Torn Between Two Lovers

Torn between two lovers, feelin' like a fool
Lovin' both of you is breakin' all the rules
Torn between two lovers, feelin' like a fool
Lovin' you both is breakin' all the rules
 

You mustn't think you've failed me
Just because there's someone else
You were the first real love I ever had
And all the things I ever said
I swear they still are true
For no one else can have the part of me I gave to you

I've been home from work today, not feeling all that great.

I slept most of the morning away and then decided to go see a doctor.  He diagnosed it as an upper respiratory infection.  But, between you and me, I have a feeling it's probably much more.  I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of a breakdown.   I've been working two jobs for several months, sometimes working 7 days a week, averaging about 75 hours combined for both jobs per week.  I live alone and have no significant other, so that means I have to be pretty self-sufficient.  I do all of the cooking, cleaning, and household chores.  There's no one to talk to at the end of the day to decompress.  No one to take care of me when I don't feel well. No one to check on me or offer to help me.  I'm a tough broad.  I don't always want to be tough, but I have no choice.

So, I think this illness is probably a combination of wearing  myself thin and illness.  I've been worrying about money, about work, about love, about friendship, my health, my weight, the holidays, etc.  Alone.  Worry, worry, worry.   I saw a blurb on someone's status today that said, "When you ask me if I'm okay and I tell you that I am, I sometimes wish you'd look me in the eyes and say "No, you aren't.""  I feel that way sometimes.

But, I don't like to show weakness and to be honest, I'm not sure there's anyone in my life who has the time to be strong for me or with me, if I showed my weakness.  At least, not anyone who can be here in 10 minutes or less if I feel like shoving my head in the oven and need someone to talk me out of it.  (Don't worry - the oven is electric.  All I'd do is burn myself.)

I digress.  I mentioned yesterday that I found some "confession" message boards.  I've spent most of the afternoon like a voyeur reading these confession message boards.  I know I said I wasn't going to reveal them here but some of them are pretty interesting -- in a morbid "drive by the accident and slow down hoping to see blood" way.   

I'm going to list a few I keep going back to read, to see if there is anything new posted.  A lot of the posts are whiny and full of bad grammar and spelling, but every now and then, there will be one that makes me nod my head or makes me want to find the person and talk to him/her.  I'm not going to tell which one, if any of these, is the one where I bared my soul yesterday.  I tried to keep my confessions vague and after reading some of these confessions, I've discovered that I'm not exactly alone in the things I'm feeling and thinking.  I just, in my opinion, articulate them better.  No names.  No profanity.  No gender-specific terms to give myself away.  If you find my confessions, bravo!  But, I probably won't own up to them.

http://www.secret-confessions.com/

http://grouphug.us/

http://www.truuconfessions.com/

http://www.confess-it.com/

http://www.postsecret.com/

On one of the sites, in the archives, I found a common theme -  being in love with two people at the same time.  There are a lot of confused people out there who fancy themselves in love with multiple people and unable (and/or unwilling) to choose just one.

This made me do some thinking.  Is it possible to love more than one person at the same time?  Truly love?  Without bias and while doing it fairly?

How in the heck is that possible?

I can't imagine being able to do it.  I'm a one-man woman.  When I fall for someone, that someone is all I can focus on.  I don't want anyone else.  In fact, I was looking at some photos the other day of men I've loved in my past and I thought it was eye-opening for me that now, looking at them, if I had passed any of them on the street today, I probably wouldn't even give them a second glance.  They are quite ordinary in appearance and not at all like the "hunka hunka burning love" types I joke about wanting.  Not to say I'm shallow or that they are unattractive.  It's just that it was their personalities, as cliche as that sounds, that made me fall in love with them.  And when I was in love with them, they were the most attractive men I knew.

That being said, I often wonder "who" I missed out on by being so narrowly focused on one person.  Maybe the person who is capable of loving two different people at the same time is on to something.  Or -- are they in love with two people who are similar and that is why it is so hard to choose?  How do they decide who they spend time with?  Do the people know about each other?  

Do you think it is possible?  Or is it a case of having your cake and wanting to eat it... and having a pie and wanting to eat it, too?

If someone were in love with someone else AND in love with me, I don't know how I'd feel about that.  I'd wonder if I wasn't giving him something that the other person was and I'd also wonder if there would be a day when he'd choose one of us and feel like I was in a competition.  I don't do well with competition.  I always back down.  Old ghosts and insecurities.  I just don't want to have to fight anyone for someone's heart.  I'm either the first and only choice or no choice.  On the other hand, if I were in love with two men, I think I'd want one of them to try to win me over and convince me that he is the one I want and need above everyone else.

Ahhh, matters of the heart.  Too complicated.  

Still, compared to what I have now (no one), I guess having two to choose from would not be a bad thing.  

I'd rather have two apples to pick from than no apples to pick from.

Confessions

I need another story
Something to get off my chest
My life gets kind of boring
Need something that i can confess

Till all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said
Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no, I've been on the brink, so

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that were like those years
I'm sick of all the insincere
So I'm gonna give all my secrets away

I know it's probably hard to believe, but I have many secrets about things I have done, said and thought that I don't feel comfortable sharing on here, on Facebook or even with close friends.

I carefully select what I want to share of myself.   It may seem at times that I don't edit myself, but I do.  I am a writer.  Words are my business.  I craft them to say what I want to say and portray me the way I want to be portrayed.  Victim.  Hero.  Everywoman.  Unique.  Girl Next Door.  Siren In Training.   I only give what I think is necessary to spin the tale, to weave my words, to draw you in.

If I go too far, I delete the post.  I often come back multiple times to edit posts and make sure that I don't give "too much" away.  I like having some secrets for people to discover about me.

I had a cyber friend once who said to me that just when he thought he had me figured out, I'd do something or say something that totally threw him for a loop and made him rethink his evaluation of me.  I loved that.  I told him I was like an onion.  I have many layers.  As you peel back each layer, you get closer to the heart of me. 

I found a website today for posting anonymous confessions.  Things you want to say to others, things you are feeling, things you are thinking...  You can just write the confession and hit send and it joins others in the cyber realm.  No log in necessary.  No account needed.  No names.  No special code.  Yes, I realize that my IP is probably registered some place in the event I confess something illegal, murderous, etc. 

