Category Archives: Things I’ve Learned

Finishing up school day activities and such

Ok, rather than get carried away with every memory I have from school, I’m going to focus on the activities, clubs, sports, etc that I participated in during those years.  So, I mentioned UIL in elementary school.  To continue with that, in 4th grade, I was in UIL Math.  It seems like I was in 5th and 6th grade as well, but I’m not certain.  I also did Poetry Reading in at least one of those years.  I’d have to dig through old photo albums to try and find out for sure.  It’s weird that I was so good in math.  That lasted through algebra, which I took in 8th grade.  For some stupid reason, our school had us take geometry before taking algebra II.  Geometry….well let’s just say anything I ever thought I knew went away in that class.  Primarly because our “teacher” was looney and when I say she didn’t teach us anything all year, I am not exaggerating.  She gave tests that no one passed (well mostly no one) but curved everyone’s grades so we did.  It was a complete joke.  By the time I got to algebra II, which I did ok in, but struggled, and then pre-calculus after that…that is what truly ruined me.  I couldn’t make sense of any of it.  Our teacher just kept saying memorize the formulas and follow them.  She would get so frustrated with me because I couldnt’ understand the WHY behind any of the formulas.  And in order for me to learn them, I needed to know what it all meant.  She just kept telling me to memorize the formulas and not worry about it.  So, I memorized them as best I could and scraped my way through the class barely making a C (I was a mostly A, some B student).  I gave up on math after that.

See?  I just can’t stick to the topic.  I get carried off on tangents, just like my Grammy K used to.  😛

Ok, junior high.  I was in UIL both 7th and 8th grade.  This time it was for Prose.  I remember in 8th grade I read an excerpt from To Kill a Mockingbird.  I had so much fun doing that one.  It was the part where the teacher freaks out over finding a “cootie” in a child’s hair.  I was the Student Council President in 8th grade.  I also started playing volleyball in 7th grade (first year we had the opportunity).  I played every year after that, all the way through graduation.  I was never what I would call “athletic” but for some reason, I fell in love with volleyball.  I was pretty good, too. 

Anyway, sticking to the topic, I also was a cheerleader in 8th grade and my freshman year in highschool.  I didn’t try out again after that because 1) it interfered with volleyball, and 2) it stopped being fun when it became all about popularity.  I marched to the beat of my own drum, and in a small town school, that was not something  that fostered popularity or a desire to be with that group.  Not that they were bad people, I just wasn’t into the same things they were for the most part.  I had my “bad boy” boyfriend by then, too, which didn’t help matters.  I hope this is not sounding bitter or mean.  I’m trying not to get carried away with stories right now and just giving some basics.  The bad boy and I got together in 7th grade and were off and on, mostly on, through graduation.  I’ve referred to him previously here as Psycho (he called himself that back then, so I’m not being ugly by calling him that). 

High school:  As I mentioned, I played volleyball all 4 years.  We had a freshman, JV, and varsity team.  Midway through my freshman season, I was moved up to JV.  By my sophmore year, I was on varsity.  My senior year, I was named to the All District team, voted my team’s MVP and Best Offensive player.  It was an interesting year because basically, by then, I was the only senior on the team.  It was a “rebuilding” year.  We had 2 juniors and the rest of the team were sophmores.  Apparently a period of disinterest in volleyball over those few years, I don’t know.  But it was still fun and one of my very favorite parts of my high school experience.  I was also voted the “Volleyball Sweetheart” for Homecoming.  I didn’t tell anyone I was planning to do this, but my dress had a long slit up on leg.  So, when they escorted us out onto the field and announced me, I popped one leg out from the dress and had on my red volleyball kneepad!  It was awesome!  My coach loved it and, for atleast the next couple of years while she was still at that school, it became a tradition that the volleyball sweetheart wear a kneepad out on the field.  :) 

I was on student council, but that was pretty lame and we never really did much of anything.  I only did that two years I think.  I was in FHA and the FHA reporter for one year.  That Future Homemaker’s of America.  Looking back, I’m surprised that there was a group essentially dedicated to those who aspired to be….stay at home mom’s.  No one took it for that reason though, but if I read back over some of the materials about FHA, that’s essentially what it was.  We all took it because it was fun and easy and the teachers were cool.  😛  I don’t think I was in UIL 9th or 10th grade.  Not for lack of wanting to be, the teachers just didn’t seek us out like they did in younger grades.  In fact, I don’t think I even realized UIL still existed until my sophmore year when my English teacher asked why I wasn’t participating. 

