Stuck In The Middle

I've been thinking more about the "age" portion of yesterday's post. I can understand where most of the looks negativity is coming from, but I wasn't sure why the "being older" thing was getting to me so much.

One thing I realized is that I don't really spend time with anyone my age. I moved away from my home town, so my high school friends aren't here. But even more than that, at my spy workplace, there's no one my age. And I only just realized it.

The people I work with are either five or six years younger than me, or ten to twenty or more years older than me, so I'm surrounded by people who are either older than me (and I don't really have much in common with and don't see them as my peer group) or by people who I get along with and have fun with, but who are younger than me. So I end up feeling old. Or at least, older.

And it doesn't help that all these younger co-workers are all going through things I'm not. They're getting engaged, married, having their first child. And so I look at them and wonder how I'm older than them and haven't had any of these experiences.

I hadn't really thought through it 'til I wrote yesterday's post and wondered about the question "when did I get so ageist?"

I guess, when I ended up being the only person my age at my work and felt like I wasn't anywhere, I wasn't established in a family like the older crowd, or beginning a committed relationship like the younger crowd.

It's like no matter where I look, I'm wrong. And it does kind of rub my age in my face to watch people half a decade younger than me go through all the things I thought I'd have gone through half a decade ago.

All I can hope now is that being aware of it will make it hurt less.

Right?

P.Y.T. (This Post Has No Promises Of Making Sense)

When I'm hovering in my zones where things are a little gloomier than usual, a thought that keeps occurring to me is that I'm not young and pretty anymore.

Because I'm not. As young as I once was. Or as pretty as I once must have been.

And I know it's all relative, but I've said it here before I'm sure...I feel like I missed out.

I probably knew I was young when I was, but it didn't mean much. But I certainly didn't think I was pretty. And now I look at myself and think that I was prettier then.

I can pick apart the "aging" signs I see in the mirror. I can look at younger guys and the girls they go for and I can see what they have that I don't have anymore. And won't again. And I know if I don't wrap my head around this and somehow learn to be ok with it, I'm up against a world of hurt for the rest of my life.

But it's hard when you see things that weren't there and that you don't find particularly attractive and you feel like if you'd only used your youth when you had it maybe you'd already have a perfect man who'd love you.

I'm almost embarrassed that someone's going to meet me and have to find me attractive when I'm not how I used to be. And I feel like they're only going to see me getting older and less attractive (wrinkles, sagging....body parts, grey hair, weight gain, aches and pains, UGH I don't want to age)

I'm not young and pretty any more. But I suppose I have to learn to see myself as pretty for my age. Or maybe even just pretty? I think it might help if I *was* in a relationship, because that would be someone telling me the things they find attractive about me and it's been a (far too) long time since I've had that and felt attractive. Because sure, there are days when I see myself and I think "damn, I'm hot" and others when it's not so much that way, but insert quote here about beauty being skin deep and something about people being attractive for who they are not how they look and I'm supposed to feel all better about myself.

But I still get bummed out when I think about the fact that I'm not as young as I used to be and that I don't look as young as I used to either.

When did I get to be so ageist?

Sigh.

Let me break it down here: I feel old and fat and ugly. I understand, logically, that none of these things are particularly true, and that compared to some I may be some of these things, but compared to others I am none of them, but I still feel that I am. And it's not a fun way to feel. Looking in the mirror doesn't help. The extra pounds I'm carrying don't help. The minute changes I see in my face don't help. I'm struggling with my age and my physical appearance. And it sucks.

And I know it shouldn't. But it still does.

The end.

It's Gonna Be A Bright, Bright, Sunshiny Day*

I don't think I ever told you, but I got contacts.

I don't really use them, mind you, but I got them nonetheless.

It happened back when I was running a lot and happened to have had an eye appointment and it was really annoying me to have to wear my glasses while running (I don't see distance well and I see less well in the dusk/dark and it's important to be able to see where you're going when you're running and plus I like to see) and so I talked to the optometrist and we decided to try contacts.

He told me that some people wear them every day, or some people just wear them for certain occasions/reasons.

I already figured that since I don't wear my glasses all day (just for driving after dusk or if going somewhere I need to see distances (concert, etc.) I wouldn't wear contacts all day either, but it's pretty cool having them in. (on?)

I won't go into the gong show that is me getting into the habit of putting the lenses in. I out-think myself every time and since I don't wear them often enough to get better at the whole process, it tends to leave me sore and red-eyed and watery, so don't use me as your example of how to put in contacts quite yet.

But when I do put my contacts in, it's the weirdest thing to be able to see everything clearly, without edges or areas of blur.

It's still weird on my brain though, because when I have my glasses on, I can still "extra squint" and improve my vision even more, but it doesn't seem to work with my contacts.

I've stopped running now (physio's order) so I haven't had a reason to use my contacts since C-Dawg and I went to Beer Fest (and I wanted to see all the cute guys from afar.)

So, yeah. There's no real point to this post other than to say I have contacts, I don't wear them much, but they're pretty cool. (And I'm still not used to putting them in and maybe never will be at this rate?)


*Get it?

Duh Duh Duh Duuuh Duuuuh DUUUUUUUUUUUUH!

I went to Vancouver this weekend and got to see a Canucks game and be *with* the crowd as our boys did their best to even up the game. (And man oh man is it ever an amazing feeling to yell and cheer right along with thousands and thousands of others when your team gets a goal. Electrifying only begins to describe it!)

I had such a blast and it was such a treat, really.

And now I'm going to wish I could sleep all day today to rest from all the excitement!

And yes, I know that only some of you who read this will understand the title... eh?

Happy Sigh

I probably could have mentioned this a week or so ago, but I'm really loving having a bit more light at the end of each day.

I can't tell you how happy it makes me to be heading home and still seeing the sun and then to be sitting on my couch after the gym or an appointment and it still being not quite dusk.

I can see Spring approaching in the buds on the trees and the early flowers popping up, but so much more than that, I see it in the longer days. And I love, love, love them.

They make my day.

Broken

Maybe it's just how life is, but over the last year, three separate blogs I've been reading for years have revealed that their marriage is ending.

It's a funny thing, to love a couple you don't even know, and to know that you don't really know their relationship but to still be saddened that it's over.

One of my fears as a child was that I would "grow up and marry someone who would divorce me." Really.

So I think reading stories of people who were married, and happily so, inspired me.

And hearing that they weren't so happily married underneath it all, is sad.

I know the balance of personal to blog is delicate and I know for myself, there's a lot that I keep private, but I often find myself looking back over these blogs' archives for hints of what was going wrong, where they were struggling.

I suppose it's hard to say you're not happy in your marriage in a public forum where everyone, including your spouse can read it and I suppose these women just wanted to keep things private until it was either fixed, or clearly un-fixable. I don't know.

It's just sad, no matter how it happened.

And it's an unusual experience to be sad for a stranger and for a relationship you admired and enjoyed from afar.

I wish good things didn't have to end.

I Don't Know

When my friend emailed me to cancel our 'meet this guy' dinner plans again (yes, again again) she said she was really annoyed at her husband (he'd double booked himself) and was I sure I actually wanted a husband?

I...don't know?

I mean, I've always thought I wanted a husband, I've always thought I'd grow up and get married, but maybe I shouldn't bother.

Maybe I should just get a dog.

It's The Twenty Ninth of February

Happy Leap Year!

I...Don't Even

This is the second time I've seen this and I still don't think I can do it justice here. It really is one of those things you have to see.

And even then, it's kind of...well...odd.

Ok. I want you to imagine two twenty-something year old guys at the gym. Maybe one of them has a sleeve tattoo, or an earring or something, it doesn't really matter. They're attractive guys, they obviously work out and are fit.

Now, the gym I go to is a really mellow gym, and is a real mix and is generally not about how you look (which I understand some gyms are.)

