take that extra moment to...oh...not say it. It's a little principle I learned in Charm School (that's right): "If in doubt, leave it out." End of story. Does it make life less fun? Depends on whom you ask. For me? Not so much. But then I don't generally consider offending people to be a whole lot of fun. (Unless it's Pats...but that's a whole other kind of offensive. What? I'm not a perfect person, but I'm right about this.)

So...Evolution. I do believe that we are still evolving, though I suspect that not everyone wants to give up the Neanderthal ways. Get over yourselves and join the rest of us who realize that the world is to be shared, so why not try to make it pleasant for everyone?

It costs nothing, but everyone wins big.

Yes! What?

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 03:04:50 GMT

Okay, fine. I have made a decision. It is probably the worst decision of my entire life, but whatever. It's not like it could really hurt, right? I'm thinking not.

So...what the hell am I talking about? I don't even want to admit it. Saying it aloud makes me feel like a failure. Or worse, it makes me feel desperate. Which I so am not. Or am I?

Okay, I don't think I am, but other people think I should be more open to other options. I think I'm open to just about any damn thing, but maybe I'm...not? I hate this. I hate it because it makes me doubt myself.

I am 98.5% sure of myself, okay? I like my body because I know what we've been through together. I know that it has yet to betray me. I know that it has stood strong no matter how I've punished it. I don't care that other folks look at me and see someone who really needs to lose weight. Those people don't know what I've been through, so they can suck it. Plus, having been thin and suffering to stay that way, I realize that those people are just putting their issues on me. I can attest that there is nothing as annoying as watching some chick be fat and happy while you're killing yourself. I honestly used to think, "How dare this fat chick be eating while I'm starving? If I'm fat, she's huge! I hate her so much." Yeah. I was jealous of her. The person I really hated was me.

(Although, I guess I do need to get back on the treadmill because I'm starting to breathe funny after a long walk. That's not like me at all. I have been a little lazy in that regard, I guess. So, it's not perfect, but I can fix it.)

So, yes. I am at peace with myself. I have grown to be a strong person with a good heart.

So why does this one area make me feel so weak? I feel like I've tried, but maybe I haven't. It's not that I take other people's opinion of me to heart, but sometimes we are blind to things that others can see pretty clearly. I'm thinking that maybe this is just one of those times.

Okay. What can it hurt, right? It's not as if it will be that much different from what I'm doing right now. So. I guess I'm going to try it. If nothing else, it should be amusing. Of course, now that I've decided to do it, I'll bet the universe won't cooperate.

Prayers requested.

We shall see.

You're So (P)Rude!

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 22:51:39 GMT

"Sex is not a sport!"

And to think that I called Sam a prude when she said that yesterday. Oh, what a difference a day makes!

Yesterday, my friend was so disgusted with all the sex shops and "Gentleman's Clubs" that have found their way onto her side of town. I agreed with her that there are just too many, but I could also see the merits of a sex shop within the confines of a monogamous relationship. (And considering that I'm currently monogamous with myself? I can see where such a place might come in...uh...handy. Hee! ...And ew.) Well, she maintained that those places only exist to encourage people to hook up with whomever, whenever. That's when I called her the biggest prude that ever pruded. Is she wrong, though? Probably not, maybe.

So, I was working today when I kind of notice a group of guys checking out my goods from a little distance away. We were separated by a large pane of glass, so I wasn't too worried about it. After a while, one of the crew comes over to talk to me:

Grillz: Excuse me, I need to ask you a question.
Me:[Fascinated by the fact that all of his visible teeth are covered in gold] Hey, honey. What's up? (Shut up, everyone gets a "honey.")
Grillz: Are you married? [Glances at my ring finger]
Me: [Catching the glance] Sigh. Nope.
Grillz: Boyfriend?
Me: Yes!!!!
Grillz: Ah. I guess I won't bother you no more, but I gotta let you know that I was checking "it" out and...[Looks me up and down. Pauses at my ass. I turn and he pauses at my boobs before finally landing on my face]...ummhmmm. [Gives me the thumbs up!]
Me: Um, okay. Thanks.

