Boyfriend

If I was your boyfriend, never let you go
Keep you on my arm girl, you'd never be alone
I can be a gentleman, anything you want
If I was your boyfriend, I'd never let you go, I'd never let you go

Tell me what you like yeah tell me what you don't
I could be your Buzz Lightyear fly across the globe
I don't never wanna fight yeah, you already know
Imma make you shine bright like you're laying in the snow

Girlfriend, girlfriend, you could be my girlfriend
You could be my girlfriend until the ---- world ends
Make you dance do a spin and a twirl and
Voice goin crazy on this hook like a whirl wind 

Yes, I quoted Justin Bieber.  No, the world is not ending.  Yet.

This is blog # 2 for the day.  # 3 for the weekend.  Jump in and read 'em all.

On Friday afternoon, I was chatting with some of the new hires, winding down with them after a stressful week, helping them decompress a little before they went their ways for the weekend.

One of them asked me if I was single.  I hate that question.  I always feel like I need to justify why I have no one in my life.  I said that yes, I was single.  No, I'm not looking.  Then, she asked why I was single.  I am always flattered when someone seems shocked I'm still single.

I let the eHarmony ad run its course.  No takers. Closed my account.  They send me emails from time to time inviting me back.  Um, no thanks.  I still have an ad on Zoosk and have gotten a few bizarre emails and messages but when I wrote back, they never did.  I have a feeling they were "net casting" emails.  Meaning the men sent a general message to a lot of different women seeing who responds and then tosses back the ones that they don't want to keep.  I think I probably got tossed back.   Or maybe they weren't real to begin with.  I think Zoosk probably generates messages to try to get you to buy a membership.  I'm too cheap to pay for something I don't have faith in.

The truth is - I have no desire to date.  I hate dating.  I suck at dating.  I've mentioned this before and I'm not going to rehash it.  However, I realize that if I want to stop being single, I need to date.  My soul mate, or a reasonable facsimile, isn't just going to show up on my doorstep with a bouquet of gerbera daisies, a mixed tape of Jason Mraz/Colbie Caillat/Jack Johnson love songs and home-made lemon bars and declare his love for me.  I may joke about believing in unicorns and glitter, but I know I'm going to have to put forth some effort to find romance.  I don't have the desire to do it.  I am not actively looking for romance.  Or a boyfriend.  I'm kind of ... disinterested ... in men at the moment.

I don't like the whole "pretense" thing that comes with dating.  The whole false advertising that we're both required to do until we feel comfortable enough with each other to stop using facades.  The slimming underwear, the tanning bed, the perfectly coiffed hair...  The witty stories and interesting activities. Best behavior all the way.

I hate getting my hopes up.  I enjoy the infatuation and getting to know you stage that comes with dating.  I hate the inevitable lull where reality sinks in and we start to notice each others' quirks and habits... in a bad way.  He drums his fingers.  I talk with my hands.  He cracks his knuckles.  I pop my gum.  He cusses at people in traffic.  I stop short when I brake the car.  The rosy glow of romance turns into the hazy grayness of "you're just like..." and everything comes to a screeching halt.

So, I've been bouncing around this thing in my head for a couple of months now.  It's called the Saturday Night/Sunday Morning boyfriend.

I'm not talking about a FWB, a friend with benefits.  I want some sort of commitment.  I want the "L" word ("Love" not "Lesbian").  I want passion, flirting, desire and lust.  I want the private jokes and private smiles.  I want texting, sexting, and phone sex.  I don't want some guy who just happens to be in my life ease into some hookup that leads to him staying over on Saturday nights.  I want a boyfriend.  Not friend who is a boy.  I want him to be thinking of me (and vice versa) Monday - Friday and eventually hope to have some sort of "happily ever after" with me.  I'm not so sure I'm cut out for marriage but I want to know I'm not the second choice until something better comes along.  I'm open to a male friend becoming a boyfriend but I don't want the "too comfortable" friends with benefits thing where there is no real commitment and no real passion.  That is kind of lazy.  And confusing.  Someone is always more invested in that situation and because it is so vague and commitment-less, it isn't for me. I'm usually the one who falls in love and he's the one who moves on to someone else. I'm all about definitions and knowing where things are going.  The "comfortable" thing can come when we're old and gray.  I'm a woman -- not a pair of comfy socks.

I think of Jason Mraz's song "If It Kills Me". It's about a man who is friends with a woman and he is in love with her and hopes she can figure this out by his actions. He hopes he gives himself away so that she can finally see what he feels.  We've all been there. I've been there.  There's a video on YouTube of Jason performing this live. In his introduction, he talks about male-female friendships/flirtationships.  He mocks the whole thing and he says, "I can hear you. I can smell you.  I can see you.  I just can't touch or taste you. Three out of five ain't bad." 

Been there.  Done that.  Can't do it again.  I know, I watch WHEN HARRY MET SALLY.  It worked for them.  I don't think it works for me anymore.  I need open heart and open eyes.  I need to know right off the bat if we're going to be friends forever who just pussyfoot around feelings or we're going to get stinking drunk some night and move on to the next step because the friendship thing was just a safety net ruse to get to know each other without scaring each other off by using the "R" word ("Romance").

I digress.

So, to my SN/SM boyfriend.  Right now, I'm in a bit of transition.  I am not at my best seven days a week right now.  So, it's not fair to unload that on someone who loves me.  I know, I know -- if he loves me, he should want me good and bad.  I don't want me good and bad.  I'm not going to do that to some poor guy.  So, right now, what works for me is to have someone who shows up around 6:00 on Saturday night (or who invites me over).  We have dinner.  We take turns cooking. We watch television, rent a movie, play a game, do some sort of activity together.  Maybe we go out.  Maybe we have friends over.  Something.  A "date". Then, we spend the night together.  Yes, sex.  Lots of sex.  Hot and sweaty, up against the wall, in the shower, on the floor, noisy uncontrollable sex.  Then, we sleep.  On Sunday morning, we sleep in, cuddle a little bit, have breakfast, maybe share the Sunday paper and then go our separate ways.  Hugs, kisses, "I Love You"s. That leaves us both plenty of alone time to do things on our own and/or with other people.  We don't get sick of each other.  We have something to look forward to. We can talk on the phone, text or email during the week.  Heck, I'd be open to an occasional weekday lunch or dinner to touch base, but we don't have to live out of each others' pockets every day.  Some day, we can add on more days and longer weekends.  Eventually, decide if we're in it for the long haul and combine CD and DVD collections and adopt a little brother or sister for Abby.  Maybe, maybe if my eggs are still viable, consider adding a human baby brother or sister to the household for Abby.  But, that's not where I am right now.  Not yet.  Maybe soon.  Maybe once I get my money situation fixed.

This past weekend would have been perfect for the SN/SM boyfriend situation.  

I'm a fairly independent person.  I can find things to amuse me and entertain me just about every night of the week.  I try to keep busy.  I have friends.  I have hobbies.  I like to read.  I like to watch television.  I'm quite satisfied with my own company.  Most days.

However, this past week, I've been kind of lonely.  Kind of needy.  I'm tired of being alone with my thoughts and worries.  I need a distraction.  I tried going to the gym.  I've tried reading.  I've tried television.  But, as soon as the silence settles in and the sun sets, I find myself wishing for things I don't have.