And I'm sure it's possible there's something I'm missing or not understanding and possibly this is a very important technique and my wanting to giggle every time I see it is just proof of how little I know.

These two guys, go to one side of the cardio workout area, and do a synchronized free weight lifting...thing.

I mean, like, they both go through this series of moves, with their weights, at the same time. Together. Synchronized.

I can't begin to explain to you how funny I find it.

Seriously. Imagine, if you can, these two guys, and now, they're not just standing watching each other do pushups or situps or bicep curls (which is what usually happens, they watch each other so one's resting while the other's working) they do it at the same time. EVERYTHING!

I can't even describe to you how their workout goes because I can't watch it! BECAUSE IT'S SYNCHRONIZED!

Like, really. Picture a hot twenty something year old guy doing ten lunges. And now picture another good looking guy next to him also doing ten lunges. At. The. Exact. Same. Time.

I don't even know what to say.

I'm trying to be logical. Maybe they're on a sports team and this is part of their training to learn to work together? Like maybe they're rowers and it's important that they synchronize their efforts so they can do better? Right? Cuz otherwise it's...kind of .... odd.

But whatever the reason, the gym twins make me giggle.

C-C-C-C-Changes

When I got to my most recent breaking point with my weight one of the things I really didn't want to do was track my food. But I think I so strongly didn't want to do it because I knew I had to.

I told myself that all I needed to do was track my food. I didn't have to try to change anything, just keep a track of it and that that would help steer me in a better direction.

So I've been using a food tracking app on my phone for just over a month now. And it's been fine.

I set up the app to guide me towards losing a pound a month, but the number of calories it suggested I aim for seemed low and when I talked to some friends at work, they told me it seemed low to them as well so I aimed for just under 2000 calories a day, and I tracked.

I did pretty well, hitting my goal most days, and noticing I needed more protein and less sugar.

But a month in, I'm the same weight I was, so I did some more research and it turns out that I will need to further reduce my calories.

In other words, I need to eat less if I want to actually lose weight.

So I'm going to try.

The app I'm using is really helping and I'm hoping that knocking off a few hundred calories from my daily intake is going to be manageable.

My plan is to eat more filling foods, and more protein, and more vegetables. And? I need to cut back on my snacks and sweets. But I'm not going to push that one too hard. Not yet, anyway.

This last month has made me more aware of what I'm eating, and I haven't been very aware of my food since the whole Celiac/stomach pain thing started. (And yes, I have been with Weight Watchers in the past, and yes, I'd recommend them.)

And yesterday, I used Captain Google and I went and bought some lean ground beef, and I added a few spices and garlic and I cooked me up some taco salad beef! Me! I cooked it! And it was super easy!

So while I may balk at change and dislike it, when I take the pressure off myself, and ease into things that need to happen, I manage.

Here's hoping the next month is as easy and positive as this last month and that I come out of it a little bit lighter in pounds.

I Could Use Some Hugs

I've been feeling pretty low this week and, perhaps predictably, this has turned into me feeling really poorly about how I look, and that spirals inevitably into the thought that I'm going to be lonely and alone forever because if even *I* can't find myself attractive, then no one ever will.

And even knowing that I was low didn't help my mindset, and after struggling with it all week, I called my Dad.

Now, I don't know about your parents, but mine will usually give it to me straight, even when/if I don't necessarily want them to, so I knew if I called and told them how I was feeling, there'd be some sensible advice. And I hoped that that would start to snap me out of the funk I was in.

I told Dad how I was feeling and he said he could only imagine how hard it must be for me to be alone and that they both felt sad for me at times.

Then Mom came on and I told her that I felt like no one would ever want to see me naked and that I wish I'd met my husband back when my body was lean and fit and how she was lucky and could she imagine if Dad had met her now? He wouldn't want to see her naked!

"Yes he would!" she said. "Because he'd be single too!"

And, of course, I laughed, while crying, because if I do ever end up with someone, he won't have the same body he would have if we'd met a decade ago, and there may be wrinkles or missing hair or other things he's not so fond of on him.

My parents then went on to tell me that I am still very attractive, and that their friends tell them as much as well.

And it meant a lot to hear that because my parents wouldn't just say that just to say it, you know? I mean, sure, everyone thinks their child is gorgeous, but my parents are also able to tell us kids when we need to smarten up or dress in a more flattering way or maybe watch what we eat or whatever. So while I still spent a good half hour after I talked to them crying on my couch, I felt a little bit better knowing that I'm not as ugly and unattractive as I talked myself into feeling this week.

I don't know if it helped to say it out loud and have someone listen and tell me I was wrong, or if it helped to hear that at least someone out there thinks I'm attractive.

Even if it's the sixty-something year old friends of my parents. This week? I'll take it.

Riiiiight

You know that moment where you go to sit down and then remember that you did squats at the gym yesterday?

Yeah.

Ouch.

Oh!

I forgot to tell you the other hilarious story from the gym the other day!

So, there I am, leaving post yoga class, feeling proud of myself and collecting my things from the change room.

There's a conversation going on in one half of the change room when something starts buzzing.

It sounds, at first, like someone's cell phone going off on silent mode, but it keeps on buzzing.

Quite loudly.

And the two women who are having the conversation notice it and wonder what is is that's making that noise in someone's bag.

"It's really intense" says one woman, which makes me giggle, because my mind has already figured out that it's *not* a cell phone and I can really only think of one other thing it could be, and I don't want to assume someone would have *that* in their gym bag.

"OH!" says the woman, going through her backpack, "it's me!"

"It's my electric toothbrush, it must have gone off!" she explains, and the entire locker room cracks up in laughter, the woman a few lockers down from me shrugging and raising her eyebrows in an amused kind of way.

Turns out, I wasn't the only one there whose mind had already decided someone's ahem, cough, cough, had been accidentally turned on in their gym bag.

Good thing she let us know it was just her toothbrush. Scandal averted, hilarity ensued.

Oh Man

One of the things my physio and rehab people have recommended (as I continue to try to find a way to live pain free from the accident) is yoga. And while I used to enjoy yoga before the accident, the idea of it has made me nervous until very recently.

Which is why I found myself at a beginner's yoga class at the gym last week.

It took a fair amount of nerve to get myself there, it being something new and unfamiliar and "new and unfamiliar" being two things I generally do. not. like.

But once I'd sat there stretching for a few minutes before the teacher arrived, I was happy I'd gone and interested to see what this instructor was like.

Turns out, she was a woman with a slight eastern european type accent.

Which wouldn't have been a problem, except when she told us we'd spend the first ten minutes focussing on our "breast."

Which, was, unfortunately, how she pronounced "breath."

Which....shouldn't be a problem.

Unless you're me.

And you realize this is giving you the giggles.

Especially when she says "now tuck your chin towards your chest and focus on your breast" and I'm sitting there staring at my breasts and telling myself that I had really really really better not start giggling.

Especially since no one else seems to be hearing her say "breast" and then thinking about that fact makes you want to absolutely not laugh which make it even harder to NOT start giggling.

But, I managed to pull it together, and soon enough we moved on from the focus on our "breast" and got on with the rest of the class.

Why do I gotta be so immature?

Close Encounters of the Chad Kind

I was in the grocery store later than usual last weekend on my way home from the gym.

(I tell you this, so you can envision me with my glasses on (because it was dark out and I need them to see when I'm driving in the dark) and my hair pulled back and my gym clothes on. Not my best look really.)

It was the weekend before Valentine's Day so the store was very pink and as I was scrolling my mind through my grocery list, I stopped at the strawberries to find a good box.

And, glancing over, I saw Chad. Just casually going through the boxes of strawberries too.

And I wanted to run far far away.

Which.... there are a few ex-boyfriends (not that I can really call him an ex boyfriend but still) that I'd not want to talk to if I ran into them in the grocery store, but most of them I'd say hi to, and a couple I'd really want to catch up with.