In 11th grade, I took typewriting (yes, back when we still actually used typewriters instead of computers) as one of my electives.  That teacher immediately recruited me for UIL typing.  So, 11th and 12th grade I did that.  In 11th grade, I won at district, advanced to regionals, and right before the contest, I jammed my finger playing volleyball.  It was off-season, so it was just a stupid injury from goofing around in the gym during athletics.  Needless to say, my typing teacher wasn’t thrilled with me.  My finger was swollen and I could barely bend it.  But I suffered through it and still managed to get 3rd place.  Not high enough to advance though.  My senior year, after again winning and advancing, my teacher joked with me about how she better not see me anywhere near a volleyball before contest.  Yet somehow, I don’t even remember the circumstances, but you guessed it, I jammed a finger (different one this time, but also from volleyball).  She heard about it before I even made it out of the gym to head to lunch.  I was less driven and less serious about typing that year, I will admit.  And I will never pass up a chance to play volleyball, so….I did ok at contest, but again, not enough to advance to state.  When I think back, I’m irritated at myself for that.  If I’d been 100%, I have no doubt I could have advanced.  Based on the scores of those who did, I KNOW I could have.  I was getting practice scores that high on a regular basis.  But, I was having too much fun being a senior to practice and focus (and skip gym for a few weeks).  It would have been fun to go to state contest, but at the time, I would rather stay home and hang out with the boyfriend and my two best gal pals.  Ah, the follies of youth.

I was also in One Act Play in high school.  Every year except freshman.  That was a lot of fun, too.  I won a couple of awards my senior year.  I was never in a starring role, which was fine with me because, as I mentioned before, I was kind of flaky in high school.  I was all about spending every spare second with Psycho. 

Ok, I think that pretty much sums up my school activities, the officially sanctioned ones at least.

You can’t take that away from us!

Friday night, Red and I returned to the scene of the crime to reclaim our stomping grounds.  We’ll be damned if we let some silly iranian boys run us out of our bar!  That was the first step…let the healing begin!

V turned up a little later and regailed us with stories of her vacation in Viet Nam.  She’s the only person I know who can return from a 2-week trip, a long ass plane ride, and then be up for meeting for drinks within a couple of hours of returning home. 

There was a brief moment when Red thought we might end up in a fight with random guy’s girlfriend, but that appeared to be unwarranted.  So, aside from the initial trepidation about returning, it was a great night!

Quotes of the evening:

Red:  She just got back from Viet Nam. 
Drunk guy:  Whoa.  Are you in the service?  Are you ok? 
V:  Um…you know that war is over, right? 
Drunk guy:  Sorry.  I’m not very educated.

“Tell striped-shirt-guy that I will make him moan all night.”

Red:  Just how horny are you?  
V:  DAMN horny. 
Red:  Ok, let me see what I can do (as she wanders off to chat up random guys).

Disillusioned

The past few weeks have really given me a new perspective on friendships and relationships.  I’m not a confrontational person.  I avoid it whenever possible in favor of trying to be the peacemaker.  And, apparently, I expect too much from people, particularly those I call friends.

I never expected a friend to take advantage of me and use my name in a public forum to give himself some sort of credibility.  And ultimately, include my name in a lie.  A partial truth does not make it true.  That friendship is sadly over.  I have been devastated by it, but finally came to accept that that is not a friendship I’m willing to fight to keep.  Especially when one side cannot accept any responsibility and only point fingers elsewhere.

I never expected friends to so harshly criticize another one of my friends TO me.  Over and over.  You don’t have to have the same friends as me, that’s fine.  But to take every opportunity to talk badly about someone that you KNOW I am friends with, and then to act all indignant when I am “overly-defensive” about it…I just don’t get that.  If it was you people were badmouthing, you’d certainly expect me to defend you.  And I have.

Guess what?  I don’t like some of your friends either, but I’d never try to point out all their faults to you because I respect our friendship.  And because it’s not my business.  This one has been eating away at me for 2 days, can you tell? 

 See, when in the moment, I rarely react.  I don’t cause a scene.  I bite my tongue.  I try to keep the peace.  Then it festers inside me and I want to just explode at that person.  But the rational side of me says, don’t do that…you’ll say something you’ll regret.  So in the end, I feel like a doormat.  And THAT pisses me off even more.

And then to top it all off, I feel like I am surrounded by infidelity lately.  Real or imagined.  Attempted or acted upon.  Online or in person.  I’m just sickened by all of it.  And so disappointed. 

While I try not to judge, it is yet another thing that is forcing me to re-examine some of my friendships.  In one scenario, I want to beat the offending party to a pulp, because that friend broke my (closer) friend’s heart.  And yet, in another, where my friend is the offender, I want be there for them.  And in a third, I want to cease interactions with both parties.  Is it the difference in the “level” of indiscretion that makes me react differently?  Is it the length of my friendship with them that effects my feelings towards it?  Am I a hypocrite?  What is wrong with people?!?!

Again, perhaps my expectations in all relationships are too high.  And perhaps this is why I haven’t found someone to share my own life with.  And perhaps I never will.  And that depresses me.

MIA

I’ve been terrible, absolutely horrible, at blogging lately.  I guess I’m in one of those weird phases where I am practicing what my momma preached:  If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

I’m just really disappointed.  About a lot of things really.  But the latest news was a serious blow to the gut.  You know how you say, “Oh X would NEVER do something like that.”  You are so strong in your belief and faith in this person that you would never waver or even consider it a possibility.