Cree. Pee. I'm not about to front like I don't know that men like to look and sometimes appreciate what they see, but that was the first time I felt like Blue Ribbon cattle, yo. A thumbs up? Really? Why didn't he just say, "I'm imagining you bent over right now. You like that?" (Oh, whatever. All men do that.)

Later, I was in another store where the owner decided to give me some "advice." Since it was a 45 minute conversation, I'll give you the short version:

Baldy: You're too old fashioned.
Me: And what?
Baldy: And you need to just have sex and forget about love.Then you won't get hurt.
Me: I don't mind getting hurt, ass. I'd rather believe it's going somewhere. It's not about sex for me.
Baldy: But the rest of the world doesn't think that way. Maybe 99% of men have more than one girl.
Me: Guess I'm waiting for the 1%.
Baldy: That's stupid.
Me: And what?
Baldy: I'm being honest with you. [Describes in full detail all the things he'd love to do to me]
Me: Does this really work for you?
Baldy: You want me to lie and tell you I want to be in a relationship? All men say that, but they don't mean it.
Me: Humph. Personally, I think I'm worth the lie. Make me think you want to have a conversation with me.
Baldy: I don't right now. That shit comes later. That's how it works, girl. Any man will tell you that.
Me: [Knowing from experience that this is true, but still grossed out by it] I hate you so much right now.
Baldy: I know, but I'd still like to...[more details]
Me: Fiery hate!
Baldy: Love comes later, baby. If you do it right, you can make a man drop all the others, but you gotta show us something.
Me: I'm not showing your ass anything.
Baldy: Please? You're a good woman. I think you deserve a good man, but you're too conservative.
Me: I guess I'm a prude to you. But if you were my man? You could do whatever.
Baldy: How can I be your man?
Me: You'd have to lie to me...and you don't do that.
Baldy: Can we start over?

I'm just saying that I hate them all. I know that I am old fashioned (actually, I prefer the term "traditional"), but am I the only one? I'm not. Maybe it's because I surround myself with other chicks who share my values? I don't know anyone who is into the casual hooking up thing. But then I start to doubt myself because I am alone. And maybe I need to conform a little. Case in point:

Me: Sigh. Everyone's married! Jackie, Stace, Cat....
Sam: I'm not.
Me: But...Jim! Nearly 3 years! Shacking up!
Sam: Hmm, yeah. You're too picky.
Me: Me? Me of the "give-my-number-to-nearly-anyone-who-asks" tribe? Me of the "tatts-on-neck-no-problem" clan?
Sam: Yes. You just have to learn to ignore some things.
Me: Grrr. [Thinking that if my standards get any lower, I'll be straight up dating primates, yo]

Sigh. I'm a loser, I guess. A prudish, old fashioned loser. But the one thing that I cling to is: "The Devil is a liar and sin doesn't deliver on anything it promises." I mean, right? I shouldn't have to change my values to make sure I don't end up alone.

Or should I?

Dizzy As A Bee

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 22:00:57 GMT

Whoo!

I've been pretty busy. Okay, not all that busy in real time, but in between all the naps? It's out of control! Yeah, yeah. I know.

Anyway, I'm actually off to take a nap right now because I'm feeling a little bit dizzy. I realize that I'm probably just dehydrated, but the idea of sleep is ten-fold more appealing than the thought of...water. So, yeah...nap.

Thus a quick catch-up of all things:

-Had lunch with Dina a day before her bro collapsed. Talked to her the next morning right after she found out that he had died in the same way my mom did. So weird...and sad. She's in the Philipines right now.

-Had lunch with Sam. Met her boyfriend and so many things are so clear all of sudden.

-Crazy Jason sang to me in a very public setting. It was...embarrassing. I wish I knew what the song was. It went something like, "Why are you being so hard giiiiirrrrrlllll? Don't you knoooooowwww you need my looooove?" It was sweet and funny. And awful.

-Jackie's getting married. That's something I'll have to get into in detail at a later date. Trust me on that.

-Had lunch with Sam and Stace. Interesting. Finally met Stace's super cute baby! Yay! Will also have to get into all things Stacey at a later date as well. Or maybe not. It's bound to be steeped in judgment, so maybe I'll get over it by the time I get around to journaling again. Maybe.

-Hate my job. Well, one of them. Still don't know why I haven't quit yet. I'm getting closer to it, I swear.