Apparently not Chad.

My brain's thought was that he was buying strawberries to make chocolate covered strawberries for his new girlfriend for Valentine's day and that just set me off down an imaginary road.

I know some of you might say that I should have just said hi. That maybe if I'd said hi he'd be so happy to see me and he'd tell me how he regretted letting me go and we'd get back on track and blah blah blah, but I disagree.

If he'd regretted letting me go, he would have remedied that at some point in the last six months. The reality is that yes, he probably has moved on, and yes, he probably has gotten over his fear of "being in a relationship" or whatever it was.

So maybe he was buying strawberries as a treat for his girlfriend on Valentine's day, maybe he was just buying them because they were a pretty good deal and who doesn't like strawberries.

But, yeah. I nearly ran into Chad in the grocery store and I really really didn't want to talk to him.

Go figure.

Ack!

Oh ugh, I forgot to tell you... I went for a wander last weekend to drop off my dry cleaning at this place in town that does "wet" cleaning, which is apparently more environmentally friendly.

But, that's beside the point.

I was wandering along, when suddenly it felt like something was in the back of my throat.

I tried to ignore it, but I must have swallowed a bug.

Or rather, a bug must have flown into my mouth.

Yuck.

To make it worse, I then started to kind of choke on it. Not exactly "choke" because it just felt like a tiny little speck of a thing but I was coughing and now, in retrospect, I wonder if the thing went down the wrong tube and my lungs were literally trying to cough it out.

Ugh.

So anyway, there's me, trying to drop off my clothes for cleaning, while coughing away and not wanting people to think I'm sick, I say "I think I just swallowed a bug and now I want to die."

But then I noticed a little kid there and thought that was an overly dramatic thing to say so I kind of mumbled about not really wanting to die and it wasn't really a big deal just that I couldn't stop coughing mumble mumble.

But still. I'd rather not think about it too much in case I gross myself out, but you guys I nearly choked on a suicidal mini-bug.

Ack, ack, ack, gross yuck!

Imagination

So I was at the gym the other day when I noticed a gentleman who fit the description my friend has given me of the guy I'm to (hopefully) meet one of these days.

She hasn't described him in more than a general way, but this fellow could have been the guy.

And because my brain tends to go on vacation at the gym (one of the reasons I like it, it tends to be very mellowing for my mind) it decided that it would be funny if this *was* the guy and my mind went on to think that it would be hilarious if the two of us then showed up at my friend's house together, having already met.

See, it's funny, because as hilarious as I think it is, I can already tell that typing it out? It doesn't translate as funny out loud as it does in my head.

But my brain's funny thoughts aside, wouldn't it be weird/cool/funny/something if I met this guy and it turns out that we both workout at the same gym and had nearly run into each other this week?

I don't think I ever really lost that child-like level of imagination I remember having as a kid.

Whoops

A co-spy and I snuck out at lunch the other day and as I was buying my lunch (and treats) I heard a sweet "is that Victoria?"

I turned around, and behind me in line, pushing a little boy in a stroller was a girl I went to University with, and haven't seen since we graduated.

We hugged and caught up and I asked her about her son and how things were going. She knew we had to get back to work, having trained as a spy herself, so she asked for my number and email so we could catch up.

I pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down my name, phone number and home email and gave her a hug and headed back to work thinking about how she didn't look a day older and how lives sometimes just go in separate ways.

I got an email at work later that day (being a former spy, she'd managed to track down my spy email) from this person letting me know that she was so so sorry, but as she was getting her son into the car, the slip of paper flew from her pocket and away across the parking lot.

She said she hoped no strange person would find it and start prank calling me.

Which, so far, so good.

But still, it did make me feel weird knowing that somewhere out there, a perfect stranger might just find my name, email and phone number and decide to pull a prank or something.

Hopefully it'll just end up in the recycling and I won't have to screen my calls or anything.

Sometimes my life's like a movie and has plot lines you wouldn't believe are real.

Maybe Next Next Time

Well, ok.

I was all freaking out Monday because I was going to have that dinner at my friend's place (to meet the guy) this weekend, but she let me know yesterday that we have to postpone again; this time due to her husband needing to fly somewhere for work last minute.

So I guess this may never happen, or it might and I just might not be as worried about it because you can only worry about something that doesn't happen so many times if you know what I mean.

I mean, sure, if it ends up that next weekend (the new proposed dinner night) works out, I'm sure I'll be nervous and anxious, but I might not spend quite as many days being nervous and anxious.

And my friend's going to have me over for dinner this weekend anyway, so that's nice and gives me something to look forward to. (And will still give me something to be nervous about because hello? Something new? = nervous.)

So, yeah. Still haven't met the guy my friend would like me to meet, but maybe next next weekend.

Or not.

Happy Pay Day! (And cheap chocolate day... an excellent combination, no?)

Tuesday

I was just going to skim right over the fact that today's a Valentine's Day. I feel like I summed up my V-Day thoughts pretty well last year, and this year I'd say the only difference is that maybe I'm even less bothered by things.

I've sent out cards to some friends and family, and I don't expect any to come in the mail today, although it would certainly make me smile if one or two did.

I've bought a couple of cute, small treats for some people at work and will look forward to passing those on.

Sure, if I'd met someone a month or two ago, I'd be hoping for roses or something, but I didn't, so I won't. I've learned that once you're out of high school, there really aren't secret admirers just lurking in the background any more.

So, yeah. Happy Valentine's Day or non Valentine's Day or chocolate day or fancy dinner day or "This is Too Commercial" day or whatever.

And, most of all, happy Tuesday, and you never know, maybe there is a little cupid hovering over you, just waiting to shoot an arrow through your heart.

All Good Advice. But... How? Because Now I Can't Stop Thinking About It.

Just don't think about it.

No, really. Don't think about it at all, just like this! See? See me not thinking about it?

It's easy, just remember to not think about it whenever you might find yourself thinking about it and trust me I'm the expert because it's not happening to me so I'm not thinking about it at all.

I mean, it's not even that big of a deal so why are you thinking about it?

If you think about it, you're over thinking so just don't think about it and let it happen. That way you don't have to think about it.

Make yourself so busy that you don't have time to think about it.

Just let it be. Don't even think about it.




I'm probably maybe this time actually going to my friend's house for dinner this weekend.

I'm really trying not to think about it.

Little Fluff Balls of Cute

I was chatting with some people at work a few weeks ago and we were talking about how we loved waking up on Saturday mornings knowing we didn't have to be anywhere (read: work) and that even going to sleep on Friday nights had that joyful feeling of knowing there were two days off to come.

We also talked about how sometimes waking up on Sunday morning was disappointing and how going to bed on Sunday nights wasn't much fun at all, knowing you had to get up the next day.

Last Sunday, I woke up and had a little hit of the blues. So I decided to think about what I had to look forward to this week and in my half asleep dozy mode, I ended up thinking about puppies.

Because puppies are cute and make you smile and I was half asleep and somehow puppies became the happy thing to think about.

Lab puppies, to be specific.

All piled up on top of each other on a pink blanket.

Apparently my brain is pretty specific when it comes to teh cute.

30 Days

I get panicky and overwhelmed by things.

If I haven't made that clear over the years of writing here, allow me to apologize.

Things freak me out. Especially those I feel like I can't get out of.

That may be literal, like being in a very small space and knowing I can't get out for a while (I had to breathe myself out of a panic attack last time I went on a charter flight and saw how close the seat in front of me was) or it may be figurative, like the idea that I may be in the same career until I'm sixty five and that thought makes me feel like someone's standing on my chest and I can't breathe please get off.

So when I come to committing myself to things, I have to frame it carefully.

