Baby Mine

Baby, baby, I'm taken with the notion
To love you with the sweetest of devotion
Baby, baby, my tender love will flow from
The bluest sky to the deepest ocean
Stop for a minute
Baby, I'm so glad you're mine, yeah
You're mine

I've been thinking a lot lately about having a baby.  

The past three nights, I've had dreams about having one.  In one dream, I was attending a baby shower and realized it was for me.  I wasn't pregnant in the dream, however.  Then, in another, I was stuck in traffic, and I kept calling someone asking how my baby was doing and apologizing for being late.   Then, last night, I had a dream I was working in this uber modern office building and my boss asked me to work late and I told him I couldn't work late because I had a baby at home waiting for me.

When I was a little girl, I never really fantasized about being mommy.  I didn't enjoy playing with baby dolls or playing house.   As I grew up, I can't say that I really wanted to have kids.  I think part of it stems from the fact that my mom and dad were always hounding me about getting married and having kids, so my indirect act of rebellion was to avoid both like the plague.  Not that I was getting offers for either.

After college, I worked in a day care center for awhile.  I enjoyed the kids but at the end of the day, I couldn't wait to get home.  The babies terrified me.  So tiny.  So fragile.  So... stinky.  I always reeked of baby formula and could not change a diaper without gagging.  I used to stuff cotton balls spritzed with perfume up my nose when I had to change a diaper.  I also did not do well with baby vomit.  Everyone would laugh at me and say, "Oh, when it's your own kid, you don't notice so much."  Really? 

During this time, however, I used to fantasize a lot about getting married and having kids.  I wanted to be the "stay at home" mom type.  I didn't want to work *and* be a mom.  I wanted to be the classroom mom who baked cookies and went on field trips.  I wanted to play with my kids and be there when they got off of the school bus. I wanted to be, as corny and anti-modern woman as it sounds, a June Cleaver type. Santa Claus. Easter Bunny. Tooth Fairy. Helping with homework. Birthday parties. Halloween costumes. Disney movies.

When I'd meet a man, I'd size him up as "daddy" material and wonder if he was someone I could share custody with some day.  Sadly, none of the men I met ever really stood out as "daddy" types.  I think I purposely gravitated towards men who would not be someone I'd procreate with so that it wouldn't be a temptation some day.

Then, I shifted my focus to my career and decided that babies just were not for me.  I convinced myself that babies were not for me.  I remember seeing a doctor once and hoping that she would tell me that having children wasn't in the stars for me because of health issues I was having, but she gave me a clean bill of health. 

I've done a pretty good job of convincing myself that babies aren't for me.

However, lately, I've been thinking more and more about the fact that I have no one to carry on my heritage.  No smart little chubby faced lookalikes to be the class clown or the class geek or the class dork.  No one to take care of me when I get old.  

I'm in no position to have kids.  I can barely afford to take care of myself most days and having a cat is about all of the responsibility I can handle.  I know I wouldn't be able to work and take care of kids.  I'm not dating or even actively trying to date. I don't go places where I can meet men.  I don't want to go all turkey baster and I don't have the money for that.  I'd never trick a one-night-stand into that (too much like an old Heart song).

But, I think about it.  A lot.  I worry that my one regret when I get older will be that I didn't have a kid.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

Can we pretend that Airplanes
In the midnight sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now) (wish right now)
Can we pretend that Airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now) (wish right now)

The other night, while getting ready for bed, I caught part of new tv show about the glamour and luxury of air travel in the 60s.  I believe the show is called Pan Am.  It made flying look exciting and fun, an adventure.  Not stressful at all.  Everyone looked like they had first class treatment and no one was worried that a terrorist was going to plunge them thousands of miles into a building or empty cornfield.

I took my first flight when I was 20.  I went with my college roommate to Atlanta for a long weekend visit with her father and his new wife. I was so nervous about the flight.   

The airport near our college was very small.  No major flights and all of the planes were small and the kind that you have to walk across the tarmac to board.  We had to use it to get to another airport, where we then boarded a real plane, a jet, to fly to Atlanta.  The airport was large and I remember gawking at everything like a little kid in a candy store.  

These were the days when people could actually wait at the gate with their loved ones.  I remember spinning stories in my head about the people waiting on people and waiting with people.  I felt a little mushy about the couples holding hands and telling each other "I'm going to miss you".  I remember thinking that some day, I'd take a trip some place and someone would take me to the airport and stand there and watch my plane leave, thinking to himself how much he was going to miss me while I was gone.  Sadly, terrorism and increased security at airports have taken that dream away from me.

Once we boarded the plane, I was in awe of everything there as well.  I know I must have looked like a major dork, getting excited about the littlest things like the "skymall" magazines, barf bags, laminated emergency instruction card and hot meal we were served.  23 years later and I can still remember it.  A salad, corn chowder soup, sandwich and apple.  I loved the little plastic tray it came on and I think I even smuggled the napkin imprinted with the airline's logo into my purse as a souvenir, along with the little foil pouch of nuts. 

I didn't get sick.  I think I was too excited to get sick.  I watched the stewardess (yes, she was still called a stewardess then) go over the in-flight instructions and silently memorized what she was saying, thinking to myself that if my college education didn't pan out, I could become a stewardess and travel the world and do exciting things.  I had this thing for pilots back then and used to fantasize about cockpit (cough) fun.

I think I can credit the trip to Atlanta for creating the travel lust inside of me.  While there, we went to Stone Mountain and Buckhead and a variety of other places.  We had beignets and cafe au lait at this New Orleans style cafe, filled with attractive yuppie types on lunch breaks.  We visited her step mother at the huge hospital she worked in and had lunch in the cafeteria filled with doctors and nurses.  I allowed my mind to indulge in some "General Hospital" type fantasies. 

After college, I landed a job as a child care consultant which gave me the opportunity to travel by car and by plane to several places.  I got to go to Philadelphia and San Francisco on the company dime.  I loved the flight to San Francisco because we got to have an in-flight movie and alcohol on the plane.  During this time, I also made some wonderful on-line friends and got to travel to L.A., Des Moines and New York to visit them.

