Enough bitching (well, almost)

For the past couple of days, I’ve logged into WordPress and just stared at the blinking cursor.  After about 2 or 3 minutes of this, I’ve logged out and resumed mindlessly twiddling my thumbs.  It’s not that I don’t have anything to say.  It’s just that the things I have to say?  Well, they’re stupid.  I can think about plenty of things to bitch about (hey maybe I should resume WTF Wednesday next week) but I’m tired of bitching.  I’m tired of things ticking me off, ruining my day, and all in all turning me into a Sour Sally.  All these frowns aren’t good for preventing wrinkles after all.  The real problem is, I don’t really have anything to be happy about right now.  It’s been a tough week.  I’m tired of work.  I’m tired of the strange dreams at night that prompt me to wake up confused and angry.  AND I’ve come to the realization that no matter how much you want to trust someone, to like them unconditionally, to believe in them, if they suck as a person it’s just not going to happen.  What do you do when someone who you’ve invested real time and energy into turns out to be a selfish brat who doesn’t take your feelings into consideration?

Dammit, there I go with the bitching.

I leave for NYC in just under two weeks.  I’m hella excited about this, but also kind of weary because the person I’m bitching about above?  Yeah, she’s my travelling companion.  I just pray that everything works out, and she can put her selfish attitude aside for three days.  (On a side note, if anyone has some recommendations of things to do and see while I’m there, please let me know.  I’ve got all the basics lined up:  Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty & Ellis Island, The Met, etc.  Give me some little-known spots or dining recommendations!)

The past few weeks have been kind of crazy and chaotic.  I’ve been running around like a mad-woman who’s trying to DO! IT! ALL! and in the shortest amount of time imaginable, so I’m kind of run down.  Here’s how I envision this weekend proceeding:  Watch movies tonight and stay up as late as I can (to therefore enhance the amount of time I can sleep in tomorrow!).  Clean my house.  Make some tasty food.  Work on staining my deck (that bitch is taking FOREVER!).  Do some yard work.  Maybe have dinner with bff.  Buy a birthday present for my sorta-kinda little sis (she’s the little sis of a best friend who is turning 16), go to her birthday cookout and see my sorta-kinda adoptive family.  All in all, some quality time with people who matter, and some rest and relaxation.  B will be stuck working tomorrow (the pitfalls of his job - spring and summer are crazy busy), so I won’t see him much this weekend.  But that’s okay.  That alone time I discussed in a previous post?  Yeah, I’m needing a little bit of that again…

..if only to evaluate some things and sort out some confusion in my head regarding relationships with friends.  Because really — I can’t take much more of this shit!

Discovered

I had a weekend completely to myself.  On Friday afternoon, B called to say he would be going out of town for the weekend to visit some family.  Bummed out, I wondered “What am I going to do with all this time alone?”  I started thinking of ways to entertain myself, and stressing out about being in our house alone.  We live in a neighborhood that’s beautiful, but to be honest, quite freaky at night.  There aren’t a lot of street lights, and it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop in your neighbor’s house.  I tend to close all the blinds and turn on all the lights when I’m there alone, and well, it’s a little more than unsettling.

But I found that when left to my own devices for 2 nights and 2 days, I’m actually quite happy.  Oh, of course I missed B.  That’s a given.  But it was good to stay quiet, not talking very much, and spend time with my dogs and cats in peace and quiet.  I watched movies.  I sang to the radio.  I cleaned the house.  I did all the laundry I could find then put it all away (which, let’s be honest, is about as rare as me working out, haha).  I cooked meals for myself, with only my needs in mind.  I curled up on the couch with my blanket and a book and read until it was finished.  I snuggled and played with my puppy.  I took B’s dog for a long walk.  I slept in and went to bed late.  I layed in the middle of the bed.  I checked the mail and sorted all of the paperwork that was waiting to be filed.  I gave myself a pedicure.  I curled my hair and put on makeup for no real reason.  I gave myself a facial and shaved my legs.  I did all this for me.  And you know what?

It felt fantastic.

Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely glad to have B come home…and those shaved legs were useful for the fun we had on Sunday evening. And though it might seem small to others, to me, it was a huge success.  Normally I’m so stressed out worrying about things that could happen to me when I’m alone (break-in, rape, torture, you know) that I forget to enjoy the quiet.  (Anxiety much?)  But this time, I took time to stop and smell the roses.  Metaphorically speaking.