I really wanted to go out this weekend.  I didn't want to be alone.  I wanted to go see Goonies at Mt. Trashmore on Friday night with someone who would laugh with me and say "BABY RUTH" and "CHUNK" and daydream about moving to Oregon and looking for pirate ships and treasure.  The first time I saw the movie, I wanted to immediately move to Oregon and buy a house on the coast just like the houses the kids lived in, and watch for pirate ships in the cove.   I couldn't find anyone to go with me and I didn't want to be that creepy woman all alone at some kiddie movie.  Then, on Saturday, a local band was playing at a nearby bar and I wanted to go and listen to them.  I didn't want to go alone.  I wanted to be able to laugh and comment to someone about how good they were.  Maybe even dance with someone. (Feel the heat with someone.)  No one wanted to go.  So, I putzed around the house, went to the gym, cleaned out my purse... Bored myself to tears.

If I had the SN/SM boyfriend, my problems would have been solved.  I would have negotiated a Friday night into the mix and promised him it wouldn't be a normal occurrence.  I'd offer to make it up to him by relieving him of breakfast duty or something on Sunday.  He didn't have to spend the night Friday night.  I had things to do Saturday morning.  Then, last night, we could have gone to the bar and enjoyed the music.  Maybe danced a little.  Then, bowchickabowwow.  This morning was rainy and dreary.  Perfect morning to lie in bed and enjoy it.  Abby was even generous last night and slept in her own bed which means she wasn't walking around on my bed, head, bladder and back at 4:30 trying to wake me up so that I can turn on the water in the bathroom sink for her.  It was like having a baby sleep through the night.  I have turkey sausage and fresh eggs in the fridge so we could have had a nice home-made breakfast before he hit the road.

Sadly, there is no one in my life who can be this person.  In order to find this person, I'd have to date.  Which brings me to the beginning of the blog.  I don't like to date.

I want to walk out my door, have a Certs encounter with someone... or meet someone at work... or have a friend of a friend introduce me to someone who has an immediate interest in me... and have the romance begin.  

Someone suggested a Craigslist ad.  I tried writing one yesterday morning but no matter how I tried to finesse it, the whole thing sounded a lot like a booty call -- a desperate cry for casual sex -- and I don't do casual sex.  I don't do booty calls.  Love and sex are the same in my book.  Plus, with my luck, I'd get someone who would kill me in my sleep and I have no desire to become a made-for-tv movie.

But, it's good in theory.  I shared this theory with my new hire who wanted to know why I was single and she thought it was a genius idea.

Now, if we can find a way to make it happen.

I am accepting applications.  No credit check required. 

Secret Lovers

Secret lovers, yeah that's what we are
Trying so hard to hide the way we feel
'Cause we both belong to someone else
But we can't let it go 'cause what we feel
Is, oh so real, so real, so real

You and me, are we fair?
Is this cruel or do we care?
Can they tell that's in our minds?
Maybe they've had secret love all of the time

I had a weird corporate romance dream last night. 

In my dream, I was working in this huge modern corporate setting.  Very not like where I work right now.

This place had shiny surfaces, modern furniture, high tech stuff, elevators, huge bathrooms and seemed very intimidating and large.  Everyone wore business attire -- no business casual, no jeans Fridays.  I still worked in "Education and Development" (I like that name better than training).  I worked with several women and one male and his name was Brady.  We had cubicles but in the main part of our office, there was this huge round table where everyone sat to work on projects.  "Brady" sat directly across from me.  Well, Brady and I kept making faces at each other across the table and no one really spoke.  There was this one guy, kind of dorky, who kept saying inane things and singing songs and we'd look at him like, "Dude, keep quiet or else you'll get sent to HR."  Being sent to HR seemed to be the worst thing you could have happen.  I received these texts from someone saying things like, "Maybe he can sing at our wedding?" and "Let's not invite him to our wedding."  I'd read the texts and smile to myself and then I'd look up and Brady would raise his eyebrow at me.  I realized that Brady was the one texting me and that we were secretly engaged.  I got the feeling that no one was allowed to have any sort of personal relationship at this company.  No one was allowed to talk or have fun.  It felt very prison-like.  Very serious and stuffy.  The texting continued back and forth and the idiot kept doing idiotic things.   I then had to go to the bathroom and left the area.  I had to sign out when I left the area and had to swipe an ID badge to use the elevator.  Everything was tracked and monitored.  Cameras everywhere.

The bathrooms were on the 5th floor.  I worked on the 1st floor.  Turns out HR is on the 5th floor as well.  It had huge steel-enforced doors and guards with guns at the entrance.  Very scary.  There were a couple of people waiting to go into HR and they looked like they were ready to be killed - very sad and looking down at the floor.  I had this sudden urge to go in and tell them about me and Brady.

As I left the bathroom, someone with a mail cart stopped me and handed me a note and told me to give it to "Jenna".  It had a number 55539 on the front of it.  I had no clue what that meant or who Jenna was.  I stopped by HR and asked if I could ask them who Jenna was and what 55539 meant.  The guards looked at me like I was asking them to commit a crime by letting me in.

I was asking people what it meant and who Jenna was.  No one wanted to talk to me.

I finally got back to my work area and asked Brady if he knew who Jenna was and he answered me very business like that she was someone currently enrolled in training.  I asked what 55539 meant.  He said that he couldn't discuss it.

I sat down with the note.  I received a text from Brady asking me if I had read the note.  I texted back no.  He told me that 55539 was the code for breach of relationship code of conduct and was how HR let supervisors know that someone on their team was engaged in a romantic relationship.

I texted back asking who Jenna was going to be supervising.

Brady wrote back, "Us.  I bet that note is about us. Open it."

I told him it was sealed and if I opened it, I'd risk getting in trouble.  He told me that the consequences of dealing with HR would be worse and that we needed to know so we could strategize.

I was torn between opening the note and just giving it to her.

I texted that I didn't think they'd give me a note to give to her that was about me.  He texted back that we couldn't get sent to HR.

I decided to just go to HR myself.  I told the guards I was Jenna and I was there to see them about a 55539.  They let me in.  I asked who I needed to talk to and they said "Mary".  I walked through HR looking for "Mary".  I found her at the end.  She was a very serious looking woman dressed in black, with black hair pulled back in a bun.

I told her that I was currently involved with someone who worked with me, that we were in love and getting married and that I didn't care if they knew and that I wanted to let them know because I was tired of hiding it.

Mary looked at me without saying anything for the longest time and then she said, "I know.  We've been monitoring you."

I stood there waiting.  I asked what my punishment was.  She told me I had to choose between him or my job.  One of us could stay. If we both wanted to stay, we would have to talk to the President.  She said it like it was the worst thing you could do -- talk to the President.

She told me I had two days to make a decision.

I asked myself in my head - "Would Brady choose me or the job?"

A voice answered, "You know what he'd pick."

Then, I woke up.  (sigh)  

In my heart, I'd like to think I'd pick "Brady" and he'd pick me, but...  obviously if there was so much fear and doubt in my dream, I still have some trust issues about whether or not a man would choose me over a career. 

