Nothing Ever Happens

And nothing ever happens if you stay in your room

Nothing ever happens if you leave the party too soon

You'll never be a winner if you're not in the game

Nothing ever happens if you always play it safe

Make a little space and get out of your own way

I've been in a bit of a rut lately.  Hamster in wheel. Spinning. Spinning. Twirling.  Moving forward but going nowhere.  Feels like I've been in the rut forever, to be honest. 

Then, at the beginning of the year, I made up my mind that I could stay in my rut and be miserable or I can do something about it.

As with any change, there is usually some sort of catalyst.  Something that prompts a person to make changes.  To shake things up. My catalyst was discovering that someone I was interested in is interested in someone else. I felt invisible.  Insignificant. I don't like feeling invisible and insignificant. I can't do anything about this person and the feelings they don't have for me, but I've decided that I'm not going to be invisible to the next person.  

You always hear the phrase, "You have to love yourself before you can love another person."  Although I'm fairly confident most days and have many great qualities that my friends like to point out to me often, I have a hard time accepting that I am lovable as I am.  I don't love myself.  I haven't loved myself for a long time. An old school friend came back into my life recently and called me beautiful in a message and it made me cry.  I want to look in the mirror and see what they see.  I just don't.  I can see beauty in others.  I can feel love and warmth and caring for others, so the logic should be that I should be able to do it for myself.  

So, I've been a woman on mission.  My mission is to stop being invisible to myself as well.  

How can I expect someone to know that I want to be anything else with them if I kind of try to fade into the background, wear clothing that is baggy and too big, and try to keep a nice wall around myself using jokes and witty repartee?  There was a part of me that wanted a chick flick -- where my personality and sense of humor would be the reason someone fell in love with me (like in that The Truth About Cats and Dogs movie), but the reality is -- men fall in love with their eyes first.  By the time they get to know my personality, their eyes have already dismissed me.

My job is having a weight loss challenge.  We had one last year. I was successful last year but did not take it as seriously as I should have.  I am using the weight loss challenge to motivate myself to make change happen.  To reduce my invisibility factor.  In my eyes and everyone else's.

It's a lot of hard work.  However, I've done it before.  I can do it again.

I'm very... tenacious.   When I really want something, I go after it with gusto.  With each success, the gusto grows.

I've never exactly been someone who ate poorly -- meaning that I am not your stereotypical fatty who eats fast food and drinks gallons of soda every night.  Nothing at all like those "600 lb Woman" stories you see on TLC where they need a crane to hoist her out of her potato chip crumb encrusted LaZboy Recliner.  I just don't eat the right way.  I skip breakfast. I sometimes scarf down my microwave meal lunch in 15 minutes or fewer and go back to work.  I didn't drink enough water.  I would sometimes only have one meal each day on the weekends.  I eat late.  I make poor choices.  

I'm a diabetic and know this is not smart.  When I was first diagnosed in 2002, I had to attend nutrition classes and one of the first things the nutritionist commented on was the fact that I was actually under-eating.  My body was constantly in starvation mode because I wasn't keeping it fueled regularly.  So, it would store every ounce of fat for fear that another meal might be coming soon.  She used the analogy of a coal-fed train.  She said that the engineer could stoke the oven in the morning and then ignore it all day, but the train wouldn't get very far.  She said in order to keep the train moving, the engineer had to keep putting more coal into the train to keep it running.  We have to do that to our bodies as well.

So, I've been getting back on track.  I'm not eating many processed foods like microwave meals.  I am cooking and preparing all of my meals.  Portioning out breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Including healthy snacks.  Making sure I have a balance of protein, dairy, carbohydrates and healthy fat.  I am not adding salt to my meals.  I gave up soda cold turkey at the beginning of the challenge.  I drink 64 ounces of water before lunch.  I drink 64 ounces between lunch and the end of the day.  Then, another 64 ounces between the end of the work day and 9:00 at night.  (If I go any later than that, I risk having an embarrassing accident in bed around 4 in the morning.  Too many close calls with dreams of me going to the bathroom only to wake up and realize how close I came to going to the bathroom... in bed.)  I include some sort of fruit or vegetable with every meal.  My goal is 6-8 servings per day.  So, I put spinach in my egg whites.  I mix corn and diced tomatoes into my protein at dinner.  I add broccoli slaw to sandwiches and salads.  I nibble on carrot slices and celery sticks.  I am balancing the whole thing.  Trying to make sure I'm not neglecting any food groups.  I allow myself the occasional "Skinny Cow" ice cream treat or break off a piece of peanut brittle or something for crunch and sweetness.  If I crave salt, I have a "Booty Call" and enjoy some Pirate's Booty.  Fridays are my "cheat" day, if I want.  I can have whatever I want for dinner if I want to go off the grid.  I've noticed, though, that my attempts to "cheat" have left me feeling sick and tired, so I don't think I'm going to go hog wild in the future. If I have a craving for soda, I grab a diet Snapple tea or really splurge and have an iced black tea lemonade, unsweetened, from Starbuck's.  It sounds like it might be healthier than soda.  Don't tell me if it isn't.

I bought some resistance bands at Target.  I also have the Shake Weight and a pedaling-machine.  I started out using them at home after work for some exercise but realized I'm too easily distracted and end up not doing exercise and end up doing something else.  A co-worker is a member of a local gym and was teasing me about joining.  So, I bit the bullet and joined the gym last weekend.  I used to be an avid gym goer when I lived in Ohio but then lost interest and desire once I moved here.  I'm starting out slow -- a few nights a week -- to build up stamina and to keep myself interested.   I'm doing cardio and strength training.  My goal is to add one more minute, one more rep to each session until I reach the point where I have a nice solid 45-60 minute routine down.  My ultimate goal is to get back on the elliptical and go for 30 minutes straight like I used to be able to do once upon a time.

I have no illusions that this will be quick and that it will miraculously make men worship me and fall in love with me.  I am doing what I need to do to feel better about myself.  So far, it's working.