I kinda can’t wait until this happens again!

Breathe in, breathe out

I think I should clarify for some of my readers a vital detail related to yesterday’s post about the bad dream. 

 My father passed away 3 years ago.  So to dream about that scenario wasn’t upsetting in the sense that he’s already gone, so what more can happen?  The combination of what the dream decoder said, along with the fact that I tend to dream about him from time to time, was enough to stir me up.  Most of the time, I dream that my father is alive again — that we’re doing typical things together like having dinner or visiting with family.  That night was the first time I’ve had a bad dream about my father. 

Once, when I was about 10 years old, two years after my mom passed away, I had a dream about her.  We were standing on opposite ends of a long tunnel.  She was surrounded by bright white light, and no matter how long or fast I walked towards her, she never got any closer.  Her mouth was moving, silent words I’ll never hear.  I used to think it was her trying to communicate with me, through my dreams.  The older I got, the less and less I would dream about her.

Now I just dream about my father.

Once, about a year ago, I woke up after a particularly pleasant dream about him.  And for a split second, I had forgotten that he was gone.  But then, the realization came rushing forward, and grief overwhelmed me. 

I don’t particularly think that my nightmare was trying to tell of future events.  But maybe it was just a stark reminder that I am without parents in this world, and that I am missing out on so much because of that.  In my day to day life, I don’t feel any different from anyone else I know.  It’s when holidays like Mother’s Day or Father’s Day roll around that I get to remembering and feeling down. 

I’ve always wanted my parents to try to communicate with me, in some way.  I might totally sound crazy right now (and hey, I don’t blame you for judging) but I just really would like to go visit a psychic.  Part of me wonders why my father hasn’t tried to reach out to me, but the other part of me would be terrified to even THINK about such a notion.  Yes, it’s just my father, but it’s a ghost all the same.  But I wish he would send me some kind of message, sometime.

B had an unusual experience a couple of weeks ago.  He got off from work early, and he was tired, so he took a nap on the couch.  He was sleeping soundly with our cat on his lap, when she jumped up and hissed, running off down the hall.  He explained that when he opened his eyes, there was the overwhelming smell of cigarette smoke around him.  Neither of us smokes and we don’t allow anyone to smoke in our house, so it freaked him out.  His mom was a chronic smoker and she died from lung cancer.  He truly believes it was her spirit that freaked the cat out, which also explains the smell of cigarette smoke.  In a strange way, the whole experience comforted him.  He said he felt as though she was watching over him.

I don’t know, maybe I sound crazy, but I believe that things like that are possible.

Note(s) to self

There is a reason that the one shot of tequila you had on Friday night made you that sick.  It’s to remind you that the relationship between you and Jose Cuervo is over for a reason.  Tequila turns you into a crazy drunk bitch.

Leaving a friend’s house at 7:30 A.M. on a Saturday morning, still drunk from the night before, with tear stains and smeared mascara on your cheek?  That was your 25 year old version of the walk of shame.  Don’t let it happen again.

Scraping ice off your car in 25 degree cold, still drunk, while wearing heels = not so damn funny.

Starting a fight with your boyfriend, who is soundly sleeping in bed at 8:30 A.M. means that you have no right to be angry when he’s mad at you for the rest of the day.

Lunch and pedicures with your best friend is quite possibly the best cure-all for anything. 

Seafood on a queasy stomach?  Not such a great idea.

Going to bed at 11 P.M. on a Saturday night means that YES, you are old.  (But it sure felt damn good)

Grocery shopping takes a long time when a man is involved.

Sometimes there is nothing better than a hug.

Going to sleep with legs tangled up together, my hair in his face, and his hand lightly scratching my back is perfect.

Sometimes you can’t win ‘em all.

The one where I say “granny panties”

To borrow a phrase from Mike, I got nothin’. 

Would it be silly of me to wish or pray for some drama in my life?  Maybe not to me personally, but to someone around me, someone in my circle?  Nothing uber interesting is going on in my life, which means that I’ve got nothing to blog about.

I know, so sue me.