Well, like the saying goes…never say never.  I know we all have our breaking points, and we can only take so much, and considering I’m not in that position, it’s easy for me to say I would never do something like that either.  But these things can creep up on you.  And I think that is what happened to X.  Can you really blame a person for wanting, no, needing something?

I’m not so much disappointed in X as I am at what our society is becoming, at what is acceptable, at what is valued and what is not, and how we are all at risk in one way or another.  Seven deadly sins and all.

I’m not much of one to pray, but I don’t mind admitting that I’ve been praying for X.  It’s not a good path….but I will try to knock some sense into, be there for, support, and love no matter what. 

I’m keeping the faith.

“I was gonna use big words but I don’t have a clitoris.”

I have just discovered the greatest show on television! My Big Redneck Wedding. Fan-freaking-tastic, I tell you! Where else can you see a bride running around in a panic on her wedding day…because she can’t find her teeth?!

As many laughs as I’ve gotten out of it, I have to admit some of them have been really sweet, too. I guess love really does no know bounds. If a beer can and christmas lights decorated archway makes someone happy, who am I to judge?

Check out these vows!

I like it like that!

U.S. Department of Justice
United States Attorney’s Office
Northern District of Texas

RE: United States v. Defendant(s) Cxxxxxx Nxxxxx Hardaway

This notice provides information about the above-referenced criminal case.
A trial is scheduled on December 3, 2007, 09:00 AM…..

That’s what I’m talking about! All that fraud paperwork is paying off so far. Turns out there were 6-8 people involved in this check stealing/fraud ring. And multiple FDIC financial institutions. Most of the other defendants changed their plea to guilty after a trial date was set and have sentencing hearings scheduled. Will be interesting to see what happens with this one. All I know is this is the girl my stolen check was made out to and who cashed it, and I wasn’t the only “victim.” Can you say multiple felony charges?!

Charges:

  • Conspiracy to commit offense or to defraud US (1)
  • Bank fraud (5)
  • Theft or receipt of stolen mail (2)

I know who I’m rooting for!

The Break Up

I watched The Break Up tonight. Let me first say this, it is NOT a comedy, contrary to what the previews would have you believe. I think we’ve all seen enough people go through this, or gone through it ourselves, to not find much pleasure in watching some fictional on-screen characters fight their way through. (I’m contradicting myself a bit here because Breaking Up, with Salma Hayek and Russell Crowe, is one of my favorite movies…for the simple fact that I so strongly identified with that couple at that point in my life)

I will say, without giving too much away for anyone who hasn’t seen The Break Up but would like to, I was relieved that it didn’t go for the obvious happily-ever-after ending.

A (former) friend of mine, who was great at producing little nuggets of wisdom and quotes, taught me a number of things at a time in my life when I was willing to accept them. One of which was, you teach people how to treat you. And another, a woman’s heart slams shut. When we’re done, we are just done and no amount of talking or flowers or romantic gestures is going to change that. Granted, it may take some of us a loooong time to reach that point, but once we do, there is no turning back.

The peculiar thing to me is why some of us (both men and women) have a tendency to stay in a relationship that has soured. There’s the convenience factor, sure. And fear of being on your own again. But honestly, why should any of us settle for anything less than someone who loves and respects us as much as we do them?

After a cumulative 13 years of unhealthy, one-sided relationships, that is what I’m holding out for. Even if it means another 6 years of being single! And if it doesn’t happen, at least I’ve learned how to be happy on my own. I may forget that at times, but it is probably one of the most valuable lessons you can learn in life.

Your intuition…it will lead you in the right direction.

I finally finished Blink:  The Power of Thinking Without Thinking.  It was an interesting book and confirmed a lot of things that, subconsciously, I already knew (without thinking!).

“Insight is not a lightbulb that goes off inside our heads. 
It is a flickering candle that can easily be snuffed out.”

We often do ourselves more harm than good by overthinking things and end up confusing the issue.  The real trick is learning to acknowledge those flickering candles and when to follow your gut because, as this book illustrated time and again, it rarely leads you in the wrong direction.

How many times have you done something that you initally thought you shouldn’t?  But you talked yourself, or allowed yourself to be talked, into it because all logical thought indicated there was no reason not to.  And you end up wondering why you were ever hesitant to begin with.

I’ve done it throughout my life.  Quite a few times.  And every time, afterwards, I berated myself for not listening to my own intuitions.  It would’ve saved me, and often times others, a lot of agony and unneeded stress…

I knew, before I ever met Dr H, that I would not be attracted to him.  I knew he wasn’t my “type.”  I knew after spending 5 minutes with him that I didn’t like him like that.  And never would.  Alcohol and sex can’t change that.  I knew there was more to the story with Flirt.  I knew that camera stuff was odd.

I knew, almost every time that Asshole, aka Door #3,  told me he was “working late,” or had some elaborate story about something…even a seemingly innocent story.  I KNEW he was cheating.  But I made myself wait until I had proof.  Screw proof!  I KNEW!  That should’ve been enough.