I've lost 17 lbs so far.   I feel better about myself and my body.  I am noticing things about myself that I hadn't noticed in awhile.  I like my butt.  I have the proper form when using machines.  I may not look pretty when I'm all red-faced and sweaty, but I'm not going to the gym to compete with all of the Barbie types (which I haven't seen many, to be honest.)  I'm just there to do my thing.  My confidence is growing.  I feel good when I'm done exercising.  There's a little bounce in my step as I leave the gym.  

I have to be honest -- most people have a fear of failure.  In the past, whenever I've attempted to lose weight, I have this moment of panic where I actually fear success.

What happens if I do lose the weight, get in shape and I still don't love myself and no one else does either?  That's my deep dark secret.

However, I am trying not to dwell on that one right now.  

I've taken the first step to becoming visible.  Nothing ever happens if you stay in one place, doing the same things you've always done.

The Search is Over

How can I convince you, what you see is real

Who am I to blame you, for doubting what you feel

I was always reaching, you were just a girl I knew

I took for granted the friend I have in you

I was living for a dream, loving for the moment

Taking on the world, that was just my style

Now I look in to your eyes

I can see forever, the search is over

You were with me all the while

There's a lady at work who has been sporting a cassette walkman the past few days.  At first, I thought it was some sort of joke.  A cassette walkman?  Seriously?  But, no, there it is, tucked into her waistband.

I jokingly told her about how I used to have one and how I still have bins of "mixed tapes" I made in the 80s, by holding my cassette recorder up to the radio.

I was telling someone else about it today, about how frustrated I would get because the DJ would always want to talk over the beginning of a song.  I remember trying forever to get all of "What Kind of Fool Am I?" by Rick Springfield because the song has no musical intro.  He just starts singing.  So, I had a bunch of failed attempts.

And because you couldn't really gauge how much time you had left on the cassette, you'd end up cutting off some song in the middle.  Nothing would be more heartbreaking that that ominous click of the cassette player shutting off because it was out of tape before the song was over.

Last night, I pulled out some of the cassettes and tonight, I popped a couple into my stereo (which does have a dual cassette player AND CD player).  The first song that started playing was Survivor's THE SEARCH IS OVER.  1985.  A good year.  I can even remember who I had a crush on that inspired me to record that song.  Funny that 26 years later, I still hope for that "search is over" moment.  This theme is popular in many songs. 

The quality of the tape is awful.  But, it's kind of nice having a time capsule of my life during a period when things were neon hued, lace encased and wrapped up in leg warmers. 

I hope I can keep them so that maybe someday, I can show people who have no memory of cassettes what we did before MP3s made it easy to make a "mixed tape".  I love my memories.  I wonder what angst today's kids will share with their kids when they are my age?

"Yeah, we used to be able to burn music to these shiny discs, but then some dude named Steve Jobs invented this device that could hold hundreds of songs....  Man, I remember how much money and time I spent downloading music to my computer and then burning it to CDs....  but then, all I had to do was plug in this little device and all of the music went right there...."

Complicated

Somebody else
'Round everyone else
Your watchin' your back
Like you can't relax
You tryin' to be cool
You look like a fool to me
Tell me

Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated?
I see the way you're actin' like you're somebody else
Gets me frustrated

Life's like this you
You fall and you crawl and you break
And you take what you get, and you turn it into
Honestly, you promised me
I'm never gonna find you fake it
No no no

Awhile back, I had this male friend.  We were pretty close.  We weren't "best friends" but we were close enough that I felt fairly comfortable calling him at 3:00 a.m. in the morning if I needed to, and vice versa.  We talked a lot.  We hung out.  I knew his friends.  He knew mine.  I met his family.  He mocked mine.  We would pass notes to each other during the day at work (our company only gave email and IM to management at that time.)  We ate lunch together most days.  We were good friends.  Some suspected we were more.   I really thought I knew him as a person and that if push ever came to shove, he'd have my back. I always had his.  Trusted and supported him totally, as friends should.

I developed feelings for him.  All of my friends were supportive.  They loved him.  They thought he loved me, but just didn't know how to tell me.  He was fairly reserved.  Kind of shy.  Possibly inexperienced and hurt in the past.

Then, things started to change.  He started to act out.  Acted weird.  Whenever I'd see him at work, he'd act a little more aloof.  His male friends would snicker when I walked away.  He stopped eating lunch with me and started to eat lunch with other people.  I was fine with that.  I had other friends and everyone needs space on occasion.  

He would test me -- see what I would do for him, ask me for things.  I bought him chocolate and would leave it on his desk.  He always wanted more or different things and I went out of my way to give them to him.  It was like a game to him to see how far I'd go for him, at least that's how I saw it in my mind.  I really liked him and didn't mind.  I bought chocolate and gifts for other people.  You've read my blog about how I have a hard time telling people how I feel so I buy them things.  He would suggest he wanted to do things with me and then at the last minute bail on me to do things with other people.

He also got arrogant, surly and distant.  He copped major attitude and started to talk about wanting to go places and do things that were totally out of character for him.  His male friends were encouraging him to do things that just didn't seem like things he'd enjoy.

He started drinking more and going out more. 

He started to make fun of me and things I told him.  It was like he took pleasure out of hurting me.  Then, after he'd hurt my feelings, he'd come around and be super nice for a few days.  I'd warm up to him again, then he'd hurt me again. 

He was jealous of my other male friends and would ask me if I wanted them.  If I expressed any desire whatsoever to have romance, love and/or sex in my life, he would mock it, ridicule it, and ridicule my beliefs.

When I lost a lot of weight and started to get noticed by other men, he would come around and insert himself into conversations and interactions and make it look like we had more of a relationship than we did. He also tried to take "credit" for my weight loss, like he had something to do with it, which he didn't.  In fact, he would always try to find ways to sabotage me.

Then, he went out of town on a trip and allegedly had a one night stand, which he and his friends took great delight in describing to me in detail at lunch, at work.

Then, he left the company and I hardly ever saw him or talked to him for awhile.  

Then, one night, he and I were out with some friends and there was a lot of alcohol flowing.  He came up to me and sat down beside me and proceeded to tell me all of the nasty things he wanted to do with this woman we mutually knew.  It hurt and it also made me see him through different eyes.

