New Year's Eve

I'm not a big fan of New Year's Eves. I think that most of the time there is a big build up to the big night which never turns out as fantastically or fabulously as previously desired or thought. That's why, this year, I am going to have a low key night out with my friends Kate and Karl. They're one of my favorite married couples who I have spent countless Saturday nights recently drinking on the couches at The Flying Saucer contemplating and discussing the important things in life - like Kate being a "meddler," poor decision making between members of a wedding party, as well as how I really need to find a man in order to have a child at the same time as Kate (which is in approximately 3.5 years).

Anyways. You can currently turn on any channel and there will be some sort of year end countdown, my personal favorite being VH1's The Best Year Ever. I'll do my own personal countdown of highlights and things I'd rather forget.

Highlights:
1. Planning and going on my EuroTrip. It really taught me to rely on myself and my instincts. Plus, the beer was really good.
2. Learning to wakeboard. Finally - something physically challenging combined with a chance to drink beer and get a tan all at the same time!
3. My 24th birthday party at the Aqua Lounge. Even though it put me back 650 dollars, it was definitely worth it to feel like one of those girls on My Super Sweet Sixteen for a night.
4. Jennifer and Zach's wedding in North Carolina. A getaway weekend spent in a beautiful part of the country rekindling friendships with people that I have missed very much for too long.
5. Being nominated and a finalist for my school district's New Teacher of the Year. I didn't win, so maybe this should be something that I'd rather forget, but I"m going to go ahead and put it on this list. After all, it's been more than 6 months since I lost the title - it's time to move on.
6. My brother coming home from Maine for a weekend. He stopped by my apartment and got to see his grown-up little sister.
7. Winning the district volleyball championship with the Feister (her nickname now). We make a great coaching team because our personalities compliment each other and we're very good friends. I'm really blessed with the people that I work with.
8. Buying brand new couches for my apartment, even though they won't be in until January 16th and I ordered them before Thanksgiving. Ugh. Oh well. I have worked hard in the past year to really make my apartment into more of a home than just a building that I live in. The couches are the final touch.
9. Kate moving back to Texas. She and I haven't lived in the same area since we were in 4th grade, but since she's moved back, it's like she never left in the first place!
10. This blog. It started off as a little joke and a semi-experiment and it's really turned into a way for me to get things off my chest as well as forced me to examine the relationship patterns in my life. I'm not sure if it has helped change anything....but there's always next year!

Things I'd Rather Forget:
1. All the random and worthless guys I dated or hung out with at the beginning of the year, which ultimately forced me to begin this blog.
2. The morning after Kate and Karl's wedding - pain pills and wine do NOT mix well!!!
3. The $650 I actually did have to pay Travis in cash for my portion of our birthday party bill.
4. Thanksgiving Break. It wasn't a good week for me personally and I made the holiday miserable for my family.
5. Tearing a muscle in my back wakeboarding. Not only did it put me out of service physically for a month, but it was the beginning of me seeing the very ugly and self-absorbed side of The Salesman.
6. On that note, let's discuss The Salesman in general. Was it a bad idea to date him? Eh...I'm not sure I would go that far. Was it a bad idea to date him sooo quickly? Probably. Did it end the 10 year friendship I had with his high school girlfriend and best friend of mine? Yes, it did. And to tell you the truth, I'm really not sure if that was such a bad thing after all. At the time, I was devastated - I truly didn't want to hurt her. But now, looking back, maybe there were things about our friendship that really bothered me and made me feel bad about myself. And if it took that whole episode with The Salesman to get our honest and true feelings towards each other out in the open, then so be it.

I guess that's it for the Things I'd Like To Forget. Only 6 items. Not too shabby. I guess it wasn't that bad of a year after all.

And I do feel like I'm in a place in my life to make 2008 even better. Happy New Year everyone!!!

I haven't blogged in awhile because things have been kind of rough since Thanksgiving and as much as I have put myself out there on this blog, I feel like there are still some things that I can't have posted for everyone to read and know about. I think that maybe if I were to write what I've been struggling with on this blog, it would all of a sudden make everything real and I'm not sure if I'm ready to admit some very obvious truths to myself. And to a certain extent, I still want everyone to have the I've-Got-It-All-Together vision of me.


My mom and I had a little night out a couple weeks ago. We went to dinner and then to see a few of my friends in a play. At dinner my mother gave me a little silver pendant gift box with the message to put my Christmas wish into the little box. She asked me what wish I wanted to put in the box....


World peace? Nah...I don't want Stephen Colbert or Jon Stewart to be unemployed. But then again, it would give them more time to run for national political offices...hmm...

Eternal happiness? Nope - that's kind of creepy. I picture the twistedly happy faces from the people in the Soundgarden "Black Hole Sun" video. Happiness is overrated and what do you learn from always having butterflies and rainbows? Nada.

A million dollars? Surprisingly no. The Notorious B.I.G. (rest in peace) once said: "Mo' money, mo' problems" and look where it got him.

I am wishing for contentment...

- with my job. Although I might not make a ton of money, I must be content with the fact that I am doing what I love and I am good at it.

- with my body. I'm tall and I'm not stick thin anymore. I weighed 135 pounds when I graduated high school. I will never be that skinny again and I need to be content with that.

- with myself. I have been made to feel that the person that I am is not okay - that there are certain things about me that are unlovable. Like anyone else, I have faults and I must accept them.

I think for the most significant part of my life, I have been competitive. I was born 8 years after my closest in age sibling and I always was fighting to be as big, as smart, as funny, etc. as both my brothers were. I had certain people in my life for a long time where it was always about competition - better grades, better clothes, better cars, better at sports, etc. This feeling of having to competition transitioned into college and the sorority where it became so ingrained in my head to try to be better than everyone else in everything. Clothes, cars, men, shoes, apartments, jobs, even drinking. You name it - there was a competition to be the best. And I always felt that no matter how hard I tried, I never measured up in the way that I was supposed to. I was never the girl that had it all together - from the clothes to the car to the guy. And I hate not being the best. Maybe that's why I'm overcompensating now. I have the money and the means to buy that car, to have those clothes, and to live that lifestyle. But that only goes so far in making someone truly happy.

Dear John

No, I'm not breaking up with you. I'm writing a letter to my future husband, who very well might be named John. I haven't met him yet, so there's no telling what he'll be named. Enough with the small talk, here we go.

I once asked my mother is she had to describe me in one word, what word would she use. Her answer? "Complex" I am not sure if I should have been flattered or slightly insulted. Knowing my mother and the depths that lie beneath her almond shaped, dark as night eyes, I'm going to go with the former insead of the latter. And, she was right. I am a complex, paradox infested human being who for the most part, I don't completely understand.

I have high standards and I'm frustrated when things or people in life don't live up to those standards, yet I ask for compassion and forgiveness with I don't satisfy other people's expectations. I've been hurt by people who tell me they love me, thus causing me to build up the Great Wall Around Laura's Heart. But, I ask for complete openess and commitment from my partner. I always claim the "I can't read your mind" defense when desires and needs aren't expressed, yet always expect others to anticipate and act upon my unspoken needs, as well as read through my veiled and vague comments into the heart of my feelings. Let me give you a hint: when I say "It's fine" it never is and there is probably a concession on your part to be made. Another hint: "It doesn't matter to me." Save yourself the time and frustrations by asking me what I really want. I'll always have an opinion. And no, I'll never want Chinese food or sushi.

Some other pieces of advice:
- Most of the time, I don't need advice or someone to fix it - I probably already have a solution, I just need someone to care.

- I don't hog the bed because I'm selfish. I'm just trying to cuddle because I like knowing you're there.

- I have a breaking point. Please help me diffuse things before I go off. I love you to much to say things I don't mean.

- I will never be the cook that your mother is, but tell it's better than hers anyways. I'll know you're lying, but the sentiment is always appreciated.

- I sometimes say things that are inappropriate, which is probably one of the reasons you're attracted to me. Remember this when I inevitably embarrass you.

- Tell me I'm beautiful. The Jennifers (Alba, Biel and Aniston) are HOT. I'm beautiful. There's a difference.

- I have great days. I have bad days. Whichever it is - you'll know. Please plan accordingly.

But for all the inescapable faults and hauntigly OCD-ish tendencies and quirks that I might subject you to, I will love you. I will give you laughter, passion and support - unconditionally. I will be your best friend; I will drink beer and watch football. And I will do it willingly and with enthusiasm. I will be your confidante; I will listen intently because what matters to you, matters to me. I will get mad at your boss when you're frustrated at work. I will cook you chicken noodle soup when you're sick, albeit from the can, but it's the thought that counts. I will listen to what you have to say when you're silent and saying nothing at all. I will know that look on your face when the dam is breaking and your fingers can't plug all the holes. I will attend any and all church softball league games and I won't laugh at you when you run. Well, maybe a little giggle. I will love your family. Of course, this has nothing to do with LIKING them, but I will love them for making you who you are. I will give you the necessary amount of "guy time." Just don't notice the drastic dip in our checking account and explosion of shopping bags in the closet when you come home. I will believe....no scratch that. I will KNOW that you are the smartest, funniest, most handsome man in the room. And if I have anything to do with it, you'll be the best dressed as well.

But most importantly, I will love you to the best of my ability.

But only if you promise the same in return.

