All I Want For Christmas...

I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is... 

I think it's still much too early to be thinking about Christmas.  However, I looked at the calendar and next week is Thanksgiving.  Once that day arrives, Christmas is pretty much unavoidable.  Target has had Christmas decorations out since late September.  Guess they wanted to beat Wal-Mart and K-Mart.  

I joked about writing a letter to Santa this year and the more I think about it, the more I think why not?  Why should this be reserved for small children?  I'd sit on the man's lap if I thought it would help me be ho ho ho-ier and maybe get me something good.

I posted on Facebook that one of my favorite holiday movies is A BOYFRIEND FOR CHRISTMAS.  It's one of those heart-warming Hallmark movies.  I own it on DVD.  I remember when I bought it, I was so tickled to see the email from AMAZON that said "A BOYFRIEND FOR CHRISTMAS has shipped!"  I kept checking my doorstep for tall, dark and handsome with a big ole bow on him.  I settled for the DVD.

In 1998, I wrote a letter to Santa.  I asked him for three things:  to reconnect with an old friend, to find out if the "one who got away" really was "the one" (or was he just someone who "got away") and to fall in love.

By some fluke of holiday magic, I got all three things.  Not on Christmas.  That would be too weird.  But, pretty close.  First, it was the old friend.  Someone I hadn't talked to in years but whom had been one of my best friends in high school sent me a Christmas card.  She had gotten my address from my parents.  Tickled me pink to hear from her.  We wrote each other (she didn't have email) a few times but then lost touch again.  The next thing that happened was the "one who got away".  He was bored one night shortly before Christmas and called me because something he had heard or seen reminded him of me.  That made me smile.  But, alas, talking to him didn't warm my toes and tingle my heart...  or... warm my heart and tingle my toes.  We chatted and at the end of the call, I realized he wasn't "the one" and could put that fantasy to bed.  

Finally, the last one -- the elusive "love".   Found it with a male friend.  Didn't see it coming.  He would always come around to see me at work and offer to help me with things.  My friends saw "romance" before I did.  He definitely wasn't the kind of guy I normally fell for.  I kept protesting.  Everyone else kept encouraging.  I eventually listened to "everyone" else.  Long story short, I believe everything happens for a reason and everyone we meet happens for a reason.  I enjoyed the good bits.  Didn't enjoy the not-so-good bits. Obviously, it didn't work out or else I'd be writing about the "happily ever after".

I'm almost afraid to write another letter to Santa.  That whole "be careful what you wish for" thing.

All I want for Christmas is ....   you.

You - the good friend who lives close enough to get together for movie night, drinks after work or to go out to dinner.... and who gets along with my other friends, too, so we can all hang out on occasion.
You - the co-worker I know that I can trust 100% when I need to vent about work without worrying that you will see me negatively or tell the boss.

You - the soul mate who has a great sense of humor, brains in your head, a good heart, who loves me as I am and most importantly, "gets me" as I am.  (If you can cook breakfast, know how to fix cars and like cats, I'll be your love slave forever.)

You - the representative from the lottery commission or other sweepstakes company who gets to be the bearer of good news that I've really and truly won enough money to quit my day job and  pursue my dreams.

You - the person who would buy a book written by me.

You - the good neighbor who isn't too loud, who would pick up my mail and check on Abby and check on me if you don't see me around for a few days.

You - the child I hope to have some day so that I can be a kick butt PTA mom, classroom mom and chaperone on field trips -- before I get so old that all of the other kids think I'm your grandma instead of your mom.

So, Santa, if you are a fan of blogs, I've given you a challenge.  This is my letter to you, the granter of wishes and the keeper of dreams.

I'll leave some cookies out for you.  Just be careful in the chimney.  I think Abby's squirrelfriend might be living in there.

Once Upon A Time

Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you
If you're young at heart
For it's hard, you will find, to be narrow of mind
If you're young at heart

You can go to extremes with impossible schemes
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams
And life gets more exciting with each passing day
And love is either in your heart or on it's way

I've been watching this new show called Once Upon A Time, about a bunch of childhood story characters transported to a modern-day world via a curse and a little boy who wants to break the curse and free the characters to live the life they were destined to live.  It's a pretty good show.  Good versus Evil.  Innocent versus Not So Innocent. 