My dreams have been so muddled lately.  I want dreams of rainbows, butterflies and happy places.  Not inner turmoil.

The Dream

Like Alice in Wonderland

The dream takes you by the hand

Inside emotions that you might not feel

If by some notion the dream was not real

The dream

The dream

The dream

Watching the colours as they run

Figures in mould like the sun

Lovers can dream

devils can dream

You may be nowhere

until you have seen

The dream

The dream

The dream

I took a nap after lunch today and had this slightly disturbing and emotional dream.  The dream has some "adult" content/profanity so please skip to the "non-dream" portion of the blog if you do not wish to read it.  I've started the non-dream portion of the blog with a word in red ink instead of black.

I had a dream that this man and I were at this maze of some sort. It was very odd -- a huge outdoor hedge/shrub maze and the rows were high and you couldn't see over them, climb over them or cut through them.  You had to follow them.

I got the feeling we weren't there together by choice, that someone had made us go. He had a bit of attitude. He seemed angry. Moody. I didn't. I felt ... nothing, to be honest.  There were no emotions on my part. I just wanted to get out of the maze.

We were following along the path, making turns here and there. Occasionally, we'd hit a dead end and then go back to the main path and continue on.  No talking.  No strategizing. I was leading.  He was following.

Every now and then, there would be a "room"/shed within the maze that we had to pass through to continue onwards. We couldn't go around it so we'd open the door and go inside. Each shed had some sort of theme or decoration. One was like Christmas. One was like Halloween. Etc. 

In the first one, which had a lot of flowers and such, he blurted out, "So, she invited me over at 10:30 last night." I didn't respond. I made some comment about the decorations. In my mind I thought, "Booty call." We moved on to the next path and the next shed. Inside the next shed, he blurted out, "She let me put my hand in her pants." I ignored him but my heart was starting to hurt. I remember thinking, "Why is he telling me this?" We moved along the path and into the next shed. I was starting to get this feeling of dread as we approached the shed. 

Inside the next shed, he made a comment about maybe next time he'll to do more than finger f*ck her (yeah, he talked like that). I didn't want to hear it anymore and I could feel tears building up behind my eyes. Inside the next shed, there was a life-sized cardboard cut out of this hot looking woman wearing a tank top and short shorts. It looked like a Hooters girl.  He says to me, "Why can't you look like that? I'd finger f*ck you in a heartbeat if you looked like that!"  I don't think he meant to hurt me.  It was almost "matter of fact" -- like I'd like to have you but I'm shallow and immature at the moment and don't have my filter on so I'm gonna say what I'm thinking and not even realize I'm saying mean and hurtful things.

I turned and moved away from him quickly and tried to go back through the door we came in through because I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want to keep going. I didn't want to hear what he might say in the next shed. I wanted out of the maze, away from him and over it. But, the door had no way of opening it from the inside. You could only move forward. I hadn't said a word after the first shed. He put out a hand to touch me as I rushed by him towards the door and I moved away from him. I ran out the exit door and tried to climb through the waist high shrubs to see what was on the other side. I was in the frenzied "gotta get away from him" mood.  I didn't want him to see me cry.  I didn't want him to know he hurt me with his words.

He came out and said, "What the f*ck are you doing? You know we can't go off of the path. We have to go to the end." 

Ahead of us, there was a split in the path. Finally, we had a choice. I stood there trying to decide which path to take. He started down one path and I purposely took the other path. He looked at me as if he couldn't believe I would pick a path other than his. I just thought to myself that I had to do it - had to move forward on my own and take my chances with whatever was waiting for me. You couldn't see anything ahead on either path. It was dark and foggy. He motioned for me to go to his path and I shook my head. We both started walking on our paths, walking the same slow pace like we didn't want to separate from each other, going in opposite directions and getting further and further away from each other. He'd look back at me and I'd look back at him. Then, I couldn't see him anymore and came to a door to a shed.

I just stood there staring at the door to the shed, trying to get the courage to open it. I opened it and was greeted by a bright burst of light. 

Then, I woke up.

Very stressful dream.  I have a feeling it has to do with emotions that surface occasionally due to recurring feelings for Mr. Tingles. (See previous blogs.)  And from wishful thinking about wanting someone in my life every now and then.  This week had some disappointments and my defenses are down.  I'm feeling a little needy and confused and restless.  Directionless.

I had such a nice long weekend last weekend and I hoped to go back to work refreshed and happy.  However, I went back stressed and anxious.  I'm not someone who likes to ask for help. I just tend to do everything myself and tend to be the one who helps everyone else out. Self sufficient.  Stems from a lifetime of trying to find people like myself whom will help me and yet being routinely let down. Sometimes by their purposeful choices and sometimes because they just can't help me. After awhile, you start to realize that most people (I said "most people") are selfish in nature and aren't inclined to just offer help unless there's something in it for them or unless it doesn't inconvenience them.

However, I asked for help.  I reached out to a couple of people for assistance and both people let me down.

I used to have a supervisor at another company who said that every "challenge" was an opportunity to succeed.  Yes, yes, it was also an opportunity to fail, but we needed to focus on success instead of failure.  Every time I go out on a limb with someone and open up to them, and let them know I'm feeling weak or need some help, I see it as an opportunity for the other person to step up and prove to me that I've made a successful choice in them as friends.  Sadly, I did not have success this week.  That left me a little raw.  Not only did I let on that I needed help but then I didn't get the help I needed, which only proved my theory that it's better for me to just not ask for help at all and muddle through.  Can't rely on anyone but myself.  I am an island.  

Then, yesterday (Friday), I was minding my own business, trying to focus on the peaceful feeling that I had survived another week of work.  I had to teach some new stuff this week and I am always worried about not doing a good job when I teach new stuff.  I didn't have anyone to mentor me or watch over me while I taught so I felt like the pressure to be perfect was magnified.  No safety net.  Again, typical of my life.  I tend to be the one to offer to be someone's safety net, but no one offers to be my safety net.  Anyhow... I made it through.  I did okay.  I could have done better but towards the end of the week, I started to realize I didn't really "care" one way or the other if I did a good job.  Someone is always unhappy with the learning they receive and I can't keep having sleepless nights worrying about whether or not I did a good job.  At some point, "average" has to be okay.

I digress.  I was decompressing.  Ready for the weekend.  Hopeful for a night of GOONIES at a local park and hopeful for a night of live music at a local bar.  Then, Mr. Tingles started flirting with this woman.  I hardly know the woman and hate to pass judgement but the few times I have gotten near her or talked to her, my "user" radar went off the grid and I got the vibe that she's one of those women who plays dumb to get men to do things for her and then once she gets them to do things for her, she then uses sex to keep them doing things for her.  Ok, yeah, nothing wrong with it if the guys are willing, right?  I just get mad at men who let their d*cks do their thinking for them for some hot chick.  Maybe I was still a bit angry that no one wants to help me.  Maybe if I was hotter. Whatever.  Out of nowhere, I felt this surge of jealousy.  Not a "he's my man" type of jealousy because we don't have that kind of relationship, but a "why can't guys flirt with me like that?" kind of jealousy.  I lost my appetite and interest in any kind of human interaction.  I normally don't feel jealous.  I don't.  Jealousy is based in insecurities, which I obviously must have if I didn't think I was interesting enough, pretty enough, etc to keep the guy's attention.  He came and talked to me but all I kept thinking was "you'd rather be with her, you'd rather be with her, you'd rather be with her."  I think she wanted to be with him, too, but didn't know how to get him away from me since he was already sitting with me and talking to me.  I wanted to crawl into a hole and be invisible.  To make matters worse, someone else came by and started teasing me about trying to look a certain way to lure men.  Normally, I'd joke and laugh but it kind of stung -- made me feel like I was being mocked.  Woosh.  Yeah, the rest of the day sort of went haywire after that.