White Christmas

I am addicted to my iPod and to iTunes. I have recently downloaded a ton of Christmas songs and thus created a Christma CD for myself. This might not seem odd to you, seeing as how many of you have probably festively donner your house with the appropriate Christmas lights, as well as cozily decorated your tree with loved ones while listening to Bing Crosby and drinking hot coco. But for this Grinch, it's a big deal. Huge.
I am a Christmas cynic. For all the years that I can actively remember, I have harbored an intense dislike for Christmas. The tacky yard decorations (those blow up monstrosoties are the worst), fighting the masses at the mall (or any store for that matter) and the sheer commercialism of the entire season.

I miss the magic.

As a little girl, I loved Christmas. And not just for the presents. I loved hte excitement of picking out and buying meaningful presents for people. I looked forward to lighting the completely decorated tree for the first time. It was always the most beautiful and mesmorizing thing - I could sit and stare at it for hours. I was moved to tears at midnight Christmas mass by the beauty and intimacy of the ceremony. My favorite thing to do with my family was to drive around and look at the Christmas lights on the houses, like little stars dropped from the sky onto the roofs. The Lent mini-masses that my family would hold on Sunday evenings, with only the light of the Christmas tree directing our ceremony. My brothers playing Christmas carols on the piano while my family was curled up around the room drinking apple cider and hot chocolate.

Somewhere along the way, that sentiment got lost amongst the cards to write, the presents to buy, the worrying about overdrawing my account, and hte final exams to take directly before the holiday break. I lost the true meaning of the season among the materialism and chaos that has unfortunately become attached to the Christmas holiday.

I sit here in my apartment, staring at the Christmas tree I broke down and bought, even though it directly contradicts the "style" of my apartment. At least the tree ornaments are in turquoise. I am listening to Otis Redding's "White Christmas" and Josh Groban's "Silent Night" and I am in tears, yearning for the magical feeling to return.

I have never felt so far from God in my life. I grew up in the Catholic Church, dutifully although sleepily attending Sunday morning 9:00 mass with my parents. Always nestled in the middle so I didn't have to sit uncomfortably next to strangers. I had an unnatural fear of people I didn't know. I was active in the youth ministry social and service events before I was even of age due to my mother's employment as Youth Minister. I served on the Diocesan Youth Council and went to the National Catholic Youth Conference. I got into fights with kids at my school over their harsh words regarding the Catholic faith. I was proud of my faith and deeply attached to the strength that it brought my mother and grandma. I never doubted the fact that I too, would raise my children in a faith filled Catholic home. I could already picture passing on my handmade baptismal gown to a beautiful dark haired little girl and then, several years later, giving her the cross lessed by Pope John Paul II that I received on my Confirmation from my mother to her on her own Confirmation.

For reason unbeknownst to me, after high school, my faith in God and his works gradually faltered and then finally dwindled into the nothingness that exists in my life today. I have such a hard time believing in a God that, despite his promise of so loving the world to give his only son, could allow such atrocities to occur to the children and families in Darfur, or allow men of such intense evil as Hitler, Pol Pot, Mao Zedong or Joseph Stalin to come to power. I know that I am blessed with the life that has been provided to me: loving and stable parents, protective brothers, a well maintained and safe home...but what about me makes me so special? Doesn't every child in the world deserve the same blessings that I have received?

I look at my friend Meggie who has the most amazing amount of faith ina nd love for the Lord. God and his plan for her have always driven her life and her actions. No matter what storm comes her way, she stands her ground with an unwielding faith in the love Gad has for her as well as the fact that he will provide her with the strength to withstand anything. I wish I could have that type of faith in something other than myself because it might make being me a little easier sometimes. I think that maybe I feel guilty for some of the actions and decisions I have made in my life and therefore I am ashamed to step foot in a church. Call it the ever present and always maligned "Catholic Guilt." Call it whatever you want. The truth is...I want to believe. I want to feel that same sense of awe and wonderment when I step into a cathedral that I felt as a child.

The Catholic faith is a funny thing. It's very different from other faiths that are prevalent in the southern section of the United States that I live in. There's not a lot of evangelizing, nor outward displays of faith and joy in God. There's a lot of ritual, some sitting, lots of standing, mixed in with the occasional kneeling. There are readings, songs and a homily. There is the Eucharst ceremony at every mass in which the bread and wine is turned into the Blood and Body of Christ. My relationship with God has always been very private to me, maybe because of the fact that it was always a "weird" thing with some of the people that I went to school with. I kept it to myself because I never seemed to have the same strident and passionate convictions that my Baptist or Methodist classmates had.

I want to believe, but like with relationships and love, I want to feel it. I want it to be real. I can't just go through the motions because that's what I believe will make other people in my life happy or proud of me. My mother tells me that in order to hear and see God, I first have to approach him. I'm afraid to I suppose. Maybe I'm afraid that because of certain ways in which I've chosen to live my life, he won't accept me back. Maybe I'm afraid that by relying on God I will be proving that I'm not as self-reliant and strong as the facade I put on.

Tomboy

I'm tall. This point is obvious. My mother and I could share shoes when I was in 4th grade. She wears a size 8 and a half. I surpassed my mother in height when I was in 6th grade. I am the tallest member of my family. I have two older brothers, and yes...I'm taller than them. I was listed as 6'2 on the Varsity basketball roster when I was a sophomore. They exaggerated. I'm only 6'0. I tried gymnastics for a year when I was in second grade - I was already too tall for the uneven bars. I quit and my parents suggested basketball. I played basketball for 9 years and I was always the tallest girl on the team - a post playing underneath the basket.



I was always fairly athletic - I could be put onto any court or field and do relatively well. Except for soccer. I am completely uncoordinated with my feet, but I'm okay with that. Football, basketball, volleyball - I can hold my own. Growing up, life was dominated by school and sports. Staying up late at night to get homework done because I had a basketball game that night. Going to bed early on Friday nights because of an early Saturday morning practice. I suppose that I was probably known as a "jock" or athlete in middle school and high school. I was one of three sophomore girls that had letter jackets. Sports were my way of fitting in and getting frustrations out. I loved the feeling of rebounding a ball and fighting my way out of the swarm of girls around me to find the outlet. I loved being competitive and winning.



I remember one of my proudest moments sophomore year. I came home from preseason basketball sticky with sweat and smelling like a gym. I set down my gym bag in the kitchen and asked my mom how it felt to be the parent of a varsity basketball player. But somewhere along the way in high school, everything I loved about sports became muddled and lost. Basketball wasn't fun anymore. It was a job. I was told to put on weight. I was 6'0 tall, weighed 135, lifted weights, and ate my parents out of house and home. There was no way I was going to become a "big" girl. I tore the ligaments in my ankle in a preseason scrimmage and was out for 6 weeks. In the meantime, I lost my playing position my junior year. To a freshman. I spent the remainder of the season sitting the bench, while breeding contempt and hatred towards my coach and fellow teammates. I gave up on caring and trying to prove myself as an athlete and started drinking. That made Saturday morning practices a little more difficult. I poured my efforts into Class Council and my social life. I quit at the end of the season.



Do I regret that decision? Yes and no. I hated practices. I loved games...but I didn't love watching them from the games. I hated the politics of kissing up to the coach that I really didn't like. I liked being "special" at school - being part of something that not everyone else could participate in. I think that if I had the drive, determination and aggresive tenacity for success back then that I have now, my basketball career could have been a little different. I was definitely blessed with the physical prowress as well as the natural athleticism to be a much better athlete then I was. But, mentally, I couldn't hang.



In college, I joined a sorority and was drawn into a different, more emotionally devastating and damaging kind of competition. Who had the best make-up, clothes, hair color, shoes, apartment, car etc. I tried desperately to look and act the part, but I always felt like I wasn't truly a "girlie-girl" like the other girls in the sorority. I was still most comfortable in jeans, a tee shirt and a baseball hat. But, I guess in order to "fit in" I felt that I had to discard the "jock" and "tomboy" side of my personality and adopt a girlier attitude. I played intramural sports and through my position as Intramural Chair, I recruited athletes into the sorority and by my senior year, we were campus champs at flag football. I played volleyball and basketball, but it was so frustrating for me because I was much better than everyone else. Over time, I gradually grew to ignore the tomboy/jock aspect of myself and truly developed into a prissy girly girl.



I've been out of college for two years and it has taken that long for me to get over the obsession with looks that I fell into while in the sorority. If you look in my closet and itemized the amount of money I spend on clothes and shoes in a month, you would probably say that I haven't truly overcome that obsession. But I must say that coaching has been a blessing for me personally. Through coaching volleyball I have been able to dig out the athlete in me that was socially forced to disappear during college.

In the end, I think the sorority did more harm than good.

I have spent the past two evenings at sporting events and/or sports bars drinking beer, watching sports and shooting the breeze. I have been in jeans and a fleece sweatshirt both nights and it feels awesome. There's no pressure to flirt with the cute guy, no self-confidence issues because the girls next to me are wearing Seven jeans and I'm not. It's just hanging out, talking about stuff and having a good time. I think I'm slowly getting to the point where "going out" is no longer appealing to me. I'd rather meet some friends up at a bar, dressed comfortably, grab a table and sit and talk.