Sure, I'll take a photo every day for a year (Project 365) again but I probably won't actually do it every day, so maybe I'll just do it for the month of January. Yeah, I can do 30 days. Plus, I can probably just quit if I have to. Or, like, skip a day or whatever. (Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.)

The thought of buying a house freaks me out so much that I can't even look at MLS listings without feeling dizzy. Add on to that the massive financial commitment and is it any wonder I'm quite happy in my nice, but less than perfect rental apartment?

Sometimes, if I let myself, I can freak out at the idea of a relationship that doesn't even exist yet.

What if he moves in and is messy or he wants to have kids and I'm not sure (and oh lord don't even get me started about the freakout that is the thought of having children because YOU CAN'T BACK OUT OF THAT ONE FOLKS)

Even writing out these things has me feeling panicked and overwhelmed.

So it seemed quite brilliant when C-Dawg pointed a site out to me that was suggesting you commit to doing something for 30 days.

I could do that! (Probably!)

I chose four or five things to commit to for the first thirty days of the year, and quickly realized that this was too many.

So I stuck to spending 10 minutes at the end of each day reflecting on what went well.

And I have to say, I think I've seen a positive change from this.

Sure, some days it's been hard, and I've found myself in a funk at the end of the day struggling to say anything positive about the day, but most days I've enjoyed thinking about the fun or funny or great or good moments in the day, and I think it's shifted my mindset somewhat and I'm going to keep doing it.

I don't think, if I'm honest, that I did 30 days in a row, but I certainly did well and made the effort.

C-Dawg chose to read a chapter of a book every day for 30 days and she's mentioned that she's really enjoying it and that it feels like a better use of her time than watching crummy tv in the evenings.

They say that it takes 40 days to change a habit. Or to build one, I suppose. So in January, I spent time looking at what went well in the day. I got back to taking my camera everywhere and making sure I took at least one good photo every day and uploading it to flickr for accountability and positive feedback. I've been listening to a not-quite-meditation CD that the psychologist I saw about my Dad gave me forever ago and I've started tracking what I eat.

And I feel good.

So I'm probably going to keep doing these things during February. So, for another 29 days. (Cuz it's a leap year!)

But just one day at a time, right? So really, I'm just going to do these things today.

And really, I'm probably only going to take a photo today.

('Cuz I started to panic there a little, so I'm giving myself an out so I can breathe again.)

Out of Just Me, Really

You know that saying about how "assuming makes an ass out of you and me"? (you know, 'cuz "assume" has u and me and ass in it?")

Yeah, well, I think it just makes an ass out of me.

I am (almost) always well intentioned. And when it comes to people I care about, I try to do what it is they'd most appreciate even if I'm just guessing, or assuming, what that is.

Like my friend here (in our building) who just had a baby. I ran into her in the hallway and she said "drop by any time!" and I said "well, I don't like to just drop by on people who have babies in case they're sleeping or I interrupt quiet time or something."

"I have a toddler," she replied "there IS no quiet time!"

So my assumption that I would be interrupting if I went and knocked on their door to say hi and get some baby snuggle time is... apparently wrong.

And makes me feel like an ass.

I go through an especially hard time when my friends have babies because I don't know how to interact with them. I don't want to call in case it's a bad time. I don't want to stop by in case I wake up the baby. I don't want to accept an invitation to come over in case the baby ends up having diarrhea or the family is overwhelmed and exhausted but just too polite to cancel.

So I have some friends I haven't seen in years, because babies turn into kids and now we can't just do something on the spur of the moment because someone needs to watch the child and I feel bad for even asking.

People keep telling me they're pregnant and there are a lot of my friends who are going to be having a baby or have already had a baby or are about to have baby number two and I feel socially awkward in that I don't know how to be their friend anymore because I don't want to interrupt or annoy or irritate or anything.

But, yeah. That's the most obvious example I can think of how my attempt to do what I think/assume you'd want me to do doesn't necessarily work out in the best way, even though it's with the best of intentions.

So I'm trying not to assume.

Or, at least, I'm trying to assume less and less.

I'm not going to assume that you'll ask me over if you want me over, because maybe you're sitting there in your house assuming that if I wanted to come over I would come over and man now we're all confused and sitting home alone.

And I'm going to try to not assume I know what people are thinking about me because that doesn't end up anywhere good either.

Maybe it goes back to what I keep hearing people say to their kids; "use your words!"

Maybe I can keep working on saying what I think/feel/wonder and can hope that everyone else is trying to do the same.

Or maybe that's just another erroneous assumption?

Sigh.

"Ass out of me" indeed.

Nothing. Absolutely Nothing

The Bachelor is one of my "I know it's terrible but I'm going to watch it anyway because it's pure escapism" tv shows. (And yes, I've talked about it here before.)

What I've noticed this time around is that quite a number of the girls who get asked to leave (read: kicked off) ask themselves (via the camera that's meanly watching them cry at the moment of their rejection) "What did I do wrong?"

And I have totally asked myself that same question after a breakup; what did I do wrong, why doesn't he like me?

The interesting thing watching this show (and yes, I know it's all edited to heck) is that they didn't do anything wrong.

He just likes someone else in a more romantic way.

Sometimes the "feeling" is just not there. You don't have to have been a horrible person or have done anything wrong, the guy just isn't as interested in you romantically as he is in someone else.

And maybe that's part of what's horrible about the show (like train wreck can't look away kind of horrible.) As a (manipulated) viewer, you can see the girls this guy likes. You can see the two or three he gets all a flutter around and you can see the one he just wants to sleep with and so when he's sending someone home you see that it's not because she's unattractive or annoying or anything, it's just that he's gaga over someone else and the game of the show is that he has to keep some and let others go.

So over the past few weeks as I've watched the girls get sent home and cry in the limo asking what they did wrong, I've wanted to be able to transport them into the future so that they can see that they honestly didn't do anything wrong, it just wasn't in the cards for the two of them.

And this is why it's so easy to comment on relationships when you're not in them, but really. . .

They didn't do anything wrong.

He just, unfortunately, liked someone else more or in a different way and that's really really hurtful and really really sucks.

So ladies? What did you do wrong?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Different

I had another moment of clarity this weekend that I'll need to figure out how to keep in my brain and actually move forward with rather than just realizing it and going back to the way I've always been.

C-Dawg gave me a call on Saturday to talk about something or other and she was on her way to a dinner with her boyfriend and his parents after having driven a couple of hours (both ways) for a big family birthday party earlier in the day.

For me, one of those things would have been more than enough. I would not have made both plans for the same day as I would have been tired out by the drive and family gathering and wouldn't have wanted another "event" to go to the same day.

Heck, I might not have even wanted another one that same weekend.

Rather than beat myself up for not being as good as C-Dawg for doing both these things, the thought hit me that we were just different.

I'm sure someone with a PhD beside their name could analyze the why's of our personalities and it would probably end up saying something about an introvert vs an extrovert or something along those lines, but the fact that I cringed at the idea of her having the two big events on one day doesn't mean that she did. And it doesn't mean that I'm wrong for not wanting to do the same.

It just means I'm different.

And that I need to stop comparing myself to other people because they have different minds and mind sets and personalities.

My friends, family and co-workers aren't me. Perhaps there are some that are a bit similar to me, but most of them are not and that just makes them different. Not better or worse. Just different.

My Saturday involved getting a bunch of errands (that I've been putting off) done and then spending the rest of the day mellowing on the couch.

The end.

A Flutter

When someone comes into our spy cave unannounced, I'm often sent to intercept them. Partly because I can be quite charming when I need to be and partly because I can always use my spy moves to make them forget they ever were there in the first place.

So last week, when someone came wandering through our cave, I went out to intercept.

"Hey there, you look lost, can I help you?" I said, all smiles and perk.

And I was a little taken aback to discover that what I'd thought was a woman (longish black hair and shoes that had heels) was rather an interesting looking man with an obvious artistic flair.