I’m not trying to say that my life is perfect or everything is perfect, but things are pretty darn good right now.  Everything with B is moving along peacefully.  All my friendships (minus the one that is still kind of awkward) are in a good place.  My job is great (well, minus the fact that my boss is seriously testing every nerve and the little amount of patience I do have).  I have enough money to pay my bills, etc. 

Everyone prays for no drama.  People don’t like it, and I get it.  It’s not fun when it’s something devastating (like a breakup).  But without a little drama or spice in our lives, every day becomes the same as the one before it, and so on and so forth.

And yadda yadda yadda.

(Ed. note:  Did you guys love that episode of Seinfield as much as I did?)

I can’t really complain about anything.  Sure, there are things in life that don’t make any sense to me.  Sure, there are people who bug the living crap out of me, but not enough to get me down.

See, this is what happens when you get your wish for peace and stability.  Life becomes a monotonous routine of sleep, work, eat, rinse and repeat. 

A little bit of drama never hurt anyone!

I apologize for the absolute LACK of blog-worthy material.  I feel the need to shake things up, get a little crazy, remind myself that I’m in my 20s and not my 40s.  Do you girls ever feel like you’re living a lifestyle that is much older and less spontaneous than the one you should have?  I totally do.

Gone are the days of back-to-back tequila shots, too-tight clothes, excessive cleavage, dancing on bar tops, and dramatic relationships.  Now I’m the picture of responsibility.  I go to bed early, wake up early, eat right, go to work, pay my bills, and keep the drinking to a minimum.

Okay, weekend resolution:  even if it’s something small, something that my past-self wouldn’t have blinked an eye at, I’ve gotta shake things up.  No wait, maybe that’s exactly what my soon-to-be-25 self needs:  to do something that my past-self would have been shocked at - an act that would cause my past-self to congratulate my present-self and buy her a shot.  Or two.

Or else, turning 25 is right around the corner, and from there it’s all downhill to granny panties and walkers.

Seriously.

It’s not the same anymore.

Our friendship used to be strong.  I used to think of you as family, think of your family as my family.  It’s not the same anymore.

We used to see each other, hang out together, do things together.  We used to laugh a lot.  It’s not the same anymore.

You were my first phone call in a crisis; sometimes my last phone call of the day.  I needed your advice.  It’s not the same anymore.

I used to trust you.  I used to tell you everything.  I never thought my words would go away from your lips and be shared with someone else.  It’s not the same anymore.

We were best friends, inseparable like shadows of each other.  Where I went, you went and vice versa.  It’s not the same anymore.

We used to talk about what it would be like when we “grew up.”  We discussed living in the same neighborhood, our kids going to the same schools and becoming best friends too.  And you know what?  That hasn’t happened. 

It’s more than just growing up.  It’s more than our relationships with our boyfriends or our other friends.  There is a crack in our friendship that I’ve been hastily trying to fill.  I used to work tirelessly on it, promising never to give up on it. 

It’s not the same anymore.

I’m tired of trying to fix something that’s broken.  It takes two to sustain a friendship.  You used to be there, 100% present and accounted for.

It’s not the same anymore.

WTF?

Since it’s a Wednesday, better known as “hump day”, and I have nothing really substantial to offer to the blogosphere this morning, I think today calls for a list.

1.  WTF is up with Jamie-Lynn Spears’ pregnancy?  She’s 16, for God’s sake!  I heard it on the radio on my way to work this morning and I nearly spit out my juice!  Someone needs to talk to Lynn Spears about her skills as a mother, because clearly it’s not working out for her.  First there was the trainwreck that is Britney, and now this.  Looks like their gravy train just came to a screeching halt!

2.  I actually passed a tractor-trailer with a sticker on the back that said “Show me your tits.”  Unfortunately for him, the only thing I showed him was my middle finger.

3.  I still have yet to wrap one single Christmas present I’ve bought.  I don’t mind buying them, but wrapping them?  Pure.Hell.

4.  It’s gonna be one of those days, ya’ll.  Things are bugging me lately and no matter how hard I try to snap out of it, the bad mood looks like it’s here to stay.  I just keep praying for something amazing (or funny) to happen and change my outlook.

