True Colors

don't be discouraged
oh I realize
it's hard to take courage
in a world full of people
you can lose sight of it all
and the darkness inside you
can make you fell so small

But I see your true colors
shining through
I see your true colors
and that's why I love you
so don't be afraid to let them show
your true colors
true colors are beautiful
like a rainbow 

On Friday, at work, one of my co-workers asked me if I had any games or ice breakers that she could use with the new hires to wrap up the day after they finished a test. I quickly got online and did a search for "fun personality tests".  One came up about favorite colors.  It seemed safe enough.   Then, she asked me if I wanted to participate.

I was done with all of my planning and prepping for next week so I decided what the heck.  I could use a break.  I hadn't had any fun distractions lately.  I was starting to wish for a hurricane so that I could entice a co-worker to talk about his lawn chair, beef jerky and nuts again.

Now, keep in mind, it was a silly little personality test.  Yanked from some website.  Probably not even based on anything scientific.  But, it was meant to be fun -- not a psychological assessment.

My female co-worker said that her color nailed her.  It kind of surprised me because I've worked with her for a year and I learned things about her that I didn't know.  It was very eye-opening to see how she perceived herself in comparison with the color she picked.  I would have picked a totally different color for her.

My favorite color is pink.  The description made me sound like a fluffy, glass half full type who wants to join hands with everyone and sing songs of peace.  Said I was nice.  I keep getting told I'm too nice, like it's a bad thing.  I take pride in being nice.  I'm no pushover.  I have a spine.  If you push my buttons, I'll fight, fight, fight.  I ain't no hollaback girl. But, there's nothing wrong with being nice.  I'm a nice person.  Deal with it. My second favorite color is red.  That said I was passionate, energetic, sexy and that I crave attention.  Three out of four ain't bad. :)

My male co-worker said that his color was pretty dead on, too, which surprised me because it made him out to be moody and fussy.  I don't know many men who will admit to being moody and fussy.  I wasn't surprised, however.  In fact, before we even picked colors, I read through the descriptions and I had already picked the color he picked for himself because I've sensed different moods in him in the past. I've noticed the mornings when he came in and sort of hunkered over in his desk, occasionally sighing or muttering under his breath, clutching the caffeine like it was a drug. (Oh, wait, I think it is.)  I also noticed when he came in smiling and friendly and open to chit chat and occasional humorous banter.  I reacted to each mood accordingly.

He mentioned that he has this ability to read people and get a sense of their moods and feelings and tends to steer clear of negative feelings and moods and that he just goes off on his own instead of being brought down by those people.  Yes, I know I'm sharing a fair bit of information about him, but I feel about 99% confident that he doesn't read my blog and if he does, he always tells me that he doesn't censor himself... and when I've voiced concern in the past about the kinds of stuff I write about, he's given me the "aw, screw it, write what you want" advice.  I hope he still believes in that.

After he was so open about himself, I almost wanted to re-evaluate my own color.  I tend to do the latter myself.  I work with a lot of different kinds of people who all have different moods, motivators and agendas.  Some are clock-punchers.  Some are drama-queens.  Some are negative nellies.  Some are confusing cleos.  I start the day in a great mood, but at some point, someone will try to ruin it for me.  Sometimes, they win.

When I get to work, I always have to feel people out to see what kind of mood they are in and then try to adjust accordingly.  I can usually tell by the way a person says good morning or the way they hold their bodies if they are in a good mood or not.  I always hope for the best.  Hope for a nice pleasant good morning and open body language.  This is not always the case.  I always try to greet everyone with a cheery good morning or some sort of positive comment.  Nice shirt. Love that dress. Those shoes are cute. 

Instead of taking my co-worker's approach and just avoiding the negative people, most of the time, I tend to feel the need to put on my floppy shoes and big red nose (must be the pink in me who wants everyone to be happy) and try to make them feel better.  Some days, it's a challenge, to be honest.  Some people just seem to want to wallow in unhappiness.  Then, after I don't succeed, I feel myself slipping to their level.  I get sad and depressed.  I can't wait to come home where I can shake it off, enjoy some unconditional kitty cat love, watch some tv, play on the computer and engage in banter with people on my PT job.

I've had days myself recently when it was all I could do to get out of bed because of issues I've been having and I know I wanted people to rally around me and try to make me feel better.  Sadly, I noticed that more people tended to want to encourage the stinking thinking and "woe is me" attitude than to tell me to buck up and get over it. (Politely, of course.  I'd probably slug someone if they told me to get over it while I was thinking of jumping off of a bridge.)  What I really wanted was someone to notice and ask what was going on, but no one did.  No, I take it back.  One person did and then didn't wait on my response.  They launched into a tirade about their own bad day.

Now, back to the male co-worker.