He introduced himself as a son of one of my co-spies and as I reached out to shake his hand, he took my hand in both of his and looked me right in my eyes and I think I fainted.

Well, no, of course I didn't, but my brain did and my legs went a little jelly. In that moment, he became sexy. So very.

I maintained my composure and helped him find where he was trying to go but damn if I hadn't been struck by one of those moments of attraction you just don't see coming.

I don't know if it was the confidence or the artist or the performer or what but had he asked me to meet him after work for a drink and some not-at-all-innocent pillow time I would have happily gone.

I assume it happens to everyone, but there are just some men that get right through my defenses. They are instantly sexy and attractive and I want to sleep with them even if they are not particularly any of these things. I can't explain it logically. I suppose it's my own version of the "X factor" or something.

I couldn't stop thinking about this guy all day or all night.

And I think I can honestly say it's been a while since I've had that intense of an attraction to someone.

Musicians, damn it...they're my kryptonite.

I Really Have No Other Thoughts

HAPPY WEEKEND!

HAPPY WEEKEND!!!!!!!

HAPPPPPYYYY WEEEKEND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Also? This is my new favourite thing:


Kristen Bell's Sloth Meltdown 

I love her and how adorable is she and also? I live in the same emotional scale and always just thought I was weird. Now I'm not!

Yay Happy Weekend!

On Being Levelheaded

I'm thinking ahead to a future meeting of my next serious relationship.

(Man, you've got to love it when I write a sentence that is that terrible.)

I just mean, I'm thinking about how I might approach things the next time I'm starting a relationship, or the next time I find myself dating someone.

My parents have been married since the 60s, and I'm sure they'll both tell you that just like life, their marriage has made them both happy, but has also taken work, and probably still does.

But something else my parents would probably tell you is similar to a story I've heard from some of my other friends' long term married parents, and it's more a story of choice than of lust.

What I mean is that I feel like in my previous relationships I've met someone, felt that initial powerful connection, slept with them and been madly head over heels in love with them and therefore wanted to be with them forever.

Without actually knowing them.

Whereas I feel like that can't be the basis of a long term relationship anymore and I know that wasn't how my parents' relationship started.

My Mom has talked to me before about how their deciding to get married wasn't a surprise; they'd talked about it and both knew this was what they wanted and how she knew that Dad had the qualities and behaviours she wanted in a husband.

(Plus, she really liked his voice. And she realized she was nervous when he was running late on a date, and this nervousness made her realized she liked him.)

In some ways their courtship and engagement could be seen and broken down to being almost business like. They were compatible. They liked each other. They had things in common. They got along. They suited each other. It was a good match. And so on and so forth.

There was none of this Hollywood style "love at first sight, I can't resist him/her, my breath was taken away, I've found my soulmate" type of thing.

And I think maybe I'm ready to try a relationship that's not based on that "googly eyes, heart pushing out of my chest cartoon style" thing.

Because I do love the rush of being madly, deeply attracted to someone and falling passionately into BEING with them, but I want something more than that.

And I don't think I used to believe that there *was* anything more than that.

But I want to spend the rest of my life with someone who is a best friend. I really really do.

And when I look at my friends who are happily married, that's what I see. I was talking with my friend at work the other day and she was showing me a video of her husband, on the really snowy day we had a few weeks ago, skiing his way to work. And you should have seen her eyes sparkle.

"You're really in love with him, aren't you?" I said.

She smiled and nodded and told me that she's constantly reminded of that.

My other friend at work who tells me stories of her husband and kids always has a smile on her face when she talks about her husband.

I don't know if that kind of solid friendship based love can come from a lust filled beginning.

Now that doesn't mean I don't want to be attracted to my next partner, I do; I think it's terribly important. It just means that I don't want to be run over by the feeling.

I want to be able to step back and see if we are compatible, if we have things in common, if we suit each other, if we'd be a good choice for a relationship.

It took me nearly a year and a half to buy my new car. I had to psych myself up to spend that much money for one thing, and I had to do the research and be sure it was something I wanted to do.

And yet, I've slept with guys I've barely known.

Maybe I won't take quite as long to choose to sleep with my next boyfriend as I did to buy my car, but I want to take my time and think and see and grow.

It takes a long time to get to know someone and it should take a long time to get to know if you love someone and want to be with them long term.

It'll be interesting to see if I can figure out how to be different this time around; how to be more like the people whose relationships I admire.

I'm Awesome

I just set off my car alarm (for the first time ever mind you) while sitting in my car.

Yes. Yes I did.

I was going to get groceries, but C-Dawg had just sent me a text so I was responding to it before I went shopping.

I took my keys out of the ignition and was half holding them while typing on my phone and I must have accidentally pressed a button because things flashed and I figured I'd unlocked the door.

So a couple of texts later, I opened the door to go shop and BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP (repeat times a lot) and at first I wondered whose alarm it was but within a nanosecond I realized it was mine and that I had no idea how to turn it off.

So I pressed all the buttons on my key fob until I hit the correct one and then I got out of my car as if I'd meant to do that the whole time.

"Oh who me? Yes, I always like to set my car alarm off while sitting in it. I feel it tells potential criminals not to mess with me."

Ahem.

Yeah. I'm awesome.

I set off my very own car alarm WHILE INSIDE MY CAR.

Apparently My Brain's On Holiday

I made a weird mistake this weekend.

I have two friends from high school I keep in touch with. While I consider them both very good friends, one of them is one of my best friends of all.

Both of these friends have children and I always send a birthday card on the kids' birthdays.

So when my reminder came up that it was one friend's daughter's birthday, I got a card, but I kept forgetting to send it and I wanted it to not be late.

So this weekend, I addressed the card, signed it, and stuck it in a mailbox so it would get there in time.

A couple of hours later, I was deleting the reminder and that's when I realized my mistake.

I'd sent the card to the wrong girl.

I'd completely written, addressed and sent a card to the wrong friend's kid.

I'm not even sure how my brain managed to do that except that I must have somehow just confused the friends or something.

It made for a rather embarrassing email.

"Hey, I just sent your daughter a birthday card even though it's totally not her birthday. Could you, like, just pretend this never happened?"

Sigh.

To Be Uncritically Admired

I don't know any other way to describe it except to say that I put people on pedestals.

I meet someone and I get to know them a little and I think they're awesome.

A lot of time I look up to them and wish I was more like them in one way or another. There's maybe even an aspect of me feeling like they're a "better" person than I am in some important way.

And then they do something that hurts me or disappoints me or confuses me or lets me down. And I get angry and hurt and I vow to never let myself close to anyone ever again; to never have a friend ever again.

But that feeling fades and is replaced by a wariness that's no more comforting or comfortable.

I've come to realize that this is my issue, not anyone else's. I can't expect people to be perfect. I need to stop thinking they are anything other than human.

It's not fair to them for me to see them as this perfect person and then be disappointed when they show themselves to be imperfect, flawed.

I'm just not sure how to go about undoing this so I'm just going to go about it slowly. It might be one of those "knowing is half the battle" things. It might be another matter of not seeing everything as so black and white.

It might be a matter of seeing myself as not less than anyone.

And maybe that's the scary thought.

S is for Something I Haven't Had in a While

You know. . . The "other" S word. (*whispers* s.....e.....x)

I discovered, while rooting around in my chest of drawers this weekend that the condoms I bought were set to expire this month.

Which means I bought them a long time ago and haven't used them.

I didn't know if this was funny or sad or a bit of both so I've decided they were cursed.

Like, having them was what was keeping me from being intimate or whatever because like the Universe was all "hmmm, she's overly confident that she's going to be needing these so I'm going to prove her wrong!"

