Category Archives: Crazy Talk

Reflection

Warning: This post may seem kinda whiny and sad and personally embarrassing (to me). 

Woman. Aunt. Sister. Daughter. Those are the words that I use to describe myself. And lately I’ve been wondering if that’s all I will ever be. I have written before about feeling stuck. I don’t feel that way anymore; I know that things come with effort and practice. If I feel stuck, I’m really the only person to blame.

Faith in God or the universe or your daily horoscope is a funny and fickle thing. We’re encouraged to pray, to have faith, to believe that good things happen to good people and that rewards will be given to those who deserve it. I had an interesting conversation with a friend awhile ago where we talked about relationships. She asked if I was religious. I asked why. Her response was that if God had planned for her to be with someone, she would be.  She did acknowledge that she probably should put some effort into meeting someone. I actually understood her perspective, but internally I was making a mental note that I didn’t want to end up like that. I used to pray a lot. I still do sometimes. But I don’t like begging God for things that I really just need to go out and get on my own. I can pray everyday for some chocolate, but I have all the resources and skills I need to go out and get chocolate on my own. If anything, God’s rolling his eyes and calling me a lazy ass, hoping that I get the message that I need to be proactive in getting the things I desire. Message received, God.

So, okay. I no longer feel stuck. But I’m starting to feel something else, something that’s almost worse…

Acceptance.

I’m finding that I’m talking myself into being OK if the rest of my life is about taking care of other people and then hanging out by myself in my empty house. I’m accepting that I may have to take care of myself for the rest of my life, unable to lean on someone else. It will be OK to be a spinster aunt. It’s cool to travel on my own and sleep alone and eat dinner alone and cook meals for one. Other friends of mine have accepted it. I can do it, too.

Wait. What the fuck am I saying? I’m so not cool with that.

I’m reminded daily that I’m a party of one. When there’s a movie or concert that I want to see… when I need to run errands or pay bills… when I open up the trunk of my car and see my shoes all over the place. There are other moments when it hits me hard, though. Sometimes it’s stupid stuff, like I need to get my car fixed or detailed, or I need someone’s opinion on an outfit or hairstyle, or even when I can’t decide what to have for dinner and I wish someone was there to give me ideas (or even cook for me). Sometimes it’s when I’m really sad or really happy or just want to share something, but there’s no one besides my old teddy bear who will care to listen.

I’ve learned to take care of myself. It’s an amazing feat, really. I hate doing stuff on my own or going anywhere by myself. I take pride in the fact that I can and do, but I don’t want to. Not anymore. It sucks. I want someone, someone who chooses to be that partner in my life. I’m not saying that I want to depend on someone or that I don’t ever need my own space. I am just so ready to have that person in my life who isn’t obligated to love me, but does so anyway. Is it really so hard to find someone? No. The fact that I’m complaining about it would probably make some people mad. All I can say is that I’m holding out for something true. I’m waiting for someone who wants the same things that I do. Too many times, I find myself counting the compromises that I would have to make in order to be be ‘happy’ with someone. Read the previous sentence again. It’s screwy.

Sigh. Right time, right place, right person. I’m still counting on God or the universe or whatever to make that happen. I’m doing what I can and doing what I’m comfortable doing. I’m growing a little impatient, though. Spinster aunt is starting to seem like a real possibility. Maybe what I need to do is dabble in some witchcraft? That’s another post for another day.

Thanks for reading my ramble. I certainly hope I don’t come off as too desperate. But everything I’ve written here is true, so… yeah. No matter how things turn out for me, I at least want to know that I tried. And if that’s all I have, I think it will be enough.

High on Spontaneity!

Someone needs to check my head. I’ve been doing some wacky things lately. Spontaneous things! It’s awesome but also frightening since I shy away from anything risky or adventurous or generally out of the ordinary (read: I am boring and predictable).

I don’t know what’s gotten into me, but I have seen opportunity, assessed it enough to know that I would regret it if I didn’t seize it, and grabbed that sucker by the cojones.

This summer will go down in history as my Summer of Spontaneity. I applied for a new job when I wasn’t even looking for a new job. I joined friends for a road trip to see a concert. I bought a plane ticket today for a trip on Saturday—-two days away Saturday.