Okay...I so need a nap.

The Real(ly) Deal

Thu, 04 Oct 2007 02:55:27 GMT

You know, there are just some things in life that make me say, "Really?" Sometimes there just isn't anything more to say.

Fanfic.

Really? I just read in EW that some chick actually published a book of Bones fanfic. 280,000 words devoted to characters on a television show in fictional situations created solely by her. Really? Like, nothing better to do? At all? Seriously, she should fill her empty hours doing my laundry and cleaning my shower. That's right. Suck it, homeless! Suck it, disadvantaged youth! All free time should go to me, me, me! Apologies, but folks who write fanfic are kinda scary, yo.

Men. Really?:

Me: (Smiling) "Hello."
He: "Hey. Why are you smiling?"
Me: (Surprised) "What? Uhhh...because that's what people do when they say 'hello'?"
He: (Seems annoyed) "But...why? Did I make you happy or something?"
Me: (Confused) "Seriously, just being nice."
He: "Oh. [Pause] Are you married?"
Me: "What? Two seconds ago you were upset that I was even being nice to you. Now you wanna date me?"
He: "Yeah. [Shrugs] Gotta boyfriend?"
Me: "Huh. Uh. Hmph. Yeah...boyfriend, I think."
He: "Oh. Too bad...you're cute."

Variations of this happen entirely too often. Are women really naturally so rude that a smile must mean I'm interested? Weird.

Old ladies in tiny shorts.

Dude. No, listen. She could not have been a day under 55. She got out of her car and was in the smallest blue shorts with pink trim. Slits up both sides! It was not good. Old saggy thigh skin, okay? Oh, but wait. Then Miss Lady decides she needs to roll them up at the waist! So what we have now is old saggy ass skin! Her entire ass was out! I think her brown eye winked at me! Really, lady? Really? Ew.

"She got that spice, son. Fo' real."

Really? Okay, I need all urban teen dance movies to shut up forevermore. Thank you, J.Lo, for bringing us Feel the Noise. I imagine it's You Got Served While Saving the Last Dance So You Better Step Up, Honey. (No, seriously! Look them up. I defy you to prove they are not all the same damn movie!) Did we really need another one? We get it. Young black men love to dance with girls of other races because when a girl who isn't black can dance, it must be True Love Always. Really? Shut up.

Ugh. I'm too annoyed to continue now. (And for that Tyra Banks should thank me because she is a world of "Really?"!)

About me? Nothing much. Feeling so lazy right now. Will catch up with the real stuff later.

Fries With Catch Up

Tue, 25 Sep 2007 01:08:10 GMT

Sigh. It's weird when you haven't seen someone in a very long time. It's weird to try to fill in all the blanks within an hour or two. It's weird when I suddenly don't feel like talking about my life anymore. It's hard for me to get to a place where I feel like I can share things with anyone, so it's odd when a lot of time passes. I feel like I have to start the trust cycle all over again.

Anyway.

Kevin. He had me stressed out for a minute. I won't go into it, but I couldn't sleep. Fortunately, an (un)interested party stepped in and made it clear for me. I say "uninterested" because he doesn't like me personally. At all. But he was there when things went down and according to him, Kevin wasn't being malicious at all. Apparently, he said really nice things about me and the other stuff was some twisted man-bragging bullshit. Yeah. It doesn't exactly heal all, but it makes me feel better to know that he didn't have any ill intent. Relief!

Dina. We lunch. We shop. We laugh at the same stupid shit. The best thing about her though? She totally gets it. Totally. No bullshit. No motivational crap. No daily affirmations. She straight up gets it. And that? Is awesome. Plus, she's the only one who remembered my birthday on my actual birthday! Love her.

Sam. She remembered my birthday, so yay! I feel like an ass because I kind of stood her up for dinner. I had every intention of hanging out with her because I miss her so much, but I just don't have the time this week. It's awesome of her to ask though.

Stace. Talked to her for a little bit today. Yep. Nothing much new there.

So, yeah. Not very exciting, but there it is. I'm not talking about men anymore. Not until something serious happens, I think. It's so boring, but I guess it's all I ever really talk about.

The end.