I became quite the experienced traveler.  I knew how to efficiently pack a suitcase and learned all of the ins and outs of navigating the airports and parking garages.  I knew which shuttles were the best and which airports were nicer than others.  I set a goal for myself to see at least one major city for each letter of the alphabet before I died. 

After I moved to Columbus, I headed to Iowa and New York again.  I also got to go to Vegas twice.  I really loved America West airlines.  I'm sad that they went belly up.  They were my favorite.

I eventually added several trips to Virginia Beach and remember the first time I flew over the water and looked down and saw the beach.  I thought to myself, "I want to live there some day."

Since moving here, I haven't done much traveling. I have gone to Baltimore a few times for work by plane but have not gotten on a plane for recreational purposes in over 4 years.  I've taken car trips and bus trips, but no plane trips for fun.

This year, I correct that. I'm taking a real vacation this year. To Las Vegas.  I leave on the 14th of October and get back after midnight on the 18th.  I have a direct flight. I'm hoping that means an in-flight movie, adult beverages and possibly hot meal.  I'm flying Southwest and I bought two seats so that I don't have to worry about who sits beside me and if I'm going to be forced to play nice with a total stranger for 5 hours.  I used to fantasize about meeting the man o' my dreams on a plane trip, but now I just like having peace and quiet for the duration of my flight.  A little rest. A good book. Maybe some music. My thoughts and daydreams.

I kind of wish airline travel was still glamorous and luxurious like it was on the tv show I saw part of, instead of hectic, harried and overshadowed by security precautions.  I wish the seats were generous and leg room ample.  I wish I didn't get hit in the head by people trying to shove everything they own into overhead bins because they don't want to pay for a checked bag. I wish a snack didn't cost an arm and a leg.  I wish every seat could be a "first class" experience.

One of my favorite movies is LOVE ACTUALLY.  I love the movie for a variety of mushy romantic reasons but one of my favorite scenes in the movie is at the beginning when they show all of these people at the airport, greeting each other, hugging, kissing and being happy to see each other.

The airport is a fantastic place for someone like me, who can just sit and people watch and spin tales in my head about possibilities.

If the inventors of yesterday hadn't seen the excitement in possibilities, we may never have gotten to fly.

---------------------

So, if you've read this far, you are probably wondering, "Where are those questions I have to answer?"

Yes, this is the 100th blog of 2011.  Thank you for patiently following along and playing along as I've divulged way more information than any one person should probably ever divulge.  

Here are your questions:

1)  Name two things on my "bucket list" (other than the recent Jason Mraz concert.) Hint: The title of the blog is a Billy Joel song.

2)  What was the one thing I wanted most as a little girl, in my "50 random things" post?  The # 50 is in the title of the blog.

3) What is my favorite psycho pick up line? Hmm... the name of the blog says it all.

4) What two songs do I reference in the body of my blog from early July about my "pretend boyfriend" dream? The title of the blog is a line from a Michael Jackson song, Billie Jean.

5) Which meal do I want someone to make for me every day when I win the lottery?  Do you really want to use a life line?

Good luck!!!  Thanks for reading!

You Are My Sunshine

As the sun shines on other people's houses
And not mine,
And the sky paints those clouds in a way
That it takes away the summertime,
Somehow the sun keeps shining upon you,
while I kindly stand by.
If there's a light in everybody,
Send out your ray of sunshine

You're undeniably warm, you're cerulean,
You're perfect in desire.
Won't you hang around
so the sun, it can shine on me,
And the clouds they can roll away,
And the sky can become a possibility?
If there's a light in everybody,
Send out your ray of sunshine.

I had an awesome day yesterday.  10 on a scale of 1-10.  It was much needed after what felt like weeks of drama, disappointments, stress and other various emotions and maladies.  

Jason Mraz is one of the most positive and upbeat artists I've heard in a long long time.  None of his songs are angst-filled or bitter.  He has this knack for injecting positivity and hope into his lyrics.  His "Beautiful Mess Life On Earth" CD/tour is awesome.  AWE SOME.  The lyrics above are from the song he opened the concert with last night.  Click the link to hear it.  Beautiful man.  An inspiration.  I left the concert feeling hopeful and happy. (And the 3 beers I had prior to the concert had nothing to do with it!)

I don't even have all of the right words to describe what made yesterday so great.  Part of it for me was a shift in attitude while driving to the concert. I know it's rare that I struggle for the right words. I'm "all about them words."  Another part was being with friends.  Good friends.  Friends who appreciate me and whom I appreciate.

I've been struggling with some feelings I have been having for a few weeks now.  I haven't really had anyone to talk to about them so they've been bottling up inside of me.  My friend Janelle was along for the ride and I decided to use her as a sounding board for this stuff inside of me.  

As I drove, and the miles flew by, and the words and feelings flew from my lips, I realized that I was heading in the wrong direction with the feelings I thought I was feeling.  Realized I've been wasting time and energy on something that will not end well and that has been leaving me with far too many sleepless nights and headaches.  This is typical of me.  Inside, I knew there was nowhere to go with the feelings, especially when they are not reciprocated, but the "eternal optimist" in me was hoping I could work my magic, spin them into something productive and have a happy ending. 

However, while I was talking, I realized the feelings had more negativity and self-doubt than positivity.  I decided right then and there, with a little help from Jason Mraz's Geek in the Pink lyrics (he does a mean wiki, wiki, wiki, by the way), that I was done with it all.  I was not going to invest any more time and energy chasing something that wasn't going to bode well for me and which was making me feel like I was doing all of the work.

I don't care what you might think about me
You'll get by without me if you want
I could be the one to take you home
Baby we could rock the night alone
If we never get down it wouldn't be a let down
But sugar don't be forgettin' what you already know
I could be the one to turn you on
We could be the talk across the town
Don't judge it by the color, confuse it for another
You might regret what you let slip away
like the geek in the pink (do do do...)
I'm the geek in the pink ya'll
geek is the color for fall
i'm the geek in the pink

The song is about a guy who is overlooked by a girl, because he's not her type.  It's his playful "in your face" anthem. :) "You might regret what you let slip away." 