However, it is very cleansing to be able to type freely the things I can't put here because this is too public.

I don't have to worry about someone passing judgment.  Or the wrong person finding out.  Or fear rejection. Or disapproval. Or disappointment.

I confess....

Confession is good for the soul.  

I'd share the link, but I don't want to give up my nugget.  The one place where I can shout from the rooftops what I'm really thinking and feeling, uncensored and unedited.

I discovered that there are other people who feel some of the same things I feel.  That alone was worth the discovery of the site.

It's quite nice to be able to say what you want to say and have someone else who doesn't even know you give you a thumbs up because they've felt that way, too.

Have you confessed anything lately?  Try it.  

I promise I won't tell anyone.

A Week of Weird

This is the time when you need a friend
You just need someone near
I'm not looking forward to the night I will spend
Thinking of you when you're not here
How many times will I think about the things
I'd like to do
Always denied the right to live my life the way I want
I want to share it with you

Close your eyes I want to ride the skies
In my sweet dreams
Close your eyes I want to see you tonight
In my sweet dreams

I have not been sleeping well this past week.  I haven't felt well -- have been congested, achey and phlemgy.  I also have been worried about other things going on in my life.  I am absolutely worn down and exhausted, but at the end of the day, when I crawl into bed, I can't fall asleep.  I toss and turn for hours until I finally fall asleep.

Then, once I do fall asleep, I've been having weird dreams.  Weird dreams that feature the same person.  The male person I shouldn't be having dreams about. 

In the first dream, I was shopping with some female friends a la Sex in The City -- trying on clothing and shoes like mad women (which is TOTALLY not something I do).  I don't recognize the women but we must have been close because we were having a good time.  We were even drinking while we did it.  Then, I got home to my apartment (the apartment I have now) and he was sitting on my couch, as comfortable as can be, legs stretched out, watching tv.  He patted the cushion beside him and I flopped down, stating I was exhausted.  He put his arm around my shoulders and gave one of those "hang in there" type squeezes.  I then said, "Seriously, why do women enjoy that so much?  Does your girlfriend like shopping?"  He shook his head and said, without making eye contact and while still staring at the tv, "I don't have a girlfriend anymore.  We broke up.  I realized I didn't love her."

Then, I woke up.

In the second dream, I was having a really nice party in a large loft-style apartment.  It was totally open and people were milling everywhere.  Again, it had this "Sex and the City" feel to it.  Very cosmopolitan.  It was summer time.  I had the balcony doors open and people were coming in and out off of the balcony, which had an ocean/water view of some sort.  I must have had money because I had "workers" going through the crowd passing out food and drinks.  I was distracted, though, and kept looking outside, towards the water. Then, every time the front door would open, I'd look towards the door.   People kept trying to talk to me but I just wasn't totally there. At the end of the party, I was telling people good bye and directing my helpers to clean up when this woman rushed into the party and told me that some guy (whose name I don't recognize) had "fallen overboard".  I said something along the lines of "oh no! is he ok?" but wasn't really sure why she was telling me because I didn't know who the guy was.  Then, she said, "There's more.  You need to sit down."  Then, she told me that the guy I do know had jumped in to save him.  I said, "Oh no!  I hope he's ok!" with a little more alarm.  She said, "Honey, neither body has been recovered." 

Then, I woke up from that one.

In the next dream, I posted on Facebook that for my birthday, I treated myself to a pretty pink and purple butterfly tattoo some place on my body and that I wasn't going to disclose where because I was reserving the first viewing of the tattoo for someone special.  (I'm assuming this fixation is based on the Jason Mraz song "Butterfly" in which he is totally mesmerized and turned on by a woman who has a butterfly tattoo. The song gets me all hot and bothered and makes me wish I had the powers to allure a man by simply walking by him.) Well, the next day, I was at work, but not the job I currently have.  I was in a much much larger building in a more metropolitan environment.  A lot of glass and steel.  It looked like what I imagine the inside of a large magazine or other media outlet or entertainment business would look like.  The guy shows up out of nowhere, while I'm walking down the hall, and pulls me into someone's office and says, "Show me the tattoo!"  I look at him and say, "You don't have the right to see my tattoo."  He laughed and tried to back me into a corner, imposing his presence on me, "Woman, I want to see your tattoo! Now!"  I coyly (and I don't do "coy") smirked at him and said, "Sorry!  That option is reserved for someone special!" then before he could respond, I asked him how he even knew about the tattoo.  "I have my ways.  Who is he?  Do I know him?" he responded, in kind of a frustrated and dark tone.  I ducked under his arm and moved away and said, "Maybe!" and then I left the office.

Then, I woke up.

In the next one, I don't remember all of the details, but I was on a bus to Atlantic City to gamble with the guy from the Bachelorette, Mickey, whom I think is very attractive.  I think Mickey and I were on a date (a nice, long date since the bus trip lasts 7 hours each way).  However, the guy was also on the bus with a woman, whom I'm assuming is his girlfriend.  In my dream, the woman looked a lot like Heidi Klum from Project Runway.  I can't remember the entire dream, but the guy kept interrupting me and Mickey asking me for things, asking me questions, etc.   I was annoyed and Mickey seemed more interested in the guy's date than me.

Then, last night, I had this dream that I lived in this huge quirky old house, with back stairwells, and odd-sized rooms.  It was smack dab in the middle of a street filled with businesses and shops, like the only hold-back. The only residence squished in between a Starbucks on one side and a glittery jewelry store on the other.  I was in my bedroom in this house, wearing my nightgown, and being lazy.  I could hear other people in the living room/parlor of my house.  I opened my door a couple of inches and peeked out and there were all sorts of strangers sitting in booths like they were in a pub-style restaurant.  I became very distressed and decided to get dressed.  I started dumping out laundry bags of clothing, looking for something to wear.  I put on a blouse over top of my nightgown and then pulled on some socks.  