I didn't deserve that.  I had always respected him and we never really had the kind of relationship where we talked about other people we were interested in.  It was like there was this unspoken agreement that we would not talk about that because deep down, we were drawn to each other and we didn't want to cross any lines that would prevent a future romantic hook-up.  

So, as soon as he told me about this other woman, whom had no interest in him and whom had always sort of encouraged me to go after him, I suddenly realized that all of the cat and mouse games he and I had been playing for years, all of the long talks, note passing, flirting, getting to know each other, trusting each other...  none of it mattered.  None of it was real.  He didn't see me as a woman or a romantic possibility.  I felt like I had wasted so much of my time and energy.  I wondered if I had imagined everything.  I wondered where I went wrong.  I suck at reading signs and had to frequently consult our mutual friends for "is this friendship or more than friendship?" advice.  My female friends encouraged the more than friends.  My male friends thought he was a spineless jerk who couldn't decide who he was or what he wanted.  One of them used to make me do things with him on break out of "tough love" so that I wouldn't be tempted to rush over to the other guy and let him use me. I wasn't even sure we ever had a true friendship because in retrospect, I realized how many times I was the one doing the initiating, bending, offering and caring.  He would only exhibit "caring" feelings when others were around.  In hindsight, I think "the woman" he liked was around a lot during that time so I would wonder how much of his charming personality was for me and how much was for her.

From that point, the friendship, or whatever it was, went down hill.   We tried to be friends but there was just no going back from that point.  I think he regretted his actions.  I regretted getting so close that I allowed him to hurt me.  He would be super nice to me one moment and then slip into the "bad" behavior again.

I know he was searching.  Trying to figure out who he was.  I thought we would search together.  We really did have a lot of stuff in common.  A lot.  Emotionally, spiritually.  We connected in mind and in heart.  I was totally baffled by the thought that this wasn't enough.

I can get that people aren't attracted to some people.  When I first met him, I wasn't physically attracted to him at all.  He was not my type at all. Not my normal type.  But, as I got to know him, I liked him more and that made him more attractive.  I considered myself fairly attractive back then (not that I consider myself a dog now).  However, I wore dresses 90% of the time, wore make up, had good self esteem, weighed about 100 lbs less and dated.  Until I met him, I had a fairly active dating life.  Guys liked me.  I liked them.  I hadn't found "the one" but I was hopeful.

One day, I just made up my mind that I wasn't going to be available to him anymore.  He didn't like it.  He tried to fabricate reasons for us to talk -- he needed help with something, he needed advice.  I just couldn't do it any more.  I wasn't getting anything out of the friendship.  

I took my toys and went home.  I put my heart in a tightly sealed box and it was there for a solid 5 years.  I haven't tried to date.  I gained a lot of weight.  I ate my emotions (and the emotions of two other people).  I stopped loving myself and thinking that I deserved love.  I gave up trusting men.  I closed myself off.  I put up walls.

However, last year, I realized it had been long enough.  Spurred by new friends who have super positive attitudes.  Encouraged by male friends who are fun to be with and talk to.  Motivated by the desire to have some sort of relationship again before I'm too old to enjoy it.

I've rebounded and have opened up myself and my heart again.  I care about myself.  I have a fair bit of confidence.  I've tried to date but it hasn't worked out the way I'd like.  I guess I've become pickier and don't want just anyone.

I want the soul to soul connection.  The mind, body and soul connection.

I know you may be asking -- why in the world is this coming up now?

You always hear that history has a way of repeating itself, right?

Well, I've met someone who has this "anti-love" and "anti-commitment" attitude and it reminds me of all of my past hurt and why I was like that.

I wish I could sit down with this person and pour all of the sadness, loneliness and depression of the past 6 years into him and show him what his life is going to be like if he continues to embrace a shallow lifestyle, walled in by fear and hurt. It sounds great.  No emotion.  No hurt.  However, the walls that we build to protect ourselves also keep out good things.  No man is an island.  Everyone needs someone at some point.  It's not a weakness to feel things and want things.  Love is not the bogeyman.  True caring (as a friend) is not kryptonite.

This person has a lot of great characteristics and I would give him a place in my life in a heartbeat if he opened up and cared for me the way he cares for his low-expectation lifestyle.  I'm baffled by him and why he is okay with settling.

(Shrug)  I feel sad for him for losing out on so many great opportunities.  He seems to want to keep things superficial and not let people see the true him.  He pulls me in and pushes me away.  

The thing is, this newly enlightened me has heightened "instincts" that I didn't have before.  I don't know where they came from but when I submerged from my cocoon of self loathing, self pity and low self esteem last year and decided I was worthy and sexy and attractive... and a force to be reckoned with, I suddenly started to get vibes about certain people around me, good and bad. I've been self-educating myself on developing those vibes.

With him, I get the "liar liar pants on fire" vibe.  I get the vibe that he's all talk.  Fear. Vulnerability.  Doesn't want to look like a lesser man.  Wants me and everyone else to think he's more of a player than he is.  Wants to convince everyone he's okay with his life.  Purposely attracts women who aren't emotionally available because they are safe.  I don't buy it.  But, honestly, I don't know how to make him see what I see.  Even if I were to say it to him, and I've tried, but he LOL'd me to death while I tried, he won't admit it.  Like I wouldn't admit it.

Just like all of my friends couldn't get through to me for 5 long depressing years that I wish I could get back. I would gladly go back to 2005/2006 and try it all again, but with an open mind and open heart.

Like I said in my year-end blog, I will not settle any more.  Settling is for sissies.  I will ride the emotional roller coaster wherever it takes me instead of sitting on the safe merry-go-round.  Merry-go-rounds may be pretty and fancy (like a superficial life) but all you do is go in circles, seeing the same things over and over, with no real forward motion.  At least on roller coasters, you have forward motion, ups and downs that make you see what you are made of, loops that toss you around and make your heart beat.  Surges of energy and speed that make you breathless. Sometimes, you end up where you started.  Sometimes, you don't.  Either way, it was one hell of a ride.