I won’t bore you with more examples.  The point is…Sometimes, you just know things.  Don’t ignore that or second-guess it or try to explain it.  It happens.  And it’s a good thing.

 

Comments from the old blog:

gak – Jul 20, 06: Daisy!!!! i totally know what you mean. have you taken the myers-briggs- type deal at http://similarminds.com/jung.html

please please tell me that you have a very high “N” because i do too… and it couldn’t reinforce the meaning of this post any more strongly.

amen sistah– listen to your intuition.

xo-
gak, ENFP

Daisy- Jul 30, 06: We had to do the Myers-Briggs thing at work a few years back. I’ll have to go dig and find my result booklet, but I’m pretty sure I was INTJ.

“I’m just a girl living in captivity…”

I guess some things never change.  Just overheard this conversation at the gas station and it made me grin.

Teen Girl 1:  OMG, I can’t believe we almost forgot the coffee.  That’s totally what we came in here for.

Teen Girl 2:  I know.  We completely spaced.  That’s what I do when I write.  I just totally space out.

TG1:  Yeah, but your poetry is sooooo good.  It’s very deep and haunting.

TG2:  It’s weird, like it just pours out of me.   But I can only write when I’m angry or depressed.  (laughs)  So pretty much all the time.

TG1:  Yeah.  Life sucks.

I wish I could’ve told them to enjoy it.  That these really are some of the best years of their lives.  But then I would’ve been that crazy old  lady who doesn’t understand them or their daily struggles.  And god forbid I be that person.

It amused me because I was the same way for much of my very young life.  I wrote like crazy and all my friends thought (or atleast claimed to think) I wrote such deep, profound, moving things.  I look back at some of those poems now and feel a little embarrassed, but mostly just laugh.  Those big huge earth-shaking dramas of youth.  The teen angst.  The forbidden love.

I really was a cliche.  I embraced depression.  I was melancholy.  I wore black.  I dressed funny.  I rebelled.  I was goth before goth was cool dammit. 

Now, it’s funny to see that I wasn’t nearly as original as I thought.  And these 2 girls aren’t either.  It’s a rite of passage that we all go through.  And I envy them their journey. 

Movie Quotes to Live By

I love movies.  I love quoting movies.  I know I’m not the only one who does this, so…I’m curious as to which ones you quote, so feel free to comment.  Or blog your own list and let me know! 

Here’s what I can think of pretty readily that I actually say somewhat often:

Pretty In Pink:

  • Come on!  Let’s plow!
  • Do I O-ffend?
  • I used to have a great butt.  I did!!!  I loved my butt!!
  • Yo man, next time I’ll kick yo ass.  That’ll be that.
  • May I admire you again today?
  • I’m off like a dirty shirt!

Tombstone:

  • I’m your huckleberry.
  • …I forgot you where there.  You may go now.
  • Then again, you may be the anitchrist.
  • I stand corrected.  You’re an oak.
  • I have not yet begun to defile myself.
  • You’re no daisy.  You’re no daisy at all!
  • Does this mean we’re not friends anymore?  If I thought you weren’t my friend, I don’t think I could bear it.

Grosse Point Blank:

  • Don’t you get it??  You don’t get to have me!
  • You’re a handsome devil.  What’s your name?
  • Dumb fucking luck.
  • Do you really believe there’s some stored up conflict between us?  There is no us.  So who do you want to hit, man?  It’s not me.

Team America:  World Police

  • I’m gonna cut off your balls and shove them up your ass so that the next time you shit, you shit all over your balls.
  • Why is everyone so fucking stupid?  Why can’t people be more interrrigent, rike me?

Singles:

  • I was just nowhere near your neighborhood.
  • Am I coming off as too intense?  Because I can be intensely laid back.
  • I think, #1, you have an act and that, #2, not having an act is your act.

The Princess Bride:

  • As you wish!
  • Inconceivable!
  • You keep saying that word.  I do not think it means what you think it means. 
  • Life is pain.  Anyone who tells you different is selling something.
  • Am I going mad?  Or did the word, “think” just escape your lips?
  • I would not say such things if I were you!

Whoa…that’s a pretty long list already.  I’ll stop there.  What are some of yours?  Either favorites or just lines you tend to say sometimes?

I’ll be a certified mechanic in no time!

More car drama over the weekend.  Only this time, it was my car alarm (which I haven’t used in years) that was possessed.  It started going off at random and I couldn’t disable it.  OR start my car. 

After fighting with it most of Sunday, I had finally had enough and ended up cutting the damn wires to the alarm.  Then talked to my dad, who informed me that I should try disconneting and cleaning the battery connections. 

I did.  I found an adjustable wrench and went to town, timidly, disconnecting the battery.  Cleaned the posts and everything with a knife.  Reconnected.

It worked.  My headlights began flashing instantly, which meant the alarm was going off (only I couldn’t hear it due to the hacked wires!).  I grabbed the remote and it worked, too!