I've been on a roller coaster with someone in the friendship department. We started out okay - mutually interested.  But, then things sort of fizzled out after a couple of months (and this time, not by my choice.) I've been working in over-drive, over-thinking everything and over-analyzing everything, trying to figure out what I did wrong and why I wasn't able to hold the person's interest for longer than 2 months.  Then, I realized the friendship was lop-sided to begin with.  I broke my own rules and invested way more of myself than I usually do, right off the bat, feeling some sort of connection.  Imagined? Fabricated?  Don't know.  I thought there was something there.  Long story short, I realized that this person has not been as invested in me as I have been in them.  They haven't been all that curious about me.  They don't really initiate any conversations.  They don't seem to be interested in anything more than casual acquaintance.  I'm someone they seek out when they are bored or lonely and don't seem to have the time for me any other time even though I've let them know I was open to being a good friend. They just aren't interested in more.  

It's a shame because I sensed a similar mind-set and potential for good friendship based on interests and personalities.  I'm open to friendship with the person, but I'm not going to be the one doing all of the work. I'm taking a breather.  I've opened the door a crack.  I'll let them decide if they want to push the door open and come on in, or pull it shut and walk away.

As soon as I made up mind, I felt like 15 lbs of weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

We arrived at my friend's house ahead of schedule, thanks to un-congested roads and my lead foot.  I was in a much better mood and ready to enjoy the weekend.

After some pre-concert snacks and adult beverages, my friends Heather and Janelle and I headed to a restaurant called Clyde's to have half-price burgers and conversation with our friend Tammy.  I enjoyed seeing my friend Tammy again.  I hadn't seen her since last December.

Then, we went to the concert.  It was an awesome concert.  Colbie Caillat was the opening act and she has an absolutely beautiful voice.  She did an incredible version of The Script's Breakeven and introduced her new song, Brighter than the Sun.

Jason was sporting a new hairdo that made him look creepily like Pauly Shore, but I overlooked that as his music took over.  He has an incredible voice.  I sang. I danced.  I screamed until I was hoarse.  I love at the beginning of concerts when the artist asks "How are you doing?" and everyone yells "woo!".  I think I'm going to start doing that from now on.  Whenever anyone asks me how I am, I'm gonna yell "WOO!"

I got teary-eyed when he did "You and I Both."  I can't explain it but there's just something about that song.  It's about two people who have a lot in common, but for whatever reason were not able to make it work and the realization that even having things in common just isn't enough sometimes.

After the concert, we grabbed some greasy food, ate it at Heather and Jason's and then headed to our motel.  I was absolutely drained and exhausted.  It was close to 2 by the time I fell asleep and we were up bright and early this morning so that we could get back early enough for me to do my weekend chores and get ready for another week of work.

While I was in NoVa, I was exploring the area for the possibility of moving up there.  I've been tinkering with the idea for awhile.  However, I realized it's not for me either.  Too big.  Too congested.  I was in sensory overload with all of the roads, highways, stores, people, cars, etc.  I like a smaller place, a slower pace.

Now, if I can just figure out how to get Jason Mraz to take me on tour with him so that I can soak up his energy and good vibes.  I'm betting no one has a bad day with him hanging around.  He and I could be all about the words together. 

P.S.  This is NOT # 100. But, we're soooooooooooo close.

You Will Love Me

I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I'd love you to love me
And I'm begging you to beg me

I want you to want me
I need you to need me
And I'd love you to love me

Have you ever met someone whom just doesn't seem to like you and you don't know why?  You've never said anything wrong, done anything wrong or purposely offended them in any way.  Yet, they just don't seem to care for you?

I've met someone like that.  And it's driving me crazy.

I am not someone who jumps headfirst into friendships or any other kind of relationship.  I don't trust easily.  It usually takes me some time to listen to my various body parts (heart, head, gut...) and decide if I want to be friends (or otherwise) with someone.  Slow and steady wins the race.  I've made rash decisions about people in the past and suffered the consequences of awkwardness and "Um, so, how about the weather?" type conversations after it has ended.

Some of my co-workers at my previous job used to tease me about my "two month" threshold. When I lived in Ohio, when I met someone new, I would spend the first couple of months trying learn everything I could about the person.  It's in my nature.  I'm nosy and inquisitive.  I wanted to be a journalist, for crying out loud.  It's what I do.  I would make this list of questions and think of things in my head that I wanted to talk about.  (Richard, if you are reading this, remember those "Questions Du Jour" that I used to grill you with?)  Male, female, friend, romance.  I used the same approach.  I wanted to know everything from the kind of toothpaste they used to what they wore to bed.  I was persistent.  It was always like a new crush.  Everything is shiny and new and exciting.  I got giddy exploring everything.  I thrived on those nuances of getting to know someone.  I'd get up excited to find out what new thing awaited me in my inbox, or at my cubicle, or in the break room.  It's so nice when you have a reason to get out of bed, even if it something as simple as making a new friend.

Then, right around the two month mark, I'd start to lose interest.  My questions became fewer.  My gusto to know everything waned.  I'd start to see them as just an ordinary person and start to get bored with them. Suddenly, the things I found endearing started to be annoying.  The quirks -- not so quirky.  I would start to find excuses to not do things, talk on the phone.  I'd eventually just sort of fade out.  My friends would suggest that I just take a breather... give the person a chance.  I even saw a therapist once who told me I needed to stop seeking drama and to learn to live with "average" because I'd be happier if I realized that at some point in my life, I'll have to deal with the fact that no one can live in a constant state of drama and excitement. She accused me of creating drama to try to keep things exciting.  Me? Create drama?  Surely you lie.

Some people made it past the two month mark, obviously.  I have some wonderful friends who have been in my life for decades.  I've also had some whom I've invited into my friend circle before the two month mark.  So, there are exceptions to my crazy friendship methodology.

I digress.