Cleaning House - random thoughts

For every 5 college roommate horror stories you hear, there is always a person who absolutely loved their roommate. I am that person. Times three. I was very lucky with my freshman dorm pot luck roommate Miranda - I never saw her. Then I lived for two years with Elaine the UNT soccer player, who was very different from me, but yet the balance worked. Last was Lauren who had transfered from Tech and loved to dance around our living room to Madonna with me. I got very lucky. Or maybe I'm just a good judge of character. Either way, I still keep in contact with both Elaine and Lauren. Since Elaine is currently in Russia studying Russian, our contact for the past few months has been via internet - Facebook and such. She is an avid reader of my blog and offered up this tidbit of wit and wisdom regarding my Fairy Tale blog.



"Maybe you won't be awoken from a deep sleep, be given legs by a sea witch, or fly on a magic carpet, but you will write your own unique, intensely special fairy tale--who wants those others anyway--they've already happened to someone else. Just enjoy your career, your friends, and you--a lot of people would love to be young, attractive, well-loved, and successful, so keep in mind that you are probably the envy of many!"



Oh Elaine. Leave those commies and come back to Texas. On Sunday afternoon when I went to update this blog, I stopped by Facebook and read her message. It was eerily similar to what I was about to post. After David and I broke up, I promised myself that I wouldn't become one of those women who covered their own self hatred and doubt with contempt and cynicsm of men, relationships and love. And, by all evidence in my last blog - I became that person. Needless to say, last week was NOT a good week for me emotionally. And I would like to sit here and tell you that it was someone else's fault...but it was mine. I shouldn't call. I shouldn't care. Regardless, despite my lack of glass slipper or house of dwarves, I do lead a rather charmed life and I should be more thankful and appreciative of it.



When I was younger I always heard people say that college was the best years of your life. I'm very concerned what the rest of those people's lives were like. They must have sucked. College was fun, but I felt like I was frozen in time and in mind. I didn't grow very much and I didn't really care too. I mean, the most growth I made was deciding that I didn't like shots of vodka and that draft beer is better than bottled. Even through my first full year of teaching, I didn't notice much of a change in myself. I was still desperately trying to hang on to the wild party girl of college and ended up being miserable with both feet stuck in different places. With the fall semester of my 2nd (and a half) year of teaching almost over, I am noticing changes and maturity in myself more than ever.



- I bought couches. And I'm excited. I think it was probably a highlight of my entire Thanksgiving vacation. I'm already concerned about stains.



- I'm okay with saying "No, I'm done drinking." (after 3 beers) or "I'm going to call it a night and head home." (at midnight)



- I iron. And not just pants. I iron the difficult shirts too! And cute jackets!



- I drink coffee. And it's not made for me by the nice people in the drive thru at Starbucks. Well...most of the time.



- I stand up for myself and defend what I believe at work. And not because I'm being defensive because I feel like a kid getting in trouble in the principal's office. But because I honestly know I'm doing a good job in the classroom - and I have the evidence to back it up.



- My Saturday night last weekend? Spent at Half Price Books and in bed watching a movie and reading. And it was splendid.



- My apartment has been consistently clean for three weeks. And the laundry is done. And apparently ironed! See above.



- I'm walking away. He's not worth it.



Next topic. I have a soul mate best friend. Her name is Amy. She is the Laverne to my Shirley, the Rhoda to my Mary and the Michelle to my Romy. Unfortunately, she is married, has a baby and lives in Maine. I mean, it's not unfortunate that she's married (I love Zam) or that she has a baby (Emma and my nephew will be married someday so that Amy and I will officially be related), but it's unfortunate that she lives in Maine. For some reason, on Sunday night, both Amy and myself had a few hours to talk to each other. I was having a quiet evening, and both her babies (daughter AND husband) were asleep. And we talked. Not just about how our holidays were or funny stuff we had seen on tv...but we REALLY talked. About kids, life, marriage, family and self-esteem. She's probably the one person outside of my mother and father that can truly anticipate my feelings, thoughts and needs before I do. I don't even have to tell her how I feel - I can describe the event or situation and she just knows. And vice versa, of course. I really feel blessed that her dad got out of the Army and moved the family to my hometown. Anyways. Amy and I were talking about our positions in life and how it was funny that we were becoming adults, seeing as how she was the first person I told about my first kiss. For all my life, I was the youngest by age. I was forever trailing around my older brothers, desperately trying to act their age. I became a true "teenager" last, didn't drive until I was a junior in high school, and was left at home from the bars in college because everyone else was 21, and I wasn't. I hated being the youngest. I hated how certain people in my life were so condescending towards me and my age just because of the fact that my parents accidentally got pregnant with me just a little after their own parents did. Anyways. Maybe the fact that I feel like I'm "behind" everybody as far as love and relationships go is because it brings back those feelings of not being "old" enough to do whatever everyone else was doing. I miss Amy.



Amy once told me something in passing, which I doubt she even remembers, but it has truly stuck with me since she said it. She told me once, in the most loving and sincere manner possible, that it was going to take one hell of a guy to settle me down because I can be a very difficult person to deal with. Thankfully, knowing Amy in the way that I do, I knew that she meant it from a place of love for me and pure devotion to me. :) But, to a certain extent...it's true. I am independent. I know exactly what I want, when I want it, and how I want it done. I don't accept second best - in anything. I have high standards for myself, as well as others and I hold myself (and others) to those standards. Granted, I understand that there is a certain amount of cooperation and compromise that is necessary for any and every relationship to last, but...at the cost of who I am and what I believe in? I don't think so. So maybe not everyone hangs their clothes in the neurotically organized manner in which I do. (Only white plastic hangers, all clothes facing the same way, according to style or season) That's fine - it's not my clothes. Maybe their way to get to the restaurant or movie theater is different. It's whatever, as long as we get there. (But don't argue with my Delilah navigation system!) But, for me to completely change who I am because you can't handle it? I don't think so. GS tried that. He "fell" for me because of my passion, independence and my ability to tell it like it is....but for some reason, when those characteristics were used during an argument (in the most rational and reasonable manner, of course) he didn't like them anymore. Sorry buddy. You can't order an ice cream cone and then send it back because it's too cold.



Well....I think that about covers it for now. My brain hurts and it's time for some mindless activities. Tonight on MTV Tila Tequila meets the parents!!! Oohh....drama...goody.

Once Upon a Time...

there was a little dark haired girl who played The Little Mermaid in her pool during the summer, and who truly believed that, per what her daddy said, she WAS a princess. This little girl believed in love at first sight, Prince Charming, white horses, fancy balls and everything else Disney promised via Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella, Snow White, Aladdin, and The Little Mermaid etc. This little girl dreamt of her own prince - tall, dark and handsome sweeping into her life and carrying her off on fantastic adventures.

She believed in the fairy tale.

Then she grew up.

Fairy tales are like crack cocaine for little girls. While they're young and addicted to Disney, they have that false sense of how the world works. Unfortunately, the withdrawal from these cartoons can be quite difficult as the harsh reality of the world becomes apparent. There are no white horses, no princes, no sweeping-of-the-feet. There are crowded bars reeking of desperate pheromones seeking a quick hook up. There are complicated romantic liaisons and betrayal. There are nights full of sappy romances, lots of ice cream and tears.

Yes, I'm mad.

I feel like I was brought up on this rosy and sugary image of what love is supposed to be like and I was let down. I don't have the fairy tale. I don't have the prince. It doesn't exist.