5.  Have you ever just been so thoroughly disappointed in someone that you can’t even talk to them for a little while?  I am feeling this way towards a friend of mine right now and I can’t talk to her.  I’m afraid if I do, all that will come out of my mouth is negativity.  I think it’s best to stay away.

6.  The plans for B’s birthday are finished!  I made reservations yesterday for our dinner.  He is so excited!  And I have the perfect gift to give him at dinner!

7.  On my way to work this morning, a car came whipping around a sharp curve in my neighborhood, on MY side of the road!  And she honked her horn at me!  WTF?

Sorry for the pathetic excuse of a post.  I’m just totally feeling “wtf?!” about a lot of things today.  I need my 4 day weekend that’s coming up!

Dear Me, Version 1999

Edited to add:  I know the others did their letters to theirselves during senior year of high school.  I didn’t.  Yeah, I buck trends like that!  Perhaps I’ll do that tomorrow, when my brain can’t come up with an idea for a post. 

Hey you.  Can I just start right off the bat by advising you to STOP BEING SO HARD ON YOURSELF?!  Life isn’t so serious at 16!  You’ll wish you could relive these days later on!

You know that girl you always give rides to?  And her younger sister?  Yeah, stop doing that!  Her parents will totally stop giving you gas money AND your “friend” will stab your back senior year and spread really bad lies about you.  She’ll pretend to be your BFF the second you get your drivers license.  Trust me, her friendship isn’t worth it.

Oh, and that boy who keeps coming back for more every few months or so?  Yeah, cut him off too.  He only wants you when he can’t have you.  He’s totally one of THOSE guys, and he’ll make you miserable for about a year or so.

Don’t stress over Precalculus so much.  You’ll get horrible grades at first, but don’t bother with that panic attack you’ll have first quarter.  Your grades will improve.  Bringing coffee to your teacher for your morning tutor sessions may help move things along quickly.

Be kind to your government teacher.  He’ll end up being there for you in one of the worst periods of your life and you’ll really need him as a friend.  Also, remember this:  he gives great advice, even if sometimes it’s not what you want to hear.

Spend more time with your dad.  When he asks you to go Christmas shopping with him and you have plans with your friends, don’t second guess your decision to bail on your friends.  You will have the best day with Daddy, and you’ll learn more about him in a few hours than you have in your whole life.  It will be one of your favorite memories with him.

Don’t pay any attention to the negative treatment you get from the evil stepmother.  In a few years time, she won’t be in your life anymore and you’ll be happier.  Until then, don’t let her get to you. 

Pay a little more attention to the quiet, dorky guy sitting behind you in Algebra class.  He has a huge crush on you and he’s a nice guy!  He might not be on your “social radar” but trust me, years from now, all the girls from your high school will see you guys together and think to themselves, “Holy shit! When did he get so HOTT?” 

And while we’re on the topic of B, appreciate him more.  The time that you snap at him in front of your friends and make him cry is something that he will never let go of.  You’ll break his heart and he’ll even break yours, but somehow you’ll pull through it.  He’ll be there for you in some really, really hard times and you’ll wonder how you ever got along without him.  You’re going to marry him, so treat him well!

Get rid of the bangs.  Seriously.  NOW.  Grow them out immediately.  You’ll thank me later!

When everyone in school jokes you for still being a virgin?  Yeah, don’t let that bother you.  They’ll call you a prude and ask you what you’re afraid of, and you’ll feel like an idiot.  But you know what happens to them?  They get cheated on.  By the same guy who goes around and around sleeping with everyone.  They’ll have sex with other people and it won’t mean anything.  You’ll lose it when you’re ready and it will be with B.  And he really will love you forever.

Don’t stress the PSAT score you get.  Seriously?  Does.not.even.matter!  And when the SATs come along, to hell with them too.  It won’t affect where you’re gonna end up later in life, anyway.

Perfect grades won’t help with your family situation.  No matter how hard you try, your parents are still going to fight.  Your dad is still going to be sick.  He’ll be really proud of you, and it will make you happy to do well, but don’t kill yourself trying.

Put away the clunky shoes.  No one likes them and years later you’ll look back at pictures and think “WTF was I thinking?”  Along with that, go ahead and get rid of the blue nail polish.  And the glitter.  That’s right, I said it.