I spliced and re-connected the alarm wires and got it working again, and then promptly turned it back off.

I was pretty proud of myself.

Lots of stuff running through my little mind this week, but I’m too tired to blog about any of it right now.  So instead, I’m curling up with a book.

Currently listening to, watching, reading, planning to get, etc.

The Closers
By Michael Connelly

The man in black

For the last week or so I’ve been in a mood.  I don’t let it surface very often, but when it does….wow. 

I had no idea that, 5 years ago, when asshole-exbf (from now on, known as Badass) and I split up, I would still be undeniably single at this point.  As someone who has gone from one long-term relationship to another, it’s a weird feeling. 

I know it has been good for me in a lot of ways.  I’ve rediscovered a lot of myself that had long been buried under the timid, clingy, self-esteem-less shell of a person I became over the 6 years he and I were together.  I feel more like myself than I have in a long time.  Only still not quite myself.  I blame the weight gain on that.  And I can’t help but wonder how many amazing and wonderful guys I passed up because my head and heart were too wrapped up in the wrong guy.  I know of at least one.

My high school reunion in 2003 really opened my eyes to a lot of things.  I had guys I had been friends with in high school tell me how they had the biggest crush on me back then.  But that they knew I would “never” break up with my high school sweetheart.  Plus, I think people were a little afraid of him.  He didn’t get the nickname “Psycho” for nothing.  He and I dated for 7 years.  There were breakups during that time, but we always ended up back together (translation:  I always took him back). 

I was in college when we finally split up for the last time.  Once I’d recovered from the heartache of it all, I had several months of actually dating.  It was the first time in my life I’d ever just dated.  One was a guy I knew from kindergarten,  before my family moved outside of the city and I started attending a different school.  He was Door #1.  We reconnected when I found out he lived right down the street from a friend of mine.  I, of course, was dating Psycho at that time, but Door #1 and I started talking again, even hanging out a little.  Once Psycho and I had split up, Door #1 and I began to see more of each other.

And then I met Door #2.  A guy I went to high school with (a few years older than me) and I used to go take smoke breaks together when we were both working at the mall.  I always thought of him as a very good friend, nothing more.  One night, after work, we went and played pool with some friends of his.  There was this totally adorable guy there that looked soooo familiar to me.  Later I realized I had met him once before, and liked him then, too, but he was married.  Anyway, the next day, totally adorable guy, Door #2, showed up at my parents’ house (I was still living there at the time).  I opened the front door and he quoted a line from the movie Singles and my heart melted.

“I was just nowhere near your neighborhood.”

Thus began my relationship with Door #2.  He was now divorced.  He’d caught his wife cheating on him (they married very young) while his baby daughter was sleeping in her crib near the bed.  I was devastated for him.  We both talked about our failed relationships and shitty partners that insisted on deceiving us.  And we were both more than a little scared to open up our hearts again.  So we dated, casually, for awhile.  Then things became much more intense.

By intense, I mean, scary.

Door #2 had a 15-month old daughter that he had custody of.  I was not even 21 yet.  I babysat her a lot while he was working.  We took her to movies with us, to lunch, to dinner.  We had our alone time, too, thanks to his mother.  I’ve had a habit, for as long as I can remember, of writing things down to clear my head.  I’d just grab a pen and paper and pour my heart out.  Every thought, wrong as it may have been.  So, knowing that Door #2 was still struggling with things, suggested he try it.  And boy did he.

He ended up wanting me to read what he wrote.  All 6 pages of it.  He talked about how awful it was to find his wife cheating on him.  And his fears in raising his daughter alone.  And this new person he had met that had shown him a side of himself he had forgotten.  And he went on to describe this wonderful girl, in a way that she could never describe herself.  That girl was me.  And he understood me better than I did.  It was the most sincere, sweet, wonderful thing anyone had ever said or written to me.  He wrote about how he has to think of his daughter now and make the right decisions for her.  And how much she loved me and I her.  I made a copy of it before I gave it back to him because I wanted to remember how good it made me feel.  And how badly it scared the living shit out of me.

This was a guy who would leave little notes on my car while I was at work.  Who would show up at random times with a handful of daisies.  Who was genuinely interested in how my day went and my happiness and my well-being. 

And he scared the shit out of me.  I fell in love with him and started backing away from him at that very instant.

Not long after that, I was at the local pool hall (I used to be a shark, what can I say?) with a friend of mine.  In walked tall, skinny, blue-eyed Badass, aka Door #3.  He interrupted our game with some cheesy line.  I pretended to be annoyed.  Meanwhile, sparks were flying.  No, sparks is not the right word.  Freaking fires blazing.  Yes, that’s much more accurate.  I gave him my number with the condition that he couldn’t write it down.  It was a ridiculously easy phone number. 

He didn’t call.  I lamented about this to my mother.