Special Ed

I teach middle school. In every school in America there are those students that have learning disabilities and such, that require them to have special modifications in the classroom in order for the student to be successful. The modifications range from a smaller amount of answer choices, to more time to work on a major paper and finally, the most common - preferential seating. These modifications are aimed at helping the struggling student become more successful in and out of the classroom.
I need modifications. For dating.
In order to qualify for special education and modifications, it must be proven that it is the student's disability that is causing them to not be successful. And, as much as some parent's would like to think - laziness is not a disability that is treatable by the special ed department. Proof of a disability first comes in the form of observations from the teacher backed up by physical evidence. Once a group of teachers has this evidence, it goes to a committee that can either recommend the student for special education testing, or decide that the student probably does not have a disability and send them back to the regular education classroom without any modifications. After the student has been sent to testing and a disability is diagnosed, the committee meets again and then decides, based on the disability and the needs of the student, what modifications inside the classroom should be made in order to ensure student success. These modifications are then passed along to the teachers, who are required by law to implement them to the best of their ability inside the classroom.
There...now that you have the basic process down, lets apply this to my dating love life.
1. Observation and physical evidence of a lack of success.
No relationship that I have since college (except for one) has lasted more than 3 months. And not all of these relationships have been with losers - many of them have been with successful and smart men.
2. A committee meeting to decide whether special ed testing is necessary.
I'm beginning to think that my friends and family are rather tired of my endless stream of failed relationships. My brother who particularly liked one of the men that I dated told me at the beginning of the relationship "Don't f*ck this one up." Point taken.
3. Special education testing to determine disability.
I consult http://web.tickle.com
- Are You a Secure Lover: You tend to have mixed feelings about relationships. A part of you may want to have a close, loving relationship, but another part of you may be somewhat uncomfortable with commitment. It's also likely that you are afraid others will let you down or abandon you. Although you tend to be open to relationships, you may not easily reveal the true you, and potential partners are likely to be intrigued about discovering the person you are deep down.
- Why Are You Still Single: You live alone and like it, thanksverymuch. Well, at least some of the time. You prefer coming and going as you please, and you don't like to be controlled or held responsible for someone else's schedule or needs. After all, you probably have plenty of friends, a satisfying career (or other projects to occupy your time), and you may simply not have room for another person right now — unless of course they can bend to meet your routine exactly. Does this sound familiar?
- The Love Personality Test: ISTJ - Being an ISTJ means that you are one cool customer. Although few would describe you as being warm, cuddly, or sentimental, many people likely see you as an important source of support in their lives. That's because when things are chaotic or falling apart, you're the type of person who can be virtually unflappable. ISTJs like you are known for being talented problem solvers. When it comes to your relationships, you usually know how to speak up for yourself so that others know what you want. But that doesn't mean you're rigid or inflexible. In fact, you're quite willing to bend for the right person. They just need to make their case honestly.
- What Are You Looking For In A Relationship: You're ready for an adventurous, free-spirited affair to remember. And if it comes in the form of someone who shakes up your world a bit, helps you expand your horizons, then decides to stay for awhile — all the better. It's not that you don't want a serious relationship. It's just that you might rather get there with someone who's equally committed to having fun for now. Ever wanted to drive up the coast or across your town in a red convertible? Interested in staying at a restaurant so late the chef himself joins you at the table for a late night cappuccino? Or are you really more into a no-strings-attached companion?For some people, a good fling starts with someone you can spend the whole day in bed with — whether you're under the covers or playing cards in your PJs. But for others a fling is just a light-hearted approach to finding a different way to spend quality time with someone new.
4. Analyze the test results
Well, the results seem to be mixed. It doesn't appear that I have any discernable disability with relationships. Maybe it's just that I have high expectations of how I think I should be treated. Maybe it's just that I'm, as much as I would like to think I am, really not ready for that total committed relationship. I think it's obvious that I've put myself out there to love and be loved in return and gotten my heart stepped on pretty badly. I think that it's natural for me to WANT to be more cautious...but that rarely stops me from falling head first.
In the end, I guess it turns out that I really don't need severe modifications for my dating...I need modifications for dealing with exes.

Death of a Salesman, Part Deux

I'm done. I can't go through with this mental torture everytime I see this guy. I can't be running over to my friend's houses at 9:30 every night because I'm upset at the fact that I called him after our great lunch and he never returned my phone call. I am not a yo-yo, I am a person with feelings that doesn't deserve to be played with.

A few years ago, there was a book published that, before I read it, gave me nightmares.

He's Just Not That Into You

It's a hard reality to face. Yes, this guy is emailing and calling/texting every once in awhile. Yes, he invited me to lunch yesterday. Yes, we had dinner the other night. All of this could lead me to believe that he is in fact interested in me once again. But, if he REALLY was, I would know for sure. I wouldn't be hanging in this purgatory. I deserve better than that. I deserve someone telling me they want to be with me no matter what. Instead, what I'm getting with this guy is me desperately trying to "impress" him with funny comments and witty banter.

He said that once school started and volleyball season started, my personality changed - there were no more relaxed evenings, no more wild nights out, no more funny jokes. Well, volleyball season is over. My life has calmed down - I am more relaxed. My apartment is clean, my sense of humor is back. On one hand, he should want me back - I'm back to "normal." But on the other hand, being a teacher and a coach is part of who I am. Being stressed out is part of who I am. And if he can't handle that for two months out of the year, then he isn't really the guy for me. He never once was concerned about WHY my personality changed - stress, exhaustion, etc. I take that back - I came home tired from work one night and he made me soup and grilled cheese. And then later accused me of not caring about HIS feelings and only concentrating on mine. All he was concerned about was how my "personality change" affected HIS life. Which is ridiculous.

We were sitting at the bar the other night eating dinner and drinking a few beers and there was this weird guy sitting next to us. He happened to be the "body double" for Wentworth Miller of tv's Prison Break. Whatever. We all started talking and he asked about me and GS. We told him that we used to date, but it didn't work out. The faux Wentworth Miller asked why. GS answered "Ah...as long as we don't talk about why we broke up, we're fine hanging out together."

So, that should be my answer. I should realize that if a guy and I can't even have a rational discussion about BOTH of our feelings regarding the break up, then we really shouldn't be together - at all. And I should remind you that as soon as I began telling him how I felt during the relationship, he got all defensive and basically kicked me out of his apartment.

I guess there's my answer. If he's not willing to really listen to MY feelings then he's really not worth my time - any of it.

Right. I should delete his number from my phone - again. Unfortunately I can't delete it from my brain....

Death of a Salesman

Awhile back I posted a list of men never to date...bartenders, fraternity guys, etc. And now I am adding another type of guy - the salesman.

I recently dated a guy in franchise sales. Tall, tan, dark hair with green eyes. Smart, funny - someone I could take anywhere and he would fit in. He always made everyone laugh and was intelligent to blend into any conversation. He made people want to talk to him and be around him.

The consummate salesman.

We've broken up, but still talking occasionally and having the dinner and drinks. I don't know if I'm putting feelings or expectations on these conversations and dinners that shouldn't or aren't there but I think they need to stop. Everytime I get off the phone or leave the restaurant, all I can think about is how much fun we have together - good conversation and lots of laughs. And then I sit there and wonder (like I'm doing right now) that if we have so much in common and we have such a good time together then why doesn't it work out? But I've come to realize that it's not about our interactions...it's his JOB to make people want to be around him - that's what pays his bills.

I understand how someone could break up with him and then keep wanting to go back. He makes you laugh, he gives good hugs, he listens and he's smart. Everytime you're around him he makes you think that things could work out...but unfortunately for him, it's all just part of the game.

In the immortal words...

He makes me think "I want you to want me" but it's all part of his cheap trick.

To me, couches are like men.

- A great place to rest my head during a nap.
- Best when simple with clean lines.
- A little bit of squishiness is okay, but not enough to sink in.
- Must be able to recline and help me relax.
- Stable and comfortable.

I am currently in the market for new couches. I am tired of the 15 year old flowered ones that I inherited from my parents during college. They tend to clash with my Ikea inspired minimalist and modern living room furniture and decor.

I am also a person who knows exactly what she likes and therefore what I want. I want modern. I want beige. I don't want fluff. I don't want huge pillows. I don't want anything frilly. I don't want 80s sleazy leather. I want elegance.

I have a picture in my head of what I want and I'm not willing to compromise. I don't care how great your sales are stupid Ashley furniture saleswoman. How many times did I tell you I DIDN'T want leather!

Anyways. I think my couch search is very similar to my manhunt. I know what I want in a man - and maybe he doesn't exist. Maybe I'm being too picky. (Please refer to my earlier experience with Match.com.) But when I'm going to spend a lot of money on furniture, or in the case of men - gamble my heart, shouldn't I expect to get exactly what I want? Why compromise with my standards?

You can't take it all with you...

I'm not a light packer. I take a huge duffel bag for a weekend trip. I am the girl with the overflowing purse that could fit a small child. I carried a 50 pound bag around Europe for 12 days and still thought I hadn't brought enough clothes. The phrase "Don't leave home without it" applies to me. I don't leave home without EVERYTHING. My packing philosophy is borrowed from the Boy Scouts. I am always prepared for every possible clothing situation. I like options.

Luckily, I have worked hard to unpack the baggage in my emotional life. I was carrying the weight of David and all that drama around with me for so long, until a good friend in college told me some very wise advice. I tried not to take TOO much relationship advice from her since she had been married two or three times and had yet to blow out the candles on her 30th birthday cake, but that's besides the point. She gave me a real gem on this particular subject.

Emotional baggage shouldn't be something that you carry around with you on a daily basis. It's something like an old trunk of stuff that you keep up in the attic and never think about. Once in awhile, you go up to the attic, rummage around in the trunk, throw out some stuff and reorganize. You shut the trunk up and don't go back there for awhile.

Baggage is not a bad thing. It's a necessary evil of life. Like bridesmaids and groomsmen hooking up after weddings. It's not always what you wanted to happen, but who doesn't get a little pleasure out of being accosted in an elevator?

Everyone has baggage and when entering a relationship, you have to be aware that your potential partner will have some. And it's not always pretty.

Baggage can come in many forms from "Mommy and Daddy Didn't Love Me Enough" to "I Gave Her My Heart and She Stomped On It." Anyway you shake it, if the person doesn't have their baggage locked up in their attic storage, run far away.

When I was little and we would return from a trip, it was always my job to unpack my suitcase and sort the clothes out for washing. I could never convince any other member of my family to do it for me. Same goes with emotional baggage. It's not anybody else's job to sift through your baggage. It wasn't my job to solve or cure David's Daddy baggage, his I'm Not Good Enough baggage, or his It's All My Parent's Divorce's Fault baggage. He was carrying the Louis Vuitton of luggage - the complete set. And, as is in real life, the cost was way to high for me to invest in that type of luggage.

I don't want to have to help any more guys to get to a better place in their life - whether it be emotionally, economically or job wise. I'm where I want to be and I deserve a guy that is in the same place. I've packed away my baggage from David, but it doesn't mean that I'll ever forget what he did or how he made me feel. It's that knowledge that has and will (hopefully) prevent me from falling into the same trap. The more I live on my own, the more I get over the "Desperately Seeking Parent's Approval" baggage. I live my life to make ME happy and satisfied. I still have the "Be Number One or Be Nothing" baggage - but I think that's just part of who I am and not necessarily something to be "dealt" with as the other two were.