We haven't had much time to talk lately but when we have encountered each other, I've felt a little like our vibe is off.  So, my "true color" has been working in over-drive, trying to be funny, get him to "play", trying to engage him in conversation, seeking him out to try to share light-hearted stuff... and just being there in case he wanted someone to talk to.  Being available and open and trying to give off positive energy. Trying to find humorous things to post on FB in case he saw them and wanted to let off steam after work. And hoping he hasn't blocked/hidden my FB Wall postings because I enjoy his sarcastic irreverent humor. As strange as it sounds and despite the fact we've only known each other a few months, he "gets" the things I'm alluding to in posts and jokes.  That's rare.  My closest friends are the ones who have been able to "get" the craziness I spew... and it took them awhile to figure it out. :)

Maybe I'm the one in a weird mood and that what I'm feeling is his mood's adjustment to my mood.  I feel awkward and I fear being too friendly.  Too funny.  Too annoying. Trying too hard to be a friend.  I worry about people.  If I can't draw them out, then I think that there must be something wrong with me. 

So, now, I'm leaning more towards his color than mine.  I want to withdraw and just wait it out.  But, then, my color kicks back in and I want everyone to be happy and perky.  I treat him like I treat all of my other friends and they tend to respond positively to my banter, jesting, teasing and joking when they are in bad moods. It's a cruel double-edged sword.  If I pull back because I think he wants me to pull back and then he pulls back because I pulled back, then neither one of us will ever talk (and by "talk", I mean the non work-related joking, teasing, conversation and/or private jokes) to each other ever again. :P  If I continue to push perkiness, then I look like some manic clown.

I've always prided myself on my ability to read my friends -- to gauge their emotions and needs.  I'm the person with all sorts of goodies in her desk to try to meet whatever need there might be.  Candy?  Got it.  Band-aid? Got it.  Joke? Got it.  Shoulder? Got it. Space?  Space? Um... tell me what's wrong and you can have your space.  (I know, contradictory to my "undatable" blog where I admit myself to wanting a lot of space on occasion.)

I haven't had much luck reading men, though.  So, therein lies the rub.  A male friend.  He's a guy.  He has guy emotions and guy needs.  I usually am pretty successful with male friends because I usually have the same no bullsh*t attitude that they have.  But, he isn't the typical guy, either.  He actually admitted to being moody.

Hmmmm, a lot of deep thoughts over one ice breaker, eh?  Time to trod back into shallower water.

Back to my favorite color, pink.

There's just something innocent and sweet about pink.  I always think of pink as red's little sister.  Softer, gentler.  I think of cotton candy, lip gloss and that cloying "Love's Baby Soft" perfume I wore all through junior high.

I love my pink sheets and pink night gown.  I even have a pink robe and pink slippers.  (And yes, pink underwear, since we're going there.)   I know I mentioned in my "Miss Independent" blog that I come off harsh sometimes.  I think my affection for pink is my way of showing everyone and myself that I do have a softer side.  

I am a girl, after all.

Sometimes Love Just Isn't Enough

I don't want to lose you
But there's a danger in loving somebody too much,
and it's sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust.
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are.
Baby, sometimes, love just ain't enough.

Listening to the Don Henley station on Pandora while working the PT job (we now have mandatory 15 hours of work per week) and went looking for a video for "Not enough love in the world" by Don Henley and stumbled across this old gem above.  Ahhh, sometimes, sometimes, love really isn't enough.

A few years back, I lost myself in someone.  Totally lost.  I stopped being myself and started being someone else.  Someone I thought he wanted.

I remember looking in the mirror and thinking, "Who is this person?  Why am I doing this?  What's in it for me?"

The person looking back would say, "But you love him."

I justified the changes I made in myself by saying I was doing them for love.

The reality is -- there was no love.  If there had been love, there would have been no need for changes.

He'd say that he liked a certain music.  I would then develop a like for that kind of music.

He'd say he liked a certain color.  I'd buy new clothing in that color.

Favorite food?  It was now mine, too.

We had very little in common and I wanted so badly for us to have things in common, so I forced things in common.  We rarely had "me, too" moments.

He never did any changing for me.  Nothing for my love.

Then, one day, I realized that I missed me.  Missed being individual, uncensored, funny, sarcastic, independent.  My friends missed me, too.

I found my voice.  He found the exit door.

Before it ended, he said to me, "I liked the old you much much more."

Go figure.

But, sometimes, love just isn't enough. 

Now, I refuse to change for anyone.  Stubborn, I know.  I don't want to lose my originality, uniqueness.  

I get confused by people who rush out and try to become a carbon copy of their mate.  If it wasn't there to begin with, why force it?  What's the point?

I often joke that I'd like to find a male version of myself.  At least then we'd both know what we were up against.  Whenever I'd get wiggy about something, I'd just be able to say, "Well, what would you do if someone were acting like this with you?" and know that he'd probably react the same way and then I could be less wiggy and more confident about the future of the relationship. And vice versa.  I'd really really love to have a "cheat sheet" for my soul mate, whomever he is.

I imagine after awhile, there'd be no need for communication.  We could just look at each other and just know what was going to happen next.  