It all comes out okay in the end.  Actually, better than okay.  Your dad and stepmother will still split up.  Your stepmother will still betray you.  Your father will still pass away too soon.  But you know what else will happen? 

You’ll graduate second in your class.  You’ll get into a college, and don’t worry, you’ll find a way to pay for it!  You’ll get even better grades there, without trying so hard, and it will truly just be for YOU to enjoy.  You’ll meet the best friends of your life.  You’ll kiss other boys.  You’ll have your heart broken, but you will rebuild it all on your own.  And you will be proud about that.  Your first job out of college will suck hard, but it’s just a stepping stone to your dream job.  You’ll find happiness.  You’ll buy a house and a miniature dachshund that is all yours.  You’ll smile.  You’ll laugh. 

You’ll survive.

So really, stop being so hard on yourself.  You’re pretty damn amazing!

Love,

You, version 2007.

 Thanks to Clink and Molly for the inspiration!

Remembering

This weekend was satisfying in the best way possible.  Friday night B and I just hung out and took it easy.  We were both so tired from exhausting weeks at work, so we watched a movie and went to bed early.  There’s nothing like 10 solid hours of sleep to make you feel like a new person the next day.  On Saturday we visited my family for the day.  My sisters, my brother-in-law, my niece, and B and I had dinner together and watched old home videos and laughed all day long.  At the end of the day, although I was tired and a little achey everywhere, I felt as though the day was well spent in the company of those I love. 

The home videos were the best part.  My oldest sister used to videotape my niece’s birthday parties when she was little.  My niece and I are only 6 years apart, which some find amusing.  The older she gets, the closer her and I become.  We’re so much alike when it comes to our personalities and senses of humor.  The video we watched first was of her 2nd birthday party.  I was 8 years old at the time, and judging from the date on the tape, it was only three short months before my mom passed away.  Sitting in between B and my niece, I laughed and cried until all of my eye makeup had worn away.  Remembering her at the tender age of 2, with all of her baby talk and ABC singing was so sweet.  And then there was me.

I was a goofy kid.  I had long, thin, gangly arms and legs that flapped about everywhere.  I never stopped moving.  I was always jumping around or dancing or twirling.  I had a thing for dresses.  I had to wear them at all times, and they must be worn with tights.  There I was, 8 years old, hair pushed back with a headband in my ruffled jumper dress and tights.  I didn’t have a single care in the world.  In three months, my entire life would change, but for that moment, I would be a carefree kid whose only concern was making my niece laugh.  I was obsessed with the video camera, often getting up close to the lens and making funny faces and laughing in the goofiest ways.  I looked around the room and wondered what everyone else was thinking.  Was B thinking how amazing it was that I was this entire person, this little girl, before he ever knew me?  Was my niece thankful for these memories being preserved on tape?  Were my sisters remembering those days before the heartbreak?  I kept wiping away the tears from my eyes and remembering.

I’m so thankful for those days — the days before the cancer and the coma and the moving away from my family.  I’m so thankful for the ability to sit around and remember and laugh.

I guess it took its toll on me emotionally, however.  Last night, after the laziest of Sundays, as B and I laid in bed talking and checking off our to-do lists in our heads, we started talking about his mom and my mom and dad.  To talk about my dad is easy on me, and I figure it must be because I had nearly 22 years with him.  It’s still not enough, but it’s 22 years.  I only had 8 years with my mom.  So to talk about her, which I don’t do very often, is tough.  I tried my hardest to keep the tears at bay, but they spilled over and I found myself laying there telling B how guilty I felt over things that aren’t my fault.  I told him about the guilt of not remembering lots of things about the mother who would have done anything to prevent the pain of her four children losing her.  I know it’s not my fault.  I tell myself “you were only a child.”  But I also know that this was her greatest fear when she was dying — that her youngest child, the one who was still very much a little kid when she died, would not remember her later in life.

It would be very easy for me to feel sorry for myself.  Sometimes I let that feeling creep in around the edges and suffocate me slowly, but then I remember that I’m not a victim.  These are just the cards I was dealt.  This is my life, day in and day out, remembering the parents who aren’t here to help me, but who dedicated their lives to being parents. 