Bottom line: I am relatively baggage free and I deserve the same from the person I'm in a relationship with.

Words of Wisdom from SATC

Since being introduced to Sex and the City by my former roommate, I have fallen in love with the show. I can see myself and relate to every episode, but by far, my favorite is the last episode because of the following quotes made by Carrie.

At the end of an emotionally unfufilling relationship with the Russian:
"I am someone who is looking for love. REAL love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't live without each other love."

At the end of the final episode; regarding relationships.
"There are those who open you to something new and exotic. There are those that are old and familiar. There are those that bring up lots of questions. There are those that bring you somewhere unexpected. There are those that bring you far from where you started. There are those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you find someone who loves the you you love, well that's fabulous."

I couldn't have put it any better myself.

Break Up Still On!

In every relationship there's always that awkward "here's your stuff back" meeting. I had that with my ex tonight. I went over there nervous and determined to set this relationship back on course...but then I was harshly reminded of why it ended.

And I left with a proud and satisfied smile on my face.

Let me give you the rundown...

The ex...let's call him "Girl Scout" or GS for short. (KLK will remember that one.) Right now, I just need to list out some grievances I had with him, since he so obviously did NOT want to listen to me talk about how he upset me...EVER.

- It was always about him: HIS friends, HIS time, HIS apartment. I would stay at HIS house and then get up and DRIVE 45 minutes to get to work at 7:30...fair? I think not. I compromised but he always came over to my place - grudgingly.

- He was sooo hard to commit to dates. Me: "Hey, let's hang out this week - what's your schedule like? I would really rather not wait until this weekend to see you." Him: "I don't know what my days are going to be like. I'll let you know." No. If you are with me and you WANT to be with me, then you will make the time to see me. Lesson numero uno that I learned from "He's Just Not That Into You" but that lesson is so much easier to see when it's in black and white print then when you're living it.

- If I got upset with some way that he treated me (most of the time, condescendingly) he would turn every grievance that I had towards him into some way that I had mistreated or not listened to him. I understand that he might not have always agreed with the way that I felt but that is never a reason to be rude to me and put me down. A little message to GS: grow up and realize that boys and girls are different for more reasons than whats in their pants. I deal with stuff differently, none of which is reason to make me feel terrible and bad about myself. You made me begin to doubt my own feelings and feel bad about being ME. Grandma would be so disappointed. And she wouldn't have liked you for it - even if you are an Aggie.

- The age difference between GS and myself? About two years calendar wise and one year in school. I am not a child. I do not deserve to be talked to like one. And no, you can't justify your actions by telling me that you're frustrated because you have to always repeat yourself to me. If you would make sense in the FIRST place, then there would be no communication problems.

- Hypocrite, hypocrite, hypocrite. Before you EVER begin talking about how self-centered I am, please...take a good LONG look in the mirror. It was always about how YOU felt and how I somehow should have changed my actions to more anticipate your ever changing needs. And on that note - you say you are a SIMPLE person? HA! A week alone in the Dr. Phil House with Dr. Phil himself couldn't get you figured out.

- Appreciate me. Don't put me down. I'm always up for a laugh at someone else's or my own expense. But there are times when I need to be validated. You wouldn't kick a dog when it's down so don't make me feel even crappier about my day then I already did. When a dog poops on the carpet and you yell at the dog - it knows what it did wrong. You don't need to rub the dog's nose in it. I am not a dog. Stop rubbing my nose in how I messed up during the day.

- You say I changed once school started. Are you seriously retarded?!? Of COURSE my personality is going to change - I went from sleeping in until 11:00 every day and the most difficult decision I made each day was which swimsuit to wear to the pool or lake. And you knocked me for not doing anything each day, but I think it's really because you were jealous. And don't remind me of the time that you said it did bother you that I was in a career path that wouldn't make much money...ever. Oh excuse me for being CONTENT with my purpose in life. I don't know what you have to prove with your fancy boat, big truck and even bigger ego - but it was all trying to cover up something you so desperately did NOT want people to see. And I have a feeling it was the personality that I witnessed. I love my job and you should have been proud of me for that.

- I got a tattoo on my hip: Passione, which is passion in Italian. It reminds me never to become what I became with you - a YES woman who tried so desperately to keep her man happy, when the truth was - you aren't man enough to recognize your own flaws. Or maybe I just didn't mean enough to you for you to try and compromise with me. And for that, I'm angry at you for letting things drag on to the point of me writing an entire blog about how there's something so WRONG with me that no one can love me. I will NEVER again allow someone to take my passion away from me. It's one of the things that I treasure the most about my Grandma and my mother and now that it's tatted on my body, I will never be without it.

I know that he's probably sitting there thinking about how I'll never change and what a controlling not-nice-person I am or whatever. I'd like to think that I think and see things pretty clearly. I would also like to think that I know myself better than he does. As do my friends.

And they all think you're not good enough for me.

And I agree.

Pound Puppy

I have decided to get a dog. After the demise of my last relationship, I have decided that I need something to love. I have a lot to give and I think that I'm good at it?! Maybe? Eh. Well, that's probably debatable.

Anyways.

I remember watching the almost straight to video "28 Days" with Sandra Bullock a long time ago. In it, she went to rehab and when she was about to be released they talked about healthy relationships. The people at rehab said that if recovering addicts shouldn't be in intimate relationships with other people for awhile after they leave. Addicts should get a houseplant and keep it alive for a year, and then, if they are successful, move on to a pet. And after a year of keeping a pet alive for a year, then they would be ready for an intimate relationship with a human.

This got me thinking.

Maybe I should get a pet and see if I can keep it alive for a year. And then maybe I'll be ready for a relationship? Who knows?

The truth of the matter is that my apartment is lonely at night and I would like something alive to snuggle up with. I think that a small dog would do the trick.

Once I decided on a dog, I got started looking on Petfinder.com for my new best friend. Scrolling through page after page of little puppies with that sad look in their eye started to get to me. In front of a coworker, I broke down in tears. I mean TEARS. The sobbing from the chest, whole body shaking, mascara smearing TEARS. My coworker responded to my cries of "Why doesn't anybody love them?" with a kind "It's not that nobody loves them, maybe they just couldn't take care of them."

It was then that I realized - I wasn't crying because of the dogs. I was crying because I felt like one OF those dogs. I feel like a puppy that no one could take care of or tame. And instead of investing the time and energy in working with the puppy, just dropped it off at the pound. I feel like the puppy that no one loved.

Is that not the most depressing thing ever?

And the funny thing is...I saw the boy on Tuesday evening at the big key exchange and you know what? NO TEARS. Our meeting was like something out of a very dramatic episode of Laguna Beach or The Hills or something. I half expected to hear an All American Rejects song or something like it playing in the background. But unfortunately, there were no cameras around and no one yelling "Cut!" It was all real life - a little TOO real. I didn't tell anyone at work that we had broken up. I think that I felt like if I didn't talk about it - it meant that it didn't really happen and it was all a dream. Thursday was the first time that I actually cried about the whole situation and I hated it for myself. I have spent too many wasted hours crying over stupid boys. But I truly had hoped that this boy wasn't going to turn out to be stupid. I really hoped that I wouldn't sabotage another relationship. And, yes, I know - it's not all my fault...but he always made me feel like it was. Like he could never do any wrong and I was always the one that was messing up. I guess, in the end, I really didn't like the condescending manner in which he spoke to me or how if he didn't feel like I should be upset about something then I was stupid or immature for being upset. I didn't expect him to always agree with my feelings, but I think that he should have at least understood that regardless of his opinion, my feelings were still valid. I feel like I'm going around and around in circles and completely losing the point.

Anyways...I'm getting a dog as soon as volleyball season is over. If it's a girl - she will be named Katie Scarlett after Scarlett O'Hara from Gone With The Wind --- my personal literary and film heroine. If it is a boy - he will be named Maverick after Tom Cruise's character in Top Gun --- my first love.

I'll keep you posted.

Another one bites the dust...

Against my better judgment, I got involved in a relationship at the beginning of July. It was against my better judgment for several reasons:

- My 6 months wasn't over and I wasn't sure if I was REALLY ready to get involved with someone again.

- He was my best friend's ex boyfriend from high school.

But, I forged ahead because we had such a good time together - always laughing and making fun of stuff. We went to the lake - he taught me how to wakeboard and then took me to the emergency room when I tore the muscle in my back. We watched a lot of movies and looked forward to Sunday nights because of Rock Of Love on VH1. He made me laugh and made me feel funny, smart and like a good person. He is tall, smart, athletic and funny. He has a big truck with a boat and a sense of adventure and fun.

So...why am I not with him anymore you ask?