Playing Hard To Hurt

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 01:40:24 GMT

Grrrr to frustration. I'm ridiculous sometimes.

Seriously, I am broken! Something is so very, very wrong with me. Like, fundamentally wrong, okay? The good news is that I'm starting to kind of figure out what it is. (The other good news is that my shopping and lunching friend totally gets the baby issue. She gets the same shitball questions that I do, but she's married, so she supposedly has no right to be childless. Fuck, do people suck ever so much.)

Anyway, I was talking to Jason and he said something that pretty much clued me in on at least one reason why I can't keep a man:

Jason: "Are you gonna call me back this time?"
Me: "I always call you back, do I not?"
Jason: "Yeah, right. Like a week later."
Me: "Okay, but...that's calling you back, right?"
Jason: "Ah! So you're playing hard to get. I love that."
Me: "???"
Jason: "Yeah...I love it." [Cute smile]
Me: "You're crazy." [Cheesy grin]
Jason: "Make time for me. Will you answer your phone?"
Me: "Call me and we'll see."

Do you see what happened there? Always happens. There is nothing better than the challenge, I guess. So that's how I get them...and why I can't keep them. What I am is overtly friendly and flirtatious right up until someone is interested. Then suddenly I'm so wary and distrustful that he has to work hard to get past the flirty stuff. And that takes forever. So long, in fact, that he usually ends up thinking I'm not into him so he leaves. Or he stays for a while, but eventually gets tired of trying to win me over not knowing that he already has. Who would believe that I have any real feelings when I act that way?

So. Now I can kinda see how it happens, but I don't know how to change it. I don't really know how to be open, I guess. Kev mentioned that a lot. I'm seriously surprised that he hung in there long enough to think he could love me. I don't know what he loved, because I gave him nothing emotionally. I have no idea how to do it. None. I'm working on it, but not with Jason. He's...what? Interesting. We make one another laugh, he's smart, ambitious, really (really!) cute, but...I don't know. Well, he's kind of a thug. I think he'd kick someone's ass if I asked him to with no questions asked. He's definitely unrefined, but there's this sweetness about him that I find really attractive. He looks at me in such a soft way. It's really nice. (Kevin looked at me like that when he bothered to look at my face. Mostly I had to remind him not to talk to my chest. No, seriously.)

(Yes, still miss him a little bit, but since I'm not "ready" he's not talking. Sigh.)

Anyway, I really think I need to take a long break from men, but they keep showing up. It's odd. Maybe someday I'll let my guard down and stop being a chickenshit.

God willing.

High School Muse-ical

Wed, 22 Aug 2007 01:04:03 GMT

(Get it? See, I'm about to muse about high school. Okay, so if I have to explain it, it's not that good. Gotcha.)

So I ran into someone from high school. I saw her watching me from a little distance away. Finally, she came over to make me feel badly (I guess), and while I recognized her, I never really knew her. So I was very friendly, of course. But she? Was not. She was very cold, actually.

Interesting.

It reminded me of a question that a friend asked me a while back. She asked what being popular in high school had done for me in life. Ahem. Ignoring all the ickiness that the question implies, I'll attempt an answer:

-It taught me invaluable social skills. Due to being bound to a large social circle in which I didn't necessary like everyone, I learned civility. I can hate someone to the core and never let that show. It's just not necessary to be nasty to people. I can get along with just about anyone.

-It taught me how to be a friend. I learned what it feels like to have people (who aren't bound by blood) really have my back and vice versa.

-It gave me confidence.

-It taught me to get over things.

-I learned how to be comfortable with the opposite sex. (I'm aware that I can't keep a man, but I can always get one.)

-I earned leadership skills. Doesn't seem like it, but Student Gov/club presidencies really helped me out.

-I learned to be comfortable with my body. I had some serious body issues in high school, okay? But looking back, I now know that the damage I did to myself was never worth it. (Plus, being a chunk monster definitely gave me a chance to develop a decent personality. Fat:1, Bulimia:0)

-It makes me a better person today. How? Well, let's look at the folks I run into 15 years later who are either gleeful that I'm now fat or still bitter about their experience. I don't have that problem. Having had a positive high school experience allows me to see someone from back then and feel warmly nostalgic. I'm happy to see folks! I want to laugh and reminisce! I don't feel angry. I don't have anything more to prove.