Yeah -- like love.  Like life.  I'll take my roller coaster.

The seat next to me is available, friend, if you ever read this and want to get off of your pretty pony.

Getting To Know Me

Getting to know you,
Getting to feel free and easy
When I am with you,
Getting to know what to say

Haven't you noticed
Suddenly I'm bright and breezy?
Because of all the beautiful and new
Things I'm learning about you
Day by day. 

Once upon a time, when I wanted someone to get to know me, I would engage them in good old-fashioned conversation.  If we didn't live close by and/or didn't have the convenience of regular conversation, we possibly wrote letters.  I didn't have email until 1995, so until then, it had to be letters or conversation.  No other choice.  Life was simpler.  The getting to know you process took some time, but in the end, I think it was probably worth it.  Some of the friends I have today are people whom I took some time to get to know -- peeled back layers, bit by bit.  Storing, processing the information much like a computer does.  Making my analysis. Generating the decision as to whether or not I wanted to keep that person in my life long-term, short-term or not at all.

Over the years, technology has made it quicker and easier to get to know someone -- or at least gather the facts a little quicker to input the data for analysis.  I'm guilty of hasty decisions.  I've been the victim of hasty decisions.  I don't know how many times in the past I've said to someone, "If they had just taken the time to get to know the real me.  All of me."

I had a new friend a long time ago -- a relatively new friend -- and we talked on the phone for over 6 hours about everything and nothing.  It was one of the best phone calls I ever had.  By the time the call ended, the sun was coming up and I felt so much better about that person, who they were and whether or not we'd be friends.  We're still friends today.  There are a few people in my life whom are so interesting that I bet we could talk hours and not run out of things to say.  I'd love to have a grown up slumber party and lie in bed and talk until our voices get hoarse, making jokes, and being fools.  In the morning, you wake up with that warm feeling like you've made a friend for life.

Now, we have Linked In, Facebook, MySpace (I think), Twitter, Flickr, Blogger, WordPress, personal websites, classmate websites, message boards, instant messenger, smart phones, not-so-smart phones, texting, email, voice mail...   Information overload.  Just about everything about us is out there just waiting to be found.  I googled myself once and was shocked to realize that you could see my Amazon wish list and products I had purchased and reviewed.  I googled a screenname I used and my email address and found message board posts dating back to 2004.  Luckily, I don't have any big bad secrets and didn't post anything I didn't mind people reading, but if you are sleuthy, you can find things.  A friend is always joking about how much information there is out there on us and how leery he is and I usually laugh it off.

I have this blog.  I write all about myself in the blog.  I don't plan on stopping that anytime soon.  When I meet someone (and by someone, I mean a man) that I may be interested in or think might be a possibility at some point, I offer up the link to my blog.  Sometimes, they take it.  Sometimes, they don't.  To be honest, I'm offended when I offer my blog info to people and they don't want it.  

You see, I'm a curious person.  I like finding out things about people.  If I go to a person's house, I like to see what book titles are on their shelves, what CDs are in their music library, what DVDs are stacked by the DVD player.  I like to see what kind of magazines they have lying around, if I can see the local newspaper anywhere, if they have cookbooks, photo albums (I LOVE PHOTO ALBUMS), yearbooks, etc.  Yes, I even snoop in medicine cabinets, sniff lotions left out and even cologne and aftershave.  It's all part of forming a profile of that person.  I love trying to create a composite in my head about the person based on these things and then as I get to know them, see if the pieces fall into place or did they have an ex-girlfriend, roommate or other person leave things behind that totally threw me off (like that episode of How I Met Your Mother when Ted sees all of these things in a girl's apartment thinking they are hers and comes to the conclusion she is his soul mate, but then finds out they all belong to someone else.)

Because I'm so curious, I expect people to be just as curious about me. Especially men who might be interested in being a date or whatever at some point.  So, I share the blog to take out the middle man. To cut to the chase.  To condense it all.  The dummies guide to me.  The cliff notes version of who I am.  Bevy 101.

I figure everyone is just so busy that if I give them the blog link, then they can come in some afternoon, read all there is to read about me and say "Yeah, not for me" or "Wow, where has she been all my life?"  

A former friend used to caution me all the time that my blog was too much information for a mere mortal of a man to handle and used to suggest all the time that I tone it down, edit it, or talk about something other than myself to keep from scaring men away.  I asked a male friend to read it from a "single man's" perspective and give me feedback but he never did.  I think maybe he was afraid of what he'd find and I think maybe my former friend may have been right?  Maybe men can't handle the truth.  (Channeling my inner Jack Nicholson.)

I've offered my blog link to a couple of men in the past year whom I really liked and wanted to get to know better and hoped the blog would make them realize we had a lot more in common than meets the eye.  They both politely turned me down.  Well, ok, one outright turned me down.  One took the link but then never read the blog.  I asked him and he would just change the subject, which told me he wasn't reading it.  To me, it was like they were shunning me, rejecting me, saying they weren't interested in me.  Now, this could quite correctly be the answer.  I hope it was just that they are/were dying to get me alone and pick apart my brain and realize I'm the one who is going to change it all for them.  Make all past hurts disappear.  Fill their soul.

However, someone gave me another possibility tonight that I never considered.  Maybe they want to get to know me the old-fashioned way.

I was getting ready to go to bed.  At 7:00.  Yes, I know it was early but well, not to beat a dead horse, I've been sick.  7:00 is my normal bed time now it seems.  But, I will get better.  I will. I refuse to keep losing nights and weekends to this crud.

I digress.  A friend I hadn't talked to in awhile called at 7:00.  She asked how I was doing and I thought she meant my illness.  I said, "Well, you probably read on Facebook..." and she said that although she has a Facebook account, she doesn't go on there.  What?  How is that possible?  What do you mean you aren't on here every day, for hours on end trolling for status updates and memorizing my quotes and witty sayings?