I am so lucky. Lucky to know people who willingly let me join in on the fun. Lucky to know people at work who believe in me and give me chances. Lucky to have friends who will take me in, laugh with me, and celebrate our friendship. Lucky to have a supportive family. And, lest I forget, I’m lucky that I have the time and means to do the crazy things I’m doing.

Where’s it coming from? I don’t know. I guess… I’m no spring chicken anymore. Each day is a day closer to NOT being able to be spontaneous, whether it’s because I’ve settled down with some dude, or I’m too busy with work, or I’m simply too old. I’m done wasting time!

August was already looking crazy and it just got crazier. Can’t wait to tell you guys about my trip this weekend. It will be EPIC, assuming I don’t end up with diarrhea or get groped by the TSA.

She: A Rant

She doesn’t want to make her own decisions. She judges the decisions you make.

She is secretive. She is manipulative.

She does not ask me about my life. She asks me about other people’s lives.

She makes assumptions. She doesn’t like being corrected.

She is the center of the universe. She makes me want to die.

Strangers In Our Heads

My dreams are usually vivid. I can’t always remember them, but I’m able to remember how they made me feel: scared, powerful, happy, disturbed. I don’t know how I compare to the average person, but I do dream often, in color, and, if I wake up in the middle of a dream, it will usually continue if I fall back asleep right away.

Many times, my dreams have a rationale behind them. For example, when I spent several days in a row watching 24, I would have dreams about fighting terrorists with Jack Bauer. Certain foods right before bed seem to trigger bad dreams. Then there are the seemingly random dreams where I’m falling or running, and wake up with my heart pounding.

I apply the same philosophy to my dreaming as I do to fantasizing: it’s normal and safe, but can get you into trouble if you expect them to come true.

I’m thankful that my dreams are usually extraordinary; there’s little chance that they will happen in real life. I once dreamt that I was with my family in a remote cabin, there was darkness all around us, someone was trying to attack us, and I was the only one who understood what was happening. Luckily, I’m always a badass in my dreams, so I morphed into a “Linda Hamilton in Terminator 2″-esque character and went after the bad guys. The other players in my dreams are people I know or can place in my real life: family, friends, old classmates, TV/movie stars, etc.

It bugs me when my co-stars (for lack of a better term) are people I have never seen in real life. Where did these people come from? If I’m me in my dream, why am I hanging out with them if I’ve never met them? What’s in my head that causes me to dream of this imaginary person? Where did they come from?

I had a dream last night and the person in my dream was someone I had dreamt about before–the same I-have-no-idea-if-this-person-really-exists person. It’s starting to freak me out. Who is this person?

You know what? I won’t let it bother me unless I happen to see this person in real life. Then, I am REALLY going to freak out. But I can’t help but wonder if I ever make cameos in this person’s dreams? Hmm.

Pressure Cooker

Hi. Yes. I’m still here. I know I haven’t blogged in awhile. There are a few reasons for that.

Blogging takes time. It takes thought.

While I can easily post from my iPhone, I would rather be on a real computer and I’m not always around one (blogging at work is close to impossible these days).

Sometimes I feel like no one reads my blog, so why waste time writing something that no one’s going to read? Besides, I’m constantly on Twitter. Amazingly enough, people actually read what I post on Twitter.

Mainly, I haven’t been blogging lately because I don’t like being depressed or angry or boring on the blog. And that’s how I’ve felt for awhile. Depressed. Angry. Boring. A lot of frustration has been building up in me and, a few days ago, I got tired. I snapped. I gave up.

But now I’m hopeful. I’m making lists. I’m setting goals. I’m putting on a happy face instead of an I’m-sure-today-will-suck-ass face. I’m trying to find better ways to balance being there for the people I love and making time for myself. Lean too far in one direction, and you start to feel resentment, guilt…loneliness, surrender.

It all comes down to something that has been a running theme in my life – I need to stop being afraid of growing up. I know what I want, but I’ve too lazy, stubborn, afraid to go out there and get it. I need to stop being afraid of going out into the world on my own. I have always known who I am, and it is time to start truly being that person.