So. I think a lot of people who were miserable in high school rely on being the fat and/or nerdy person who drops all the weight and/or becomes supremely successful. Wow. That's... just sad. See, not all thin people get fat (I did, but I'm still smoking hot, okay?). And not all "nerds" overcome it. Everyone had their issues. All we can hope is that we grow into being great people. Plus, if you let that shit dictate your life? You're in for some serious misery because high school is merely a microcosm for the rest of it.

Bottom line? If Ms.Cold-To-Me didn't learn how to deal back then, she can look forward to needing some therapy. It was apparent that she expected to make me feel bad. Mission accomplished. I do feel really bad...for her.

Hello Mutter, Hello Fodder

Tue, 21 Aug 2007 03:36:53 GMT

It's funny what will keep me up at night. More often than not it's something someone has said. I don't know why, but some things just hit me in a spot that won't let me rest.

That's how I felt last night after having a rather lengthy convo with a woman at the job I hate. She doesn't even work with me. She's just some random woman I started talking to who decided to give me some really suck-ass life advice.

Short version? One day I'm going to wake up and find myself too old to have babies. Apparently, it's sensationally stupid for me to wait around for the right man. Apparently, I should find myself a "nice enough" boyfriend and get knocked up but good. Apparently, I shouldn't care if he leaves because "all men get scared." Apparently, I should be glad that times are so different now that I won't be branded with a big, scarlet "W" for being a single mother. Apparently, most men just want a woman like me to take care of them. They don't want to work, but wouldn't mind if I hatched an entire flock and never spoke of wanting to make it legal.

Humph.

Now, I would love nothing more than to write her off as the crack pot she so obviously is, but also? She's not entirely wrong. I am totally running out of time. I know this. It doesn't make me feel any better when virtual strangers feel it their duty to remind me (and boy do they ever). I get it. Trust me.

God and I have talked about this ad nauseam, yo. So, I fully trust in His will for my life. I understand that my life is for God's purpose and not the other way around.

So. Perhaps I can stand to be a bit less of a whiner. Totally.

And tonight? I shall sleep.

Tied Up In "Nots"

Sat, 18 Aug 2007 04:33:38 GMT

Okay. There are just some things a person should not do. Somehow, I manage to do them all. All the fucking time. Don't think it's possible? Well, just let me tell you what I did tonight.

So. Because I'm a little sad/lonely/depressed/pathetic (please choose all that apply), I thought it might be a great idea to go see my ex-whatever. From over a year ago. Yes, I know. Not a good idea, but I'm pathetic like that. (Did you choose "pathetic"? Score!)

He is so very cute. Still with the dark curly hair, big brown eyes, and hot bodied-ness. Cute. I don't know what I was looking for. A little validation that I'm still totally someone he'd miss, maybe? Not sure.

Anyway, still not sure if he misses me. Know he still thinks I'm cute, though. It was warm. It was nice. Nothing much happened. Nothing good anyway.

Sigh.

There's a reason we didn't work out. A damn good reason, actually. Short version? We're both entirely too sensitive. I'd make an offhand remark and he'd lose his shit. I'd be caught off guard by his reaction and get mean. Which made him meaner. It was never good, but it was always private. It ended the one day that it went horribly public. Horribly.

It's not that I missed the ex, anyway. I miss him. I don't want to, but there it is. It's football season. He loves football. I remember once he was trying to talk to me about it (why do they do that?) and he mentioned Steve Spurrier. I was all, "He's the coach for the Gators!" He laughed and said, "A long time ago, shawty. I guess you won't be sitting next to me on Sunday afternoons, huh?" And I said, "I'm all about halftime, baby [insert inappropriate sexual innuendo here]!" I know. But he thought it was cute. He always felt the need to keep me up-to-date on his Madden scores. Yeah, I suppose I thought he was cute, too.

Sigh. Again.

This will be hard to believe (sometimes I don't believe it myself, actually), but this is the first time since I started dating that I haven't had someone. I've either had a boyfriend, a husband or someone random chasing me down and humping my leg. Always. Maybe I need this.