Then, I went out but the restaurant was gone.  Instead, there were a few of my friends sitting on low sofas, hunkered over a coffee table, playing a board game.  They looked up and invited me to play.  I didn't want to play.  I wanted to go back into my bedroom.  They begged me to play.  I grudgingly sat down on the floor but still refused to play.  Then, the guy walks into the room, with a camera, and tries to get me to pose for a photo.  I kept covering my face and head or kept turning away just as he'd snap the photo.  He was getting mad at me.  I told him to leave me alone.  I got up and walked away from all of them.  I walked down one of my hallways and just as I got to the end, a door opened and this woman walked in.  We both looked at each other in surprise.  She said, "I think I made a wrong turn!"  So, I walked through the door she had just existed with her and we were both in the middle of a coffee shop.  We looked at each other, very confused.  Then, we exited the coffee shop and were in this pumpkin patch.  I looked at her and said, "You're on your own" and headed back to the coffee shop to go back to my house, but now the coffee shop was an old antique shop.  I couldn't find my way back home and was wandering down the street in my nightgown, blouse and socks.  I turned a corner and there was the guy.  "Are you ready to go home now?" he asked. "Did you know there's a coffee shop in my house?" I asked back.

Then, I woke up.

(sigh)  I never dreamt about the guy until I realized I had some sort of feelings for him.  Now, he's showing up as the star attraction.  None of the dreams make sense to me.  They always leave me feeling unsettled and disturbed.  More exhausted than rested.

I sense loss, struggle, disappointment, hope, affection, playfulness, attraction....  all sorts of emotions, in each of the dreams.

Wishes my heart makes???  (shaking head)

Party Like It's Your Birthday

In Da Club

Go shawty, it's your birthday
We gonna party like it's your birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday

Yeah, I'm quoting 50 Cents.  Or would that be Fiddy Cents?

Tomorrow (or by the time some of you read this, "today") is my birthday.

My two favorite holidays are my birthday and Halloween.  Conveniently, the two are just days apart. 

Birthdays are magical.  Or, have the potential to be magical.  I know most people like Christmas for magic, but not me.  I've already blogged about how I'm not really a fan of Christmas.

However, I believe it all started with the thought of blowing out candles and making a wish.  All of my life, I've been full of wishes.  Wished that I didn't live in a trailer.  Wished that my parents had more money.  Wished I had more friends.  Wished I wasn't the fat kid at school.  Wished I wasn't so shy.  Wished I could have the things that other kids had.  

Then, later, my wishes developed as I did.  Wished for a good college.  A scholarship.  A decent roommate.  To get good grades.  That the guy who sat behind me in psych 101 (read the blog "Pour Some Sugar..." for more on that one) loved me the way I loved him.

Then, it was wishes for a nice apartment, a decent car, more good friends, more love.

I don't remember what I wished for last year, but I'd bet money that it probably had to do with money, love or friendship -- the three things I always want more of.

Wishes are powerful things.  Birthday wishes are super powerful things.   As you can probably tell from reading these blogs, I have a vivid imagination.  I love closing my eyes and blowing out the candles and making my wish.

The realist in me knows that the wishes probably won't come true, but it doesn't stop me from doing it every year.

Every year, on my birthday, I buy a cupcake (eventhough I'm not really a "cake" kind of person) and put a candle in it and make my wish.  I figure that my odds have to get better eventually and that some day, the wish will come true.

I take great care in not "wasting" my birthday wish.  I try to clear my mind before I blow out the candle to make sure nothing silly jumps into my mind at the last minute like "I wish I don't catch my eyebrows on fire" and ruin a perfectly good wish.

I've been having a crappy couple of weeks.  I wrote two bummer blogs (and deleted both of them) because I've been in a bummer mood.  I'm not feeling well, either, which doesn't help.  Being sad and sick at the same time sucks the happy right out of happy birthday. 

A friend sent me flowers to perk me up for my birthday and they are very pretty flowers.  I love them and my friend for surprising me. The only thing that overshadowed the flowers was that a few people at work made assumptions about the sender of the flowers, kind of embarrassing me and making me super self-conscious about a friendship I have at work. Made me worry that I've said or done something to make them jump to those conclusions, and worst, made me worry that the conclusions will get communicated to the co-worker and harm a friendship. It's the last thing I need right now. :(

So, this year I bought a whole box of birthday candles.  I haven't gotten the cupcake yet.  My "favorite" cupcake comes from The Fresh Market.  It has both chocolate and white icing and sometimes, they swirl it like a yin-yang, and I think it looks mystical and magical.  I want the yin to my yang.  So, it seems appropriate that it's the perfect cupcake for making a birthday wish.

On Friday, after work, I'll drive to the Fresh Market and get my cupcake. Then, I plan on blowing out each and every candle in that box, then I'm going to bed, hoping that when I wake up on Saturday morning, at least one of the wishes will come true.

If not, at least I'll still have the cupcake to eat for breakfast.

Viva Las Vegas

Bright light city gonna set my soul
Gonna set my soul on fire
Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,
So get those stakes up higher
There's a thousand pretty women waitin' out there
And they're all livin' devil may care
And I'm just the devil with love to spare
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas

How I wish that there were more
Than the twenty-four hours in the day
'Cause even if there were forty more
I wouldn't sleep a minute away
Oh, there's black jack and poker and the roulette wheel
A fortune won and lost on ev'ry deal
All you need's a strong heart and a nerve of steel
Viva Las Vegas, Viva Las Vegas

My much anticipated vacation and attempt to cure my American debt... and tell a job I can't stand to stuff it ... has come and gone.  As the saying goes, "Time flies when you are having fun!"

I left early on Friday morning for the airport.  I like to get to the airport early.  Probably too early.  This all stems from a vacation many years ago where I had to do a movie-style sprint through the airport to my gate and just got there as they were calling final boarding because of events that conspired against me and almost caused me to miss my flight.

I pulled into the long-term parking garage and got a little confused and ended up in this sub-ground section that was dark and almost empty.  I didn't want to park in this building but I had already gotten a ticket and I was afraid that if I left, I'd have to pay for the whole day.  I walked several rows trying to find the elevator and as I turned a corner, this man came out of nowhere, wearing a cowboy hat and pulling a suitcase.  He smiled at me and asked me if I was lost.  I said, "No" very quickly and he tipped his hat and blew me a kiss.  He kind of creeped me out.  All I kept seeing in my head was me meeting up with some rapist or serial killer in the bowels of some dark parking garage after my late-night flight got in.  I hurried back to my car and left.  The parking attendant didn't charge me anything, so I circled around and entered another parking garage, one I've used before and knew had a direct entrance into the airport.