One night, after class, I headed to a local bar with a friend to hear Door #1’s band play.  It was Valentine’s Day.  Afterwards, he walked me to my car, thanked me for coming, gave me a hug, and kissed me.  For the first time.  I was giddy.  As I got into my car to drive away, I saw a little piece of paper fluttering under my windshield wiper.  When I got out to retrieve it, I was shocked to find that it was a note from Badass.  Said he saw my car and wanted to wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day but didn’t know if he should come in and say hi or not.

When I got home, Mom told me he had called.  And that she told him where I was.

The timeline of all of this is kind of blurred now.  But at one point, I was talking to, if not dating, all 3 of them.  And it was nice.  And honest.  They all knew I was seeing other people.   Eventually, Door #1 fell by the wayside.  He was either too shy, or just not interested enough.  So here I had Door #2, this amazing, good-looking, divorced, dedicated father and sweetheart of a guy who adored me and respected my wishes to not rush into anything.  And I had Door #3, Badass.  A fast-talking, heart-racing player of a guy who insisted that he wanted to be with me and only me and that the idea of me seeing other people was killing him.

So who did I spend the next 6 years of my life with??  Ugh.

Door #2 and I remained friends for a long time after that.  Until Badass became good friends with my dad’s mechanic, who had known and been friends with Door #2 for a very long time.  When Badass and I would have problems or break up, I’d find myself wanting to see, call, talk to Door #2.  Badass found out and went ballistic.  So I stopped talking to Door #2 all together.

There was a lot more that went on, like me taking Door #2 out for his birthday and getting him drunk when I was still too young to legally buy alcohol.  Duckie’s girlfriend babysat and Door #2 crashed on the couch at my parent’s house that night.  My parents adored him.  They would invite him places, like to the beach cabin we rented for a week in the summer.  They’d offer to watch his daughter so he and I could go down to the beach.  They were literally pushing him on me.  And I dug my heels in so hard I got whiplash.

I’m not proud of the way I handled it, but these are the choices I have made in my life.  It’s not to say that Door #2 was THE ONE.  That, I doubt, because he had some issues of his own.  But I know for a fact, things would have been a lot different had I opened that door rather than the one I chose.

Girls always say they want a nice guy.  They want romance.  They want to be loved.  I still say that.  And yet, I had one right in front of me and still chose a rebel without a cause bad boy who would break my heart.  Over and over.  Not once (Psycho) but twice (Badass). 

Those who don’t learn from their mistakes are doomed to repeat them.

Comments from old blog:

Nilla – Jan 07, 06: My wiseass opinion is that you were too young for any of that shit. I got married at barely 20 and didn’t have a clue what the hell life was really about and how love and feelings worked until about 25. And now at 30 I think I can finally say I’m a grownup and now I’m ready for what life throws at me. Seriously, don’t lament those past relationships. They filled whatever need you had at the time. And everyone has had a BAD RELATIONSHIP or two so don’t lament that either.

Daisy – Jan 07, 06: I guess I’m not lamenting the bad relationships so much as just hoping I learned from them. So when the next Mr Wonderful appears, I’ll recognize and appreciate him.

Denice – Jan 10, 06: I think you the timing was off for door #2, that is a whole lot to take on at such a young age. My hubby and I met when I was 20 and when he said he loved me, I was scared shitless and he did not have an ex or kids to deal with. The Badass is great fun, but it sounds like it is good you got over him. I hear it is tough to find people, but you will.

Andrew – Jan 11, 06: So what’s wrong with the nice guy?

Daisy – Jan 11, 06: Nothing is wrong with the nice guy. That’s just it. So why, when given the option, do I never seem to choose one? I think it’s the excitement level. Maybe I need a nice guy who can still be spontaneous and wild. Do they make those?

Andrew – Jan 12, 06: Sure they do! The difference is that the nice guy won’t ditch you at the wild club that he spontaneously drug you to halfway across the country! 😉

Self-Censoring is Unhealthy

I just re-read my last entry and it pissed me off.  THIS is where I’m supposed to be able to be honest and throw a tempter tantrum, if so inclined.  And that entry soooooo does not accurately portray my state of mind at the time.  That was me trying to be calm and civil and explain away a situation that, frankly, has left me feeling resentful and belittled. 

I’m all for taking my “punishment,” but I can’t help but feel I got blamed for, not only my mistake, but a buttload of other things that didn’t have a damn thing to do with me.  People say things in anger, things that are sometimes unreasonable.  I know and accept that.  But, as an adult, if you KNOW you are one of those people that do that, then STFU and walk away from the conversation. 

Don’t say a bunch of irrational and nasty shit to me and then BLAME ME for you saying them because I “kept talking and talking and talking” (which, after re-reading the online part of this thing, where the majority of it took place, is soooo not accurate).  Because if you say stuff that either makes no sense or has nothing to do with me, bet your ass I’m going to respond.  In this case, I didn’t even respond to any of the most outrageous comments…I was too shocked and amazed by them to do so.  I didn’t realize we were still in 5th grade.

Is it worth losing a friend over?  Hell no.  Would that happen if I were to try to address the way things went down?  I don’t know.  I’m guessing it would get ugly.  And life is too short for that shit.  