When I was a kid, I loved fairy tales.  Rapunzel. Cinderella. Snow White. Sleeping Beauty. Then, later, it was Belle, Jasmine, Ariel.  They were smart, independent, kind, loving women who knew what they wanted and got what they wanted, without sacrificing themselves.  They had their convictions and stood by them.  I wanted to grow up and be a princess and find my prince and live happily ever after.  

Every summer, my family would visit this amusement park called Idelwild Park and there was a section of the park called Storybook Forest.  I would count down the days every summer until I could go to Storybook Forest.  Every childhood favorite could be found there.  I was always mesmerized by it.  Trying to pull Excalibur out of the rock.  Staring into the mirror mirror on the wall that had a hidden face.  The crooked man who lived in a crooked house.  The little old lady who lived in a shoe.

I could walk in and out of the pages of my favorite books and then chatter the entire car ride home about how I wanted to live there when I grew up.  I would lie in bed and imagine a world made up of my favorite characters... gingerbread houses, castles, bright colors, fun, fantasy....

I sometimes miss that innocence and hope.  That purity of thinking that everything will end up "happily ever after."

I've been kidded at times about having rose-colored glasses and for wishing and hoping for things that seem almost childish and immature.  I want a peaceful world with flowers and animals and butterflies.  I want to see rainbows and make wishes on stars and think that they might come true. I consider myself old-fashioned, a throwback.  I like romance and the potential that comes from fairy tales.  Real life fairy tales. 

I want to write my own story some day that starts out "Once Upon A Time"... (instead of "It was a dark and dreary night....").  I want the prince who saves me from myself and finds my innocent and hopeful outlook refreshing.  I want the carriage ride with beautiful graceful white horses.  I want the crystal blue lake filled with serene swans.  I want the castle on a hill, with fruit-bearing trees decorating the lush green lawns.  I don't want the wicked witch or the ugly stepsisters.  Although, to be fair, every good fairy tale has some sort of obstacle to overcome in order to reach the "and they lived happily ever after."

I could be a princess type.  Lord knows, I've encountered many wicked witch types and I've definitely met some obstacles head on.

It's my dream.  My fantasy.  My fairytale.

I'd like to think I'm not the only one.

Dirty Laundry

Dirty little secrets
Dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybody's pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love dirty laundry

We can do "The Innuendo"
We can dance and sing
When it's said and done we haven't told you a thing
We all know that Crap is King
Give us dirty laundry!

I have over 200 friends on Facebook and I'm always amazed to discover that at least once a day, one of them (sometimes, more than one of them and sometimes, more than once per day), will post something negative or insulting about his/her partner, significant other, spouse, date, and/or potential date.

They just put it all out there.  For the whole world to see.  Including the person who is the source of their grief.

I know I'm prone to TMI but I am not the sort of person who will openly bash someone in a public forum just to try to make a point, or hope that they will stumble upon my words and feel inclined to respond.  I am far more subtle and crafty with my ways.  And, to be honest, lately, I've been more inclined to just take it up with the person directly instead of beating around the bush.  Innuendo, hints, vagueness...  they don't work.  Especially not with men.

Personally, I don't understand this need to put out there for everyone to see that you are upset or insecure about your partner.  If I were in a relationship with someone and he posted on his wall comments that made fun of me, insulted me, mocked me or told the world about some bad habit I have, I'd be looking for a new partner.  It's just not appropriate.  It's also not very mature.   I feel like I'm reading some dysfunctional diary when I click my "newsfeed" and see posts like:

"Told the bastard that I wanted to go to dinner.  He chose his friends."

"If you don't love me, then leave me, a$$hole.  I'm tired of your attitude."

"My husband is an idiot.  But I love him."

"If you loved me, you'd call me."

"Despite all of his issues, I still love my boyfriend."

Yes, these are some of the posts I've seen in the past week.  I cleaned up spelling, grammar, and language in some cases and took creative liberty with the exact words to protect the posters in the event they read this blog.  However, the sentiment is the same.  Negativity.  How can a relationship survive such negativity?  Why is there a compulsion to put this on a public forum?  I find myself feeling sorry for the poor soul who is the brunt of this pain.