Security and boarding were effortless and the wait at the gate was fairly pleasant.  Watched some tv.  People watched.  Practiced in my head what I'd say to my boss when I told her I had won money and was quitting.

The flight, however, was not so effortless.  I guess it didn't occur to me that the airline would not sell something more substantial than snack foods... and I had skipped lunch.  I had a bagel for breakfast - hours before the flight left.  I was absolutely starving during the flight.  I kept eating ice cubes and asking the flight attendant for more water.

I like a nice quiet flight.  No crying babies.  No chatty seat mates.  Just me, my thoughts and maybe a good book.  I bought WORLD WAR Z just for the flight.  Nothing says long-flight entertainment like a book about a zombie apocalypse.

Across the aisle, I had a mother and child watching movies without a headphone on a DVD player.  Behind me, I had three people who talked about politics the entire 5 hour trip.  They covered everything from the Iran hostage situation in the 80s to the most recent terror alerts about someone in the Middle East.  Military, politics, and religion, oh my.  5 looooooooooooooong hours.  I felt like I was stuck in some history or political science class I didn't mean to take.  They were loud and opinionated.  I kept praying that someone would tell them to shut the f*ck up.

Once I got to Vegas, I met up with my friend Rod at baggage claim and then we headed to a salad bar buffet for late lunch/early dinner.  I was so hungry I could have eaten my right foot.  We caught up and chatted for a bit.  Then, he took me to his school and gave me a tour.  After that, we went to his house and I met his friend Craig and reconnected with his mother.  It had been over 15 years since I saw his mother.

We hung out for a bit then Rod, his mother and I went to a locals' favorite type casino.  I had no luck and wasn't feeling any sort of vibe.  We wandered around there for a bit and then went to TGI Friday's for dinner. They were having Halloween-themed drink specials.  One, called the Mummy Maker, caught my eye. It had "Sex on the Beach" in it and that's my favorite mixed cocktail.  It also had a gummy eye in it.  It made me giggle because I have this semi-private joke with a co-worker about my blown pupil incident and have been obsessed with finding things with just one eye.  The waiter, Paul, was young and attractive.  I shared with Rod and his mom that there were 4 possible outcomes for my weekend: 1) unplanned pregnancy, 2) unplanned wedding, 3) unplanned jail visit and/or 4) big win.  Like me, they all hoped for the big win.  (Secretly, 1 and 2 didn't sound too unpleasant -- depending on who the baby daddy and spontaneous spouse were.) 3 had no appeal at all.  I do not look good in orange.  I had two "mummy makers".  The first was a regular sized drink.  The second was much much larger.  Maybe Paul wanted a good tip.  Maybe Paul really wanted to be a baby maker.   I made sure to give him a nice tip.

Then, my body clock reminded me of the time difference and started to shut down.  We went home.  I went to bed.  I fell asleep instantly and had no dreams.  Nice, solid, deep sleep.

I was awake at the butt-crack of dawn on Saturday (thanks to my body clock).  Hung out with Rod and Craig for awhile.  Then, we headed out for breakfast at an Omelet House.  AWESOME cheap food.  Had biscuits and gravy while watching a parade of cars use the dumpster behind the restaurant.  Kept expecting to see someone pull up and take a rolled up carpet with feet poking out from the trunk and toss it in.  Tried to engage the boys in some dumpster diving but they passed.  We headed to the Cosmopolitan and Aria casinos, which are relatively new and which are now in the location where my favorite hotel/casino, the Boardwalk Holiday Inn, used to be located.  I was mesmerized by the high end decorations and shopping.  Had mental "Pretty Woman" moments of being able to walk into any store and buy anything I wanted, especially at Tiffany and Co.  Then, we went to the MGM to do the CSI Experience. 

I really liked that.  I wish it had been a little more hands on, but I enjoy solving puzzles and just like when I watch the show, I had the crime solved in my head almost immediately.  Entered my data and findings into a computer at the end and solved the crime.  Received a diploma via email.

Then, we headed back to the house.  Craig made grilled chicken for dinner.  Then, Rod and I headed to the Hilton to see THE KING, featuring Trent Carlini.  We had general admission tickets but there were so few people there that we were in the second row.  We were so close that Elvis' crotch region was almost "reach out and touch" close.  I have to admit -- I had some impure thoughts about Elvis.  He had a rather... nice... package.  And in tight black pants.  And it's been awhile for me.  So, I allowed myself to fantasize.  He had a nice tush too.  At one point, I was mentally undressing him (he was wearing black leather) and I could have sworn he looked right at me.  I was very embarrassed.  And hot.  I wouldn't have minded adding a nice little "what happens in Vegas" moment with him.  I'm sure he probably gets it a lot.  Women who want Elvis.  He came through the audience at one point and I shook his hand.  I told Rod I was gonna grab his butt, but I chickened out for fear of jail visit.  After the show, I bought some souvenirs and posed for a photo with him.  He seemed smaller and shorter up close.  But, he was still Elvis.   I had dreams about him that night.  Work dreams, though.  I dreamt that my boss hired another trainer and it was an attractive Elvis impersonator and I told my boss that I couldn't work with him because I wanted to do him.  So, she told me to go ahead and do him and get it out of my system because she needed both of us for training.  But, I get ahead of myself.

After the show, we lingered in the casino and I found a penny slot machine I really liked and kept playing the same $20 over and over.  I made it all the way to $60 at one point and cashed out, but then blew the money on quarter and dollar slots, trying to hit some sort of progressive jackpot.   We then went home, hung out a little bit and then I crawled into bed.  Had the Elvis dream.  Slept great.

On Sunday, Rod and Craig made breakfast.  Then, Rod and I went to Caesar's Palace because a co-worker suggested it as having "better" slots than others.  Yeah, no such luck.  I lost a fair bit of money and called it a day.  We drove around for a bit and then headed back home to change and get ready for the Lion King.