I felt awkward and raw.  I couldn't make eye contact with my male friend for fear he'd see what I was thinking and feeling and I did not want him to think I was having those kinds of feelings at all. I think he picked up on my weird mood but I couldn't tell him  "Hey, look, I saw you flirting with that girl and it was pretty obvious that the two of you would like to bonk each others' brains out and you felt obligated to hang out with me and I felt jealous of the whole physical chemistry you two had and wanted someone to look at me the way you looked at her... and then the minute I thought of the two of you bonking, I got even more jealous because it made me realize you might be a good bonker...  and these are thoughts I shouldn't be having about you...  so, um, yeah.... how about the weather?"

I'm okay now.  I think my dream may have been generated as a result of this day of odd feelings.  Maybe not.  Maybe I'm ready to let go of Mr. Tingles but don't want him to be ready to have me let go of him.  We had a couple of good weeks but seem to be backsliding. I feel awkward and am having a hard time totally squashing the tingles that pop up at inconvenient times.  He seems distracted.  Our conversations have been awkward.  A couple of people have commented to us while we were together how "great" we are together and how well we complement each other... and how we balance each other.  They aren't saying these things in a "romance" way but I fear he might hear it that way and is wigging out at the possibility of being "connected" to me that way.  I've gotten used to it -- I've heard it at least once every couple of weeks for the past year or so.  I just shrug it off and count my blessings to have someone who does get me.  I just don't want him running for the hills, thinking I'm doodling his name on my notebook, so I'm overly aware of my comments to him and my harmless flirting.

Ah, the matters of the heart.  I really wish there was an on/off button.  With one of those locking plastic cases over it so that I don't accidentally turn it on (or off) without making a conscious decision to do so.

Maybe I just need to go read another dirty book and pretend about a life where everything is straight forward and I don't feel jealous about things I have no control over.

Relax, Don't Do It

Relax don't do it
When you want to to go to it
Relax don't do it
When you want to come
Relax don't do it
When you want to suck to it
Relax don't do it
When you want to come
Come-oh oh oh

But shoot it in the right direction
Make making it your intention-ooh yeah
Live those dreams
Scheme those schemes
Got to hit me
Hit me
Hit me with those laser beams 

Yes, yes, I realize this song is about orgasm.  Or allegedly about orgasm.  It is appropriate for a blog about taking time out for oneself.  In some ways, this past weekend, I had a life orgasm.

I've been running on fumes for a few months now.  Stressed out about everything and everyone. (No? Really?) Those who know and love me have been sort of tip-toeing around me wondering if I'm going to implode at any point.  I try to stay fairly even keeled.  I try to not let things impact me.  I have seen what stress does to me and I have the Ativan prescription on retainer at Rite Aid to prove it. I've been trying so hard to not let things get to me. Trying being the operative word.

However, with my life, it seems that once one thing goes bad, everything follows.  I already blogged about that.  You can go read the "control" blog or "just a friend" blog or whatever other blog out there that references this.  I think you could probably go back a couple of months to the "everything happens for a reason" blog. I also believe firmly that as much as I am responsible for my own sh*tty circumstances, I am also responsible for for turning it around.  I'd love to think that there's a magical fairy out there, flying around, looking for my apartment, waiting to sprinkle magic dust (the legal kind) on my head and make all of my problems go away.   I know that I have to be my own magical fairy.  

I scheduled a four day weekend for this month way back in January.

Originally, I thought I'd be moving this weekend.  My lease was up and I was planning on finding a new place here in VB.  Unfortunately, the cost to move would have equalled any savings in rent in the long term so I decided to stay put.  In my next life, I will have an army of trustworthy able and willing men and women who will pitch in to help me move so that I don't have to pay people.  Ever notice no one ever really wants to jump at that? 

Then, I decided I was going to go out of town for the weekend.  Some place.  Any place.  Some place that wasn't here.  I initially thought about Myrtle Beach but didn't want to spend 7 hours in a car, by myself, each way.  Then, I decided on Ocean City, MD, but then a potential part time job interfered with that.  And the fact that I didn't have the money.  And the fact that it meant dealing with the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel all alone.  I do not like bridges.  Especially long bridges that are connected to tunnels.  In my next life, in addition to having friends who will gladly help me move, I will also have friends who want to be travel companions and who are not afraid of bridges.  Or sharing a motel room with me.

The part time job ended up being a conflict of interest and I quit it after one day of training.

So, that left me with four days off.  Back to back.  What to do?  What to do?  

I could have wallowed in self-imposed depression and contemplated life, but I've been doing far too much of that lately. TOO MUCH.  TOOOOOO MUCH.  All I do is think.  Worry.  I've chewed all of my fingernails down to nothing from worrying about life.

I decided that I was going to take 4 days to do whatever the heck I wanted to do, within reason.  I would have liked to have had sex.  But that wasn't a possibility.  (Just checking to see if you are reading.)

On Thursday night, I kicked the weekend off with a haircut.  Just walked into the local SuperCuts with a 50% off coupon and said "Surprise me!".  I like what they did.  I may be more spontaneous in the future.

On Friday, I set the alarm for 6:00 just so I could have the pleasure of turning it off and going back to bed.  Every morning, that blasted thing goes off and I groan and lie in bed, smacking the snooze every 9 minutes, until I finally haul my butt out of bed at 6:30.  Luckily, I shower the night before and have everything ready clothing-wise, so all I have to do is freshen up and hit the road.  Every morning, I have to give myself a pep talk to get myself going.  "Today is going to be a good day.  Today, you will smile at everyone.  Today, you will not let anyone bring you down.  Today, you will sparkle and shine.  Today, you will be open and giving and caring and tolerant. Today, you will have a good day with Mr. Tingles."  Each day, the list gets a little longer.  

On Friday, I went back to bed and slept until 9:00.  LOVED IT.  Had an odd dream about a co-worker, a picnic blanket, a female stalker and Jason Biggs from AMERICAN PIE.  Very odd.  Nothing sexual.  Just odd.  I didn't get dressed until after 10.  I took pleasure in texting a friend and gloating over the fact that I didn't get dressed until after 10.  Then, I did some labwork for a doctor's appointment and headed to the beach.  Tried to get a friend to play hooky and join me.  I parked in a parking garage and sat on a bench by this huge statue of King Neptune.  Tourists love love love that thing.  So, I volunteered to take photos of couples who were trying to figure out how to get themselves AND the mighty one in the picture.  It was fun.  I love talking to strangers and people watching.  I decided I wasn't going to be "local" Bev.  I decided I was going to be "Ohio Bev" again.  I got to pretend like I was seeing it all for the first time.  I even took pictures with the King.