What’s first on my list, you ask? I’m getting a mani/pedi and I’m getting these eyebrows threaded. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to look pretty.

Twitter Was Attacked And I Freaked Out

Twitter was attacked today and the site went kablooey! I totally freaked out. I’m amazed at how much I missed Twitter. Based on activity on Facebook, I wasn’t the only one. After more than an hour, Twitter finally came back online, but it’s currently still spotty and I still feel like I’ve missed hundreds of updates.

Does the fact that I had an emotional reaction to Twitter being down make me crazy? Or a big loser in need of a social life? It’s possible that I need to find ways to interact with people physically…but then we’d all be on our phones anyway. You’re making fun of my craziness, but you know I’m right.

Beware: Your Encouragement is Discouraging

Yes, sometimes people want and need encouragement in order to feel good about certain things like

  • a new outfit or shoes
  • quitting/accepting a job
  • quitting smoking
  • getting a drastic haircut
  • buying a new household appliance

Maybe I’m just a backwards beeyotch, but encouragement can sometimes make my skin crawl. I’m just minding my own business, taking pride in making my own decisions and acting on them – and then some fool decides that I need encouraging. I don’t care if someone is happy for me. I don’t need someone to tell me to keep up the good work. I especially don’t need someone to later on say that I got where I am because they helped me through it with a periodic “YOU GO, GIRL!” I’m not totally evil. I do welcome encouragement most of the time and can find it to be really helpful. But sometimes, encouragement just makes me want to crawl into a hole and stop doing the great thing that I was doing for MYSELF.

Thank you for reading this venting session. Without this blog as an outlet, I would probably be in my car, screaming, right at this moment. On another note, certain people’s LACK of encouragement irritates me just as much as their unsolicited encouragement. I never said that I wasn’t a complicated person.

Hopeless.

May I get all Sex in the City for a moment?

I’m a single gal. While I have no regrets about past relationships – okay, relationship – and no desire to pimp myself out, I do get lonely. And there are moments, usually a few days a month, when I feel incredibly…frisky. Yes, frisky. And it’s during these moments that I wish I had a scratching post. Yes, scratching post. Go ahead and call me insensitive. I’m just telling it like it is.

So, I’m having one of those days. And it certainly doesn’t help that I got physically close to a guy at work* today (nothing inappropriate) and he smelled awesome. The best part was that I didn’t smell how awesome he smelled until I got thisclose to him (again, nothing inappropriate. I’ll try to do a reenactment and put it on YouTube or something). I wasn’t sniffing him, I just happened to inhale at the right moment, so I’m not a complete freak. Decent looking guy, totally “scratch post”-worthy. But, alas, I’m a nice girl, and just blogging about this is making me blush.

It’s a good thing I planned to go to the gym today. That should help ease some of my frustration. And maybe when I get home, I’ll pop in a Smallville DVD (one with Green Arrow, of course) and just hope that the frisky moment passes. Goodness, I need a drink.

*If you work with me, don’t even ask who I’m talking about. I’m serious. Don’t. Ask. And if you’re a guy at work and you’re reading this, I’m not talking about you.

Who Are “They”?

PET PEEVE: People who make somewhat snarky comments for no reason. For example, I have this friend. Let’s call her “Mom”. Whenever the topic of American Idol comes up, Mom always has to say something negative about David Cook:

  • They say that he’s arrogant.
  • They say that his single sucks.

I don’t know why she has to say these things. It’s not not like I make fun of Archie. I don’t ever say mean things about Archie. And I never said “IN YOUR FACE!” when she was all disappointed that Archie didn’t win. I mean, did the woman even vote? And she used to like David Cook.

PET PEEVE: People who constantly talk about what “they” say. I have a friend. Let’s call her “Mom”. “They” seem to have a lot of advice that she lovingly passes on to me:

  • They say that drinking a gallon of water first thing in the morning is good for you.
  • They say that you should rub papaya on your skin to make it pretty.
  • They say that too much soy will cause major health problems in women.

Who are these people? The most disappointing thing is that you never hear Mom say, “My daughter says that I should read more” unless it’s followed by, “Who has time to sit down and read?”