People usually like me.  I'm funny, smart.  I'm nice.  I'm helpful.  I am generous and kind.  I don't tell secrets.  I'm fiercely loyal.  I like to take care of people.  I will go to the ends of the earth for my friends.  I like to be wanted.  I like to be needed.  I enjoy buying things for my friends.  I like being a friend.  I have answered the phone at 3 in the morning.  I've accepted collect calls.  Whatever you need.  I'm your girl.  Maybe I do too much?  Maybe I'm too available? 

Because I am so picky, once I make a friend (and trust me, I don't use the word "friend" loosely.  If I call you "friend", it means you made it and will probably be on my friend list until you hurt me or f*ck me over.), I try to do whatever I can to keep that friend.

I've had people be hurt in the past because they wanted to be friends with me and I just didn't want it.  I know I shouldn't discount people and that I never know what a person brings to the table.  I'm working harder on that one.

So, it really really bugs me that I've met someone that I want to be friends with... or might want to be friends with... and they want none of it.  My jokes don't seem to amuse them.  So, then I try a more serious route.  That doesn't seem to impress them either.  I've tried to be helpful.  Nope.  I've tried food.  Nope.  I've tried to prove that I'm useful. No response.  I've let them see me with other people so that they know that I am likable.  They seem unfazed.  I don't get it.  Why not?

They aren't rude to me.  They are polite.  However, they are not interested.  The walls are up. 

If real life were like Facebook, I'd be poking the hell out of them just to try to get some sort of response.  

F*ck Off is better than no reaction at all.

Unwell

Hold on

I'm feeling like I'm headed for a

Breakdown

I don't know why

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little unwell

I know, right now you can't tell

But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see

A different side of me

I'm not crazy, I'm just a little impaired

I know, right now you don't care

But soon enough you're gonna think of me

And how I used to be

I'm the worst kind of sick person.  I'm the sick person who knows they are sick days before they admit it and walk around, functioning like normal, probably and possibly spreading germs, denying that they are sick.

Movies like CONTAGION were probably based on people like me.

Last week, I started to feel a little weird.  A little sluggish.  I was waking up feeling slower than normal and wanting to go to bed earlier than normal.  I tried to blame the fact that the sun was rising and setting at different times, but deep down, I sensed maybe I was getting sick.

Then, on Friday, I had a headache all day and felt kind of hot and cold at the same time.  I blamed the temperature change. 

Then, on Saturday, I woke up feeling cranky, achey and congested.  I blamed the rain.  And maybe PMS.

On Sunday, my ears started ringing and crackling and my throat was hurting.  I blamed procrastination, sleeping with the windows open and allergies.

On Monday, I woke up feeling nauseated.  I blamed it on the fact that it was Monday... and the California Whopper I ate Sunday afternoon that wasn't on my diet plan.

All day Monday, I felt a little odd.  Just not right.  I blamed it on the stuffed chicken breast and brussel sprouts I had for lunch.

Yesterday, I still had the scratchy throat and added coughing, sneezing, dizziness, sick headache and gurgling tummy to the mix.  I kept using antibacterial gel and whenever my office mate would leave the office, I'd spray some disinfectant around my desk.  Trying to contain the germs.  I didn't feel like talking.  This had to give Gordon a nice break because whenever we have the office to ourselves, I feel the need at some point to talk to him about something to give my brain a break, despite the fact that I know that his to-do list is just as long as my to-do list and is probably a bit more complicated since he does system stuff. He's too nice to tell me to shut the f*ck up.  I digress.  I think the only thing I talked to him about was 30 seconds about the increased air traffic over our office and my concern we were at war. :) 

By the end of the day, I was grumpy, weepy and my chest was hurting.  I could not wait for 4.  I think I burned rubber at the red light when it turned green because I was in such a hurry to get home.

Now, I had every intention of getting some sudafed, soup and ginger ale and just going to bed as soon as I got home.

Did I do that?  No.

I stopped and bought the sudafed, soup and ginger ale.  Then, I stopped and got lottery tickets and gas in my car.  The low fuel light kept coming on and I didn't risk running out on my way to work.

Then, I watched two days' worth of the Ellen Degeneres show while waiting for the sudafed and soup to kick in.  Then, I started to watch another show but then it reminded me of one of my college friends who died this past year and that made me sad.  So, I blogged about death and how I don't do well with death (see previous blog) and listened to sad music on Pandora.  I cried a little thinking about how pathetic I am that I can't cry when someone dies.  That gave me a headache and puffy eyes so I took a hot shower and crawled into bed. 

I tried to sleep but then I remembered that NEW GIRL was supposed to premier so I watched that and then I went to sleep.  I kind of liked it.  I liked her quirkiness but wondered if it will be "too much" after watching it week after week.  I also bet that they end up having her develop a crush on one of her male roommates. That's how my mind goes.  (See Friends with Benefits blog.)

I had disturbing dreams all night and kept waking up because I couldn't breathe or swallow.  I blamed Abby for getting her fur all over my pillows.  I took a benadryl and 2 more sudafed (I have a feeling that's probably NOT a good combination) and went back to bed. 

Around 4, my heart started racing because of all of the drugs in my system (I'm not supposed to take sudafed but it's the only thing that works when my ears get crackly and my head closes up) and then I got myself worked up (see the Every Breath You Take blog) and couldn't breathe normally.  I had a panic attack. 

Long story short, by the time the alarm went off at 6, I was a mess.  

So, I texted off.  Can't say I called off cause I didn't call anyone.  I have no voice.  Well, I have some voice but it is the voice of someone who is trying too hard to sound all raspy and sexy ("Hi there, big boy, what are you wearing?") or that of someone who has smoked a pack a day for the last 30 years.  I hear that is how Adele got her voice.  Maybe I should quickly compose and record a love song and get rich?

I feel like crap. I can't stop coughing, which leads to hacking and gagging.  I don't want to contaminate my co-workers any more than I have.  Now, if I could have worked from home today, that would have been great.  I can still type, obviously.  My sense of humor is intact as well.  I just need to take naps.  But, alas, my computer and remote access stuff is at work.  Plus, I'm a trainer.  Don't know that they'd let me set up raspy WebExes from my apartment.  Everyone would get to see my baby pink floral granny gown and puffy eyes.  AAATTRACTIVE.