I wasn't too thrilled about the Lion King, to be honest.  Now, I love musicals.  I love Disney.  It's just that when the Lion King came out, I had a friend who had a kid and she played the soundtrack over and over and over.  I was so sick of singing and dancing animals that I boycotted the cartoon and anything to do with it.  However, we had great seats and the 2nd half, which focused more on character development and love, than singing and dancing animals wasn't too bad. I got a little teary during "Can You Feel The Love?".

Afterwards, I was super cranky because I was hungry.  I really wanted something Italian.  We went to the Macaroni Grill.  Afterwards, we went home, but I wasn't ready to call it a night.  I wanted one more shot to hit it big.  So, Rod's mom and I went to another locals type casino.  I played for awhile on the same $20, even doubling it at one point.  Then, I took my credit voucher for $29 and put it in the $1 megabucks slot.  I played for awhile, winning just enough to keep it going but not so much that I wanted to quit.  Then, it was all gone and we went home.  I was exhausted but not sleepy so sent some texts to some friends back home.

On Monday, Rod wasn't feeling well so we just hung out at his place in the morning, then, because I was too anxious about my flight, I asked them to take me to the airport early so I could get some lunch and hang out before my flight.  I was several hours early and it was probably a good thing because the printer jammed while printing my suitcase sticker in ticketing.  We had to wait 30 minutes for an IT person to fix the issue because once the jam was cleared, it would not print another sticker.  That was finally fixed.  Then, I got to go through a full body scan machine at the security checkpoint.  I had "4 markers", whatever that means, so I got tagged for a pat down.  It was a little awkward but I just kept focusing on the fact that I wasn't a terrorist and that it was just to make sure we were all safe.  I mean, the saddle bags attached to my ass might not be fat.  They might be highly explosive material.  Must be checked.  They should have the guys from Thunder Down Under do the pat downs.  At least make it worth my time.

Then, once I got to my gate, I discovered my flight was delayed at least 2 hours.  I wandered to the food court, watched people play slots, wondered where they get all of the money to play so heavily, wandered the shops, and then settled in at my gate to do more people watching.  I sent some texts to friends about my pat-down experience and flight delays, hoping to generate some interaction while I waited on my flight.  Thank you to Mandy and Kendall for playing along! 

There was a Bradley Cooper type -- no wedding ring, dress slacks, button down shirt -- sitting on the floor, tapping away on a computer near my gate.  He was attractive in a scruffy business-traveler way.  I kept watching him and making up fantasies in my head about us being seat mates and striking up a conversation.  He'll be moving to Norfolk and I'll offer to show him around.  We hang out, fall in love and have a little house in the suburbs with 2.5 kids, a dog and Abby.  

Then, once we finally boarded, by some stroke of luck, he ended up across the aisle, but a row in front of me.  I covertly watched him most of the flight.  He had nice hands.  Typed fast.  At one point, he had Facebook up and I was trying to see his name/profile.  Relationship status?  Location?  Can I poke you, sir?  He fell asleep at one point and I kept trying to listen for snoring.  Yea, I'm a sad sad case, eh?  It's time for me to find someone or get really drunk, hit the local military-filled bar, get laid and get on with my life.  Yea, I said it.

My seat mate was a young LL Cool J lookalike.  He was traveling to Norfolk to spend some time with his wife.  He told me that she had come to Vegas on vacation and they met in a bar.  They hooked up, fell in love and got married -- very quickly.  So now they travel back and forth, one long weekend together each month in either Vegas or Norfolk.  He said he wants to move to Norfolk but his ex-wife and three kids are in Vegas and he didn't want to be away from them.  She (his wife) wants to move to Vegas, but the job market isn't that great.  I mentioned to him that it must be rough (and expensive) trying to maintain a long-distance relationship.  He said, "It's not so bad.  It's like falling in love all over again when we get together."  That one made me get a little misty-eyed.  

We landed at 2:00 and I was home by 2:45.  I was absolutely freaking exhausted.  I slept a few hours and then made myself get up at my normal time so that I can try to keep my body on East Coast time.  I've been running around all day trying to do a weekend's worth of errands in one day.

So, now I'm home.  I shall now listen to some Jason Mraz and try to perk myself up.  Vacations are so bittersweet.  I enjoy the break from the same old, same old, but then I wish my same old, same old wasn't so.... old.  Or same.

Can't Help Falling In Love

Wise men say only fools rush in
but I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
some things are meant to be
take my hand, take my whole life too
for I can't help falling in love with you

Like a river flows surely to the sea
Darling so it goes
some things are meant to be
take my hand, take my whole life too
for I can't help falling in love with you
for I can't help falling in love with you

So, here I am, a few days away from leaving for Las Vegas.  I haven't had a real vacation in over 4 years and this one is much needed.  I wish I had more time off, but, next time I won't wait until the year is half-way over and I've already used up most of my time off before deciding to take a real vacation.

I'm absolutely exhausted.  I have so much to do to get ready for my trip and I always overplan, overthink and overpack.  I wish I could be one of those people who can toss underwear and a toothbrush into a bag and just take off.  But, nooooooo.  I have to make sure I plan for every possible catastrophe that might happen while I'm there.  I also like to make sure I plan for every possible ... hmmm, what's the word that means the opposite of catastrophe? ...  joyous moment that might happen.

I've already blogged about how I get morbid about traveling and the "what if" of dying while I'm traveling.  The "death letters" have been written and I've tagged both Janelle and Mandy to be my bearers of news in the event something happens to me.  I've pasted my itinerary into my work calendar.  I've printed copies of "ICE" letters and contact information for my apartment, car, suitcase and purse.  I even made up a separate letter for my friend Kendall who is going to check on Abby while I'm gone giving her permission to make veterinary decisions for me while I'm gone. 

I still have to do laundry, wash dishes, take out the trash, set up extra food, water and cat litter stations for Abby.  I need to decide what to pack and what outfits I'm going to wear.  I need to charge the cell phone.  I need to put new batteries in my camera.  I need to get a bigger memory card for my camera.  I need to get money out of the bank.  I need to make sure any tv shows or movies that come on this weekend are DVR'd.  A friend told me that he was disappointed that I gave up on WALKING DEAD last season so I noticed there's a marathon on Sunday leading up to the new season.  I've set the DVR to record that, too.  I need to get my prescriptions refilled.   Then, finally, after all of this, I'll need to pack and then clean out my purse so that I'm only hauling the essentials in there.  Oh, I also need to compile my list of favorite people who will get souvenirs from my trip and make sure to set aside money for that.