I fully believe that both the man and the woman should be responsible for birth control and protecting themselves against STDs so I've always had a condom or two in my purse and drawer. Now I figure I've changed enough that I'm probably not going to need a condom in a rush. The way I feel about how I want to go into my next relationship, I think I'd have enough time between meeting the guy and getting to know him to head to a shop to buy some, so I'm not going to replenish my supply just in case I was weirdly karmically cursing myself out of a relationship.

But yeah, I haven't had (*whispers* s.....e.....x) in so long, my condoms expired.

If only I could find that as funny as it probably is.

Sorry

Hope I didn't get your hopes up as much as I got my hopes up, but I'm not going for dinner this weekend.

The gentleman in question was busy and already had plans this weekend, so it didn't happen.

And, to be honest, I was disappointed.

She actually let me know the day I posted about it (which was kind of ironic) that there wouldn't be a dinner and it made for a melancholy day.

I let her know I was bummed and she told me not to be because it was just a re-scheduling.

So, sorry I don't have any stories to tell you.

But at least it's still the weekend, right?

Hmmmmm

I don't remember what I was going to post about.

I had the idea, and then I went and found this photo to accompany the thought and by the time I'd uploaded it, the thought had gone.

I don't have the faintest idea what I was going to talk about.

Oh nuts, now I remember. But I don't want to erase all that up there that I typed because seriously, I'd completely forgotten for a while there and hey, that's the reality of my brain! So anyway...let's just put this in italics and we can pretend it's some other post from some other day ok?




(Ok, even odder. I just wrote out the whole post and set it to publish and then realized it didn't feel right to put it out there so I tried editing it and adjusting it and now I've gone and just deleted the whole thing. I don't want it out there. So really, now this whole post doesn't exist. So now I have to distract you with something so you don't notice that this is two non-posts in one.)


Hey, have you guys seen Downton Abbey? Does it make you wish you were English aristocracy in the 1900s or is that just me?

Maybe

My friend at work (who wants me to meet her husband's co-worker) has asked me if I'm free to come to their place for dinner this weekend.

She figured a dinner party would be too much pressure, but if it was just a family dinner it'd be fine.

I told her that would be great, but of course now I'm trying not to be nervous.

I mean, her husband hasn't asked the guy yet, so maybe he won't be interested, or maybe we just won't have a spark anyway, so there's really no reason to be nervous, but... well, you know me.

I'm nervous about the dinner even *without* there being a guy there to meet. New things and me? = Nervous.

But it's also giving me something to look forward to.

I can psych myself up for it while at the same time telling myself it's not a big deal and still maybe sneak in a reasonable amount of hopeful daydreaming about what-ifs.

So I might be going for dinner at my co-worker's this weekend, but only maybe.

The end.

Turn Down Your Speaker Volume

This has had me in tears of laughter and I think after a heavy post like yesterday, laughter is a good thing.

This involves swears and screaming, so it's probably not safe for work or children or headphones.

But I can't stop laughing at it.

And the guy is totally right.


Screaming Marine - That was not a countdown!


THAT WAS NOT A COUNTDOWN!

I Hate Everything About This

I've been thinking a lot lately about my weight and what my body looks like and what I eat.

I've spent a lot of energy beating myself up over what I eat and how I eat it and how that's affecting my weight in a way that does nothing but upset me and how I still don't do anything about it knowing all this.

I've been trying to analyze it all. Figure out if this is some kind of self-destructive thing or something. But then I really slowed down and thought about it.

I've been dealing with stomach issues for years now. Even on this blog, I first mention it around five years ago, and it must have been going on for a while before that for me to talk about it here.

So let's be conservative and say that for five years, half a decade, food has hurt me. I've associated my stomach with pain for a lot of years now when you look at it that way.

And then there was being told I had Celiac disease, and then that no, I didn't, but that there was something wrong and we just didn't know what.

But I spent a year or two eating gluten free and it was miserable. Miserable partly because it didn't immediately stop the pain and because it was difficult and whatever enjoyment I had in food was taken away. And on top of that, gluten-free foods are not calorie sensitive. The concern is not the carb/calorie/fat intake, it's the lack of gluten.

And add on to that a car accident that took away my ability to work out regularly and I suppose it's unfair to beat myself up for putting on weight.

It's been nearly three years since the accident and I'm still struggling with exercise and pain. So that doesn't help my weight situation.

And food is still touchy.

I try to eat well and my stomach rebels at the change.

I try to be healthier but things don't all sit well.

I think when I'm honest with myself, the battle I play the most with myself is that of re-learning to enjoy food and eating.

Which is difficult. I have certain things I know are ok/neutral and I have certain things that I know will probably set off pain.

And the things that I know are ok are not the healthiest/best for me.

But I'm doing what I can there too.

I think what it comes down to a lot of time is "treats".

Wanting candy/chocolate/salty treats because of one reason or another. And I know I should reduce my sugars, I know know know this but when there are so few things I can enjoy eating, maybe I shouldn't beat myself up for relying on the few treats I do have.

I guess I'm trying to get myself to a place where I'm not hating myself for what I eat and how I eat it because that hasn't worked and isn't working.

I don't know when the weight went on. I stopped watching my weight when I was diagnosed with Celiac. I felt I had bigger fish to fry.

But now that the weight is on, I'm not comfortable. People keep telling me they don't notice, but I do. I don't fit into my bras anymore. I've had to buy bigger ones. My pants are tight and cut into my waist. I don't enjoy looking at myself in the mirror and I used to at least be proud to see the muscles in my arms and some definition.

I don't want the weight anymore. I'm no longer wishing to be back down to the weight I was at sixteen, but I don't want to be here either.

But as much as I know this, and as much as it makes me feel dizzy to look at the numbers on the scale right now I don't seem to care enough to do anything about it because I'm still eating the way I do.

And, no, I'm not willing to do a food diary again, food is already an enemy, a struggle, a battle.

But I don't know what to do.

I can't magically exercise it away. Exercise is a whole other battle that I'm doing my best to fight.

And I don't have the willpower to watch what I eat and I don't know why.

I don't know why.

But I'm trying to piece it together and what I do know is that 1. food is a risk - I never know when it will hurt 2. I don't like a lot of things so those I do like I keep close 3. the foods I know won't upset me and cause me pain aren't healthy ones. 4. I feel like I deserve to eat things that taste good and while I've already denied myself a lot, there are some I don't. 5. people keep giving me advice and even I know what I should do but I don't seem to care enough to do it.

I've never lived with anyone who's an addict, so I don't know how an addict gets to a place of wanting to give up their abusive relationship with a substance. And not that I'm saying I have an addiction to food, but sometimes it feels like it, and, if it isn't already obvious, I can't give up food. There's no way to go cold turkey on this one.

I'm not asking for advice here. I'm just trying to sort it all out for myself in my head and sometimes when I write something here it gives me an amazing amount of clarity the next day.

I often find myself wishing that I'd be told I had some other life-changing, horrible illness that would force me to cut out sugars. Diabetes has come to mind. As horrible as it sounds, as sick as it makes me feel to say it, I find myself thinking that if they'd just tell me I had diabetes, I'd stop eating sugars and would lose all this weight and be healthy again.

I don't know why I just can't make this decision myself. But I think it has something to do with what I've gone through in the past two to five years. I don't know if I can handle another struggle with food, and watching what I eat would be one.

I don't want to struggle with calorie counting and food diaries when things will still hurt and I'll still feel ill. Really, some days it's just too much of a struggle to get through the pain or nausea or whatever, I get to the end of those days and I just want to taste something I'll enjoy. I just want a treat.

But I hate how I feel in my clothes. I don't want to say "oh, that's just how I look now." I don't want to be here five years from now with another ten, twenty pounds added on.

I don't know how to fix this.

Snow Days

Snow around here is an interesting phenomenon.