I should probably take better care of myself.  I should probably listen to the signs my body sends me.

However, I don't like to stop doing things.  But, then my body says, "Screw that, woman!" and forces me to stop.

So, now I'm going to go back to bed, with my favorite bankie (yes, I have a bankie, but that's another story for another day) and Abby.  (sigh)


Who wants to come over and read "Go the F*ck To Sleep" to me? 

Postscript: Update at 7:46 PM.  It's a sinus/inner ear infection.  I'm not contagious.  Woot.  I have drugs.  Next time, I shall not wait until I get to this stage before seeing a doctor.

I Will Remember You

I will remember you
Will you remember me?
Don’t let your life pass you by
Weep not for the memories

(I wrote this on Tuesday the 20th then deleted it because it did not show me in a good light but decided to stop censoring myself. So, I'm reposting...)

I wonder if it is possible to suffer from delayed grief?

Like, decades of delayed grief?

All of my grandparents died while I was fairly young.  I was never really close to any of them.  My dad's parents lived right next door to us and I can't even really remember what they looked like.  I remember that Helen, my dad's mom (she never let us call her anything but Helen) wore men's sneakers, dresses and grew a garden.  She was big on home remedies.  She had a "swap shop" where she bought, sold and traded things.  My brother and I used to play in her store and she'd yell at us.  I was 13 when Grandpa Darnell died.  I remember being in junior high and wearing white to his funeral.  Yeah -- white.  I was in a rebellious stage, I guess.  I don't know. I didn't cry. I didn't go to Helen's funeral.  I was in college.  I didn't cry. My mom's parents died while I was in college or shortly afterwards and I didn't cry for them or go to their funerals either.  My mom's mom was cold and distant.  She was always looking for an excuse to whip us for something.  My mom's dad was a grumpy alcoholic who always smelled like stale beer and who seemed to hate kids. I didn't cry for them either.  I felt "sad" -- mostly because my mom and dad didn't have parents any more, but I didn't feel any personal loss.

I digress.  

In the past year, I've had three people with whom I went to college die unexpectedly.  They were 42 at the time of their deaths.  I felt sadness each time I got the news, with the most recent one just happening this past Saturday.  But, I didn't cry.  I have lost high school friends, former love interests and casual acquaintances to death in the past two decades.  Didn't cry.

Today (Tuesday), however, I felt like crying.   I don't know why.  I wasn't emotionally connected to these people.  I don't even know if the tears I feel like shedding are due to these deaths, past deaths or because of hormones, stress or other recent disappointments in my life.

I don't deal well with death.  In fact, one of my closest female friends dumped me in 2000 because I just could not offer the kind of emotional support she needed when her mother died.  She accused me of being heartless and unfeeling because I just could not offer up the kind of sympathy she needed and wanted.  I didn't know how to console her.  So, I avoided her.  I changed the subject when she wanted to talk about it.  Since then, I've tried to be more empathetic.  I even tried to reach out to her to apologize for being a total ass all those years ago.  But, the rip is too severe.  She still won't talk to me.

I can cry for just about any other reason under the sun, but not death.  I can cry for broken relationships, loss of jobs, war, sickness, relocation, the end of friendships, anything.  I am your rock for just about anything else.  Your pain is my pain.  I've cried for my own self, when I thought I was dying (see blog Every Breath You Take for more on that.) I can cry for "fake" deaths (like when characters on television shows or in movies die.)

The only time I have cried because of death was when I weeped for days after Molly died last May.

How is it that I can mourn and cry for a cat but not for people?

What is wrong with me?

Do I need to have some super close emotional connection in order to cry?  Or do I fear that by crying when I don't have a close personal connection, I'm hijacking someone else's tragedy? 

I remember having a conversation with a male friend years ago about my obsession with sad weepy music and how I like to just let myself be sucked into a bad mood every now and then so that I can have a good cry, cleanse myself of all of my bad feelings and move on.  Usually, the cry happens in the shower.

He asked me why I'd torture myself like that and I just said that it was a dark side of myself that I had to indulge in on occasion.


The conversation evolved to more philosophical things, including death.  I seem to recall that we both agreed that when our untimely end came, neither one of us wanted tears and sadness.  We wanted a celebration.  Music, a roast, if you will, laughter.  People telling jokes and sharing stories.  He wanted to be entombed for future worshipping.  I want to be cremated so that someone gets the job of toting my urn around for the rest of their life -- maybe even have a rotating schedule.  


We discussed why people cry when people die and we seemed to agree that most of the tears come from the person's selfish reasons and not because of the loss itself.  Regrets. Things not said. Things not done. Things that shouldn't have been said or done.  "I wish I had called more."  "I should have checked on her." "We just lost touch." "We had a fight and I told him I hated him."  Selfish stuff.  We should be saying things like "She was so wonderful. She made such an impact and now that is gone." or "She was loved by some many people and loved so many in return.  It's a shame to lose such unconditional love."


So, I *think* my inability to cry is because I have no regrets about the people who died.  Nothing personally staked in them... or at least, not at the time of their deaths.  I cried for Molly because she did bring love to my life and because I was going to miss that.  And, because, to be honest, I had a really dark time around 2002/2003 where I questioned my purpose in life and the only thing that kept me going was knowing that no one would take care of her the way I could take care of her.


Just my two cents.


So, if you start talking to me about death and I change the subject or make a joke, you know why.   We all have that one thing we can't do.


I have two.  I can't say "I love you" to people I love (in the romantic sense, see More Than Words blog) and I can't cry when people die unless there's a selfish reason to do so.

Friends with Benefits

You've already won me over in spite of me
And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet
Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are
I couldn't help it
It's all your fault

You are the bearer of unconditional things
You held your breath and the door for me
Thanks for your patience

You're the best listener that I've ever met
You're my best friend
Best friend with benefits
What took me so long

"What exactly does that expression mean, 'friends with benefits?' Does he provide her with health insurance?" - Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory

 

I've been thinking about two relationship labels today: "On again, Off Again" and "Friends with Benefits."  I'm going to share my thoughts on both of these and then an idea that I think will solve any confusion about these labels going forward.