I know it probably sounds awfully boring.  But, after all of the drama I've had in past relationships, I think I'd enjoy that symbiotic melding of minds and spirits.

I have no witty ending.  I am just going to go back to working my part-time job and listening to Pandora now.

If you were the male version of me, you'd already expect that.

The Truth About Who I'm In Love With....

And you got the power, it amazes me still
How you play my emotions with consummate skill
I don't have to look any further than into your eyes

So don't try to tell me you think it's just physical
It goes way deeper than that

You better know it's an affair of the heart
It's an affair of the heart
It's an affair of the heart
Have a little blind faith, believe
It's an affair of the heart

A few of you have written, expressing concern over the state of my heart because the tone of a few of my recent blog posts have been kind of melancholy and/or borderline manic about the topic of dating or finding someone to date.

So, I want to clear up some things.  I'm not dating, trying to date or even thinking about dating.  At least not in the "actively seeking" sense.  Seriously.  When it's meant to happen, it'll happen.  Like most things in life.

Now, does that mean I don't get wistful when I see a happy couple, romantic movie or Hallmark commercial? No. Somewhere down the line, before I'm too old to enjoy it, I'd like to fall in love.  Maybe even get married.  But, I'm not desperate.  I deleted the personal ad shortly after I realized the creepy "I want to have sex with a stranger" factor was high.  I am not interested in fix ups.  I don't want to know about some guy who knows some guy who might like me. 

My self-esteem is fine, as well.  I appreciate -- truly truly truly appreciate -- that you think I'm smart, funny, caring, kind and a great catch.  I agree.  I also agree that any guy who can't see past my body-size is a loser.  But, to be fair, if I were a guy, I definitely wouldn't be attracted to someone who could possibly suffocate me in a moment of passion.  I've seen the CSI episode about that.  But, I am a work in progress and some day, I won't be this size... and all of the guys who ignored me when I was this size, well, let's just say, I'll be like "Um, how do I know you?" 

That said, I will confess that there was someone I met recently whom I was looking at with open eyes and open heart.  It doesn't matter how I met him, who he was or any of the details.  He had potential.  I totally believe in keeping my private life private when it comes to matters like this.  I know it's hard to believe considering all of the other stuff I've written on here and on Facebook.   I didn't know what was going to happen and didn't want egg on my face if I talked about it and it didn't work out.  I also didn't want to jinx things.  We had a few conversations and I realized that there just was no future.  And, I'm not saying this because there might be a future and I'm being overly cautious.  We have no future.  There is someone in his life whom he is very serious about.  When I met him, I didn't know.  I suspected.  But, wasn't sure.  However, I did discover that he is not available and hasn't been available for a long time and loves the person greatly.   Because of common interests and mutual friends, we still see each other in passing every now and then and there is this twinge of "I wish", but I'll get over it.  It sucks because my friends will tell me something about something he did or said and I'll think, "Aw, man, he sounds nifty."  But, I don't believe in wanting things I cannot have.  Been there, done that.   The scars remind me that past is real.  (Thank you Papa Roach.)

When I saw the movie Crazy, Stupid, Love, I did realize I want someone in my life long-term.  However, there is no clock ticking nor am I rushing around trying to fancy myself in love with every charming guy I meet.

I have some really great friends who possess all of the characteristics I look for in a "man"... and hanging out with them and being with them (both male and female) is much less stressful than trying to date any guy I meet.  The only thing really missing is sex... and to be honest, that can be taken care of quite easily thanks to technology and imagination.

So, thank you for your concern.  I appreciate it.  But, really, I'm ok.

My recent comments about soul mates and datability are intended to be humorous and should only be taken that way.  I'm sorry if I've misled anyone.

Now, I think I'll go listen to some Alanis Morrisette. :)

All By Myself

Livin' alone

I think of all the friends I've known

When I dial the telephone

Nobody's home

All by myself

Don't wanna be

All by myself

Anymore

I think I'm quite possibly better off staying single for the rest of my life. Or maybe finding someone who is prison, stationed in another country or who travels for a living.

This past week-end, an old college friend came to visit and to stay with me while she ran the Rock and Roll Half Marathon.  I love having company visit.  I enjoy having people around to talk to and do things with. She came last year and we had fun. 

I noticed this past week-end that I have changed a lot when it comes to the degree and amount of companionship I want and need.

I often joke that I'm single because I'm too picky and because I'm too set in my ways.  Joke being the operative word.

However, now, I'm not so sure.

I love my college friend like a sister.  I enjoyed having her visit. She is more than welcome to stay with me anytime she wants.

But, I also missed having my place all to myself.  Irony at its finest.  I want people around.  But, when they come, I find myself wanting to withdraw into my comfort zones.  I want to get up when I want to get up, go to bed when I want to go to bed.  Watch what I want to watch.  Engage in conversation when I feel like talking.  It has nothing to do with the person with me and everything to do with my own quirkiness.