Then, I engaged a friend in some texting, mostly rubbing in that I was there and he was at work.  That's what friends do, right?  Remind each other of what they could be doing but aren't?  :)  Then, I walked to the water, stuck my toes in the cold water, dug my toes into the sand and then sat and people watched some more.  Watched some pale chubby guys in long shorts play cornhole.  Tried to explain to a non-native English speaking person what cornhole was without breaking into Beavis and Butthead.  "I am Cornholio..."

Then, I walked a few blocks south on the boardwalk to the Dairy Queen near the Holiday Inn I always stayed in as a tourist.  I was tickled to see that the ice cream was still the same price as when I was a tourist.  Ate a cone, did some more people watching, listened to my MP3 player.  Smiled a lot. Remembered why I moved here and why I love the beach so much.  It's like a different world.  I love the sound of the waves.  I love watching the foam form on the sand from the waves.  I liked imagining that I live in a little hut on the beach.  I walked some more, sat in the sun some more, made up fantasies in my head about my perfect little post-lottery win life where I live on a beach year-round, wearing loose clothing, bare feet and coconut scented sunscreen.  Maybe a big floppy hat.  And I have a cabana boy.  Gotta have a cabana boy.

I spent four glorious hours there.  Then, I stopped at Jody's Popcorn and bought a candy apple, bottle of water and sampled some kettle corn.  I was still "Bev from Ohio".   I spent a grand total of $15 for the entire day of fun.  MUCH cheaper than going to another city.

I came home, took a nap, watched some television, and went to bed.  I was "Bev from Virginia".  I had an odd dream about another co-worker.  Not sexual, but slightly intimate.  Kind of unsettling in a weirdly pleasant way.  Unfinished.  It had no beginning and no real end.  The bright spot in the dream was that my butt looked good in spandex biker shorts and I owned a pink beach cruiser bike.

On Saturday, I woke up early and decided that I was going to have another day of whatever the heck I wanted.  Met with a debt consolidation loan place that practically wanted my left lung and right kidney to give me a personal loan.  Said thanks but no thanks. The only fly in the ointment was that as I was leaving the house, a co-worker texted me with some news that was good news for someone else but actually ended up being bad news for me because it meant that I was going to be putting in some long hours over the next few weeks.  When you already don't exactly love your job, realizing you may have to put in longer hours doesn't exactly make you jump for joy.  

I went to the new CVS store and got a bounty of items for FREE.  I was so excited.  I got coupons in the mail for free soda, free aspirin, free dish detergent, a free $5 gift card, and a free store-brand item.  I love a good bargain.  I then went to the Farmer's Market, then stopped at the Fresh Market to say hi to a friend I haven't seen in awhile who does wine-tastings there. Asked him to keep an ear out for part time jobs. Tasted some wine. I checked my mail at the UPS store and then came home. I cleaned the apartment and did laundry and noticed that it was kind of stale and humid.

The AC died again.  AGAIN.  Seriously?  I called in a ticket to the rental office, took a nap, watched some television, screwed around on the computer and then went to bed.

On Sunday, hmmmm.... Sunday.  I slept late.  Very late.  Mostly because I had trouble sleeping the night before because my pillow was hot.  I'm very cranky if my pillow gets hot.  If I ever land a guy, I hope to heck he likes cold pillows and cool sheets.  I think that would be a deal breaker.  I'll deal with snoring.  Personal furnace?  Not so much.

I read the paper, watched some television, and then had a mini-breakdown about work.  Cried a lot.  Wished I had someone to help me.  Wished I had a an option of not having to "suck it up" and move on.  I contemplated withdrawing all of my money out of my small savings account and buying $20 scratchers in hopes that one of them would be enough to just quit my job.  Vented to a couple of friends via text and email.  I was grumpy and morose.  I only compounded matters by watching The Notebook, The Time Traveler's Wife and A Walk to Remember.  Back to back.  I used an entire box of kleenex and then cried myself to sleep.  Oh, and did I mention I'm hormonal too?  (shaking head)   It was a rough Sunday.  I must have posted and changed a gazillion Facebook statuses as I was falling asleep asking for help, begging for help, wanting someone to take me in their arms and tell me that things will work out and that I can bounce back from all of this stuff going on with my budget, my friendships that seem to be dying and the extra duties at work.  And no love life to speak of.  Not that it matters.  I don't think I could even focus on a man right now.

Now, it's Monday night.  I slept in this morning.  I was just getting ready to hop into the shower this morning when the maintenance man showed up to fix the AC.  I was in the kitchen, getting ready to strip down to my birthday suit and toss my nightgown and underwear into the washing machine so that I could then dash naked to the bathroom and shower (it's called efficiency.  I strip down every night in the laundry room so that I can just bypass a dirty clothing hamper all together.) and then get changed in there for an appointment I had at 1:00.  Luckily, he knocked.  Fortunately, I had the deadbolt on.  Otherwise, the nice elderly maintenance man may have seen more of me than he ever expected.  But... if it meant getting quicker service the next time the AC dies, I probably would have considered the whole nude thing.  Heck, I'd maybe even let him help with the loofah.  Sorry.  I told you, this weekend would have been better if sex were involved.  Damn hormones. (Just making sure I didn't lose you.)

The maintenance man told me that he had a feeling my AC would die again.  He said that last week when he replaced the compressor, he noticed that some connectors (??) were rusty and would probably be a problem.  I asked him why he even used it if he knew it was bad and he said he was hopeful it would just work.  Nice.  He tinkered around for awhile and within an hour, I had AC again.  YEAH!!!  I took my shower and went to my 1:00 appointment.

I got home around 3:00 and have been sort of putzing around the apartment, trying to find a gazillion and one things to keep me distracted and to help me not feel depressed about going back to work tomorrow.  I even bought a scratch off ticket at the 7-11 hoping for a last minute win.  I bargained with myself that even if it was as low as $20,000, I would still quit.  I figured the money would tide me over until I found something else.  

Then, I shook it off and here I am.  Resolute.  I guess that's the only word I can use.  I can't do anything about my situation at work.  There's no use in complaining because no one is going to care.  No one is going to fix things or make it easier for me.  I'm a robot.  I just do it. (to quote Pretty Woman)  I do it well.  I seem unflappable.  Inside, I'm flapped but outside, I do it, do it, do it.  Responsible.  Dedicated.  Hard working.

It doesn't matter that I really want a hug, fluffy pillow (a cool one) and someone else to do the worrying for once.

I am ... my own superhero.  I have to be.

One Girl Revolution

Raise your hand if your lipstick
Doesn't make you a dumb chick
Raise your hand if the shape of your hips
Don't compare to the shape of your mind
You don't even stand a chance
I'm not taking off my pants

I'm here to start a one girl revolution
I'm not a barbie doll, shopping mall, silicone substitution
I thought I told ya
I'm a soldier
And I'm not leaving til the battle's over
One girl revolution

Raise your hand if you're smart, girls
More than pushups and pearls
Let 'em stare at our pictures, baby
While we take over the world
Raise your hand if you're not another carbon bopy wannabe like everybody else
Raise your hand if you've got something more to say

I'm here to start a one girl revolution
I'm not a perfect ten, paper thin, Hollywood illusion
I thought I told ya
I'm a soldier
And I'm not leaving til the party's over
One girl revolution

It's amazing how good you can feel about yourself once you start to have a "don't care" attitude.