This past summer, I was talking to a guy and I asked him if he was seeing anyone.  He told me that he had an "on again, off again" girlfriend.  The status kind of confused me, but I didn't really ask him for any details.  He didn't want to elaborate and I dropped the subject.  Didn't stop me from thinking about it and mulling it over, though. Was he available? Or wasn't he?  Then, today, I was at Target and two young men were talking in the electronics department (I wanted to test out the pheromone oil one more time before retiring it.  See my SCIENCE blog for more on that.)  The one young man said to the other young man, "I've been seeing Stacy off and on for the past couple of months."  The second young man said, "How's that working out?"  The first young man shrugged and made a grunty sound that is male for "let's change the subject."

Driving home, I kept thinking about it and I think I finally have it figured out.

"On again, off again" relationships are those where you are having sex with someone but you don't want anything else with them, but you also don't want to break it off because you like having sex with someone and you'd rather say you were in an "on again, off again" relationship with someone than to not be able to have regular sex.  The "On" is when you are having sex.  The ""Off" is when you're not.  I'm betting the woman in this relationship has no clue that she's on again/off again.  She probably just thinks he's busy. Or tired.  Or working. Or depressed.  Or a dick, but she'd rather be with a dick than be without, so she puts up with it. 

I've been thinking about my female friends and trying to recall if any of them have ever referred to the guys in their lives as "off and on."  I can't think of anyone.  Even me, who tends to have a more "masculine" approach to dating sometimes in that I do the chasing, the pursuing, the asserting...  I've never had someone "off and on."  They were either "on" or they were "off."  Two different statuses.  Together.  Not together anymore.  Not both at the same time. Now, there have been times when we/I couldn't tell where we stood in a relationship.  Were we doing well?  Not so well?  Were we on the verge of breakup?  Did we just need a break? But...  I've never said to anyone, "Yeah, I've been seeing Bill off and on all summer."  Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Now, "friends with benefits."  Cuddle buddies.  Spooning partners.  F*ck buddies.  They are all the same.  I totally agree that people in a relationship should be friends.  I also think it's super cool to have friends with benefits -- meaning, "Pete is my friend.  He has a super cool boat.  We go out on it sometimes." or "Sara is my friend.  She works at Macy's.  She gets me Clinique 50% off."  THOSE are benefits.  Like reduced cost prescriptions and free annual breast exams with your insurance.  Not sex.   But, that's exactly what the label "friend with benefits" means.  Someone who is a friend, a member of the opposite sex friend, whom you do on occasion.  Mutually satisfying sexual release.  Well, fellas, hate to break it to you, but it's never that cut and dried.  Almost every woman who has sex with her male friend is secretly hoping for the Alanis Morissette version above.  We've all seen When Harry Met Sally.  We think that if we have sex with you, you'll eventually fall in love with us.  For us, sex = emotion.  Emotion = love.  Yes, I'm speaking in general about the entire female population.  Yes, I know there are probably a few women out there who probably really truly enjoy sex just for the sake of sex and want nothing else.  The reality is, though, it's never totally unencumbered. There will be expectations and there will be disappointment.  For someone.

So, my thinking this afternoon has led me to two conclusions.  The above misnomers were born out of one or both of the following: fear of rejection or fear of commitment.

Fear of commitment -- I can't offer any quick fixes for that.  Get over it.  Yeah, yeah, someone broke your heart.  Yeah, yeah, you think you are an island and you need no one.  Yeah, yeah, you don't trust easily.  Big deal.  Move on.  I have a fear of commitment myself.  My parents have been married for almost 44 years but they've been living under the same roof as roommates (not "friends with benefits") for over 30 years.  My mom has her own bedroom.  My dad has his own bedroom.  They are not role models for relationships.  My dad's sisters changed men more than most people change their underwear.  My own brother has had 4 separate relationships and only married and divorced one of them.  He has kids with 3 of the 4 women.  I've watched friends break up with man after man.  I've had not such great luck.  But, my fear of commitment is mostly based in a shaky confidence in my ability to keep a man entertained and around for the rest of my life and nothing to do with all of the bad influence I've had.  It's a poor excuse to miss out on something great and I'm working on it.

Fear of rejection.  This is where I think Facebook can help.  Remember when you were a kid, you could pass a note to Suzy or Sam that said, "I like you.  Do you like me?  Yes or No."  It was so much easier.  If they circled "NO", you moved on. OK, you probably crumpled the note, called them a dooty head and then moved on.  There was no direct contact.   

So, Facebook has poking.  I don't really get it - poking.  "You've been poked!"  The first time someone poked me, I thought maybe it was a dirty thing, a flirty thing, but the person who poked me was a married female high school pal.  I think poking is just a way to get someone's attention.  To let them know you are thinking of them.

So, why not add more options?  Facebook is making all of these other changes.  Why not make it easier for those who have dating issues?  They could add "Flirt, Nudge, Cuddle, Fondle, Stalk, Tickle, Touch, Lick, Wink, Kiss, Like, Love, Date, Probe (that one is for aliens)", etc.  THAT would make it a whole heck of a lot easier. 

If someone you weren't interested in did something to you that you didn't want, then you could just "decline" it like you do unwanted friend requests.  If you aren't sure, you can choose "not now".  If you are interested, you can respond in kind.  Lick away, I say.  

If you have a fear of commitment AND a fear of rejection, then you can just ignore it altogether and "pretend" that the person's overtures got lost in cyberspace.  Think about it - they aren't about to write you and say, "Did you, um, see my fondle request?"  They have a fear of rejection, remember?  The worst that can happen is that they fondle you (cyberally) again... and again... and again.  I'm sure you could block the fondling if necessary. Or, maybe, you'd come to like it over time.

In the end, we can eliminate the need for "on again, off again" relationships and "friends with benefits" (where the benefits are not oceanfront property and boat slip) and have nice, straightforward dating.  