I have a friend who is going through a nasty divorce and she has not blocked or unfriended her soon-to-be ex-husband.  Every day, there is some sort of "attack" on her wall about him and every other day, there is some sort of vitriolic response from him.  I had to block her posts because I couldn't stand how it was making me like her less, reading these nasty things.  There are children involved and I just hope that the two people are acting more mature in front of the children because I know first-hand what it is like to be stuck listening to two people who hate each other fight with each other constantly.  After awhile, you start to wonder if it's something you've done and depending on your age when you witness it, it can totally mess up your own approach to relationships and "happily ever after."

I guess I just believe there is a time and place for these things and a public forum like Facebook isn't it.  I rarely see the "Oh, I love my boyfriend/spouse/partner..." posts.  It's always something negative.  And not in a funny "Oh, that Bill, he accidentally mowed right through my garden again..." nyuck nuck way.  (shrug)  Makes me wonder how long the relationship will last.  Also makes me thankful that I don't act that way. Makes me sad that someone like me, who would treat a man I loved well, can't have someone when these mean people seem to have no problem finding people to frequently demean.

Earlier this week, I was talking to a male friend about the crazy things women do to get attention from their men -- from texting 100+ times a day, posting and tagging frequently on their FB walls, to publicly bashing...

His response was that he has the approach that every woman (and man) has some degree of crazy. He said that when he enters into a relationship with someone, he makes the decision about what kind of/degree of crazy he's willing to put up with.  I'd love to argue with him that it's a cynical stance to have and that not every woman is crazy (mostly to comfort myself, too) but the reality is -- I agree with him.

I've seen it day after day on Facebook.  Cheating men, lying women, lazy spouses, inconsiderate girlfriends, epic fails, bitchiness, cattiness...  It's exhausting.  And I'm not even the one in the relationship with these people.

All week, I've been trying to think about what my "crazy" is -- in the relationship sense.  Lord knows, I have many other degrees of crazy in other aspects of my life.

I'm fairly independent and as long as I feel confident that I can trust my partner, I'm not particularly clingy.  So, that's not my crazy.

I only use my cell phone to communicate when all other methods have failed and/or when I don't need an immediate response... so frequent texting and harassing isn't my crazy.

I don't feel the need to put out there on FB for everyone to read the exact angst I feel about a specific person, so that's not my crazy.  I've slipped a couple of times on there and on here and came close to bashing a specific person, but then deleted those posts/blogs because in all reality, that's not who I am.  I don't need the public sympathy and attention.  "Oh, poor Bev, he sounds like a loser...."  I'm not a mean person down deep.  So, that's not my crazy.

My kind of crazy, I realized, is that I get bored.  Quickly and easily.  Once I get past the initial "honeymoon" phase where I am attracted to everything he says and does, down to how he ties his shoes, I start to lose interest and try to provoke him into entertaining me, into making it more interesting for me.  As a new hire called it this week, it's the "Dance, monkey, dance!" syndrome.  I expect the guy to magically be more interesting and make everything feel new again.  And if he fails, I start to look elsewhere.  Or I go overboard trying to come up with all sorts of fun and exciting things for us/him to do to try to put spark and magic into the relationship.  Instead of accepting the "easy comfort" of being with someone you know well and who knows you well, I find myself thinking, "Oh God, I'm going to have to laugh at those jokes and watch Star Trek reruns for the rest of my life!" while worrying that he's thinking, "Oh God, I'm going to have to listen to her ramble on about how much she loved LOST and all of her friend issues for the rest of my life!"

I was telling some of my new hires during a break about this "crazy theory" this past week and the guy who jokingly said I'd be telling my boyfriend "Dance, monkey, dance" said that I just had to find someone who is very mysterious and who doesn't easily give up things about themselves so that I can drag out the honeymoon phase as long as possible and then, maybe, by then I'll have gotten frustrated by how long it was taking to get to know the person and realize that "boredom" is better than pulling teeth.

Still, I kinda like the idea of being able to look a guy in the eyes and say, "Dance, monkey, dance!"

It could lead to so many other verbs.  And being called a monkey isn't necessarily a bad thing. 