On Friday afternoon, we each separately spent a fair bit of time on various forms of technology.   During the ride from the airport to a grocery store, she answered emails and checked texts.  Then, at the grocery store, while she was picking out foods she could eat (she's a vegetarian.  I am not.), I texted a friend for some comic relief.  Then, when we got to my home, as soon as we walked in the door, I headed to the computer to check my email and make sure I wasn't on my part time job's project manager's short list for not working this weekend, when volume of work was anticipated to be high.  She logged into her computer as well.

The television was on in the background.  I initiated conversation about some issues I've been having.  It felt good to say the words I've been feeling out loud.  I probed to find out what was going on in her world. 

Then, we decided that dinner was in order.  I had been looking forward to the visit because it would give me a reason to possibly wear some make up, get out of the house and meet people.  She seemed content to stay inside and eat bagged lettuce and cereal.  I strongly encouraged the "let's go out" thing.  I even wore make-up... and nothing happened to my pupil. (It blew the last time I wore make-up and I joked that it was out of shock.)

She tried to engage me in conversation while we got ready for dinner, but I thought she was talking to someone on her cell phone and didn't realize the conversation was for me.  We had some laughs over the fact that I was a horrible friend who wasn't paying any attention to her.

After dinner, she channel-surfed and played on her computer.  I uploaded photos to Facebook and checked for part-time work.  Then, I went to bed at 11, leaving her in the living room on the sofa-bed with the remote.  I don't quite remember when she fell asleep.  Other people watching TV while I try to sleep doesn't bother me.  In fact, it's actually kind of comforting to know there's someone else around.  I used to fall asleep as a child, listening to my parents watching television in the living room.  Our walls were very thin.

I woke up Saturday with a tummy issue but I had promised to deliver her promptly to a fitness expo before the doors opened so that she could get what she needed for her marathon.  I really wanted to be there with her.  Last year, I got some really great freebies.  This year, I just couldn't do it.  I was very happy that a friend of hers also traveled here for the marathon and I left them to ooh and aah over marathon-wear and I came back home, took some tummy meds, poked around on the computer and checked on PT work.

When she returned, I napped with Abby in my bedroom and she napped on the sofa with her laptop and the remote. After I woke up, I played around on the computer some more and she asked if there was anything else I wanted to do.  I knew she had expressed an interest in a couple of thrift stores we passed on the drive to my apartment, so I offered to go there before dinner.  We went to Goodwill near the local mall.  Then, she went to Marshalls and I went to Dollar Tree.  It was still early, however.  Too early to eat dinner.  So, we found another thrift store, one closer to the oceanfront.  After that, we went to a Halloween store.  I bought some face paint. Then, we took a short drive to the oceanfront while I tried to find a new health food store I had received an email about.  Couldn't find the store so we headed to dinner at Moe's.  After dinner, we stopped at two discount stores.

I feel the need to point out that I hate shopping.  I have never been one who 100% enjoys browsing, window shopping, etc.  I am a "get in and get out" kind of shopper. Growing up with a hoarder mother who had a need to buy something, anything every time we walked inside a store has warped my image of shopping.  There was a period in my life were I was a social shopper.  I also had the $30,000+ credit card debt to show for it. Been there, done that.  It took me 5 long credit-card less years to get over that.  So, now, I'm more reserved with my spending.  If I need groceries, I go to a grocery store.  If I need toiletries, I go to a drug store.  If I need cleaning supplies, I go to a dollar store.  I try to avoid places that will entice me to stock up on things I don't need.  Yes, yes -- occasionally, I will splurge.  Usually, it's a careful splurge.  I have a weakness for Party City where I can get trinkets and toys... for other people.  I guess buying things for other people helps me feel better about spending money.  I have a hard time spending money on myself just to spend money on myself.  This dislike of shopping should put me in the running for a man by itself.  Don't most men complain about their significant others' spending habits?   Hmmmm....  maybe I need to put that in my personal ad. :)

So, that said, I was a little tired of shopping and was snappish with my friend.  I wanted to be the good friend and take her wherever she wanted to go.  However, I was done with it.  If I had been a man and it had been a mall, you would have found me sitting on a bench someplace with glazed-over eyes, holding all of the bags.

We returned home and watched the movie Megamind on HBO.  Then, I went to bed and she stayed up with her laptop and remote.

On Sunday, I dropped her off at the marathon at 5:45 a.m., picked up some breakfast, played on the computer, slept for a couple of hours, took a shower, watched the Food Network, cleaned out my purse, did a load of laundry, and did a load of dishes. Then, I met my friend at Neptune Park at the oceanfront.

We walked in the sand, got our feet wet and dirty.  Felt the sunshine.  Felt the breeze.  Then, we took a dolphin watching cruise and had a late lunch at Waterman's Surfside Grille, one of my favorite restaurants.  I had alcohol.  We people watched.  It was a good day.  I love anything that has to do with the beach, water and being outside. On Sunday night, I dropped her off at the oceanfront for a concert while I went home and tried to shake off a stupor created by taking 2 drammamine tablets within an hour of drinking a potent alcoholic drink.