When it comes, it tends to either tease and sprinkle icing-sugar-like over things and not really stick, or it dumps, ten, fifteen centimeters in a couple of hours, and that can effectively shut the city down.

I didn't grow up here, and it's hard to know how accurate childhood memories are. Maybe the further away you get from them, the more changeable they become, or maybe things really were the way you remember them, or maybe they just seem different because you were looking at them through the eyes of a child rather than those of an adult, but I remember snow being different where I grew up.

I remember it being around for longer. It seems like we would play in it for days. There'd be a fort built in the backyard and snowmen in the front yard and because we could walk to school, I don't know that we ever had "snow days." Snow gear kept you warm but not necessarily dry and man oh man was it annoying to get all your gear on and then realize that you had to pee.

When it snows here, I have to get to work. And that ads a layer of worry/stress/anxiety that I never ever associated with snow as a kid or teenager. If it snowed when I was in high school, either my Dad would drive me, or maybe a friend, or I'd take the bus. No problemo. Even when I was older and driving and it snowed, I'd just drive carefully, never had a problem.

Here (and it's not just me that says it) the snow is different somehow. It slips and slides on the roads. It's never sticky and firm on the roads, it goes slippery. And drivers aren't cautious here. Many of them still tailgate and speed and don't have a lot of experience with the "tricks" of what to do when you're sliding or slipping or stuck.

So when it snows here, there are a few days of worry over getting to and from work. I'm often lucky and share the drive with co-workers who live nearby, but there's still something about it that has me gritting my teeth the entire trip.

But when it snows here it's funny, because while the city can't handle it, it does its best and we all struggle along for a few days and then, just as suddenly? It's gone.

Snow doesn't hang around here. Maybe (not being a meteorologist) it's our Island status, but once the temperature changes, it rains and melts and it's hard to remember that everything was white and covered just yesterday. You only believe it because of the giant melting piles left in the car parks and the slanting remains of snowmen on lawns.

And the occasional lost glove that reappears on the sidewalk, soaked through with melt and rain.

Snow days here are intense, and few and far between.

Two, three days of scraping, shovelling, pulling out those snow boots you never thought you'd use again, gritting your teeth while driving, stepping carefully on the un-salted sidewalks, and mushing through the salted ones, marvelling at how clean everything looks white-roofed and blanketed and then it's gone.

Makes you wonder what the fuss was all about and how anyone could have been dealing with something that now looks like it was never there.

Oh

Last night, a few beverages in, someone told me I was a large personality.

I consider this person to be a very large personality but have never thought of myself the same way.

I'm not offended, I don't think she meant it in a negative way, I'm just curious if this is something about myself I don't know or don't see.

Or if maybe I just need to stop drinking whenever I hang out with this girl.

Sometimes It Doesn't Take Much To Break Your Heart

When I was living with my parents we had a lot of good talks. I mean, we've always had good talks, there were just more opportunities for them when I was back sharing the same roof.

And I think it was probably the first time I lived with them as an adult. (The time I moved back home after a relationship ended, I didn't feel like an adult, even though my driver's license said I was one.) And I have a few more things figured out, and the things I don't have figured out, I have an idea about.

One of the things we talked about was the past; where we used to live, being a child, how I felt when I was growing up.

Something I tried to articulate was how I never valued the things I was good at when I was growing up. And how this wasn't through poor parenting, or any fault of theirs, just the circumstances.

I was visiting with my parents the other day and we got to talking about my dance, and some of the accomplishments I had with that and how I still struggle a little to feel proud of those accomplishments when I compare them to my brother and all the things he excelled at.

There was a pause in the conversation and my Mom looked up at me and said "you know, if you go back to do your PhD, you should do it in Fine Arts."

And my heart broke. Because I wish we'd been able to have that conversation twenty years ago.

I wish I'd believed that the arts were valuable.

And I wish I'd believed in myself.

And I wish I'd gone down that path and chased that dream.

But perhaps I wasn't ready.

I certainly didn't have the inner strength or conviction for the criticism that comes along with being a creative person.

I'm closer to having that now.

Now I just have to sit with that thought for a while.

A while back, I went for drinks with a friend and her boyfriend.

At a certain point in the night, a buddy of my friend's boyfriend joined us and the two of us flirted a bit.

I thought he was cute, but it turned out he had a girlfriend, and I am not one to flirt with a guy who's already taken, so I seem to remember avoiding him for the rest of th evening.

This weekend, my friend randomly mentioned that this guy was single again. That he had his girlfriend had broken up.

While a few years ago my thought might have been "Oooh! We flirted, he liked me, we should get together," my thought now is "I wouldn't want to date a guy who was happy to flirt with another girl when he was in a relationship."

I'm sure there will be some who tell me this is an over-reaction, but I want to trust the next guy I'm with, and having already seen this guy "in action" so to speak, I wouldn't have a great deal of trust in him from the start.

And that's no way to start anything.

Inertia

I was talking with a girlfriend of mine the other day and asking her if she was following up on her music. This friend is the most amazing singer and musician and loves to sing and play, but to quote her, "It's hard to get past the inertia of where I am right now."

I remember learning about Newton's First Law in physics and understanding, logically, how that applied to objects.

Have you ever seen a video of someone pulling something incredibly heavy (like an airplane or bus) with their teeth or hair or something equally unsuited to the task? It's always getting the thing moving that's the hardest part. They pull and pull and pull and then suddenly (seemingly so) the gigantic object starts to move and we all stand amazed by the feat.

It's the inertia. That's what those people are struggling against, because once the thing starts rolling, you're good to go.

I'm starting to think that mental inertia is the hardest thing to move.

Lacking the motivation of tv cameras or Guiness book records, it's difficult to pull and pull and pull against the inertia of a habit or a comfort zone.

Or the couch, streaming television and a blanket.

Because it can be comfortable, that inertia.

And it's only by wanting something more than wanting the comfort that you strap the twine around yourself and start tugging, veins bulging, to move yourself.

I'm at least looking at the pile of rope lying there next to my own personal bus.

I'm at least aware of where I'm inert.

Scratch My Head

I don't mean to sound preachy here, I'm just rambling about a difference of opinion I seem to have with some people.

If I know I'm going to have a drink, I plan not to drive.

(I don't like having even a drink with dinner and then driving, but I know I'm being extra sensitive in this case.)

I'm very lucky in that I live near enough downtown that I can walk places, but in the times I'm going somewhere where I can't walk home? I either don't drink or I don't drive.

I don't understand the acquaintances I have who have a few drinks and then offer to drive me home.

I mean, I understand the offer to drive me home, it's very kind, but I don't understand why you're driving.

I guess people think they know their limits, but that's the problem with drinking. You *think* you know things, when really, you're impaired.

You think you need to speak loudly, you think everything you have to say is funny/important/interesting. And when it comes time to leave, you think you're ok to drive.

And I'm not talking "I had a glass of wine with dinner three hours ago", I'm talking, we've had two or three drinks over the last few hours and I feel fine. Plus, my car's just parked across the street so why would I take a cab?

I know a girl who knows a girl who was the designated driver at a Christmas staff party.

She was pulled over, with a car load of her co-workers and found to be over the legal limit.

This is not a designated driver!

Again, I'm lucky that I can walk home from downtown. But it's also true that in this town a taxi never really costs more than $15 or $20 and most of them will take debit if you don't have any cash on you.

I guess I think these decisions should be made *before* the alcohol is consumed and I guess I think it's better to be on the overly-cautious side when it comes down to it.

We all think we're ok to drive after a few drinks, but driving is such an overwhelmingly large amount of processing and decision making and relying on split second timing and that's when things are going well.

I don't think drinking mixes with driving, and it always baffles me somewhat when I find I'm in the minority.