Well, okay...  maybe that's not the right thing to say.  I DO care about things.  I care about my friends, my family, my cat, my life...  people's feelings, the environment, etc.

However, for the past month or so, I've been trying to adopt a "don't care" attitude as it pertains to what motivates me to do certain things in my life.  Mainly men.  I have been re-evaluating the amount of influence men have on my decisions and actions.

As soon as I made up my mind that I am not interested in romance at the moment and that I don't need to have a significant other to be complete, the pressure was off of me to pretend to be someone I'm not, to become someone I'm not.  I feel more comfortable in my skin.  I don't have to "try" so hard to be amusing, entertaining, interesting or attractive.  I can say what I want to men without worrying that they won't find me a suitable romantic potential.  I can wear what I want because I want to wear it, not because I want to impress a guy.  I can cut my hair off and not worry that some guy will be disappointed.  I can choose to wear make up (or not wear make up) just to make myself feel good.  I don't have to make apologies for who I am or who I am not.

I don't have to go to the gym unless I want to go to the gym and then, when I do go, I'm only going because I want to be healthier.  Not because I want to look better for a man.  Or compete with a man.  Or be like some ideal some man has of the perfect woman.  It's amazing how much stress I was creating for myself all in the name of "finding someone".  I scrutinized every bite of food I put into my mouth.  I pushed myself at the gym, imagining the look on some guy's face when I squeezed into a size 8 jeans and shook my a$$ in his direction.  I worried about sweating in front of men at the gym because I didn't want to look un-feminine and gross.  The reality is -- I don't want to be a size 8.  I just want to be healthy.  I want to be loved for who I am, not for the size of my body.  Healthy can be a size 20.  Unhealthy can be a size 2.  

I like having curves and don't understand why guys like women who look like skeletons.  It just isn't me.  However, most of the men I've been encountering want that.  Blame television, blame peer pressure, blame COSMO...  To each his own.   I've never been thin and I don't think I ever will be.   I've accepted this.  Now, I can sleep at night without worrying about how many more calories I have to burn or how many more miles I need to clock at the gym before I meet someone else's standards.  

No, no, I haven't given up.  No, no, I'm not doing this so that I can slack.  I want to be healthier.  I do want to lose some weight so that I can sleep better, move better, breathe better...  I am not doing it for a specific person.  I have no set goal weight.  I just want to look in the mirror and be satisfied that I look healthy and happy.  That could be 5 lbs from now or 50.  Whatever it takes and whenever it happens.  I'm not going to kill myself and feel guilty about choosing to have a life over going to the gym.  In the grand scheme of things, I'm doing everything else right.  I don't smoke.  I only drank once a month, if that, and now I've given that up.  I don't drink soda.  I don't do energy drinks.  I do don't drugs.  I take vitamins.  I eat fruits and vegetables with every meal. I don't overindulge.

Now that I've made up my mind to not "chase" (whether it be in person or in my mind) that guy I've referenced before, I don't feel self conscious with him.  I don't worry that what I say, do or ask in his presence will make him see me differently.  I am more real and more myself with him than I have ever been. No pretenses.  I feel comfortable joking with him and giving him a rough time without worrying that I've crossed a line.  I can flirt and tease without worrying that he's going to think I'm really trying to lure him into my web.  I don't compare myself to the women he seems to like and wish I was more like them.  I can't be what he wants.  I can't make him want me to be what he wants.  I like being low maintenance.  What you see is what you get.  There are no surprises or hidden agendas.  So, if that makes me less of a romantic partner, then so be it. I'll be the friend who supports them when the high maintenance chicks run off with their money.  I've been treating all of the men in my life the same.  I have fun with them.  I am myself with them.  However, I am not chasing them. Some day, I'll find the one man who is destined to be with me, as friend and lover. I will thank my male friends for allowing me to be me and accepting me as I am until I fell madly in love with someone else. We can all hang out and play pool together. Or something.

In my personal life, I've been doing things for the pure enjoyment and entertainment of doing things... not because of whom I might meet, who might see me there or whom I might impress with these activities.  Life is too short and I approach everything as an opportunity to make a memory - from going alone to a cherry blossom festival in a park I never heard of before to climbing Mt. Trashmore to going to a co-worker's birthday party at a biker bar.  I am happy doing things alone and exploring on my own.  I spent four wonderful hours at the beach yesterday.  Walked up and down the boardwalk.  People watched.  Took photos.  Stuck my toes in the water and the sand.  Got sunburned.  Sure, it would have been fun to have some company, especially when something funny would happen and I wanted to say, "Oooh, did you see that?" but...  I've come to accept that people aren't going to be available when I am and if I wait on them to be available, I might miss out on some things.  Today, I went to the Farmer's Market.  Who knows what tomorrow will bring?  Or the next day?  I like being able to do what I want when I want without any outside motivators, such as "Oh, I wonder if I'll meet a man...." or "I wonder if so&so will find me more interesting if I did this..."

I've given up drinking for that reason.  

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I drink for courage to do things.  I also drink to appear more social and more "in crowd" than I am.  I am a rather bookish, home-body type.  I don't do the club scene.   I am totally capable of being interesting without alcohol.  Not to mention that it's so expensive.  I started drinking last year due to stress at work and to try to impress a guy with my mad social skills and ability to drink.  My hopes were that we could go drinking together some day.  I enjoy a good beer (not wine) or mixed drink.  However, it never happened and my drinking (or lack thereof now) doesn't seem to impress him either way so why continue to spend money on it in hopes he'll want to do it with me?  That's not who I am.  If he ever wants to go for a beer, I'm all in.  However, I'm not going to only seek out bars and alcohol-based events to try to get him to do stuff with me.  My bank account thanks me.

At work, I've been less "afraid" of my boss.  I have a tendency to worry myself to death about doing the right thing all the time. Authority figures scare me.  I have the nickname "Can't Get Right" because it seems that whenever I try to do the right thing, something backfires and I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle.  I never know how to gauge moods and expectations. There's a joke about the only reward for doing a good job at work is more work and I feel like I live that on a daily basis.  I keep trying to put myself in her shoes and try to understand her perspective.  I also try not to worry so much about everything.  I'm getting better with how I handle stress for the most part.  To be honest, I'm sort of falling into the "it just is what it is" mindset.  I have no power over decisions.  I have no voice.  I'm a drone.  So, I show up, do my 200% and go home.  I'll keep doing this until I win the lottery, get fired or find another job.  I prefer the winning lottery scenario.  I've been afraid to talk to a male friend at work because I'm afraid I'll get in trouble for socializing.  But, he's my friend.  He's not my dirty little secret.  So, I'm not so afraid to talk to him and joke with him when the boss is around anymore.  She knows we're friends.  I don't know that she totally condones it but it makes me a happier employee to have a friend so that alone should be encouragement to leave us alone.  We're not doing anything wrong.  We're not dating.  We're not having sex in the blind spot in one of the rooms.  We're friends.  We try to boost each other up and support each other.   Other people have questioned our relationship and have tried to insert themselves into it and I just don't have the time for those people.  I always feel like they are on a fishing expedition for gossip instead of friendship.  I've had women corner me and want to know about him for their own possibly romantic purposes.  They get mad when I don't want to play their game.  What he tells me and what we talk about is our business.  If they want to know about him, they have to ask him themselves.  I'm not a matchmaker and I'm not going to risk a friendship to fill in a fellow "sister" with his life story (not that I know it.)  They get annoyed when all I do tell them is funny stuff that primarily involves me and things I've done and said with him or to him.  I even had one take me out for drinks to try to "get dirt".  Whatever.  My loyalty is with him.   So, I've had a new attitude at work.   I do my thing.  I don't worry so much about what other people think.  It works for the most part.  Oh, I have slippage.  There are people who like to try to find my weaknesses and push my buttons and depending on my frame of mind, I sometimes let them get to me.  But, then I tell myself to be a honey badger and I move on.