Today (Monday), she left for home.  I did some chores around the house and tried to psyche myself up for returning to work on Tuesday.  I could really use another day off.

What I learned about myself from this weekend is that I like being with people and having people around, but I also like to have my freedom and space.  I was happy as a clam as long as we had something to do -- whether it be go out to dinner or sightsee or watch a movie, and as long as there was some "down time" before and after whatever we did.  

I was also quite happy to give her freedom and space to do what she wanted to do.  As the "hostess", I worried that I wasn't spending enough time with her or offering to be more involved.  I kept telling her that I had no problem with her spending time with her friend who was also here.  I had no hidden agenda.  I was happy that there was someone who could do things with her that she enjoyed so that it took the pressure off of me to do those things.

I've mentioned on Facebook that I have a friend who reads my blog who has mentioned to me that some of the things I write about myself, my life, my likes/dislikes may be a little off-putting to a potential mate.  

I've also told this friend that I'm not writing this blog to find a man.  I'm writing it because I like to write... and it's very therapeutic for me to write about what I know and experience.  The only men who have access to this blog are my Facebook friends and I highly doubt that any of this is a surprise to any of them, if they are even reading this.  Most of them know me and should not be surprised by anything I've written.  Not that I really care.  I am who I am.  Love me or don't. :)

However, if there are random men reading this blog some place in the universe looking for a "cheat sheet" about me, and if there was one blog out of all of the others that you should read if you want to know what truly will make for a successful relationship, I guess this would be the one.

• Don't take me shopping unless I mention it.
• Don't be offended if I go off and do my own thing.
• Please be encouraged to go off and do your own thing.
• I like watching movies and making snarky comments while watching them.
• I do not want to compete with technology.  So, if we're on a date or hanging out together, turn off the cell phone.  I'll do the same.
• Don't criticize my driving or parking.
• If I say, "I don't care" when asked if I want to do something, there is no hidden agenda.  I really don't have a preference either way.  If I did, I'd tell you.
• I like getting dressed up and going out.  Ask me to do things outside the house on occasion. 
• I also like anything to do with the water or beach.  Feel free to invite me to go to the beach.
• I don't always enjoy "eating" related activities since I'm trying to lose weight.  Think of creative things that don't involve eating.
• I also like doing absolutely nothing. N O T H I N G.  Alone.  Together.
• If I offer to pay for a date or outing, I'm not doing it to be polite.  Let me pay on occasion.  Otherwise, I feel like a free-loader.
• I don't mind if you stay up and watch TV after I go to bed.  Just keep the volume low enough that the neighbors don't complain.
• I like it cold.  I will fight you over the thermostat until I win.  So, if you are someone who gets cold easily, buy a Snuggie. 
• I don't like to drive.  Please offer to do the driving.

Hmmm.... anyone still reading?

Eat Your Heart Out

I get so emotional baby
Every time I think of you
I get so emotional baby
Ain't it shocking what love can do
Ain't it shocking what love can do
Ain't it shocking what love can do

I've mentioned before that I have a love/hate relationship with food.  I love to cook it.  I love to eat it.  I hate how it makes me look and feel.

I've eaten like crap for the past three weeks.  A combination of what feels like continual PMS, stress from work and other assorted issues all rolled into one.  I haven't been to the rec center in three weeks either.

A ring that I bought myself years ago to remind me of attaining goals started to fit again about a month ago.  Now, it's tight again.

My stomach is touching the steering wheel again.

My clothing is feeling tight again.

I'm not feeling so perky and confident.

I need to get back on track.

Have you ever noticed that whenever anyone wants to celebrate something, they usually suggest going out to eat?  Birthdays -- let's go out to eat.  Company visiting - let's go out to eat.  Having a crappy day?  Let's go out to eat. 

I am an emotional eater.  If I'm upset about something, I eat.  If I'm happy, I eat.  If I'm bored, I eat.  I try to not keep "bad" stuff around the house for this reason alone.  However, incidents from the past few weeks have been on my last nerve, and whenever I hit a downward spiral, instead of fighting my way out, I tend to close my eyes and go along for the ride until I hit rock bottom.

I feel sick and bloated and tired. I'm grumpy and unhappy. I don't feel attractive or interesting.  I feel like everyone can see by the size of my bloated ankles, face and fingers that I'm not taking care of myself.  Again.

I think I've hit rock bottom.  Again.

When I was a kid, my mom used to soothe my hurt feelings with food.  She also rewarded me with food.  I've continued those traditions with myself.  Sadly, I've also noticed that I do it with my friends, too.  I didn't realize it until I wrote the blog last week about practically force-feeding my friend Gordon chocolate on a regular basis to satisfy a craving I had but couldn't act on. I know he was joking about me trying to kill him but it made me take a step back and realize I can't transfer my bad habits to others.