I'm ready for a vacation from my vacation and I haven't even left yet.

So, to the reason why I've yanked the entire Elvis Presley song into my blog?

Well, it is my absolute most favorite Elvis song ever.  I used to fantasize about having it at my wedding, when I foolishly believed I'd be getting married some day.

But, it also has other significance.  Ten years ago -- June 2001, I was in Las Vegas visiting with my friend Rodney.  On my last day in town, I was in my hotel room, packing and getting ready to go home.  It was late.  I realized I didn't have any singles to use for tips on the way home (baggage carriers, shuttle drivers, etc - not exotic dancers or anything) so I quickly got dressed in a not-fit-for-public outfit that I had packed to lounge in.  I don't even think I put on a bra, to be honest.  I grabbed a $20 from my purse and my room key and headed to the gift shop to break the $20.  You had to walk through the casino to get from the gift shop to the hotel.

As I passed the "Elvis" slot machines, one on the end was playing "Can't Help Falling in Love".  I stopped and fed a $5 bill into the machine.  A few spins later, I was $2500 richer.

I was so danged excited!  I opted for cash and carried the money back to my room and spread it out on my bed and contemplated rolling around on it like Demi Moore does in INDECENT PROPOSAL. 

It's amazing how much $2500 feels like when you don't have much money.  I came home and quit a second job, enrolled in the University of Phoenix to work towards my master's (which I eventually decided I didn't want), ended a dead-end relationship and joined weight watchers with the money.  I still had plenty left over to tide me over for months.

So, I'm hoping for a repeat this year, only magnified by larger amounts and more impact.  I have been practicing the law of attraction by writing the phrase "I am a winner of millions of dollars!" over and over on paper.  I'm also dating it for this weekend so that the Powers That Be don't say, "Well, you didn't exactly say WHEN you'd win this money, so be patient."  I don't want to be an Alanis Morrisette lyric " An old [wo]man turns 98, wins the lottery and dies the next day..."

I want to quit my part-time job and look into possibly starting my own business.  Maybe even look into the baby thing I was talking about a few blogs back.  Make some drastic changes in my life.  Things way more drastic than $75 highlights that only 3 people noticed.  More drastic than the butterfly tattoo I want to get. More drastic than possibly moving to the Eastern Shore. More drastic than finally writing the novel I mentioned a couple of blogs back (which no one has really been able to help me with.)

I don't care that wise men say that only fools rush in.

I'm ready to rush.  Headfirst.  Into what, I'm not exactly sure.

This is my last blog until I get back from vacation.  

Me, Me, Me...

I wanna talk about me
Wanna talk about I
Wanna talk about number one
Oh my me my
What I think
What I like
What I know
What I want
What I see

Am not feeling inspired to write a blog.  Not sure why.  Stuff has been happening but aside from writing about my weird dreams (and I had another one last night), I can't quite get the juices flowing.  Maybe I'm distracted by the fact that this might be my last week as a two-job working, semi-depressed office drone and that next week, I will be an independently wealthy, no job working, no longer depressed, former office drone who sleeps in every day and does whatever the fuck I want, whenever the fuck I want.

So...  how about another mindless list of things about me?  What the heck?

1.  My mom wanted to name me Crystal Dawn.  My dad had a grocery list with "Beverly Farms Milk" on it.  I became Beverly Jean.  Beverly after the milk and Jean after his oldest sister.

2.  I was born with blonde hair and had blonde hair until I was two.

3.  Macadamias, brazils, almonds, pecans and walnuts are my favorite nuts, in that order.

4. I love sleeping in a totally pitch black, so dark you can't see anything room, despite the fact I was afraid of the dark until I left for college.

5. I am tired of being invisible to people.

6. Sometimes, when I'm driving, I feel the urge to rear end stupid drivers in front of me who talk on their cell phones and drive like a$$holes.

7.  It bugs me when the creepy guy at work makes comments that I'm sexy and that he loves me in front of people.  I know he's harmless, but I don't feel flattered by it.  He's not what/who I want flirting with me.  I also know he has a daughter my age, so I wonder how he'd feel if someone was doing it to her.

8. I wish I had a room in my apartment like a "greenhouse" filled with all sorts of plants and flowers.

9. I like receiving flowers but I'd prefer a plant because it lasts longer.

10. I get excited just thinking what you might be like.  oops, that one just slipped in there.  I'm listening to Rick Springfield on Pandora as I type this.

11.  Clowns creep me out.  I blame Stephen King's IT.

12. I don't like to eat birthday cake after people blow out candles because all I can think about is the spit that was probably just blown all over the cake.

13.  I like hugs.

14. I don't like bugs.

15. I love when Abby cuddles up against me when I'm sleeping and I can feel her purring vibrations through the blankets. 

16. I wish more people read my blog.

17. I love when I can make a person laugh... genuinely laugh... and not that fake "I'm humoring you" type of laugh.

18. I like being called Bevy.

19. I worry about dying alone.

20. I love when little beams of sunlight sneak through the crack in my curtains in the morning and wake me up before the alarm clock, and I can just lie there and enjoy the sunlight.

21. I sit in my car for a couple of minutes every morning before work and listen to positive music and then give myself a pep talk for the day.

22. I think I was probably a better supervisor than I gave myself credit for being.

23. I've discovered that I really like Lifesavers "jelly" candies, especially the red ones.

24. One of my favorite things about fall is that you can buy candy apples in the grocery store.

25. I really do want to find the male version of myself someday, but only when both he and I ready for a real relationship.  

26. I kind of want to get a tattoo but I don't know what kind or where to get it.

27.  I lightened my hair color and no one noticed.

28. I love breakfast foods and could eat them for every meal.

29. Someone told me that "Jess" from the tv show New Girl reminds them of me sometimes and it made me smile, because she's my favorite character on tv right now.

30. Would probably have a one-night stand with someone in Vegas if the mood was right and the chemistry was good.

31. Thinks it would be fun to have a talk show like the Ellen Degeneres Show. 

32. Is getting a little burned out with Facebook but likes stalking people so I probably won't cancel anytime soon.

33. Thinks that when I win the lottery or hit it big in Vegas, I might look for a house on the Eastern Shore, despite my dislike of bridge/tunnel combinations.

