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.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Monday, December 3, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, December 2, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
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.
"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.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
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....
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....
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