Food is my nemesis.  My kryptonite.   I wish I could live without it but I'm drawn to it like a moth to a flame.  I need it.  Like an addict needs drugs.

I know what I should eat, when I should eat it, and how much.  However, my heart doesn't listen to my brain.

Luckily, I still have some fire inside of me that wants to do better and be better.

As soon as I put my friend on the airplane today, I'm doing a massive cleaning out of the cupboards, fridge and freezer and "restarting" the whole healthy eating thing again.  I'm going to try to get in more exercise this week.  Luckily, one of the perks of having a super-healthy friend stay for a few days is that when she leaves, there are all sorts of healthy foods that can't fit into a carry-on bag that get left behind.

I wish there was an easy way to do this.  A button I could push to turn off the "need" to eat crap when I'm feeling badly about things.

I realized this weekend that the things that have been bothering me are things I can conquer.  I may not be totally happy with work, but in the grand scheme of things, it could be worse.  I get along with my co-workers.  My job is not hard.  When I'm not training, I get to leave at 4:00 p.m.  I get to meet people. I get to help people.  I just need to learn how to tune out the "negative" people who don't appreciate what I am trying to do for them and focus on the positive people and things that DO happen.  Now, does that mean I won't get antsy and want to be distracted or that I won't get frustrated with management decisions?  No.  But, as long as I keep reminding myself that it could be worse (and HAS been worse), I can soldier through this.  As for the other "things" going on in my life (and I can't really talk about them here), I'm going to have to deal with them on my own.  But, not with food. 

I saw a therapist once.  She said the over-eating was a self-destruction thing.  I blame myself for crappy things in my life and then punish myself by eating unhealthy things which then makes me feel less attractive, less desirable.  

Some people turn to alcohol, drugs or sex.  I choose food.

Hmmm....  maybe I should try one of the other three.  ;)

Shut Up and Drive

You can't go on, thinkin'
Nothing's wrong, but bye,
(who's gonna drive you)
(who's gonna drive you)
Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?
(who's gonna drive you home)

I'm sensitive about my driving ability.

As I've stated before, I don't really enjoy long-distance driving.  To be honest, I don't really enjoy any kind of driving.  Driving is a means to an end for me.  I need to get from Point A to Point B.  I don't like walking (takes too long) or taking public transportation (control issues) so that leaves driving.

When I was 15, my dad tried to teach me how to drive.  After much cursing and frustration, he gave up on me.  I used to practice on a little Renault "Le Car", which was a stick-shift, in our back yard.  To this day, I accelerate with my right foot and brake with my left foot, even if I'm driving an automatic transmission car.

I failed miserably that go round and my dad refused to get inside a car with me to teach me.

When I was 16, my mom decided to try again.  She was a little more patient with me, but there was still a lot of cussing and "No, No, No..." type advice.  For whatever reason, I did not like driving on the right side of the road.  Maybe I have an Englishman living inside of me.  I also did not like parallel parking, reverse driving or staying inside the lines.

But, I persevered because I knew I had to get my license if I wanted freedom.  I didn't want to rely on my parents and friends for the rest of my life for transportation.

I passed my driver's test on the first try, shortly after my 17th birthday.  Yes, I put it off that long. 

Now, I'm not a reckless driver.  I am aware of the rules of the road.  I try my best to be a good driver.

However, for whatever reason, I sometimes am not a good driver.  I misjudge how close I am to the other lanes.  I forget how big my truck is when parking.  I sometimes underestimate how much space there is between me and the person in front of/behind me.   I still cannot parallel park.  I've driven in circles trying to find two spaces together so that I can just pull into one.  I've also said the hell with it and given up if parallel parking is the only option.  I cannot back into a space.  I still have issues with lines.

This is frustrating for me because I like to do things well and driving/parking seem to be two of the easiest things in the world.  I will be very happy when I win the lottery and can hire someone to drive me wherever I want to go.

Virginia Beach is full of drivers who are far, far, far worst than me.  

I guess that gives me some peace of mind at night.

Following Directions

Stand in the place where you live  
Now face North  
 Think about direction   
Wonder why you haven't before   
Now stand in the place where you work 
Now face West   
Think about the place where you live   
Wonder why you haven't before    
If you are confused check with the sun   
Carry a compass to help you along   
Your feet are going to be on the ground   
Your head is there to move you around

I am directionally-challenged.  GPS was probably invented for people like me.  I get confused inside of shopping malls.  I go into a store, come out and have to stand there for a few moments trying to remember which way I came and which way I want to go next.  This is probably one of the reasons I avoid malls.  To solve this, I usually start in one corner and just "go right" the entire way.

I do not own a GPS.  I probably should. I'll add one to my wish-list -- after a wi-fi tablet and gaming system.

Someone at work was talking about GPS the other day and I jokingly said that I had an old-school GPS.  It's where I wind down the passenger window and yell out to people on the street, "Hey, can you tell me where ------ is?"  It has worked so far.