So, we played catch up.  She told me about her life.  I told her about mine.  I asked her if she ever read my blog and she said not really -- maybe once or twice.  She said she knew I was a good writer but that she would rather just talk to me about what is going on in my life.  So, I told her about a few men I had met and how I wanted them to read my blog so badly that I thought about signing them up for it against their will.  She reminded me that not everyone wants to read about someone and that they'd rather get to know them their own way -- through questions, observations, conversation, dates.  It made sense.  It helped ease the sting a little.  

Of course, the men in question didn't show any signs of being interested in me the "old-fashioned" way, but now I can maybe chill a little and not be so quick to offer up my blog.  The URL is on my info page of my Facebook profile.  The link has been posted heavily on my FB wall.  If they ask for it, I'll gladly give it.

Now, will this stop me from secretly fantasizing about the one guy who will read it, love it and in turn, love me?  No.  Will this help me feel better about people who seem to have no interest in reading it?  Yes.

For now, at least.

To know me is to love me.  How you get there is totally up to you. Just get there.

My Funny Valentine

My funny Valentine, sweet comic Valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable, unphotographable
Yet, you're my favorite work of art

Is your figure less than Greek?
Is your mouth a little weak?
When you open it to speak
Are you smart?

I stopped at the drugstore tonight to pick up a prescription on my way home from work.  It was dark, wet and a bit dreary.  I was feeling a bit lethargic and headachey. I was kind of in a blue mood.  Sad.  Tired.  Sick.  I just wanted to go home and go to bed.

However, the store is in full bloom for Valentine's Day.  A sea of pink and red greeted me.  I felt a smile come to my face.  My favorite colors.  How could I not feel better after seeing my favorite colors.

This probably won't come as a surprise, but I love Valentine's Day.  I know, I know -- shock, dismay.  I won't lie -- I get a little disappointed that I can't spend the love day with someone I love, but I love love.  I love romantic love, friendly love, pet love, family love, cartoon love...  Love songs.  Poetry.  Chick flicks. Doodling hearts over "i"s.  Flowers.

I don't think that I've ever had an actual "Valentine" on Valentine's Day.  I think a guy sent me flowers in 1999 for Valentine's Day, but I didn't like him that way so I politely thanked him for the flowers and he never spoke to me again.  I'd like to have someone whom I liked that way and who liked me back.  It just hasn't worked out.  Still, my love for V-tine's Day is undaunted.

I miss the days of home-made mailboxes made out of milk cartons or shoe boxes, decorated with paper lace doilies, metallic heart stickers and all of the red and pink construction paper you could find.  I would always get fancy with my mailbox.  I figured the fancier it was, the more Valentine's I'd get.  Glitter.  I love glitter.  Feathers. Yeah, I think I even tried feathers one year.

You'd perch the box on your desk at school and then everyone would walk around and put the Valentines in your box.  You'd hope that the cute guy who sat across the room would give you something mushy (or as mushy as you could get when you're 8 or 9.)  You'd hope that the weird kid who flipped his eyelids inside out would give you the "Hey Pal" Valentine.  Sometimes, someone would splurge and you'd get those cherry lollipops with the white heart imprinted on them that when you placed your tongue on them just right, you'd get a white tattoo of a heart on your tongue.  Boys always seemed to send action hero cards.  My personal favorite were Snoopy and Holly Hobby.

I love conversation hearts.  Not to eat them. To save them.  I love looking through them for the best hearts with words like "love me" or "hug me" or "ask me".  I bought some over the weekend and was dismayed that they've updated some of the phrases to "Go 4 it" and "U Rock" and "Step Up."  No, no, no.  Love is not about textual abbreviations and hip hip phrases.  Love is action verbs and the pronouns "you" and "me".  "Love Me" and "Love You".   I have a small collection forming on my desk at work.  Smile.  Hug Me.  Love Me. Ask Me.  I figure that if I stare at them long enough, some sort of weird miracle will occur and the love genie will show up on February 14 and grant me a love wish that will involve all of those action verbs and more.

Here's a confession.  Every year, when the stores put out the adult Valentine's Day cards, I will stand there and read just about every single one of them, looking for the "perfect" card -- the one I'd send someone if I had someone.  It's usually funny or cheesy.  Some sort of play on words or silly innuendo.  If I'm interested in someone at the time, it's usually fairly easy to find the right card or cards.  Then, I read the cards and pick out the one(s) I'd like to receive... that if I were in a relationship, which ones would I wish the guy knew me well enough to pick out for me.  Again, usually something funny or that has a private meaning.  I don't really get into the gushy sappy ones.  Shoebox Greetings.  Yeah, more my speed.   Remember my blog about psycho pick up lines?  "You've stolen my heart, but that's ok.  I have three more in the freezer at home."  

There was a time I used to actually take it a step further and buy the cards.  When I moved from Ohio to Virginia, I found at least 10 unused, unsent Valentine's Day cards that I had bought during the 10 years I had lived in Columbus.  I tossed them out symbolically as a sign of turning over a new leaf.

When I was a supervisor, I put together little Valentine's Day treat bags for my team.  Just because we're grown ups, it doesn't mean we can't enjoy a little harmless love now and then.  I'd buy pencils, erasers, stickers, candy and those little paper "made for school kids" cards and put them on each employee's desk.  They were tickled at the gesture.

I wish more people made the effort these days to realize how far one small gesture can go.

Will U B My Valentine?  Such a simple question, but full of so much promise and hope.

If you can't ask me yourself, I have some candy hearts that might help.

It's So Cosmopolitan

So Cosmo says you're fat
Well I ain't down with that
Cuz your waist is small and your curves are kickin
And I'm thinkin bout stickin
To the beanpole dames in the magazines
You ain't it miss thing

There was a time in my life when I fancied myself as a future Cosmo girl.  I subscribed to the magazine and read it cover to cover.  I practiced my seductive pout, with shiny lip-glossed lips, in the mirror.  I drew on smoky sexy eyes.  I would spend hours at the mall hoping to find a pair of heels that I didn't teeter totter on and an outfit in my budget that would make me look all glamorous.  

