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.