I mean, I don't think Facebook really wants anyone to use the "It's Complicated" status. Do you want to look up your significant other and see "It's complicated."?

Let's make it "Uncomplicated."

Do you want to flirt?  Press 1 now.  Press 2 for Spanish.

Pour Some Sugar On Me

Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!
Crazy little woman in a one man show
Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love
Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up

You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little
Tease a little more
Easy operator come a knockin' on my door
Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet
Little miss innocent sugar me, yeah, yeah
Give a little more

I was up early this morning and ran errands most of the morning, despite the fact that it was chilly and rainy.

I really wanted to just stay in bed.

I had all of my "outside the home" errands done by 11:30 and was back home, warm and dry, by noon.

I didn't make my bed before I left for the day and when I went in to change clothing, the rumpled covers and smushed up pillows called my name.  I couldn't resist.  I put on my nightgown and crawled right back into bed.

I slept for three glorious hours and had a really great dream.  One of those dreams that when you wake up, you want to savor it.

In my dream, I was back in college.  

Every Friday night, my college had these "pit parties" in the student union.  Everyone would go.  There'd be music, dancing and lots of fun. I loved those parties.  I would dance, dance, dance.  I would socialize and talk to people and I'd flirt.  I had a crush on this guy, Ron, who was in several of my classes.

Ron and I met in psychology 101, Freshman Year.  He sat behind me.  He had the prettiest brown eyes and friendliest smile I had ever seen.  I was kind of shy. Our psychology professor would give us "table topics" that we had to discuss in a small group format.  Whenever it was my turn to present, I would get very nervous and go out into the hallway and practice my "speech" in an empty stairwell.  One day, Ron came in the back door, near the stairwell, and caught me doing my dry run.  He quietly sat down on the steps and told me he'd be my coach.  I practiced my speech on him.  He gave me a thumbs up, asked if I wanted to be his lab partner and a friendship was born.  I asked him his name and he said, "Ron Holmes.  No relation to John Holmes."  He laughed.  I had to ask someone later what it meant.  (Apparently, John Holmes was a porn star known for his ... generous... nature.)

He would play with my hair in class, pass me notes, write things with his closed ink pen on my back to see if I could figure out what he was writing.  He'd tell me jokes. He tried to get me in trouble by telling me that "Da me Cabeza" meant "Give me some beer" and that I should tell that to my Spanish teacher.  (But, I was a little wiser and knew that "cabeza" was "head".)  

Occasionally, he would eat breakfast with me before class.  Sometimes, he'd walk with me to class.  He'd show up at my dorm to "just hang out."  A few times, he even called me to talk about "homework" but then we'd end up talking about other things.  In the summer, we would write letters (this is pre-technology) to each other. He worked campus security and would include my dorm room on his "walk throughs".  He used to tease me mercilessly about how innocent and shy I was and how he needed to get me to break out of my shell.  Whenever he'd drink, he'd look me up to talk.  I think he was probably a little shy, too, and alcohol loosened him up.

Ron was quite the flirt.  He would come up to me at these dance parties and blow in my ear, blow on the back of my neck, play with my hair, and "nudge" me with his body.  He was quite fond of Def Leppard and would sing the song "Pour Some Sugar On Me" to me.  One time, I got all dressed up for something and he saw me on campus and "woo'd" at me.  After that, whenever he'd see me, he'd raise an eyebrow and "woo" at me.  I'd raise mine and woo right back. I think it tickled him that I would be so bold, but in a "good girl" way.  Ron was a good guy and a good friend and he took the time to get to know me and liked me as I was. He sought me out and always seemed happy to see me. It was inevitable that I fall in love with him.

So, back to my dream.   I was at one of those dance parties and Ron came up to me and did his usual thing.  He blew on my neck, played with my hair, nudged my body with his and woo'd at me.  I felt warmth spread inside of me.  He always made me feel good whenever he was around.  In the dream, he morphed into a blurry faceless man, whom I couldn't make out, but whom still made me feel good.

I woke up feeling happy and desired.  I miss that feeling.  That warm, fuzzy feeling that comes from being attracted to someone and having that someone act attracted, too.  (I'd like to think he was attracted to me, too, since he didn't treat anyone else like that.)  It's amazing what a little human touch can do to a person's spirit.

I'd like to say that we fell in love and were on our way to living happily ever after, but, alas, another woman who was bolder than I stepped in my senior year and staked her claim.  He and I lost touch after graduation.  He went to law school, got married and had a daughter.

In September, 1996, he died from leukemia.

I often think of Ron and today's dream is particularly poignant because it was 15 years ago this week that he died.  

I'd like to think that the dream I had about him was his way of letting me know that I deserve that "woo'd" feeling again.

In the Name of Science

It's poetry in motion
And now she's making love to me
The spheres are in commotion
The elements in harmony
She blinded me with science
She blinded me with science
And hit me with technology

When I'm dancing close to her
Science
I can smell the chemicals
(Blinding me with science)
(Science)
Science

For the past month, I've been conducting an experiment.

If you read my LOVE POTION # 9 blog, then you know that I was recently introduced to "pheromone oil" which allegedly drives men wild.   At first, I scoffed it.

Then, I decided I was curious about it.

So, I bought some.

For the past month, I've been wearing it everywhere.  To work, to the rec center, to the grocery store, to the mall, to the movies, out to eat, to the gas station, at the doctor's office, to take out the trash, to the pool, to dollar tree, to general dollar, to the drugstore, to the farmer's market, to the beach, to the airport, to the liquor store ...  Every day, every place I go.

I've worn it by itself.  I've worn it with my other body spray.  I've dabbed on pulse points.  I've dabbed it on non-pulse points.  I've reapplied it throughout the day.  I've relied on one application. I've considered showering with it, washing my hair with it and adding it to my lotion.

Nothing.  Nada.  Zip.

No response.

I've been exposed to single men, married men, men with significant others, straight men, gay men, straight men who act like gay men, young men, old men, men my age, men too young to date, nice men, not-so-nice men, cute men, average men, men I know, men I don't know...  Co-workers, mechanics, doctors, sales clerks, fast food workers, military, marathon runners, and the ordinary everyday Joe.