I was telling a co-worker a few days ago that I had company coming this weekend and that I was trying to find some interesting restaurants to try out.  I don't eat out on a regular basis so whenever someone is visiting, I like to use it as an opportunity to try new things and explore new places.  She suggested a place called Fire Brew "off Nimmo Parkway."

Since moving here, I've been on Nimmo Parkway once before and that was to go to Sandbridge, a beachy part of town.  I don't remember much about it except that I remember trying to figure out if it was pronounced "Nimm-O or Neeem-O."  I seem to recall seeing a Wal-Mart.  I think we ate at some restaurant that had a surfer theme.  Yes, that's how much I paid attention to it.   I had people in my car who are not as directionally-challenged who were my co-pilots.

That said, I looked up the restaurant last night and made on-line reservations for 7.  On the restaurant's website, there was a link to "get directions".  I clicked it.  I was re-directed to Google maps.  I typed in my starting address and printed out driving directions.  They were very very simple.

Turn right on Bonney Road.

Turn right onto Rosemont Road.

Follow Rosemont Road to Dam Neck.

Turn right on Dam Neck.

Turn left on Princess Anne. 

Turn right on Nimmo Parkway.

Make a U-turn.

Destination is on your right at 1253 Nimmo Parkway.

Yeah.  This did not take us to the restaurant. 

We drove around a little bit, trying to figure it out.  No luck.  Found several municipal buildings, a fire station, a post office, and a strip mall.

There was a guy coming out of a Chinese restaurant.  I told my friend that I was going to ask him for directions.  She seemed mortified.

I put down the passenger window and asked him if he was from around there.  He was very pleasant.  He tried to look up directions on his fancy phone but wasn't getting a quick response from his 3G network.  He gave us these long-winded directions.  Turn right, go to the end, turn left.  Keep going and going and going.  Pass a 7-11 and a dentist.  Pass a construction site where a CVS is going up.  Turn right.  It's there.  Those are my kind of directions.  Old-school GPS.  Garmin doesn't tell you that stuff.

We thanked him and considered inviting him along.  He was around our age, ok looking, no wedding band and getting Chinese takeout on a Friday night.  I may go back next Friday and look for him.  I like Chinese and my Fridays are usually free.

My friend and I joked that he was sending us out into the middle of nowhere where he could follow us and murder us.

However, that was not the case.  We did find the restaurant and I enjoyed it.  

I think I might like to go back on my birthday, assuming I can find it again.

There's No Place Like Home

Our house is a very, very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy
'Cause of you
And our la,la,la, la,la, la, la, la, la, la, la.....

Our house is a very, very fine house
With two cats in the yard
Life used to be so hard
Now everything is easy
'Cause of you

I've been thinking a lot lately about having a house.  A home.

I've never actually lived in a house.  All of my life, living in a house has always been a goal of mine.

I grew up in a single-wide trailer that had tiny rooms, bad wood paneling and ugly linoleum floors.  

I shared a tiny bedroom with my brother until I was 12.  The room was so small that I could sit on my bed and extend my arms and touch the closet door.  The bedroom was next to the furnace and some times, I'd lie in bed and worry about the furnace catching on fire and burning down the trailer.

I hated living in that trailer.  I was jealous of my school friends who had houses.  My dad's mother died when I was in college and he inherited her house.  I stayed there a couple of times but it wasn't "my" house.

I would buy graph paper from Murphy's Mart with my allowance when I was a kid and sit in my room and design my dream houses. 

Sometimes, they were very elaborate -- multi-levels, with a lake or stream running through the living room.  Sometimes, they were very simple.  Nice, tidy family houses.

The bedrooms would always be huge and have big closets and bay windows, with a place for me to sit and read or stare out the window.  The bathrooms would have plenty of room.

I would get out my colored pencils and doodle in bushes, gardens, dog houses, swimming pools, gym sets and trees.  Lots and lots of trees.  The grass would be vibrantly green.  The trees would bear fruit.  There would also be flowers flanking the nice cobble-stone sidewalks.  There would be a porch.  With a big swing.

I still want it.

I've been living in apartments since 1996.  Before that, I was living in a boarding house and before that, a college dorm.

My apartment is not very "homey".  I don't have decorations on the wall or artwork.  I have some knick knacks but nothing that screams "this place is a home."

So, I've been thinking about it.

I've been putting off looking for a home because I have this major fear of commitment.  I have a hard time signing a 12 month lease so taking on a 30 year mortgage feels stifling.  There's always this small part of me that wants an "out" clause.  I want to be able to pack up and go in a moment's notice if I feel like it.  With a mortgage, I can't do that.

Also, I don't know that I want the responsibility of a mortgage.  Lawn care. Snow removal. Taxes. Insurance. Upkeep. Termites. Leaking roof. 