Shutting up and moving on…and for the record, this does NOT qualify as doormat behavior. 

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* This entry remained in draft and was not published until 11/06/05.

Great night with T

We ended up going to a nice little place with a (small, but really good) jazz band.  The food was good, the conversation was great, the music was excellent.  The only negative was the cramped little table we were at by the wall.  I’m really fascinated with T’s background and culture.  I was never good at U.S. history, much less world, but the more I talk to him about where he is from, the more I want to learn.  <dork> I ordered some books about it (with a gift card I already had, of course) on B&N today.  </dork>

We talked about our families, how we were raised, the relationships our parents have, our views on marraige and family and goals in life.  The more I talk to him and learn about him, the more I *gulp* like him.  Danger!  Danger Will Robinson!!

Which leads us to the big question of the night, which took place after dinner.  We sat and talked in the restaurant for another hour or so and then decided to go to a nearby bar for a few drinks.  It was nice out so we walked over there.  I noticed, during our walk, he not only did not try to hold my hand or put his arm around me (he used to), but he had his hands in his pockets.  So, we get to the bar, and after a drink and mindless chatter, amidst the crowd and the live band and the football game on tv, I figure it’s now or never. 

So… I ask him what is it exactly that we are doing?  Are we dating?  Are we just friends?  Are we just friends who have sex occasionally?  What?  And he’s quiet for a few seconds.  Awkward.  I say there is no reason for him to feel pressured or cornered or uncomfortable.  That I genuinely just want an honest answer.  Here’s me paraphrasing the next bit.

T:  We are friends.

Me:  Ok.

T:  No, I mean we are definitely friends.  At the very least.

Me:  Ok.

T:  What do you think?

Me:  I’d agree with that.  At the very least, friends.

T:  I think before, until when you didn’t hear from me for awhile, we were dating.

Me:  And now?

T:  Well did you think that?

Me:  I didn’t initially, when we first started going out.  Like I told you, I didn’t think you wanted that.  But then, for those last several months, we were seeing each other more and more and yes, I felt like we were dating.  Which is why it was so disappointing to just suddenly not hear from you for awhile.

T:  I know.  And I am really sorry about that.  I haven’t told you all of it….

So he begins telling me more of what was going on during those months he was incognito.  Along with some of the other issues, he tells me about how he really thought he was going to have to go back home.  About his frustrations.  About not wanting to have to leave.  And how, because of the situation he is in, he can’t get comfortable here.  He doesn’t know ultimately what will happen.  He wants to stay, but between working to pay his bills and school, he’s struggling with both.  And fears that, at any moment, one little slipup and he’s gone.  And that because of that, he doesn’t know if he should get too close or involved in a serious relationship. 

Part of me, trying to understand the situation he is in, sees his point.  Another part of me thinks this is the whole wants-his-cake-and-eat-it-too speech.   So I ask what is it he would like for me to do.  Because one minute he wants to see me more, and the next, he’s unsure.  He says he does want to see me and talk to me.  That I am the most genuine and real person he’s met here.  “A very decent person,” I believe he said.  Something like that.  Anyway, based on past talks with him, I take it as a very sincere compliment. 

So as the conversation (and my drinks) progress, he mentions how some of his friends here (from where he is from) told him he will never make it through school here.  Never get his citizenship.  Unless…….can you guess what is coming next? 

Marraige.

They told him about women here who will do that for a specified monetary exhange.  And he laughed and seemed surprised by this.  He said, I can barely take care of myself, how am I supposed to take care of a wife and kids.  I told him, in that type of arrangement, I think the only “taking care of” you are expected to do is a monthly payment or something.  And doubt there would be any kids.  So then I’m curious as to just how much thought, if any, he has given this idea.  So we talk and joke about it more. 

Then we get back to talking about what is it he wants out of being here.  Get a degree and go home?  Stay here?  He wants to stay here.  And have the freedom to go home and visit.  Right now, if he does that, he is worried something will happen and he won’t get to come back.  So I tell him all he can do is focus on the things he has control over.  He has to be in school fulltime.  He has to earn enough money to live.  Those are inflexible.  So we talk about different options, jobs, income, etc.  I can tell he is overwhelmed and stressed over these things, and has been for some time.  And he won’t ever ask for help.  So I offer to do some research on student loans, international students, etc and see what I can find.  I work with a lot of people who have been in his position and feel certain they could provide some good information.

He tells me I don’t have to do that.  I say I know that….again, this is what friends, people who care about each other, do.  He again mentions that I am a very decent person.  And laughs and says that if he was going to pay someone to marry him, he’d pay me.

Um.  A joke?  Yes.  I think.  But still.  I’m all speechless and stuff.

Finally I laugh, a little too forced, and say, I’m not going to marry you so you can stay here.  We both had said earlier that it was something we hoped to only do once.  So we better make damn sure we picked the right person in the first place.  He says he knows.  He’s just frustrated.  I say, if you want something bad enough, you’ll find a way to make it work.  Stop worrying about the small stuff and focus on the big picture and the steps you need to take to get there.