But it kinda sucks, though! What makes it really hard is being pretty sure that if I were just contrite enough, sweet enough, manipulative enough....

We've been through this shit a million times over and he always came back. Although when he did, he was always a little bit different. Not in a good way.

So. Not going to call him. Not going to text, email, snail mail, morse code, semaphore or smoke signal him. No owls or floo network. No. Should I see him, I'm not going to say things to make him miss me. Not going to look at him like that.

Not going to remember anything else that made me laugh or feel like I was the only one he ever cared about. Not going to remember anything.

Sigh. Again, some more.

But I will miss him for a little while longer. Let me have this. It's all I have left.

Beauty and the Eeek!

Thu, 16 Aug 2007 00:52:17 GMT

Lo, the burdens of the beautiful! For with great beauty comes great responsibility!

What? Ahem.

So. Some child has a school boy crush on me. A crush that went from "cute" to "awkward" very quickly. It was rather innocent at first. He is wicked smart and it quite comically intimidated all of our...um...not quite as intellectual coworkers. For example, I found it funny when folks would complain to me that he would speak to them in French only to watch me join him. Yep, I'm an asshole. Wheee! Fun!

Anyway, it was little things like mutual Jeopardy love and talking about Mary Shelley that kind of sealed our little us-against-them bond. In hindsight, I guess I knew this was coming. On the other hand, why would it be? See, I'm old! He's very, very young (though legal). I never really thought he'd take any of the flirting stuff seriously. At all. I mean, it was so very weak!

I think the real turning point was when I bought him a cake for his birthday. He was crazy grateful. I could tell he thought it meant more than it did. But...uh? Everyone gets a cake. (Well, not fucking Pats. I have irrational hate for fucking Pats.) So, yeah. Wasn't a big deal, but he positively gushed about it. For weeks. Weird. After that, he started to leave with me after work. He'd stand at my car and talk to me for half an hour about nothing much. Then, we'd leave and not make it outside. We'd sit on the benches and chit chat for a bit. Then he started to say "I love you!" after every small favor I did for him. He laughed entirely too hard at my jokes. General weirdness, yes, but I wasn't sure if it was Crush City or not.

And then.

We were alone in the back room, when he told me that he was a "man" who knew more than I thought. (Huh?) Next, he said something about his impending departure ruining all the "potential." (What?) Later, he totally backed me up against a door in the back and gave me this intense look. He didn't say a word. Just pushed me up against the door with his skinny little self. (Dude!) It was awkward. Fucking Pats came around the corner and froze. I was all, "Look! Pats!" He totally jumped and backed off of me. Awk. Ward!

Later still, we were the last peons in the building and he asked me to "take a walk" with him "for fun." Yeah...uh...no. I was supposed to go say goodbye for the last 3 days. Couldn't do it. I think he's gone now. Man, had he ever read me wrong.

Or had I read him wrong? I should have known better, but I think subconsciously I may have taken it as a personal challenge. Wouldn't be the first time. I do like attention, but I thought our bond was pretty platonic.

Eh. Maybe it was nothing and I brought all the awkward to it with my freaky reaction to every little thing. I don't know. I just...I don't know. I'm probably totally wrong. Doesn't matter anymore. We'll never have to see one another again, right? Right.

So, yes. Many are the burdens of the beautiful, my friends. Y'all are so lucky. Wouldn't wish it on ya.

BFF/KIT/LYLAS

Tue, 14 Aug 2007 03:39:14 GMT

I don't see my friends several times a week like I did in my 20's. We no longer have standing movie nights and lunch dates. Life takes over. That's just how it is. But I've had the same friends since I was 9-years-old. It's quite an accomplishment. We are bonded for life. We don't talk all the time, but we do keep in touch. I don't need them to give me things. I know they are there for the biggies. They love me with all my craziness. They survived my Mean Girl stage, my Kinda Trampy phase, my Bible Thumping years, my Holier-Than-Thou Vegetarian months, my Smug Married years, my Depressed Divorcee year, my If-It's-Breathing-I-Will-Date-It months and my I-Don't-Need-Anyone phase.

Phew! God bless them for being here now.