I've also been exposed to women, too.  Women who fell into similar categories.

No one has treated me differently.  Men have not seemed more interested.  I have not felt "more confident." Women have not wanted to be my friend.

If it drove anyone wild with lust, no one told me about it.

Even Abby seems immune to it...  and that's disappointing because I figured I'd at least get a couple of wet willies and inappropriate licks from her if no one else jumped at the chance.

Guess all of my worry about how to tell a guy that a little chemistry made him fall for me was for naught.

Oh well...  maybe I'll save it for another time and place. 

Blame It On The Rain

Well, I love a rainy night
I love a rainy night
I love to hear the thunder
Watch the lightning
When it lights up the sky
You know it makes me feel good

Well, I love a rainy night
It's such a beautiful sight
I love to feel the rain
On my face
Taste the rain on my lips
In the moonlight shadow

A friend mentioned today that he actually enjoys rain storms.

Not to steal his thunder (pun intended), I also like rain storms.  When I don't have to go anywhere.  I do not like driving in storms, but if I can stay inside, it's all good.

Right now, it's raining.  Like crazy.  The wind is blowing.  It's thundering and there is lightning.  This is the perfect night to just lie in bed and enjoy the rain.

I've done it before.  I've turned off all of the lights in my bedroom, opened the curtains, crawled up in bed and just watched the lightning.

I know most people are afraid of it, but I'm not.  Not really.  I'm grounded.  I don't talk on the phone, take a shower or stand on the roof with a kite in storms.  I should be ok.

I think I blogged about my "lottery dream house" and how it would have a wall of windows so that I can just lie in bed and watch the weather -- good and bad.  As scary and daunting as a hurricane sounds, I think I'd like to watch that from the safe "hurricane-proof" shelter of a nice comfy bedroom with a wall of shatterproof glass. 

I know it's only 7:40, but the rain is lulling me to sleep.

The second best thing to rainy nights -- rainy Sunday mornings.  :)

God Don't Like Ugly

When I see your face
There's not a thing that I would change
'Cause you're amazing
Just the way you are
And when you smile
The whole world stops and stares for a while
'Cause girl you're amazing
Just the way you are

I remember reading something once that said that if there's something we don't like about another person, it is usually because we see that trait in ourselves.

I'm in a weird mood tonight. 

For the past three weeks, I've encountered this lady at work during new hire training.  On the surface, she seems nice enough.  However, she's super-critical, kind of pushy, and frequently impatient.  She doesn't pay attention and then later, states that the material wasn't covered when I know that it was. 

Normally, I can shake off these people once they leave my classroom.

However, something is really bugging me.  She has a boyfriend.

I know I shouldn't be a hater.  I know that it's not my place to pass judgment.

However, it really irks me that she has a boyfriend.  A boyfriend that she's not particularly nice to on the phone.  I've overheard her talking to him a couple of times on the phone and she's very bossy with him.  She also talks about him -- like he's someone who annoys her and doesn't do things the way she wants him to do them.

I never understand why mean people have significant others and I consider myself a nice person and can't even get a smile from men my own age in public.

I'm just totally baffled.

Maybe I'm not the catch I think I am and the woman annoys me because deep down, I somehow think I'm like that.

I don't think I am... and I think I'd probably treat a boyfriend better.


But, I don't know.


She's having dinner with her boyfriend tonight, making a recipe I gave her with ingredients she bought at one of my favorite grocery stores.


And I'm listening to Bruno Mars, depressing myself and wishing I had something better to do than count down to a new Ghost Hunters episode.

A for Attitude

Ain't nothin' gonna to break my stride
Nobody's gonna slow me down, oh-no
I got to keep on movin'
Ain't nothin' gonna break my stride
I'm running and I won't touch ground
Oh-no, I got to keep on movin'

You're on a roll and now you pray it lasts
The road behind was rocky
But now you're feeling cocky

The sun is setting earlier and rising later.

As much as I love Fall (being a Fall baby and all), I do not like losing daylight.  As long as the sun shines and the sky is light, I feel like I have plenty of time to accomplish things.

However, I've noticed the past couple of weeks that I've been hitting the snooze more in the morning and rolling out of bed later and later.  The bedroom is cool and dark and I want to stay there.  Then, at night, I sit here in my spare bedroom, clicking away at a work-at-home part-time job and watch the sun set and the skies grow dark.  Before 8:00 p.m.

As soon as it starts to get dark, I start to get sleepy.

Right around this time every year, I start to get a little moody, a little sad.  I think the clinical name for it is seasonal depression.  I've tried various things over the years -- light therapy, aromatherapy, diet changes, exercise, re-arranging furniture, feng shui, vitamins, juices, schedule changes, switching from an electric alarm clock to an old-fashioned wind-up clock, and meditation.  And even good old American pharmaceuticals.

I've been trying to focus on happier things and channeling positive thoughts and energy.  

Every morning, before I go into work, I sit in my car for a few minutes and just try to clear my brain and heart of any negative feelings and thoughts.  Then, I give myself a little pep talk and then listen to some sort of upbeat song on my car stereo.  

Throughout the day, I try to find things to be thankful for, grateful for and happy about.  I try to shake off anything that wants to bring me down or attach itself to me and make me feel worse.

Sometimes... most of the time..  it works.  I can usually make it through the day and make it home in one piece.

I've noticed that I don't seem to be the only one who suffers this, though.  I've noticed that people who normally post frequent and upbeat comments on Facebook are getting scarce.  Friends aren't as interested in going out and doing things as they were when it was lighter later. Co-workers have been grumpy and distant.  Everyone seems tired and worn out.

I have about a month until vacation and the glimmer of hope of having something to do in the middle of October is keeping me moving forward.

I hope I win big so that I can come back and quit the part-time job and maybe try to do something different with my nights and weekends.

Or find a way to make it ok for me to hibernate like a bear.  I think I'd love to crawl into a cave until spring and just sleep.