However, I was a broke child-care worker by day and lived in a college town with a population of 15,000, in a boarding house full of women.  There were no glamorous nights in my life, but I would sit in my room and read those magazines.  I was going to be a vixen some day.  I was going to have my share of fancy clothing and I was going to use that "trick that drives every man wild."  It usually involved the tongue in some way.  The "trick" would vary from issue to issue.  But I was down.  I am a scholar and avid reader.  I am a fast learner.  I'm eager to please.  I was just waiting for that perfect guy and perfect setting.

This was before Carrie Bradshaw and her Sex in the City chicks took the scene.  Before it became cool (at least on television) to wear $500 shoes that look terribly uncomfortable and to publicly tout your sexual prowess. 

Then, my priorities changed and life changed.  I put away my Cosmo magazines for a simpler dream.  One that did not involve lavish parties, champagne dreams and caviar fantasies.  My shoes came from Payless.  My clothing from whatever discount store or "big woman" store I could afford.  I wanted one man.  One relationship.  Happily ever after.

Yesterday (Saturday), I was still feeling pretty crappy and decided to once again go to the urgent care place to see if they could once and for all tell me what's wrong with me and how I can fix it.  Upper Respiratory Infection.  Brought on by being surrounded by people at work who keep sharing the germs over and over and over.  I picked up a face mask at the urgent care place.  I'm not afraid to use it.  I refuse to keep losing weekends to illness.  I wish I could dip into said co-workers' sick time every time I get sick.  One of my co-workers came to work for a solid week, coughing and sneezing on everything, and refused to use any of her sick time because she likes telling people she doesn't use her sick time.  She even cited a fever at one point.  Yeah, I'm a little bitter.

I digress.  I had to go to Target to fill a prescription after the doctor visit (and I'm not contagious, I'm happy to report) and while I was there, I picked up a few things.  While in line to check out, I glanced down at the magazines and saw Cosmo.  It has been years since I've actually purchased and read an entire copy of the magazine.  I picked it up and started thumbing through it and decided to go ahead and buy it.  Mostly for the article advertised on the cover that said "3 Clues He's Secretly Into You."  (I encounter several "he"s every day.  I want to make sure I'm not missing any clues.  I suck at that stuff. I wish we didn't have to read clues. I'm pretty straightforward. Why can't they be? But, that's another topic for another day.)  Oh, and there was also a tagline that said: "Too Naughty To Say Here!  But You HAVE To Try This Sex Trick."  I was curious to see if they found any new tricks that did not involve a mouth and penis.

I read the magazine last night before bed, cover to cover.  The first thing that disturbed me about the magazine was that Dakota Fanning was on the cover.  In my mind, she is still the screechy 9 year old girl from War of the Worlds.  The screechy 9 year old girl that I hoped Tom Cruise would sacrifice to the aliens.  Damn the screenwriters for trying to stay true to the original screenplay.

What else did I learn?  Hmmmm...

If a guy is interested in you, he'll find a way during normal conversation to give you the "thumbs up" signal. Maybe he won't realize it.  Maybe he will.  It seems odd to me.  How exactly does a guy manage a body language move during conversation that results in both thumbs becoming fully erect without it being obvious to him and to me?  What if he has a muscle spasm and I think he's telling me he likes me and I invite him to "try the trick" and I realize the only erect thing I was going to see was his thumb?

Dakota Fanning is 18.  Wow.

There's a guy named Sam Worthington that Cosmo deems the sexiest leading man of 2012.  I've never seen him before or heard of him.

There's a product called "Masque" for oral sex that allegedly makes the experience more ... um... tasty... for females (this is oral sex with woman giving not receiving) that involves dissolvable flavor strips that are placed strategically on the penis and then licked.  There was no picture of the product but I couldn't get the image of fruit roll ups out of my head.  Then, I thought, "Why not just buy fruit roll ups?"  Sex and a snack.  And it could be used for both women and men.  I'm just saying.

When you first meet a guy, he'll look into your eyes for an average of 8 seconds or more if he's attracted.  (Unless he's an eye doctor, then he's required to do that and it's not attraction.)  I have a tendency to stare people right in the eyes when I talk to them so I'm sometimes forcing a man to hold my gaze for more than 8 seconds.  Is that my subconscious way of telling them I want them to want me?

Guys do not find women attractive if they use the "F" word in normal conversation.  I notice the article said "normal conversation."  So, I imagine if I side up to a guy and initiate an abnormal conversation and say "Wanna f*ck?", that's acceptable?  The funny thing is, for me, is that I used to hate hate hate the "F" word.  As a holder of an English degree, I feel there are far better words in the English language that could express such a crude emotion.  However, this past summer, I developed my masculine side and began drinking beer more often and saying the "F" word more often.  No wonder guys say no to me when I ask them out.  Sh*t!

Guys like to be kissed on the neck, ears, chest, thighs and collarbone.  Hmmm...  so, basically, anywhere.

If you want a guy to open up to you, share something vulnerable about yourself first.   "So, I have a hard time falling in love, staying in love and saying "I love you".  Your turn."  Their response: "Yeah, um... so... how about those Steelers....  Speaking of Steelers, do you know who that cute girl in the black and gold sweater is? She's HOT."  (eyes rolled. Yeah, thanks for listening to me.)

If you are with a guy and want to send the message that you want him to touch you, you should stroke your hair from root to tip, slowly.  I have short hair.   And it's frequently fly away.  I'm always stroking my hair.  Guess I always want someone to touch me?

If you have a fight with your man and call him an a$$hole and then regret it, call yourself an a$$hole during the apology and he'll know you didn't mean it.  Wha? Huh?  So, if I put myself down, he'll accept my apology?  Won't he just think of me as an a$$hole and think this is an acceptable thing and keep on being an a$$hole too?

There are three types of coping your man adopts when you fight with him: zombie, brooder or amnesiac.  Zombies shut down.  Brooders stew. Amnesiacs pretend it didn't happen.   I've known a few amnesiac zombies.

Ghosting is the term for guys who pull back and/or disappear from the relationship without any explanation.  I've known a few amnesiac zombies who ghosted.