Roll To Me

Look into your heart pretty baby
Is it achin' with some nameless need?
Is there somethin' wrong
And you can't put your finger on it?
Right then, roll to me

And I don't think
I have ever seen a soul so in despair
So if you want to talk the night through
(Ooh)
Guess who will be there?
(Aaa)

Back in 1995ish, I used to absolutely love this song.  I had a mixed tape (yes, as in "cassette tape") of songs that I used to take with me when I traveled for a job that I had at the time.  This song was one of the songs on it. I used to daydream about meeting someone who sensed I was in turmoil and who would offer to be my rock -- to be the person I can turn to.  Funny - all these years later, I still want that.

I digress.  I spent 3 of 4 weeks every month on the road, visiting various day cares, after school programs and in-home child care providers to offer education, support and training.  I lived in my car.

I think spending so much time in my car for over two years is one of the main reasons I don't enjoy driving or spending time in my car now.  Oh, I don't mind being the passenger.  But, I get frustrated with driving.  Small distance, long distances.  It doesn't matter.  If I didn't despise public transportation and fear its unpredictability, I'd probably consider parking the car and forgetting about it.

Every now and then, though, I suck it up in the name of fun.   A few weeks ago, I made the trip to Northern Virginia to see Jason Mraz in concert.  This past weekend, I made the trip again, for a cooking show in DC.

On Friday night, I went to Target after work and purchased a Garmin.  I've been scoffing the technology for years, relying on mapquest directions to get me where I need to go.  However, I didn't feel like trying to drive and read directions so I caved in and bought the GPS.  It was suprisingly easy to install and use.  I had considered returning it after the weekend was over, but now I'm thinking of keeping it.  I have a tendency to get lost trying to find places and this could come in handy.  Heck, it may even encourage me to explore parts of Virginia Beach and Hampton Roads I haven't explored yet.

I left around 8:30 on Saturday morning and the drive was clear and uneventful.  The foliage along I-295 and I-95, near the DC area is absolutely beautiful.  I tried to take photos but driving and photography do not mix well.   I had the new Colbie Caillat CD along with two Jason Mraz CDs.  Decided I was going to have perky, upbeat music in the car with me.  Sort of that "fake it until you make it" thing.  I haven't been feeling too perky but I didn't want to show up at my friend's house in a cranky mood. 

We left a little before 1:00 for the cooking expo.  I had never been to DC before so it was fun playing tourist, oohing and aahing over the buildings and architecture.  I love old buildings.  I could spend hours taking photos of old buildings, ornate architecture, etc.  When I lived in Ohio, there was a lot of old architecture.  New homes and buildings try to impress us with glass and steel.  I love the look of old concrete, stucco and wood beams.  I've often fantasized about living in some old Victorian with lots of rooms, nooks and crannies.

The cooking expo was massive.  Over 300 vendors.  I love those kinds of things.  I love trying to get free samples and trying new things.  We spent close to two hours exploring the vendor booths.  I even tried to pick up a man at a meat vendor booth.  He said he liked my personality.  But, alas, I did not score any digits.

Then, it was time for the Guy Fieri demonstration.  He is very personable.  I remember watching him on the Next Food Network Star and he was my number 1 pick to win.  I love him on Diners, Drive ins and Dives.  He seems like he would be a fun person to hang out with.  Has a sarcastic sense of humor and down to earth approach.  

After the demo, we headed north on 7th Street to Chinatown where we met up with an old college friend of mine.  We had dinner at an Italian restaurant called Carmine's, which is part of the NYC Carmine's family of restaurants.  The food was good and the conversation was lively.  There was much joking about my love life and trials and tribulations.  My friend invited me to join him at a gay bar after dinner, but I passed, citing my fear of meeting someone there and falling in love.  My friend, who is an editor for a major newspaper, offered up some suggestions for launching my writing career and we discussed my blog for a bit.

After dinner, we all headed back towards the convention center.  My college friend headed off to his bar.  Heather and I headed back to her place.   We sat around for awhile and then I headed to bed, leaving her to spend some time with her husband and dog.

I was up early today, thanks to the time change.  As soon as the sun came up, I was wide awake.  I was on the road by 8 and home by 11:15.