The reality is -- I only have myself to rely on.  I don't have a strong support system and I can count on one hand the number of true friends I have.  If I spend most of my time worrying about how I look to other people and what my worth is to other people, I'm going to spend a lot of time later regretting missed opportunities.

A week ago, someone I knew at a former job died unexpectedly.  I hadn't talked to her in years so I didn't feel like I have any right to be devastated by this news.  I'm sad for her family's loss.  However, her death has made me realize that there are a lot of things I want to do with my life.  I don't want to be known as the "hard worker".  I was reading what people were posting on her FB wall and a lot of it had to do with her job.  F that, as my male friend would say.  Life is more than work.

So, I'm hoping this attitude adjustment will help me live more and regret less.

Control

I love the way you look at me
I feel the pain you place inside
You lock me up inside your dirty cage
Well I'm alone inside my mind

I'd like to teach you all the rules
I'd get to see them set in stone
I like it when you chain me to the bed
But then your secrets never shone

I need to feel you
You need to feel me
I can't control you
You're not the one for me, no

I can't control you
You can't control me
I need to feel you
So why's there even you and me?

Puddle of Mudd - Control

Last Friday night, I went to two separate "happy hours" -- one with some girlfriends whom I try to get together with once a month and one to celebrate a co-worker's birthday.   I'm not really much of a drinker. However, whenever I feel the need to lose some control, I drink.  I don't normally like to lose control, but if I'm drunk, then I have an excuse.  It's always been that way for me.  It started in college, with a roommate who was far more experienced and outgoing than I was, who would encourage me to experiment a little, go a little wild.  I was fairly reserved and could have fun without alcohol, but whenever I needed that extra boost of courage, I'd give in to the liquid variety of courage.  What the hell, right?  That's what college is all about, right?  I hadn't been a drinker in high school.  I really was the epitome of the good girl.  So, when I drank in college, I felt a little "bad".

Fast forward to Friday night.  At the second bar, I told myself I'd only have one drink and call it quits.  I had one drink, then another...  Before we had gotten there, I had already had 4 mixed drinks at the first bar, in an hour span.  I was already quite buzzy in the head.  After beer # 3 at the second bar, the lead singer of the band that was performing started to look mighty attractive to me.  Very attractive. My hormones were acting up a bit. I liked his sense of humor.  I liked his musical ability.  I have absolutely NO musical ability so I'm in awe of anyone who can sing, play an instrument, etc. I liked his body type -- tall, lean, kind of good looking but not too good-looking either.  Dark hair.  Nice smile.  I was smitten.   After beer 4, I decided in my head that I wanted to step outside of myself and do something I've never done in my life.  I wanted to have a one night stand.  With the lead singer of the band.  Now, I didn't know anything about him except that his name was Mike, that he grew up in Oregon (which I heard him tell someone else), that he's in the Army (which he told someone else), and the band is a side gig.  There was no wedding band and there weren't any good-looking men ogling him, so I assumed he was single and straight.  My goal was to try to corner him during his next break.  Talk to him.  I even danced in front of the stage with a friend hoping to show him I'm outgoing and ready for some fun.  For the night, I wasn't a 43 year old overweight woman who hasn't had a date in over 6 years, who would rather be home reading a book or watching television.

I shared this little goal with a friend and she gaped at me.  "Do me favor.  Don't do it.  Take a picture of the guy and then tomorrow, when you're sober, look at the picture, think back to what you liked about him.  If you do sleep with him, it won't be him you'll be sleeping with," she said.  I'm paraphrasing because I was drunk when she gave me the advice but it basically came down to the fact that she thought I was going to do something stupid and I trusted her to watch out for me.  I drank some water, got some fresh air, paid my tab and went home.  

The next morning, when I uploaded the pictures, I realized she was right.  I would have been using the poor lead singer as a substitute for Mr. Tingles (the guy in my "Just a Friend" blog)  He had the same body build, haircut and general good looks as him.  To make matters even more weird - they shared some geography and military similarities.  (insert Twilight Zone music.)  So, it appears I have a "type".  Whodathunk it?

While I was drunk and smitten, I updated my Facebook status with the information that I'd "hit it" with the lead singer.  Electronic devices and alcohol should not be in my possession at the same time.  If I were a guy, I'd probably be texting random photos of my junk to people after a few beers.  Luckily, I'm not flexible enough to share photos of my junk drawer... and the camera on my phone sucks.

My confession on FB led to three people suggesting that I read the book Fifty Shades of Grey.  They wouldn't tell me what the book was about, but they suggested I read it.  I'm a reader.  I have a Kindle Fire.  I downloaded the trilogy (yes, three danged books!! I blame TWILIGHT for everyone wanting to write trilogies now!) on Sunday night while watching Forrest Gump on TNT.  I felt a little dirty reading an erotic book while poor Forrest pours his heart out to Jenny.  

Yes, I said erotic book.  The book(s) are about Christian Grey, a mega-millionaire (because all romantic heroes are rolling in the dough) business man, who meets a young woman named Ana and wants her to become his love slave.  Literally. He has emotional commitment issues stemming from a bad childhood and only wants a sexual relationship with Ana.  She's young, innocent, sweet.  However, she does have some fire and spunk he didn't expect.  He presents her with a sex contract that clearly details the types of sex they will have, the frequency, the duration, etc.  It also has requirements for diet and exercise.  Toys, games, activities. He's the dominant.  She's the submissive.  His rules prohibit anything that could be "too intimate" or which might lead to her (or him) falling in love like sleeping together after sex, sharing overly personal information, caressing or touching in a gentle way, romantic kissing.  He wants to f*ck her brains out but doesn't want to commit his heart.  She is intrigued by him and before she even signs his contract, they sleep together, kiss and caress, which shows me that he's all talk.  It takes the author three books to get to this point and I won't ruin it for those who haven't read the books, but let me say that I could have gotten it done in one book.  I think the author should have stopped at book 1 and left it what it was supposed to be -- a book about wants, needs and desires and a couple's ability to compromise so that each person is satisfied and happy in the relationship.  It doesn't have to be 100% of one extreme.  I liked the sex part of the book.  I like erotica.  I even like soft porn.  I could see me doing many of the things the two people in the book did, with a partner whom I trusted and whom was willing to compromise.  I feel that I'm more of a dominant than a submissive, but there's a part of me that would like to be taken care of, catered to, etc.  It would be another excuse to give up control.  "It's his turn to call the shots," I'd tell myself, while secretly hoping to be tied to the bed and thoroughly satisfied. Probably too much information.  But there it is.  I'm not a prude.  With the right person, I'd do things. I have a lot of making up to do. I'm not nearly as sexually adventurous and experienced as I lead people to believe, but in my head, I am. :)  I'll let your imagination fill in the rest of the blanks.