As always - it's the attack of the three month curse. I can't seem to date anyone past 3 months. My longest relationship is a year and a half. That was in college with David. Out of all the people that I have dated, my longest, most involved relationship was also the most dysfunctional. I have dated great, nice guys (Justin and now Greg) but for some reason I can't make it work. I am really beginning to think that there is something seriously wrong with me. It's almost a joke with other people in my life. I'm tired of getting all excited about a guy only to have my hopes dashed in three months. Or maybe, it's like my friend Kate told me - every relationship goes through that re-evaluating time at 3 months in the beginning. Maybe I just haven't found someone who is worth keeping around past those three months. Maybe I haven't found someone that is worth the work to keep them past three months. But I truly thought that he could be that person. I bent over backward to try to make him happy, but for some reason I never felt like I was doing anything right. And maybe that's a sign that we shouldn't be together. Or maybe I was just trying to keep it altogether because I don't want to hear the "I told you so" from my friend. Maybe I felt like I had sacrificed so much (a 10 year long friendship) that I couldn't bear to know that I ruined that friendship for a guy that only lasted 3 months.

I really liked him. Well, I guess it's not really past tense yet - I still DO like him but I don't think it's going to work out.

I need someone to feel passionate about me. I want someone to love me like my friends and family love me. Yes, sometimes I can be a little crazy and neurotic and maybe even needy - but they look past it and see that I'm funny, smart, creative and fiercly loyal. And just love me for that. Once again, I am left with the overwhelming and devastating feeling that there is simply SO unlovable about me that I will never find true love. I want that type of love that's in the movies. I want that "Notebook" romance - I don't do anything in my life halfway and I refuse to be in a relationship where I feel that I'm being treated and felt about only halfway.

I just want to be loved, but I don't think I'll ever meet someone who is capable of loving me in the way that I feel I need to be loved.

Maybe I'll just get a dog - they provide unconditional love, right?

Back to school...

Summer vacation is ending and I'm gearing up for another school year. I am definitely ready to go back to school. I am so tired of not having a reason to get up before noon everyday. All in all, it was a pretty great summer.



I began vacation by a two week party binge which ended a few days before I left for Europe.

I was in Europe for two weeks which was an amazing experience and then came home and was out of commission for a week because I had a severe sinus and upper respiratory infection.

I came home and shortly thereafter began dating a great guy.

I took up a new hobby - wakeboarding.

I had two FANTASTIC birthday celebrations - one with friends and the other with my family.

I fell on the wakeboard and found myself in the emergency room and with more pain killers.

Not too shabby for three months.

I definitely am getting antsy though. I'm ready to have something to do during the day. I feel that my self-esteem has kind of gone downhill in the past week and I'm not sure why. I think it's partly because I'm frustrated with hurting my back again. It took soooo long for my back to recover last time and now I have to go through all that again. And of course, I had to hurt it right before volleyball season. I feel so lazy because all I could do for the past four days is lay in bed with a heating pad on my back, watching tv and playing tetris on my phone. Sounds great? Not so much. It got old after a couple of days. I also think that I'm just bored. I don't feel like I'm really contributing to society at the moment. I don't have anything in my life right now that I can feel I am being successful at. Don't get me wrong, I know that in general, I am successful...but at the current moment, I'm not being very successful. I am definitely procrastinating. It's sad, but I'm tired of shopping (well, right now, shopping isn't so much fun because it takes a LOT of effort to get my clothes off - because of my back, you pervs) and I'm also tired of laying out by the pool - it's way to hot for that now.

It's Been Awhile

So....it's been awhile since I've last blogged and I think the reason is that I have actually been really happy for the past month. It's so easy to sit here and be upset or contemplative or depressed and write a whole long entry voicing my frustrations and complaints but when it comes to being happy and writing about it...it's a lot harder.

For those of you keeping score...if you guessed that my six month break would last three months - you win the prize.

At the beginning of July, I went out on a old guy friend's boat and we kind of fell into each other. He's smart, funny, attractive, ambitious and active. We have a great time together - whether it's out with friends, sitting around watching tv or at the lake. He makes me laugh. And he makes me feel good about myself (not that I need his compliments in order to boost my self esteem, but you know). He makes me want to be myself because that's the person that he's attracted to.

It all sounds so great, right?

Unfortunately, there's always a little snag and this time it's a big snag. He used to date one of my very close friends in high school and on and off after we graduated. I'm not going to get into the details of these relationships right now out of respect for my friend. But I would like her to know, if she's reading, that I'm sorry for the communication issues we had. You know that my intention was never to hurt you. I was scared to talk about him to you because I didn't want you to feel like I was rubbing in your face that we were dating. I understand that right now what you need is space, but I hope that in the future we can rebuild our friendship.

Yesterday was my birthday and I had a GREAT time. Friday, a friend of mine from high school and I celebrated our joint birthdays (his is July 28th) by going to dinner in FW and then to our reserved tables complete with bottle service at a chic bar downtown. It was a pretty great night, unfortunately because of our bill, I will NOT be buying any new school clothes. A lot of people gasped at the amount of money he and I layed down for this party....but the way I see it - this is my first real grown up party. I have worked hard for the past few years graduating college and getting a great paying job doing what I love. Why not celebrate my 24th birthday in style? It's not like I'm ever going to do this again...it's definitely not a weekly thing by any means. I felt like I was not only celebrating my 24th birthday but also the fact that I have reached a point in my life where I can look around and feel satisfied. I cleaned my apartment on my birthday - not exactly glamorous, but it needed to be done. When I was finished and I was getting ready to leave to eat dinner with my parents, brother and his crew, the boyfriend and my fairy godmother and her husband, I looked around my apartment and I was satisfied and proud. The bf and I talked about this the other night on the way home from a very successful trip to the lake for a little wakeboarding (I got outside and back inside the wake and rode the board while he did a turn with the boat!!!). I really have no reason to be upset or depressed about my situation in life. I've got a great family and equally wonderful friends. I found a relationship that I'm really excited about (and the feeling is mutual). I have a great job which provides with an ample salary to keep up a fabulous and spacious apartment, a car payment for my awesome Acura, and a closet full of clothes and shoes. What more could I really ask for?

So, as I stand at the edge of a new year of my life and a new school year....I'm satisfied and optimistic. I am feeling pretty confident that I'm going to be okay.

Crossroads

I had lunch with my brother today and the conversation fell upon an interesting topic.

What I want out of life.

Do I want to settle down right now, or am I enjoying having boy toys?
Ugh...that's a tough one. Of course, it's nice to have a man around to hang out with, to lean on and to spoon with. But at the same time, in order for that to happen...you have to be in a serious relationship with him, right? Or else, it just gets weird and complicated. I have a brothel of men in my life right now that are simply friends...I think. Some of them might have other intentions, but I'm pretending not to have knowledge of those intentions. I enjoy spending time with each of them - drinking, playing video games, going out to eat and shopping. I'm sure that I if I pursued any one of them actively, I could form somewhat of a relationship...but then, I'd be potentially losing a good drinking or shopping buddy. My relationships with men right now are, for the most part, uncomplicated and easy, requiring little emotional effort on my part.

Do I want to get married?
Yeah, probably. But marriage is so...final. I just don't see myself as someone's wife. And I know for sure that I don't want all the hullabaloo that goes along with getting married. We'll see.

Do I want to have kids?
Even more than the wife thing...I know I don't see myself as someone's mother. Not right now, and I don't know if ever.

The thing is...there are so many different paths that my life could still take. Do I want to have a quiet life in the suburbs, driving an SUV and raising my kids? I feel that I would get so utterly bored and disconnected from what makes me happy in life. I'm sure that I could put on the happy face and pretend like I enjoyed the way my life had turned out, but I would bet that on my 40th birthday, I would collapse into tears because I hadn't lived my life the way I wanted. That I had somehow given up on all the personal goals and boundaries that I had set and wanted in my twenties...

So, on the other hand, do I want to have that fast paced, jet setting lifestyle in the big city? As glamorous as a Dallas high rise, BMW's, posh restaurants, and vacations in Tahiti sound...would I eventually become alienated from the type of person that my parents raised me to be? Would I get so obsessed with money, success and keeping up appearances that I would forget to form a lasting relationship with the important people in my life?

I think the bottom line is that I need to figure out the type of person and lifestyle I want to be and to have in ten years. And right now, I don't think that I'm in a place where I want to think that far ahead. I am completely infatuated with the way that my life is running right now. I have a great group of different friends that I can chill at the lake with, or I can party in Uptown with. I am getting to live every different type of possible lifestyle that I could ever want or need. I guess eventually, I will figure out what I want for my future and when I've done that, I will look for someone who has a similar vision.

Fiddle-dee-dee

For some reason, one of my favorite memories from when I was a little girl is being at home alone with my mom, watching Gone With The Wind while she cleaned the house. Even then, there was something about Scarlett O'Hara that simply mesmorized me. At the beginning of the summer, I decided to embark on a rather ambitious task for someone who Cliff Noted her way through high school and college literature classes - I was going to read ALL of Gone With The Wind. Luckily, I had several hours stuck on airplanes to and from Europe to aid me in my quest.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the book is not only fairly easy to read, but much of the original dialogue from the book was used in the big screen version. More than a relaxing and enjoyable read, I have found that I truly relate to Scarlett. There is something about her that I relate to and strive to be. Obviously, I do not plan on marrying a much older gentleman in the hopes of saving my family's plantation from the greedy hands of the carpetbaggers and scallawags...but there are some other similarities.