34. Really wants a new mattress set.

35. Likes staying in motels/hotels.

36. Misses late night phone calls from good friends to just talk about anything and nothing for hours.

37. Would love to have my pick of super hero powers for a day.

38. Wishes my neighbors would pick up after their dogs.

39. Loves the smell and taste of cotton candy.

40.  Loves carnivals and fairs.

41. Cusses more than I used to.

42. Drinks more than I used to.

43. Would love to have lived in the 50s and 60s.

44. Thinks time travel would be way cool.

45. Wants a flashy red car, preferably something vintage and sporty.

46. Can't wait to go to Vegas.  So excited.

47. Is still craving butter pecan ice cream.

48. Is feeling kind of cranky and tired.

49. Is struggling to come up with 50 things.

50. Made it to # 50.

I'm Mr. Brightside

And I just can't look it's killing me
And taking control

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

I had one of the most bizarre dreams I've had in awhile this afternoon.

I had a beer while watching the Steelers game on TV and then started to get a headache so I decided to lie down for a little bit until the headache passed.  Had no intention of napping.  Especially not on a Sunday. But I fell asleep and slept deeply for over 2 hours.

In my dream, I am sitting at one of those cafeteria-style tables with built in benches in what looks like a school gymnasium or cafeteria.  There are four of us, spaced out at the table.  Two on one side.  Two on the other.

I'm wearing a full skirt and baby pink button down cardigan.  Very private school circa the 50s/60s.

I'm sitting across from a man whose face is blurred but he is built like young Elvis in the Viva Las Vegas video I posted on Facebook earlier.  Lean hips, tallish, slender build, wide shoulders, dark hair.

We're all taking a fill-in-the blank style test and there is a proctor walking around in the room.

The test, however, is all about VH1's Top 100 Songs of 00s.  100 questions.  Each one contains a missing word or two in the title or artist of a song.  Pretty easy. 

The guy across from me would make these "Score!" motions with his hands/arms as he completed questions.  I thought this was funny.  He'd whisper "Score!" and then make a cheering crowd sound.  The proctor would shush him.  We'd make (blurry) eye contact and I'd smile.

So, then as I was answering my questions, I'd hum parts of the songs as I was answering my questions.  The proctor kept shushing me.  The guy would chuckle then cough to cover up the chuckle.

I got to the last question and the question was:  100.  Mr. ___________ by The Killers.

I wrote in Brightside and then as loud as I could, I started singing the verse I pasted above:

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea
Swimming through sick lullabies
Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay
Destiny is calling me
Open up my eager eyes

Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

The proctor rushed over to me.  I handed her my test and left the room.

I went to the restroom down the hall and then thought about just leaving, but then I looked down and realized I was in socks and that my shoes were back in the gymnasium.

As I got to the door of the gym, it opened and Mr. Tall, Dark and Assumedly Handsome was coming out and carrying my shoes.  He gave them to me and said, "Wanna get out of here for a little bit?"

We walked outside to a parking lot and got into this hybrid type sedan.

We started driving down Virginia Beach Blvd, toward Town Center.  Neither one of us were saying anything to each other.  I was watching the scenery pass by.  Then, something compelled me to reach for his right hand with my left hand.  They fit perfectly and he had the softest skin.  He squeezed my hand and kept staring straight ahead.  I smiled and looked out the passenger side window.

Then, all of sudden, he jerked his hand away and I felt totally rejected, but then I realized it was to shift gears. (Note to self:  do not date men with manual transmissions.)  I looked to the left and noticed we were now in the town where I grew up and I said to him, "Over there is where I grew up!"  We were on the street that runs parallel to my street, with a creek in between. "Really?" he said and he made a left turn over a bridge and as we were turning left onto my street, a deer darted in front of the car.  He stopped short and then we drove down the street.  I pointed out the trailer I grew up in, my grandparents' house, my grandfather's garage, my grandmother's store and then the shack that my brother lives in on occasion, when he's between women.

When we were at the end, he said, "That was a short street!"  I giggled thinking he was being funny.  He looked at me oddly.  "That's the name of the street.  Short Street," I explained.  Then, we both laughed and he kept on driving.  A few seconds later, we were back at the parking lot of the school.

I opened up the car door and accidentally hit him in the chest with it because I didn't realize he was being gentlemanly and coming around to open my door.  The car was no longer a car, though.  It was a teal-blue Ford Ranger truck. (Do they still make those?)

We went back into the cafeteria and took our original seats.

A few seconds later, a woman walks into the room from a door on the opposite side.  It was my boss from my day job.  She said, "Thanks for waiting!  I'm not going to have the test results today.  I got tied up making costumes for the Halloween pagent.  You can go ahead and go home."  Then, she left.

We walked back out to the parking lot.  I walked to my car.  It really was the car I drive now.  I blurted, "I'm going home and making pancakes!"  He said, "I love pancakes!"  Then, we sort of stood there and then he said "good night" and walked away.  His car was back to his hybrid type car.

As I drove away in my car, I said to myself, "I should have asked him over for pancakes."

Then, I woke up.

With a headache.  And craving pancakes.  And hearing "Mr. Brightside" in my head.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh......   Like I posted on Facebook the other day -- if dreams are wishes the heart makes, then my heart is truly messed up.

Surprises Let Me Know You Care

All the small things
True care, truth brings
I'll take, one lift
Your ride, best trip

Always, I know
You'll be at my show
Watching, waiting
Commiserating

Say it ain't so
I will not go
Turn the lights off
Carry me home

Na, na, na

Late night, come home
Work sucks, I know
She left me roses by the stairs
Surprises let me know she cares

I've decided to take a stab at writing a book again.  Inspired by all of these blogs I've been writing.

But, I need your help.

I've been bouncing around the kind of book I want to write and my heart keeps going back to a romance so that I can maybe put some of my past fantasies, current dreams and future hopes on paper.  "He's Just That Not Into You" has already been done, so I'm going to try something upbeat and positive.  :)

However, I'm rusty in the romance department and to be honest, my ways of dealing with relationships and romance are not exactly the most traditional.  I'm not sure mainstream publishers would like a book where the woman does the pursuing and then says the hell with it and rents a stack of DVDs once she realizes the guy isn't interested. :)

So -- I hope you'll help me. 