Thank God for Stace who has put up with all of my crap when no one else would. Thank God for her listening to me go on and on and never turning her back on me. She could very easily have shut down when I didn't take her advice. She could avoid me, but she continually seeks me out. Her voice is ever chipper when she asks, "Been worried about you. Did you fall off the edge?" Her humor is welcome when she says, "Sooo...what's his name?" (As though she understands that only a man could keep us out of touch. She's funny like that. Not wrong, but funny just the same.) It's awesome that there is never even the slightest hint of "I told you so." I love her.

And I love Sam. I love the Sam who totally falls into a black hole when she's in a relationship, but never fails to keep us all up-to-date on her family's shenanigans. She's always the one who volunteers to help in a move. She can (and will) fix anything. She's the most nonjudgmental and the goofiest. She sends me her papers to proof and edit. She knows I'm proud of her. She's made the most mistakes, but also the biggest sacrifices. She's who I want to be. Love her the most.

I'll save the other two for another day. Just know that I love them both fiercely.

Why am I saying this today? Because it should be said more often than I ever bother to even think about.

Trust that I drive them insane, but they love me without conditions. A "friend" once told me that I was lucky to have so many friends (I only have 4!) and I shrugged it off. Well, she turned out to be a true asshole. I should have known that anyone who believes that true friends are hard to come by probably doesn't know how to be one.

No real point. It was just on my mind.

(I Ain't) Missing You

Fri, 10 Aug 2007 02:04:54 GMT

(The year? 1984. The artist? John Waite. See what I'm sayin'? I think you do.)

It's insane. I didn't expect it quite to this degree. God and I have had some very emotional chats the last couple of days. I'm not sure that I'm at all qualified to make any decisions about men. Any of them. This includes my daddy.

Frush. Stray. Shun.

I happen to believe that God speaks to us in any language that we understand. I mean through certain people, music, circumstances, etc. I know a lot of people don't believe that God speaks at all, but let me say, I firmly believe He does. I also believe that if it's important to me, it's important to Him. There is nothing too small, okay? He answers all. Each time you ask. If only you believe with absolutely no doubt. None. Zero.

So, yes. God and I have talked about him. A lot. Perhaps my confusion seems unwarranted, but...I can't begin to tell you what seeing him again did to me. I just...I don't know. I feel like...like...! I can't say it. Yes I can. But I fear the judgment.

I have to say it sometime. I have to start to really work this out for myself if I want to have any hope of moving on. Not that I really think I'm supposed to move on completely. But that's between me and God. I think I'm finally on the right track. I know all about "Que sera, sera." I'm just...? Shaken up. Completely.

And I'm on my own. Again. It sucks, but it's about time that I become a self-actualized woman, right? I'm truly working toward that. It's beyond overdue. Sometimes I can't even believe that everything I have is mine, mine, mine! (Not that I have much, but nothing has ever belonged to me before.) See, I left my father's house at nearly 21, was married by 22. For the short while I lived on my own, my parents paid all my bills. Then straight to a husband who owned/took care of everything. I worked/ went to school. Spent all my money on fun and shopping. Just like when I was at home. Even after the divorce, he took care of/paid for it all. I never had to grow up. So this is all new to me. I know that sometimes I must seem too old to not have figured anything out, but it's not like I ever had to before. I think that's called "arrested development."

Sigh.

So I pray to have my issues worked out by any means necessary. I pray to be a better everything. I pray that he becomes a better everything, too. After all, "hope" is my favorite word. (Followed very closely by "breathe.")

Time will tell.

Love at First (In)Sight

Thu, 09 Aug 2007 01:27:15 GMT

This will probably come in handy later. In therapy.

I am so very, very vain. Surprising, I know.

Okay, one of my bosses (from the job I actually love) called today to "touch bases" with me. Which if you're Dave, means you want to meet, chat and allow me to stare at you like some grinning, drooling mouth-breather. Look, I think he's...yummy. He's cute and friendly. He has an amazing smile. Plus, he's amused by me! (What? Like it's shocking that an easy way to curry favor with me is by thinking I'm cute and kind of awesome. Hi? Pay attention!)