The book has made me think a lot about control.  Especially self control. 

My life has been teetering on the edge of spiraling out of control for months.  I've been walking around in this haze, feeling overwhelmed, wondering where to even begin to get back on track.  It seems that once I start to lose control of one area of my life, all of the others quickly follow until I come crashing down and have to rebuild and start over.  It's self-sabotage.  It's frustrating.  It's scary. I feel inadequate.

It started with losing my part time job in December.  Sort of.  In all reality, my spiral began sooner.  I had a part time job all summer and fall, bringing in an extra $300-$600 a month, gross income.  I would spend the money as soon as I had it.  Gifts for friends, treats for new hires, surprises for friends, stuff for me, stuff for Abby, donations at work, cleaning lady once a month, deli foods instead of cooking for myself, drinks, eating out, a social life...  Good times.  Then, I lost the part time job.  I assumed I'd find another right away.  I didn't.  So, I started to use credit cards to maintain the lifestyle I had created for myself.  Dangerous, dangerous game to play.  

Then, I lost control of my heart.  I started to feel things for Mr. Tingles.  My focus was skewed.  I didn't want to worry about money now.  I wanted to worry about him and why he didn't care for me the way I cared for him.  Time and energy I should have been putting into saving money, making money, reducing spending, I shifted to him.  Sending mental energy to him.  Concentrating on him.  Thinking of things I could do to impress him.  It wasn't working.  So, then my diet and exercise fell to the wayside.  I stopped going to the gym.  I started to pick up bad eating habits again.   So, basically, my entire life was a steaming heap of poop and it was all my fault.  All because I lost control.  Control I work so hard to keep.

However, after writing my blog last week giving myself permission to let go of the romantic pursuit of my male friend and focus on friendship (which I'm really really good at), all of the pressure in that department is gone.  Poof! We had a really good week.  We joked, teased, talked and supported each other. He told funny stories about me and engaged me in banter.  We talked about non-work stuff and I actually felt like I was getting to know him for the first time. We had a comfort level that I haven't felt in awhile.  I wasn't comparing myself to other women he talked to, wondering if he would rather be talking to them than to me.  We were a good team.  I felt like his friend for the first time in a long time.  Now, I won't lie and say the tingles are 100% gone.  I worked hard to keep a poker face if he came close and had to get up and move away from him when the hair on my arms would stand up if he got too close.  But, baby steps, right? I hope it wasn't a temporary thing.  I want to know more about him and truly be his friend.  I can do friendship.  I rock at friendship.  The big ta-dah moment will be when he wants to do something with me outside of the situation we're currently in.  A movie, bowling, or some other activity.  Something where we can just hang out and be ourselves, with no pressure of anything more. I don't have the courage to ask him myself since he's turned me down so many times, so it'll have to be him who does the asking.

I've slept better this week without worrying about where I stand with him.

Now, to get back control of everything else.

I start training for a part time work at home project tomorrow (Sunday) night.  Training will be every night for two weeks.  Then, once the project starts, I'll have to work 15 hours a week.  I don't get paid for training until I complete 50 hours of work on the project.  So, it's going to be a good 6-8 weeks before I see any return on this new project.  I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch.  Projects have a habit of falling through at the last minute.  I'm also not looking forward to not having any weekends free for awhile.  My "schedule" for this new project is 6p-9p Friday, 9am - 2 pm Saturday, 1p-5p Sunday and 6p - 9p Monday once I'm done with training.  15 hours over 4 days. Can we say "no life"?  **Update**  May 6 - just discovered that the schedule is even tighter than I thought.  I have to get in 15 "billable" hours, not just 15 "scheduled" hours - meaning that if I log in for 3 hours on Friday night but only get enough work for 1 hour, I just "gave" them 2 hours of my life and still need to come up with a grand total of 15 hours by the end of business on Monday.  If I don't hit goal, I get in trouble and possibly risk getting kicked off of the project before I even reach my 50 hours to get paid for training.  So, why even show up for training?  ACK!  I really wish I had paid more attention to the work schedule.  I was just so excited to have a job again.

So, I'm still looking for some other source of part time work.  I placed ads on www.fiverr.com for random, silly gigs, but haven't made anything.  I have a profile on LivePerson for writing but have only had two jobs to date and haven't made enough to get paid.  I installed ads into my blog but they aren't generating much income. I've been looking at craigslist and the help wanted ads for something I can do during my free time.  I've also asked at the local grocery stores but they want people with more availability than I have. It's scary and frustrating. I've almost run out of money in my savings account.  All of my credit cards are maxxed out.  I had to cash in all of my loose change in my piggybank to pay for last Friday's night of debauchery. 

A friend joined my gym so that we could help each other and support each other, but that hasn't been working out too well.  Plus, a couple of weeks ago, I started to experience pain and weakness in my left hip joint, where the pelvis meets the leg (my "ball and socket" as I affectionately call it).  I'll be walking and it'll just pop out of place.  It hurts like crazy.  When I use the elliptical or exercise bike at the gym, it pops and then I can't move my leg.  It's like it is randomly dislocating itself.  I feel like someone's 90 year old grandmother.

I've spent a good portion of today trying to do a massive purge and reorganization in my apartment.  I'm cleaning out the cupboards, freezer and fridge.  I'm getting rid of foods that are expired and/or unhealthy.  I need to stop buying more food until I use everything I have.  One of my bad habits is that I will make several trips to the grocery store in one week to "pick up something" and end up spending $25-30 in one pop.  Deli foods are a major budget breaker.  I don't feel like cooking -- so I buy a chicken.  I don't feel like cutting up fruit for lunch, so I buy the pre-cut stuff.  I make bad choices.  It's like I test myself to see how much I can endure before I give up.

I've had some dark thoughts lately.  Like seriously dark thoughts about what happens if I run out of money before I can generate more money.  Do I file bankruptcy? Who will help me out? Will I lose my apartment? Where will I live? Will I have to give up Abby?  Do I just give up altogether and remove myself from the equation altogether since I'm the one who keeps messing everything up?  I feel alone.

I'm trying to be optimistic.  I am.  I hope that turning things around with Mr. Tingles, starting training on the new project and the massive apartment overhaul will help me regain perspective.

I've cut up all of my credit cards.  From here on out, it's cash or I don't buy it.  It's going to be rough for awhile.  I'm not going to be very popular with people who enjoy spending my money and doing things with me that involve dropping large sums of cash on alcohol and food.  It's back to matinee movies, rental nights, home-made pizza, walks on the beach, free activities, and coupon clipping.  

I did it once before.  I can do it again.

I just need some small sign that it's worth it -- that it will work out.

And a hug.  I could really really use a hug.

And a winning lottery ticket.