It would be easy to be angry at God, angry at the world.  But I choose to be thankful.  For that which does not kill you truly does make you stronger.  I am a living testament to that fact.  I am thankful for my sisters.  For my niece.  For my brother-in law.  For B.  For the moments when we can sit around and laugh and remember together.  My mom would be proud.

He’s always made me laugh

The story of how we met begins longer ago than I’d like to admit.  B and I were 15 when we met for the first time.  We were sophomores in high school, on the verge of drivers licenses, first kisses, and several other firsts.  We didn’t hang out with the same types of people, so even though we’d been going to the same schools since sixth grade, we didn’t know each other.  I should be sending a monthly check to fate because if it wasn’t for 10th grade math class, I’d probably not be with him today. 

He sat behind me in algebra and I hated that class.  I used to stare at the door and pray for it to be over quickly and painlessly because let’s face it – I’m not so good at math!  I was coming out of a revolving door boyfriend scenario.  This one guy (let’s call him Asshole because let’s face it, he WAS an asshole) kept coming in and out of my life and I was tired of it.  You know, after all, things were so serious at 15.  I was intent on not having a boyfriend for a little while.  I was just about to turn 16, and I would get my drivers license, and that would enable me to drive around and find some “real men!”  But there he was, sitting behind me, and he would would always make me laugh.  I have this thing with laughter.  If you can make me laugh, I’m hooked.  It’s all over from there.

Add to that his gorgeous blue eyes and I was melting into a puddle on the floor!  That was just the beginning.

He had a girlfriend at the time and she was nothing like me.  I was a cheerleader, honor student, all around peppy perfectionist, and he was dating this tomboyish, softball player  shy girl.  There’s nothing wrong with any of those things, but SHE wasn’t anything like ME.  I tried to play it cool.  I was nursing a crush on another boy at the same time, so for once I put my future in fate’s hands and said “whatever happens, happens.” 

We became friends and we would talk.  He would help me out with my algebra assignments.  My teacher called me to his desk one day and said “You’re showing a lot of improvement.  Good job.”  I couldn’t help but think “yeah, no kidding” — only I wasn’t talking about my math skills.  I was talking about the boy. 

He would say and do the funniest things just to make me laugh.  And sooner than I expected, I had a full blown crush on this boy in an I’ve! got! to! have! you! kind of way.  Finally he asked me to be his girlfriend, and after he broke the heart of the softball player, it was a done deal. 

It was rocky at first.  I guess when your 15 year old dreams are realized, you get antsy.  We broke up.  We got back together.  Then I turned 16 and he kissed me after his soccer game, next to my car, while my friend sat in there switching back and forth through music.  And the next thing I knew, I was melting into a puddle right there in the parking lot.  This boy!  He could kiss!  And damn was he cute in his soccer uniform. 

The years since then have seen a lot of changes.  We broke up junior year, but got back together after the weekend I realized that I needed to stop playing games.  We met each other’s families.  We applied to college together.  We both got into the college we wanted, and we celebrated.  We went away to school together and through another dose of fate (or was it just pure dumb luck?), we landed in the same dorm on the same floor.  It was not as great as we imagined it would be–we fought a lot that year.  We each kissed other people and came clean about it.  He left school when his mom got sick with cancer, and he couldn’t bring himself to return to school.  We did the long distance thing for two years, and it was hard, but we survived.  The Sundays when we would part from our weekend visits were heartwrenching.  I’d cry the second I left his sight.  His mom died the fall of my senior year and I had to hold him up emotionally.  Three months later my dad died, and my world fell apart.  When I was too upset, too overwhelmed, and I wanted to take a leave of absence from school, he refused.  He came to my rescue –for the last 4 months of my college career, he paid my bills so that I could finish and make my dad proud.  The day I graduated and walked across the stage, not only were my mom and dad in my heart, but so was he, and as I smiled at him walking down the stage, I thanked God for letting me get to know this wonderful guy. 

We live together now in our house we bought last year, with two dogs and two cats.   We share more than square footage and furniture.  We share hopes and dreams and plans and lots of laughter.  Always lots of laughter.

But most importantly, there’s so much more left to share — accomplishments, promotions, raises, heartbreak, success, a wedding, and children.  Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that laughter is the best medicine and we always get through things by making each other laugh.  I can’t wait to laugh out loud with him for the rest of my life.