An idea I've bounced around for awhile involves a young woman who sets a goal for herself to go out on 30 dates with 30 different men before settling down.  I'm thinking she will be a serial short-term relationship sort who dates men for a bit, "falls madly in love" with them while she is dating them and then is totally demolished when it is over.  It will be quirky and funny.  Chick lit over traditional romance.  

Then, one of her friends challenges her to just "date for awhile" and not fall in love with every man she meets.  She'll also be someone who has a "type" she typically goes for and her friends will encourage her to date "outside her type".  So, she sets a goal to date 30 men before getting serious about anyone again, whether it takes one month or one year.  Nothing serious until all 30 dates/30 men have been completed.

Of course, the twist will be that she will meet someone outside of the dating challenge who is interested in her but she isn't aware of it -- or she's so focused on her goal that she doesn't see it -- and he keeps trying to get her to see him as a potential.  

This is where I get a little... bumpy... in my outline.   What does he do?  How does he let her know?  Keep in mind that this is a romance novel which means that it can't be something so obvious as "Hey, I like you.  Screw those other men.  Date me!"  There has to be some subtlety to it, but something that not every other guy she knows (i.e. male friends) do.  I think I'm going to take the approach that she keeps thinking he's just joking and/or flirting.  Maybe have him be a recovering serial "serious dater" himself that she sees a lot of herself in and doesn't think he can commit long-term.  Maybe a neighbor, client or co-worker that she fears ruining their existing relationship if she even entertains the thought of dating him.

What are some ways you (if you aren't a male, pretend...) would let someone know you were interested without coming right out and letting them know?

You can respond by comment here, on my Facebook, by message on FB or you can email me.  I'd appreciate any help you can provide.

If you aren't single anymore, what worked for you?  How did you let someone know you were interested?  How did someone let you know they were interested?

Games People Play

Oh the games people play now
Every night and every day now
Never meaning what they say now
Never saying what they mean

Games People Play

I don't like to play "games" with people.  Emotional games. Mind games.

I grew up with a mother who loved to play mind games, emotional games.  It exhausted me.  Everything had an ulterior motive.  Nothing made her happy.  She was really good at making you feel guilty about not making her happy and she wasn't happy unless she was making other people miserable.  She would hint about things and never tell you outright what she wanted or was feeling or thinking until AFTER she was disappointed and hurt.

Birthdays, Mother's Day and Christmas were pure hell because you'd try to get her what she wanted but it was never exactly right.  She'd hint for weeks about a purse.  But, then whatever purse we bought wasn't THE purse she wanted. My dad would always tell her to just tell us what she wanted but then she'd get mad and tell us that if she had to tell us, it wasn't special or a surprise.  I dreaded her reactions to things.

Now, I send cards with cash and/or a gift card and then call her 5 minutes before one of her "shows" is about to come on so that I don't have to listen to her gripe for hours about what she did or didn't get.  I never get a thank you.  I always get to hear about what everyone else didn't do for her.  

She's a sad, miserable woman and I worry that I'll become her some day.

I don't believe in playing mind games.  I tend to be a pretty straight forward person.  If you ask me for ideas for what to get me for my birthday or Christmas, I'll give you some ideas.  Sure, I'd love to be surprised, too, and hope that you know me well enough by now to know what I do and don't like and what will please me.  If you ask me what I'm thinking or feeling, I'll tell you.  What you see is what you get. Sometimes, I'll tell you even if you didn't ask. :)

If you don't know me by now... (Hmmmmm, now I have that song stuck in my head... oh and this one too.)

However, there is something that I have caught myself doing that could push the envelope on game-playing.  I test people.  As in, I create situations to see how they react to gauge how well they know me or how well they are listening to me.  I just realized a few weeks ago that I do it.  I've noticed that I usually do it when my insecurities are surfacing or when I feel out of sorts about things or where I stand with people.

I'll tell a friend about a huge deadline, project or other important thing and then as that date nears, I wonder in the back of my head if they'll remember it and say something.  

You see, I'm the kind of person who remembers just about everything that people I care about tell me.  Sometimes, I pretend I'm not paying attention but the reality is that I have a memory like an elephant and can oftentimes recall word for word, entire conversations.  Right down to who was wearing what.  It's just this quirky Sheldon-esque thing I do. (Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory reference.)  

At my last job, I used to be called upon on many occasions to settle bets and clear up things that were and were not said during meetings or lunch.  I've been a good addition to many a trivia game.  Just today, my boss commented that she was amazed that I could recite entire passages from movies when she can barely remember what she wore on Monday. 

I digress.  Because I do pay attention to such minutia, I hope others are as keen and detail-oriented about me.  I make it a priority to check in on my friends and make sure that their deadlines, special projects and important things turned out fine, even if it makes them uncomfortable to talk about it.  I care.  I listen.

So, I don't know if it's because I've been feeling a little insecure about friendships lately... or lonely... or because there's just not enough drama in my life...  but I've been dropping little (and not so little) nuggets into conversations, IMs, emails, posts, my blog, phone calls, texts, etc about things going on in my life to see if people respond.  To see if people are paying attention.  To see if people give a f*ck.

I've been kind of disappointed, to be honest.

I know everyone is busy.  I know people are tired.  I know there are tons of other things going on in the world.  However, if I have to tell anyone one more time when my birthday is (especially after I've been counting down to it for over a month now) or when I leave for Vegas (again, I've been counting down), I may just scream.  

Remember how I posted about feeling invisible sometimes?  This isn't helping.

I think this is why I'd like to have someone read my mind.

It hurts.  And it makes me want to be less of a friend.

It also makes me look long and hard in the mirror and wonder how long until I start leaving Target ads lying around with purses circled, or coupons for Ponderosa on the kitchen table, or cut letters out of magazines and leave random notes in various places telling people what I want, how I feel, who I am.

Luckily, my doctor prescribed some nice white pills to calm me down if I ever feel like throwing a tantrum...

Now I'm going to bed.  No, you don't need to remember that.  I won't expect you to call me and tell me good night or offer to tuck me in.

You're off the hook.  For now.