Scarlett learns at an early age that there are certain protocols that women of her generation must follow and strictly adhere to. Although she easily adopts the mannerisms which allow her to capture the heart of every beau in the county, there is something empty about the entire process to her. She views her world with skeptic eyes...never quite understanding the reasoning behind certain archaic traditions and eventually arriving at a stage in her life where she blatantly fouts all convention in order to save herself and Tara from poverty. I love her determination and the ferocity with which she attacks her situation in life. There's something about a heroine in a book that refuses to give up or act a certain way just because of what people think she should do that I relate to. And unfortunately, I definitely understand the act of playing the part in order to get men to do things for you. A shy, but genuine smile and the right tone of voice can get you far in life, as I have discovered. I also love how Rhett completely strikes through her "southern belle" facade and respects and loves her for defying the norm.

I only wish that she didn't spend her life wasting her efforts on that waif Ashley.

Now, if only I can find my own Rhett Butler...

I'm back!

Ugh...jet lag sucks.

Alright - here's the rundown on my trip to Europe. This is obviously a shortened version - there are some stories that can only be told in person because they are HILARIOUS.

Amsterdam:
- Saw the Anne Frank House, Van Gogh museum and the Heineken brewery.
- The Dutch men are BEAUTIFUL: tall, slim, great hair and high cheek bones. Sigh.
- Overnight train to Munich: met some other backpackers and sat up til 1 in the morning discussing American foreign politics and other such intellectual topics with them and two old German guys in the dining car.

Munich:
- Went to Dachau Concentration Camp on an incredibly beautiful day. It was insane to think that such disgusting and despicable events were carried out on the same rocks that I walked across. I found out that it is mandated by Germany that all German high school students tour a concentration camp. It was a very surreal experience.
- Went on a bike tour of the city with Mike's Bike Tours. Jumped in a freezing cold river in the middle of Englischer Gardens and then hung out with some guys we met on the tour at a couple of beer gardens. Beer came in LITER glasses. Yum.

Berlin:
- Walked along the East Wall Gallery of the Berlin Wall and went to the Checkpoint Charlie museum.
- Went on another bike tour with Fat Tire Bike Tours and saw the entire city. Most of the city is relatively modern because of the destruction wreaked on the city at the end of World War II.
- Went on a pub crawl with the Fat Tire guys. They took us to an Irish pub and I walked in and the song that was playing? David Hasselhoff's Looking for Freedom, which, ironically enough, was the song that he sang on top of the remains of the Berlin Wall on New Year's Eve in 1989. Those Germans - they LOVE the Hoff. We also went to this AWESOME bar in the former Communist East Berlin. It was five stories of concrete slab with all the walls spray painted. It really made me feel like I was in an illegal and underground bar in East Berlin in the early 1980s. It was so cool.

London:
- I traveled around London mostly by myself because Kristin was working, but I found that I really enjoyed being completely independent in a city that I had never been to.
- Toured Westminster Abbey, walked by the Parliament buildings and Buckingham Palace.
- Toured the Tower of London and St. Paul's Cathedral.
- On Tuesday night, when Kristin had a BP gala that I couldn't go to so I went and saw Les Miserables in the Soho Theater district. It was AMAZING. Definitely the highlight of London for me. I saw it when I was very young and I loved it...I had chills and tears in my eyes the entire time.

There is so much more to tell, but I'm too tired to write it all right now.

The main thing that I came away with from this trip is that I am okay on my own. When Kristin was at her conference, I toured the city and I would get hungry. And I had to sit at a cafe and eat all by myself. Strangely enough, I actually found it very relaxing and comforting. At the end of the trip, I told Kristin this: "I don't know what's waiting for me at home. I don't know what will happen in my love life, but I do know that no matter what, I'll be okay. I'm alright all on my own."

It was a pretty amazing trip. But I am VERY happy to be home. I cried when the plane touched down at DFW. But then again, I cried when the plane took off to London when I left. I cried a lot during the trip. But in a good way.

I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane...

but I do know when I'll be back again.

I'm leaving this afternoon for Europe and I'll be back on June 21st. If I get a chance to sit down at a computer while in Europe, I will try to update this blog. If I can't...then I'll give you all the details when I get home!

Love you all!

The Cheese's Least Wanted

Since I graduated college, I have been forming a little list in my head of people NOT to date. This list includes...

- Fraternity boys, or college guys in general
- Waiters
- Guys that never went to college, or didn't finish
- Anyone under 6'2, which limits my possibilities, but it is important to me

And now I can add another one to the list: BARTENDERS

Yes, yes, I know - this should be a given. But...I like to learn through experience.

Hot bartenders are like animals in the zoo - they're fun to look at and to flirt with, and in my case - a necessity for life, but ultimately, they need to stay in their cage, aka behind the bar.

Wild Child

I have a good friend named Kristin, who I am going to be traveling through Europe with in about 10 days. Kristin and I were raised in similar families: upper middle class, happily married parents, strong foundation in community and church, etc. We both felt enormous pressure to be the "perfect" girls. The ones who people looked at and said: "what a fantastic young lady." And being a "fantastic young lady" never felt like it included being a "normal" teenager. It meant never drinking, never staying out past our curfew, never sneaking out of the house...all of which meant never having any fun to Kristin and myself.

I tried to play the part of the good girl, but my heart was never truly in it. I wanted to stay out all night. I wanted to be a party girl. I wanted anything that was drastically different from what my parents thought was right.

Kristin and I figured out our own little manipulative ways of keeping up appearances to our parents, to the community and to the school that we were still perfect little angels that never did anything wrong. As could be expected, it didn't last forever and after one forgettable St. Patrick's Day during my junior year of high school, the halo slipped off, I fell from the pedestal, I was grounded for a month, and my actions were monitored much closer from then until high school graduation day. I won't go into the details, but in the words of myself at 16 - it sucked.

That curbed any rebellion for awhile. But after graduation...all bets were off. It started with our parents being out of town and continued for about three and a half years into college. Maybe it was a sign of deeper issues, or just the freedom of being able to stretch out my wings, but I went wild in college. I joined a sorority which practically shoved a drink in your hand the minute you rushed.

I was hung over on my first ever day of college. Please keep in mind that this was an 8:00 class on a Monday morning.

I enjoyed the drinking and the partying. I enjoyed looking cute, going out with a big group of girls and that feeling of having an entire night full of interesting possibilities. Who would we meet? What drama would unfold, which we would always rehash the next morning? Would that cute guy from the party call? (PS - he never ever called) How would the girls in our rival sororities drunkenly embarrass themselves, for which we would revel in the idea that we a superior, classier group of women? Neverminding the fact that it had, in fact, been us the week before making complete fools of ourselves on the back patio of RBar in front of a group of ZTAs or KKGs.

I was NOT, by far, the hardest drinker of the bunch. Those girls were weeded out quickly by the end of freshman year. They just drifted away...and none of their "sisters" ever cared to find out what happened to them, or to even worry about their drinking problem in the first place. But I had my moments when I would somehow find myself waking up on the bathroom floor, wondering how I had gotten home. I am completely ashamed to admit this to you, whether you are my friends, my family or my coworkers.

And through all the insanity, the post flag football drinks at State Club, the pre partying before and after Date Parties, and the pre partying before RBar and then to the frat houses after RBar...I somehow kept my grades up. It was like, if I was doing well in school...then there wasn't a problem.

If I met the 19 year old version of myself right now out at a party...I wouldn't like her. I would see her as a stupid, young, brat who had no idea of the manner in which she was presenting herself. I still see girls like this at the bar and they absolutely disgust me.

So...when did it all stop? When did I grow up?

Well, up until my junior year of college (I was still 20) drinking had been fun. Luckily, I had survived the first few years of college drinking without a ticket, an arrest, or being physically/mentally/emotionally damaged in any way. Drinking was fun - it was something to do at the end of the week...I had never truly experienced the darkest depths of what drinking could do to someone.

Then I met him. I met and fell in love with an alcoholic that made me so terrified of drinking. I saw the effects that it had on him and I tried my damnest to stay sober - someone in the relationship had to be. He literally scared me straight.

But, I think he's been given more than enough discussion in this blog already.

And you're probably asking yourself: What does all this have to do with anything?

Since graduating college, I have been living in two completely separate worlds and it is getting exhausting being two people.

Half of me is a teacher - a person who is respected in the community, someone who has a huge responsibility to be a role model to impressionable teenagers.

The other half of me is still that wild party girl from college. I'm only 23 - just because I graduated college doesn't mean that I'm going to lay down and die.

Maybe it all comes back to that point of I always saw my own teachers on this pedestal, and I think that I have to live up to this impossible ideal of who I should be, and how I should live my life.

Random

I made a mistake yesterday. I took a nap around 5:00 and therefore had an incredibly difficult time falling asleep, which is probably why I heard the unmistakable sound of my cell phone notifying me of an incoming text message. Please keep in mind that it's about 1:45 in the AM. I'm thinking that it's just one of my friends whose a little drunk wanting to tell me that they love me. You know how it goes.

Not so much.

This is the text that I received:

"What u doing i think i m getting married"

It was from the dreaded David. You know - emotionally retarded, alchoholic, cokehead, abusive...YAY! I love hearing from him at two in the morning. It takes me back to those wonderful nights when he would show up at my apartment drunk at two or three in the morning, banging on the window, demanding for me to let him in so that he could completely berate me and leave me in a panic attack.

Let me relay the text conversation for you.