If a guy friend kisses you at a bar, after a few drinks, but then pulls an "amnesiac" on you later, he either 1) regrets the kiss and wants to pretend it didn't happen or 2) was too drunk to remember he did it or 3) is waiting on you to make the next move.  Wow!  I never would have come to that on my own. (eyes rolled)

Wearing a tiara accesses my "inner girl".  Using glitter pens, stickers and band-aids with cartoons on them also do this.  Whew!  Good thing I do something to channel my "inner girl" since I already know how to channel my "inner boy" by cursing and drinking beer.

Vadge is an acceptable term for the vagina.  What's wrong with the word vagina?  Why can't we just say vagina? I like the word vagina.

The "trick" that drives him wild?  The 69 position.  BUT... not just the routine 69.  Their suggestion requires the bodies, skill and flexibility of acrobats.  I had to close my eyes and imagine it at least three (ok, maybe a few more than 3) times before I could "see" what they were suggesting.  He sits on the couch naked.  She, also naked, slides over his shoulders and down his belly from a standing position behind the couch. She braces her weight on her elbows by his thighs (or on his thighs) and rests her knees on his chest and/or shoulders. They do the deed.   I'm laughing in my head because I immediately see a thinner version of me, who is quite clumsy and not at all flexible, sliding right on down his body and onto the coffee table, conking my forehead on the coffee table and then sprawling nekkid on the floor.  I'd probably have to do a quick "ta dah!" as I stand up and pray he gives me a 10 for my dismount.

There's an app for 3-D sex positions.  They didn't give a link for it.  How rude.

Catching a parent cheating on the other parent can damage our perception of relationships.  Really?  Damn.  I thought it was magazine articles and chick flicks that did that.  I'm betting next month they have an article that says if our parents were single and dated/married a lot of different partners while we were children, then we will grow up having a hard time believing in monogamy, true love and happily ever after.  That's just a hunch.

If you have a cat and plan on spending the night at a man's place and feel guilty about leaving the cat alone, leave an article of your clothing for the cat to curl up with.  (Yes, I found this useful.  I do hope to eventually leave Abby home alone at night.)

Guys find women who make them laugh attractive and if they can make them laugh on the first date, there's usually a second date.  Damn.  I don't usually pull out the joke cards until date 3.  No wonder I don't get a 2nd date.  

However, guys do not find it attractive if a woman gets drunk on a first date.   I'm usually very shy on a first date, so alcohol would probably be the only way I could muster up humor on the first date.  This is not boding well for me.

The quiz at the back of the magazine was "Are You Daring Enough?"  I came up timid.  No shocker there.  I hoped for "very daring".  Guess I need to work on my "tricks".  Any volunteers?  (I hear the crickets that showed up during my blog about how I let a man know I'm interested.)

So....  I have a feeling it's going to be awhile before I buy another issue of Cosmo but it was definitely a learning experience and great blog fodder.

Thank you sexually active readers and writers of the world for giving me even more motivation to make this year's weight loss challenge a success.

There's no way in hell I'm gonna pull off the couch trick in my current state.  Give me a few months!!

Or maybe right now I need to find a guy who only knows 69 as the number after 68 and before 70. (Cause unless he has some of that Masque stuff or a fruit roll up in his pocket,  I don't see any real merit in it. The "trick" that is, not oral sex overall.)

I Won't Give Up

When I look into your eyes
It's like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well there's so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you've come so far
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

And when you're needing your space
To do some navigating
I'll be here patiently waiting
To see what you find

'Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We've got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it
No, I won't give up

I don't wanna be someone who walks away so easily
I'm here to stay and make the difference that I can make

Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts
We got yeah we got a lot at stake

And in the end, you're still my friend at least we didn't intend
For us to work we didn't break, we didn't burn
We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I got, and what I'm not
And who I am

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up
I'm still looking up

I won't give up on us
God knows I'm tough, he knows
We got a lot to learn
God knows we're worth it

I won't give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I'm giving you all my love
I'm still looking up

Yeah, I don't really have an awesome blog to post tonight.  I just really wanted to post the lyrics to Jason Mraz's newly released iTunes song.  I really like the lyrics.  I have been playing this song on my Kindle Fire (yes, I still have it) each night before I go to bed. I also love watching the video.  There's just something about seeing the handwritten words.  You know I'm all about them words. ;)

Why is it that all of the good love songs (relationship songs) seem to come out when I have no one in my life?

I think I'm going to start a "mixed tape" (yeah, I said it) of all of these gems as I come across them so that when I finally get someone, I can strap him in my car and go on a cross-country road trip and make him listen to all of them until he hurls himself from the speeding vehicle or rams sharp objects into his ears.... or, or, or, maybe, just maybe, he'll like them too and we'll sing our little in love hearts out.

I hope CDs are still in by the time I get a love.

Clicky to see the video and hear the song.  If you get a message that you can't listen on a mobile device, please log onto a computer.  It's worth it. :) 

Or try this link.  It isn't as powerful as the actual lyric video, but it's good.

In the End

Why does the sun go on shining
Why does the sea rush to shore
Don't they know it's the end of the world
'Cause you don't love me any more

Why do the birds go on singing
Why do the stars glow above
Don't they know it's the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love

Last night, I had a pretty disturbing dream and it left me feeling sad and out of sorts all day today. Kind of lonely and sad.  Melancholy.

There is much hype and talk about "the end of the world" in December all because some Mayan calendar ends in December 2012.  I've been doing a fair share of joking about it.

Well, last night, I had this dream where I was outside of myself observing myself.  In the dream, there were these rows and rows of military style bunk beds, all lined up, three bunk beds high, in this very long room.  A bunker.  Lots of standard-issue gray and navy blue wool blankets, single pillows, white sheets.  No frills.

In the sea of uniformity, there was one bunk that had a pink striped blanket, pink sheets and a fluffy pillow with ruffled eyelet trim.  I knew that it had to be my bunk bed.

There are all sorts of people moving among the rows of bunks, searching the end of each bunk for what I assume is their names.  I don't recognize any of these people. 

At one point, I scan the room and there's a calendar with a big red circle around a date and a bunch of red Xs through all of the dates leading up to this date.  I can see December 2012 on the calendar.