So that was pretty much the end of that particular topic of conversation.  I guess I really didn’t get an answer to my question.  And at the same time, I did.

We walked back over to our cars and stood there, leaning against my car and/or each other, and talked for another 30-40 minutes.  About our past relationships.  About our friends.  About life in general.  And whether or not either of us was ready to call it a night.  That led to much kissing (and every nerve ending in my body rejoiced…I swear I could kiss this man for hours).  And then, sex-starved whore that I am said either come to my place or take me to yours.

We opted for mine.  It was closer. 

Yay!  It was a great night.  I miss sex.  Sigh.  Talked a little more afterwards.  I love that he doesn’t just rollover and pass out.  It was a great way to wake up, this morning, too.  I forget how much I miss waking up with someone.  And that groggy-eyed cuddling that leads to wakeup sex.  For me, not a morning person AT ALL, it’s always a pleasant mix of being awake and a really good dream.  And then after awhile he had to leave.  I told him he never really gave me a straight answer.  We’ll talk about it some more later, he said.  A hug, kiss on the cheek, kiss on the forehead, and he headed home, after grabbing my paper for me from the front yard and loaning me a cd of some music I wanted to hear. 

I’m more and less confused about things now than I was before, if that makes sense.  Why do I always like either jerks or guys that are, ultimately, unavailable to me?  I’m thinking more and more that T falls into the latter category. 

Afternoon plans

A hotel in the area is having a free garage sale today and Tuesday for guests at their hotel and any others displaced by Katrina (they are estimating we will have atleast 20,000 evacuees in our area by the weekend).  They’ve apparently received an overwhelming amount of donations so far (so much so that they are taking over a floor of the office building next door) and are in need of volunteers to sort everything.  They had people helping all through the night.  I’m taking off this afternoon so am going to head over there to pitch in and do whatever I can to be of use. 

I would really like to bring my camera(s), because I think this is the kind of thing to be captured.  But I don’t want to offend anyone either.  I’ll leave them in my car until I see how things go.

I’ve just recently learned about “Stuff Portrait Friday.”  It sounds like fun, so I’m going to start playing.  It will be a little later today before I have a chance to do the assigned photos, but I’ll get them up as soon as I can. 

I think I can…I think I can…

Two more days of work to survive. I feel like the little engine that could. Chugging along to get to that 3-day weekend! Almost there…and just when I feel completely overwhelmed, all I have to do is turn on the tv to put things into perspective.

I cannot even begin to fathom what the people of Louisiana, Mississippi, and beyond are going through. They’ve lost their homes, their clothes, their belongings, their cars, everything. People that are stranded on their roofs, in attics, on balconies. People wading through water almost as deep as they are tall in some places. All trying to find somewhere safe.

It is impossible to imagine what must be going through their minds. Just seeing the images on television and the internet has had me in tears for much of the past few days.The entire population of New Orleans is being evacuated. Apparently over 80% of the city is now underwater. The makeshift shelter of the Superdome is no longer an option. They are getting people out however they can, in an effort to relocate the survivors to the Astrodome in Houston.

I found out my company matches gifts to approved charitable organizations. It’s a bunch of paperwork to make it happen, but will be worth it to essentially have my donation amount to the Red Cross doubled. It’s such a simple thing to do, but I feel better knowing I’m doing something to be of help.

Life’s Lessons

Went out and had a few drinks with friends tonight, also unplanned, but at zero cost to me, so that was nice. And after drinks, I was hungry and wasn’t about to come home and cook dinner at midnight. So JITB to the rescue.

I find myself in a very retrospective mood lately. I’m not sure why. It cycles, I suppose. In general, I am pretty pleased with my life up to this point. Granted, I’ve made some bad choices, and spent far too much time with the wrong people. But I like to think I’ve learned from it. And that those experiences have improved me somehow. Here’s a sample of what my life has taught me so far:

  1. Call me a prude if you like, but I know, for me personally, I will not date someone who does drugs. No matter how casual a user they may claim to be. That’s nothing against anyone who chooses to go that route, it’s just not a situation I choose to be a part of again.
  2. The Golden Rule should be followed. Have respect for and tolerance of others. You don’t have to like every one you encounter, but there’s no reason for rudeness or closed-mindedness.
  3. Honesty really is the best policy, but tact is just as important.
  4. My family means the world to me and there is no shame in admitting that.
  5. Don’t be afraid to admit when you are wrong. Laugh at your mistakes and then learn from them.
  6. Let the people you love know it. By your words and your actions. Tomorrow may be too late.
  7. I have zero tolerance for infidelity. If you feel the need to roam, have the decency to let your partner know you’re unhappy, break it off, whatever, first. See #2 re: respect.
  8. The story about friends “for a reason, a season, or a lifetime” is true. Accept the fact that some friendships may end. But they all serve a purpose and should be treasured.
  9. Tears can be therapuetic. Don’t hold them all in.
  10. Masturbation will not make you go blind.