Anyway, he likes me! And I totally like him! Probably in completely different ways, but I'm okay with that. So, where the hell was I? Yes, "touching bases." Is it wrong that I didn't call him back because I didn't like my hair today? Is it wrong that I refused to meet him because the heat index was 105 degrees and I didn't want to be all sweaty while standing before His Cuteness? I know. Leave it alone. It will never change. (I once took 2 hours to meet Kevin in jeans and a hoodie. He was not impressed with the long wait considering it afforded him nary a look at my girls. No, listen. He was obsessed with them. He called them his "friends" and greeted them with a hearty, "Hey, y'all!" every time we...uh, they...saw one another. It was cuter than it sounds. Maybe you had to be there.)

Tangent! Sorry. Kevin stories will stop soon-ish.

So, right then. Will meet Dave tomorrow after I plan something cute to wear and do something to stave off the frizzies. I'm trying to find a way to make him fall in love with me. I imagine that I could try doing my job or something, but...eh. He has some muscle car he likes to work on. Wish I'd cared enough to pay attention to what kind it is so I could feign interest in it. (Nope, not above that.) Or I could learn what "GT" means. He seemed impressed that I have one, but hell if I know what that actually means. I'm all, "Uh...fast?" Sigh. I want to take my own eyeballs out and roll them at myself. I'm ridiculous.

Moving on. I had a Crazy Lady moment with a client in an account. I was in for a bit when she turned her back to me and I thought I heard sniffles. I asked her what she was doing with all the compassion of accusing someone of trying to steal my baby. She was kind of startled by that, but she turned around and was in full-on crying mode. WTF? I, of course, immediately started to tear up and before I knew it, we were both sobbing. No, sobbing! Like, mucus-flinging, red-eyed, lip-pouting sobbing, okay? People were seriously concerned and asking what the fuck was going on. She looked at me and said, "She doesn't even know what she's crying about!" Which made us both laugh hysterically. Everyone was baffled! It doesn't sound like it, I know, but it was hilarious. I'm a shameless sympathetic crier. I cannot see someone crying without freaking out myself. Sometimes it's compassion; other times it's completely Pavlovian.

Yep. Another day that I have no real point. Well, other than topic avoidance. There is something I am desperate to talk about, but I'm not really ready.

I should call my daddy back, huh? Yeah.

Rainy Days and Mondays

Tue, 07 Aug 2007 04:53:34 GMT

( I don't know what the hell was wrong with The Carpenters. I like them both!)

Today was a world of "Yay!" Not talking about it. Not yet.

Anyway, this thing with Tim? Done. It is always a bad sign when someone starts off with one small child at the beginning of a convo, but ends up with 3 by the end. Seriously, what the hell? He began by telling me that his wife died four years ago and left him with a 5-year-old daughter. That is totally something that tugs at my heartstrings, so he absolutely had me. As time passed, he suddenly mentions a second daughter...who is in college! Okay, like...what? After the initial shock, I kind of try to...I don't know...ignore it-ish? Yeah, well, there's a third daughter! This one's married...with children! Oh hells nah! Just how old is this guy?

I am not young, okay, so the age isn't an immediate issue. I can be attracted to anyone of any (legal) age. (Okay, not true. He's gotta be at least 27. No children allowed on this ride, but it's not like I wouldn't consider someone based solely on age. That's how folks end up alone. I'm looking for kind, responsible, spiritual, ambitious, personally successful, interesting, intelligent, funny, etc. Age/race/looks do not enter into the equation. I can be attracted to anyone. I do happen to enjoy the pretty, but it's not a requirement.)

Where was I? I'm not young, but I don't have children my own age. Like, what, Tim? Whatever. Done.

Plus, I have the crushies for someone else. We're very flirty-flirty with the giggly touchiness, but I don't think he takes me seriously. Yet.

Finally, I think it must have been the hormones, because I'm not feeling all nostalgic about Kev now. I still wish we'd been right for one another, but I don't want him back. He needs to find someone who isn't freaked out by his passion (read: need to control). I should have known the moment he told me that his plan was to make me love him. It was an intense moment. I recall feeling a little scared of the way he said it. I remember that when I told my friend Stace about it, she told me to beware of that kind of passion because those men tend to be controlling. (She also told me that I tend to be controlling, too, so she didn't like the odds.) She never liked him. I haven't told her she was right yet. I will though.

Anyway, this is all very random with no real point.

I'm tired.