I'm always glad to come home.  The older I get, the more "home-body" I am.  I missed my Abby.  I missed my bed.  I missed my pillows.  I changed clothing and crawled into bed and just snuggled with Abby for a couple of hours, while trying to motivate myself to do the list of chores I had yet to touch.

As I lie in bed, Dorothy's voice from the Wizard of Oz kept circulating in my head.  "There's no place like home.  There's no place like home.  There's no place like home."

I think she may have been on to something.

Shock/Denial/Anger/Acceptance

You seem very well, things look peaceful
I'm not quite as well, I thought you should know
Did you forget about me Mr. Duplicity
I hate to bug you in the middle of dinner
It was a slap in the face how quickly I was replaced
Are you thinking of me when you fuck her

Yeah, this blog has absolutely nothing to do with being replaced by someone.  However, it is about anger and whenever I think of angry songs, I'm always drawn to this part of the song and how great it feels to say the "F" word right along with her in the song, like you are right there, feeling that frustration she feels...  ah, Alanis, I bow down to you.

That said - someone pissed me off today.   Soon after, I realized that I have my own "stages" of coping with things.

We've all heard about the 7 stages of grief ... or coping... or whatever.  Shock, Denial, Anger, Acceptance, etc.  (This is also the name of a Rick Springfield album.)

I realized that whenever I have a set back of some sort, I go through phases, too.

Mine are self-pity, depression, anger and change.

First, I feel sorry for myself.  I wallow.  Wallow, wallow, wallow.  Woe is me.   I cry.  I curse.  I blame myself.  I cry some more.  I don't understand why bad things happen to me.  I don't want to talk to anyone or be with anyone.  I want to lie in bed and listen to sappy sad songs and just cease to exist for awhile.

Then, I get depressed.  Darkly depressed.  I start to imagine that there is no hope and that no one cares.  I can't really cry anymore and sad songs don't faze me anymore.  I lose self esteem and motivation.  I just want to sleep.  And eat.  Sleep, daydream, fantasize and eat.  I start to shutdown emotionally and physically.  Nothing appeals to me except for avoiding life.  I wish more people understood me and how I felt.  I wish the people causing me harm truly knew how much they were hurting me.

Next, I start to get mad.  Usually one of the people or things which started the spiral downward will do something to totally piss me off.  A comment.  An action.  I start to see people in a different light and through different eyes.  I wonder if maybe it isn't "me" who is the bad guy and that maybe they are the fucktards with issues.  I start to fume and boil.  I plot ways in my head to show them up, to make them regret the day they crossed me.

Finally, I take action.  I make a change.  A hair cut.  A new job.  A new home.  Something. Anything.  I decide that I'm tired of being sad and tired of letting whomever it is that made me sad have power over me.  I shake them off and the bad feelings that come with them.  I move on.  Their loss.

Now, sometimes, it takes awhile to make it through these changes.  I went through a period a few years back where stages 1 and 2 lasted for about two years.  Then, sometimes, it's just a matter of weeks.

Right now, I'm a little ticked off.  Mad that someone I thought was a friend isn't being quite as "friend-like" as I'd like them to be.  A little wary.  A lot suspicious.  Now, I know anger is a useless emotion, too.  It's no healthier than being sad and depressed.  However, the positive is that soon -- I hope soon -- that anger will turn into some sort of motivating factor and I will spring forward and re-energize myself and motivate myself to do greater things.  Better things.

So, viva the "F" word.  Viva "go to hell" lists.  Viva not giving a damn.

Torn Between Two Lovers

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

http://grouphug.us/

http://www.truuconfessions.com/

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

http://www.postsecret.com/

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

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

How in the heck is that possible?

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

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

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

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

Ahhh, matters of the heart.  Too complicated.  

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

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

Confessions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I confess....

Confession is good for the soul.  

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

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

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

Have you confessed anything lately?  Try it.  

I promise I won't tell anyone.

A Week of Weird

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

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

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

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

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

Then, I woke up.

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

Then, I woke up from that one.

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

Then, I woke up.

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

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

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

Then, I woke up.

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

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

Wishes my heart makes???  (shaking head)

Party Like It's Your Birthday

In Da Club

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Viva Las Vegas

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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