But, I do know I'm feeling this craving to put down roots some place.  To have a house.  A nice sized kitchen.  A backyard garden.  To paint the walls the colors I want.  To have hardwood floors that I can walk on barefoot.  Maybe a safe backyard for Abby so that she can live outside with the squirrels and birds she loves so much (but not run away from home...)  A garage for my car.  A driveway where I can wash my car on nice days.  Flower beds.  A porch.  Natural sunlight filling the bedroom with beams, with little dust particles dancing in the beams. 

Real guest rooms for guests.  Shower curtains made of cloth instead of plastic.  A mailbox with my name on it.

Trash and recycling bins to haul to the curb on Tuesdays.

A place to decorate for the holidays.  A place to throw parties.  Hallways that my nephews can run down, chasing each other when they visit.  Hallways that I can run (or, well, limp) down and chase my soulmate if I ever find him.

Sprinklers to run through.  Garden hoses to drink from.

A place for me.  Forever.   A ...  home.

Searching for Superman

I can't stand to fly
I'm not that naive
Men weren't meant to ride
With clouds between their knees

I'm only a man in a silly red sheet
Digging for kryptonite on this one way street
Only a man in a funny red sheet
Looking for special things inside of me

It's not easy to be me. 

Superman 

This guy at work has started this trend of wearing ties on Thursday.  He calls it "Tie Thursday."  

I appreciate a man in a tie.

For me, it's because I have this Lois Lane-Clark Kent-Superman fantasy.

Now, I'm not at all attracted to the guy at work, but I am attracted to the idea of men wearing ties.

One of my favorite movies growing up was Superman.  

But, not because of "Superman".  I loved it because of Clark Kent.

I loved that this mild-mannered, bespectacled, suit and tie wearing newspaper man had a secret.

A secret that allowed him to save damsels in distress, save children in burning buildings... allowed him to fly, dodge bullets and see through things.  All by whipping off his tie and glasses.

So, when I see a man in a tie (or glasses -- or both), I often wonder what secrets lie beneath that calm, composed demeanor. 

Is he a superman?  Will he save the day?

Does he need a Lois Lane?  

Run Away and Never Look Back...

Restless tonight
'Cause I wasted the light
Between both these times
I drew a really thin line

It's nothing I planned
And not that I can
But you should be mine
Across that line

If I traded it all, if I gave it all away
For one thing, just for one thing
If I sorted it out, if I knew all about
This one thing wouldn't that be something

This morning, when I told my new group of new hires (all two of them) what the topic for the day was, they groaned and said, "Can't we just take the test and if we pass, we can skip it all and just sort of hang out all day?"  

For a few moments, I actually considered it.  Then, fear of getting in trouble beat some common sense into me and I plowed forward with the training.  It's very boring stuff, new hire training.  I've tried to pep it up.  I've tried to insert some games and personal stories.  I try out new ice breakers.   However, while I'm doing it, all I hear in my head is this constant buzzing sound similar to "snow" on old-fashioned televisions.  When they are talking, all I hear is blah blah blah blah.  I'm not interested in it.  I don't know why I expect them to be interested in it.

One of the ladies made a somewhat judgmental statement today that she felt people at work could benefit from some sort of on-site fitness center.  She said, "Have you looked at some of these people?"  This peeved me.  Later, when she and I were alone, I asked her what she meant by the statement and she said she meant that most people seemed depressed and lacking energy and that if we had an on-site gym, maybe they'd be happier and more energetic.  I did not burst her bubble.  I told her it was a good idea and moved on.  I thought she meant that everyone was overweight.  My own sensitivities I guess.

I'm very restless.  I'm in this weird mood where I feel like I need to shake things up, do something radically different.  I'm tired of hearing buzzing in my head when I'm training and boring myself to tears when I should be excited and motivated.  I don't hate my job.  I don't.  In the grand scheme of things, I could do worse. I've learned how, for the most part, to let go of the things I wish I had more control over.  It helps to have a team-mate who seems to share this... restlessness.. on occasion.  

But, at the end of the day, I want something to quench the restlessness.

On my way home from work, I pass an exit ramp to I-264.  One way goes East to the ocean and one way goes West to... you know, I'm not entirely sure where.  Tonight, I had this strong urge to just pick West and follow it as far as I could... or get off at some exit and see where it took me.  Sadly, I don't think it would be too far out of my neck of the woods.  Not radical enough.  Not far enough away.

I think part of this is stemming from the fact that tomorrow is the 4-year anniversary of my last day at Chase.  It was supposed to be the beginning of great things.  I was supposed to move here, lose weight, find some new and exciting job, fall in love, and live happily ever after with a year-round tan.

I gained weight.  I got a job similar to the one I left.  I haven't had a real date since I moved here.  And I haven't been to the beach once this summer.

I know I don't want to dwell on the past.  It's over.  I made my decision.  I don't believe in regrets or mulling over coulda, shoulda, woulda.

I think I'm going to conquer my dislike of driving and pick some random road and direction on the map and take off.  Just drive and drive until I find something interesting to see and do.  

I might come back.