I can hear snippets of conversation about "being prepared" and "... I think it's really going to happen...." as people move by me.  I realize that this must be some sort of bunker for people who are trying to survive whatever is supposed to happen when this big day arrives.

At first, I'm a little excited, like I'm part of a clique or special group, selected to be part of history.  I keep looking for people I know, friends, co-workers, loved ones, relatives... someone, anyone who can spend time with me.  I keep looking for one person in particular but don't see that person and feel a little heartbroken because I really hoped that one person would be there with me, like we were meant to be survivors together.

I tell myself that maybe that person is in another bunker and we'll meet up later.

A woman in navy suit, carrying a clipboard, moves towards me.  She said, "Have you made up your mind yet about your method?"  I must have looked confused because she said, "Pills seem to be very popular."  I'm still confused.  Then, she moves away and my mom is standing behind her, holding a gray and white cat.  It's not Abby, though.  The cat looks a lot like my cat Molly who died in May 2010.

My mom hands me the Molly lookalike and a bottle of Tylenol.

I look at my mom and say, "I don't want to die.  I want to live."  She doesn't say anything, just hands me the cat and the pills and moves away.

I go to my bunk, holding the cat, and I look around and notice that people around me look very solemn and sad, not at all like people who have been chosen to survive the apocalypse.  I realize that I was actually among those chosen to not survive and this was some sort of suicide camp.

The woman with the clipboard walks by and tells me it's almost time.  There is a part of me that feels this flicker of hope, that maybe nothing will happen and that I can maybe not have to choose anything and ride it out.

She stands in front of me and suggests that I "take care of" the cat first before I "take care" of myself.

I hold open the cat's mouth and put in some pills and hold the mouth shut until the pills are swallowed.  I pretend to take some for myself but do a slight of hand and drop them down my shirt instead of my mouth.

The pills work quicker than expected on the cat and the cat starts to whine and whimper and then foam at the mouth.  Its eyes roll back a little and it gives me this look of "What did you do to me?" (sort of how Molly looked at me when I took her to the vet to be put down)  I panicked and said I'm sorry over and over and then tried to put my finger down the cat's throat to make it throw up the pills but I just knew it was too late.

I started crying and holding the cat, feeling this incredible remorse for what I had done and for choosing to end its life.

I then woke up.

I was so absolutely sad and disoriented when I woke up.  The dream was so real and so profoundly sad.

I haven't been able to shake off the weird sad feeling all day.  I've tried.  I've tried to joke with people and talk to people but there is this ache that won't go away.  There's also this kind of scared feeling, like when you are a kid and have a nightmare and then don't want to go back to sleep because you are afraid it will come back.

I wish I had someone to crawl into bed with and just tell me everything is okay.  I also feel like I need someone to forgive me for putting Molly down (and for choosing to kill the cat in my dream.)

Surely I'm not still feeling guilty about that after almost two years?

I'm still not feeling well and I really just want to crawl into bed, but, for once, I'm actually not looking forward to it.

I think tonight might be a sleep with a light on kind of night.

Calendar Girl

I love, I love, I love my calender girl
Yeah, sweet calender girl
I love, I love, I love my calender girl
Each and every day of the year

(January) You start the year off fine
(February) You're my little valentine
(March) I'm gonna march you down the aisle
(April) You're the Easter Bunny when you smile

I received 11 calendars for Christmas this year.  Most of them from my mom.

I'm weird about calendars.  For one, I don't usually buy one until the very end of the year.  My logic behind this is that I may not be around for the next year, so why buy a calendar that will go to waste?  Also, I also think they get cheaper the closer to the end of the year.  Bookstores and department stores need to make room for Valentine's Day and Easter items.

My mother does not seem to believe in the same logic.  I think she buys them all year and then forgets she bought them.  Then, at Christmas, I become the proud owner of them.

This year, I received from my mom:

a panoramic scenic calendar that has a blurb on the front "Perfect for hanging under a cabinet".

3 Kittens calendars, three formats (small, medium and large)

a vinyl covered monthly desk planner (full size)

a vinyl covered monthly desk planner (purse size)

a small 5 x 7 "Peanuts" (cartoon characters) monthly calendar

a combination to-do list pad and monthly calendar

Then, I got a page-a-day Dilbert calendar from a co-worker, a monthly wall calendar from the Chinese restaurant where I get take-out frequently and a plastic covered two year planner from my boss.

This is in addition to the page-a-day "Forgotten English" calendar I bought myself.

I guess I'll never need to worry "when" it is.

The funny thing -- I don't really have any place to hang a calendar.  The doors to my bedrooms, bathrooms and closets are this weird material that you can't really push a tack or screw a hook into.  The doors to my laundry room, hall closet and utility closet are metal and slatted/louvered.  My refrigerator magnets aren't strong enough for a calendar.

I took the Peanuts calendar to work.  I put one of the purse planners in my purse.  I'm using one of the vinyl desk planners for PT work related stuff and other assorted things.

I hung up the one from the Chinese restaurant on my laundry room door, but it keeps falling off every time I open and close the door.

The "Forgotten English" calendar is by my computer.  The Dilbert is on the counter in the kitchen.  I've already forgotten to peel off yesterday's entries and reveal today's.

Last year, I managed to hang up a Normal Rockwell wall calendar on my refrigerator using 6 clip-style magnets.  However, each  month, it became a chore to unclip all of the magnets to flip the page.  When I took the calendar down at the end of the year, it was still on June.  

I often wonder if calendars (paper calendars) will become extinct like wrist watches.  I never see anyone wearing watches anymore.  I used to wear one until about 5 years ago when I realized that if I ever really need to know what time it is, there's usually something or someone nearby with it -- my computer, the digital read out in front my bank, my car, the television, the cable box, my cell phone....  Other people.  I've done just fine without a watch.  

I obviously did fine without a wall calendar from June until December.

Let's see how long I make it this year.  The only thing keeping the one from the Chinese restaurant from being tossed out is the fact that it has their phone number on it... that and the note at the bottom in poor English that says "Prices maybe change without the notice."  It just makes me giggle. 

At least it doesn't say "Mines prices maybe change without the notice."