DP: What u doing i think i m getting married

LC: Please leave me alone

DP: U called me last i was rude sorry just being nice wondering wat u up 2
* I had called him a few weeks ago asking him to STOP GIVING MY PHONE NUMBER TO THE CREDITING AGENCIES that were looking for him.

LC: Trying to sleep

DP: Sorry good night!

LC: Thank you. I will say a prayer for you "wife" because she will need it
* Tacky, I know...but I had to get it in there somehow. I do not wish him upon ANY woman.

DP: No i need it, as of now i m walking out

LC: Arent we a little old for drama at two in the morning?

DP: I m trin 2 be friends

And I'm out at this point. Dunzo. Turned my phone on silent, shook my head and went to sleep. Should I have even responded to his first text? Probably not. But, sadly, whenever I think about him, or hear from him, or see his picture, I still have some anger towards him. I still want him to hurt as badly as I did when we were together. I want him to know what it felt like for me to be curled in a corner of my bathroom, sobbing, after he told me that "Even if I put a ring on a girl's finger, it doesn't mean it will be forever. My fraternity brothers will be there forever." Ouch. And at the time that he said this, we had been together for a year and a half already.

Oh. And I found out later that he was drunk and high on cocaine at the time. And at work. Can you say WINNER?

Bored

I need a hobby.

Desperately.

It is summer and I am so utterly bored. I have been dreaming of summer vacation for about 9 months. Since August 14th to be exact. And now that it's here - I'm bored. Maybe it's the weather (rainy and crappy) or maybe it's the fact that many of my friends are not teachers. Thus, they can't go shopping or hang out on a Tuesday afternoon at 2:00.

So back to the business of creating a hobby for myself. I would like for it to be something that is:
1. productive...therefore drinking is out of the picture.
2. inexpensive...therefore drinking is out of the picture.
3. creative...therefore...well, you get the idea.
4. healthy...ditto.

I really want to get back into working out everyday, but with my back pain still flaring up, I'm a little apprehensive about it. I was thinking about taking a painting class or something creative like that, but it costs money and tends to be a bit messy and I'm a big fan of keeping my clothes looking nice.

So....I don't know WHAT I'm going to do this summer. But I know that sitting around on the internet and drinking every night will not be a part of it.

Little Girl Lost

Two weeks from tomorrow I leave for Europe with one of my closest friends, Kristin. We're hitting up Amsterdam for a few days, then off to Munich, staying with Josh for a weekend in Heidelberg and finally back to London for the remainder of the trip. I'm extremely nervous - there is so much to think about. From packing and clothing options, to money and the question that continually has run through my head: "What if I don't like the food they eat there?" The most major things have been taken care of - lodging, transportation and a basic outline of what we'll do when we get there.

I think the scariest thing about the entire trip is what it signifies. I'm doing this on my own. My parents are not helping me pay for it, nor will my mother be there interpreting the language for us like she was in Italy. I think that this might be the farthest that I have ever physically been from my parents. And it kind of terrifies me.

Plus...I'm terrified of the plane crashing into the ocean. Because then you're screwed.

I am the youngest of three children in my family by a lot. I was the accident. Oops! Eight years after they had my middle brother Mike, I was born. I am the only girl - the princess. I never had to take care of anything that was a big deal like this - I could almost always convince SOMEBODY in my family to "help" me, to which I just backed off and let them do it for me. Yes, I tended to be lazy and a tad bit manipulative. In turn, I think that this has made my transition into adulthood a little harder. Remembering to pay bills on time was a shock, as was the fact that my father made me pay him to change my oil.

Anyways. Back to Europe. I'm excited. I truly am. I'm not sure if I'm more excited about seeing the sights or doing something this big COMPLETELY ON MY OWN. I kind of feel like it's time to cut the umbilical cord. As much as I love and respect my parents and I know that I will NEVER be able to repay them for everything that the did for me growing up and do for me now....it's time to stand on my own. I can change my own oil. If I go over on my budget for the month - I will deal with it. I can take my own clothes to the dry cleaners. I can figure out how to make the stinkin' grilled cheese sandwiches on my own. And if I mess up...well...then I'll call Mom.

As much as I resemble my parents physically, we are often on different ends of the spectrum when it comes to politics, drinking and sadly...morals. I don't know when the tides changed and I went from a fairly conservative little Catholic girl to this die hard liberal woman. I'm going to put my money on going to the University of North Texas having something to do with it. I felt guilty when I made an educated decision to vote for John Kerry in the 2004 Presidential election. I felt like I was disobeying my parents, or letting them down in some way. Like I was a little rebel thumbing my nose at them just because I could. I know that to a certain extent, they don't approve of my lifestyle. I don't think that either of them can relate to who I am or what I hold important and value in my life at times. I think that when my mother was pregnant with me, she had this vision of her daughter all dressed in pink and acting like a lady. I played in the mud as a child, and hated dresses. I'm not that conservative, lady-like and delicate woman that I think she wanted me to be. But I wouldn't be happy that way. I like being loud. I like laughing with the guys at the dirty jokes. Hell - I like TELLING the dirty jokes. I'm bold and brassy and sometimes a little intimidating. I look at her and, no offense Mom, I don't see this dainty, lady-like, waif of a woman. I see someone who has stood up for herself, someone who likes to laugh and drink wine with good friends. I see her as one of the strongest women that I have ever met...and I'm just like her, but yet, I don't feel like I measure up.

I also feel like I'm completely disrespecting my parents and that if my mother were to read this, she would get upset and therefore I feel guilty and I am beginning to think that I shouldn't even publish this. Do you see the internal conflict that I'm wrestling with? These are my thoughts and my feelings but I'm afraid to let her know because it would disappoint and hurt her...

My parents are pretty conservative with their money as far as buying clothes, music, going out is concerned. Don't get me wrong - they're not penny pinchers. They live in an older, but updated house; they both drive new cars and most of all - they take fantastic trips. And my mom doesn't sleep in anything less than 3 stars. Apparently, we are more alike than previously thought. :) I have the worst habit. Everytime I buy something, I hear my mother's voice: "And how much did that cost? It's cute - but do you need more clothes?" Or my father's: " I bet if you looked in the back of your closet, you could find that same exact thing." I actually feel guilty spending the money that I earn because I'm afraid that my parent's are going to get angry with me. It's not their money, but still...I guess it's just something that was ingrained in my head when I was in college and actually spending all their money on complete crap that I don't ever wear anymore. We just have different priorities. They tend to go grocery shopping at least once a week and spend their money. I go clothes shopping at least once a week, in contrast to my monthly/bimonthly grocery shopping trip. I don't eat that much at my house because I would much rather be able to fit into that size 8 skirt that I bought, then chow down on frozen pizza. And plus, if I get hungry...my mom will let me eat the leftovers.

I just want to be able to make decisions, large and small, for my own life without automatically thinking of what my parents would say or think or if they would disapprove or not. I want to be independent and make decisions for my own life based on what I believe to be right for me because I think that if I am able to do that...maybe I'll make decisions that will make ME happy.

And Mom...if you're reading this - don't cry. I love you. I just can't be everything that you want me to be. I just want to be me and have you be okay with that.

Cooking Lesson

If I've said it once, I've said it a million times.

I have met the man of my dreams.

Unfortunately, all the characteristics about him that I love about this man are scattered throughout the many boys and the few men that I have dated.

Creating the man that I want to spend the rest of my life is like concocting an extremely difficult recipe.

Well, actually ANY recipe is extremely difficult for me. I had to call my mom and get directions on how to make grilled cheese sandwiches. No joke.

Anyways...here's the rundown on the boys...
David P: 6'4 and about 200 pounds of muscle and athleticism. Beautiful.
David B: Intelligence combined with ambition, as well as nice paychecks. (Shallow, but necessary)
Barry M and Quint M: Good Ol' Boy mentality. Perfectly comfortable grilling out by the lake, listening to Texas Country and playing football in the water.
Justin C: Good Catholic boy with manners who dotes on his mother and grandmother. My mother loved him. I believe that she had actually been planning the wedding since she placed us in the same Religious Education class in 9th grade.
Jordan H: Die hard liberal with a scathing sarcastic streak.
Zane W: Ahh. The illusive Aussie. Incredibly outgoing and free spirited, with a hint of habitual ADD. Always got us into bars and other establishments in downtown Ft. Worth ahead of the line and for free.

Listing out all the qualities about these guys that I loved makes me miss them...so in the effort of NOT contacting ex-boyfriends, I will list the qualities that were the deal breaker for me.

David P: Obsessive, alcoholic, abusive, emotionally immature. Need I say more?
David B: Too emotionally independent and uptight.
Barry M: Ambition? Never heard of the word.
Quint M: Radically different religious views.
Justin C: Everything was perfect with him...except there was no passion. I need passion and he couldn't deliver.
Jordan H: A great summer fling and then back to being friends.
Zane W: Ditto with Barry.

Please do not think poorly of these men, (except David P - feel free to get out your voodoo dolls) because with many of them...I think that it was just poor timing of where they and I were at in our individual lives. Thus creating a reason why it was never going to work out. I don't truly think that any of them are bad people or anything like that. I believe that finding "true love" is a combination of the right person at the right time. If I had met and dated these people at different times in our own lives, then quite possibly it could have worked out. But it wasn't and it didn't. I never repeated a grade in school and I apply the same attitude towards dating. If it didn't work out the first time, it won't work out...EVER.