A Really Great Weekend

In no particular order, this weekend was great because of

-sunshine
-snow
-very delicious Cosmos
-laughter, the keeling over wheezing kind
-spending almost all day in pyjamas recovering from very delicious Cosmos
-feeling like there was somehow an extra day thrown in there
-relaxing
-encouraging my neighbour through being 8.95 months pregnant and wanting to have this baby today even though the baby seems quite content to hang out for a few more days
-C-Dawg
-a surprisingly good live band that kept covering great songs
-walking home in the wet snow late-ish, knowing I could sleep in the next day
-sleeping in just enough to feel decadent

And in a "you can't enjoy the sunshine without the rain" kind of way, I suppose it's fair that I have to go back to work today so I can look forward to another weekend in five more days.

Plus, there's more snow in the forecast for this week, so that's always pretty. (And awesome!)

Ahhhhhh

I just bought some Cadbury's (easter) Creme eggs.

All is right with the world.

The Tears. Oh, The Tears

Dooce.com had a link to a website that collected photos from weddings. Photos that really captured a moment. And being one who loves photos and holds closely the idea that I might one day be in a wedding of my own, I flicked through the photos somewhat damp-eyed.

And then I came across this photo of a Dad tearing up seeing his daughter wearing her mother's wedding dress.

And I started crying.

My Mom didn't keep her wedding dress, so I will never have that option.

I won't even have the option of holding a swatch of that dress or making that dress into a part of my day.

My Mom didn't think to keep it. It wasn't a "wedding" dress per se, she says. More of a dress that she bought to wear at her wedding.

Which was a very simple affair, as many were in Scotland at that time.

And it's not so much that I want to have a lavish affair (although I do reserve the right to make that choice if I want come the day) it's that I love the idea of wearing your mother's wedding dress for your own wedding.

Like christening robes that are passed down from generation to generation, or rings that pass from grandmother to son to love of his life, I like the idea of things crossing time and taking on more meaning.

My Mom wore a simple blue dress. Not sure the thing would even fit me. Not sure I'd even want to wear blue on my wedding day, but it still makes me feel sad that it's not an option.

Sad that I won't have that extra special moment where my Dad sees his little girl all grown up and starting her own life in the very dress he married her Mom in.

And then I started thinking about whether or not my Dad will even still be here when and if I get married.

Will I ever even get married? And will he still be alive to give me away?

I might not. And he might not.

I'm lucky, so very very lucky that my Dad's still alive. But he won't live forever.

And if I do get married, have a wedding day?

There's no guarantee I'll have both, or either of my parents there to witness it.

My heart cracks open with the pain of it and I have to remind myself there are too many "what if's", too many too many and what will be will be, and I just have to remember that I'm here, my Dad's here, my Mom's here and that has to be enough for today and for now.

Sometimes it breaks my heart to be a daughter.

Better Now

I was thinking the other day (while on the treadmill, which is, next to the shower, a place where a lot of good, unthinking thinking happens if you know what I mean) about the kind of men I've been attracted to.

In high school, I was attracted to the stoner/skater type (for lack of a better term.) Them, and the gorgeous, older guys; the grade 12 jocks, rock and rollers, completely unavailable ones. Both types were boys I couldn't get. Or didn't think I could get anyway, and I think in high school that matters more than you know at the time.

But those "stoner" boys, they were also just a little on the edge. They didn't care about how they were supposed to look or what they were supposed to be doing, they just did their own thing and I think that's what got me. That they were so carefree in my eyes. That they grew their hair long and didn't wear whatever it was the cool kids were supposed to wear.

In University, I was (perhaps once again) attracted to the bad boys. Well, in first year anyway. (Not sure what I was attracted to after that, as that relationship dragged along with me through my entire first degree.) Not the stoner/skaters this time, but the boys who were still on the fringe. The boys who hung at the edges of a party and smoked. (Smoking was outrageously bad in my eyes. Still is. I strongly strongly dislike smokers. Can't be around cigarettes.) These were the boys who skipped classes and were first to arrive at the pub and last to leave. These were boys who would casually throw their arm over your shoulder in a way that was both possessive and non-committal.

I nearly slept with a bad boy that I hated passionately. I disliked everything about him and that powder keg got ignited one night and everyone just left the room and we tore each other's clothes off.

It was his best friend I wanted though and his best friend I dated for the rest of the year. His best friend who ruined the best years of my youth. Nay, the best friend I couldn't let go of, thereby wasting so much of the best years of my youth on him, his issues, and our tattered, unhealthy relationship.

Now?

Well, if DD and Bird are anything to go by, I still have something of a draw to the bad boys. To the ones who hang at the fringe and live just a little outside of what's expected.

But Smith wasn't. And Chad wasn't. And my other lovely boyfriends weren't. The one I nearly married wasn't.

So what *am* I attracted to now, was what I found myself thinking the other day.

And all I could put it down to was "a certain twinkle in the eye."

It's something like a mischievous smile. A smile that goes all the way to the eyes and crinkles just the corner of them. And if they were a caricature, there'd be a twinkle in the corner, and they might just wink at you.

It's a something that says I am good. I am happy. I will make you laugh. And smile. And I will make your insides churn and flutter.

A certain twinkle in the eye.

That's what I go for now.

ARGH!

Why do I have such a hard time stopping doing things that annoy me?

Or stopping doing things that I KNOW aren't good for me?

It took me forever to stop reading a terrible, horrible, nasty, celebrity gossip blog that I did not enjoy reading. I felt angry at the mean things that were said and yet I kept going back.

It took me a stupidly long time to forbid myself from going back and man am I glad I stopped.

The frustration being, why didn't I stop the moment it felt wrong?

I don't enjoy reading things that make me feel that way, yet I'm doing it again. I forbade myself from going to a site that does nothing but anger, frustrate and irritate me and yet, there I was again last night, checking the site and coming away angry, frustrated, irritated and annoyed.

So why don't I just stop?

And why do I continue to dump a handful of Skittles into my hand when I know my tastebuds would be happy enough with two or three?

Why do I look at the extra fat on my body and vow to start eating within my daily caloric intake and yet when it comes down to it, I shrug, throw whatever it is into my mouth and chomp away.

Why don't I just stop?

I know I'm stubborn.

I've seen myself stubbornly and determinedly push myself through things.

I've run 10Ks for crying out loud.

And I've lost all the weight I've been putting back on for the past three years by being stubborn.

I've taken a photo a day for 365 days. I CAN BE STUBBORN.

So why am I not?

Why do I keep doing this thing that frustrates me so?

Why do I keep eating like I'm not carrying twenty extra pounds?

Why am I unable to overcome my stubbornness with my stubbornness?

It's frustrating.

Really really frustrating.

After Silence, That Which Comes Nearest to Expressing the Inexpressible is Music.*

Sometimes I forget how much I love music.

And then I throw my earphones on and I head to the gym and I spend an hour or two sweating and working and all my favourite songs pour into my head and fill in the space between my ears with nothing but how amazing music is.

And I wonder all over again how I could ever forget how much I love music.



*Aldous Huxley

There's Hope For Me Yet

There's a lady I work with I really like. She's mellow, she's a good spy, she's happy and friendly and she always listens when I need to talk.

She's somehow very comforting and although she only works two days a week, I always look forward to those two days if only to see her and say hi.

This lady becomes relevant to this blog because I've sat with her a few times over the last couple of years and talked about wanting to be in a relationship, or wondering if I'll ever be in a relationship again, or worrying about some aspect of being my age and single.

A week or so before Christmas, she pulled me into her space.

"Victoria?" she said, "My hubby has found a guy he thinks you might get along with."

Turns out that when I'd half-jokingly told her to get her husband to find me a man through his work, she'd told him to do just that.

"They've been working together since September, so he knows this fellow well enough now to approve of him. And I'm going to meet him at hubby's staff party this Friday, so I'll put a seal of approval on him if he's good enough to get to meet you."

I was flattered, and amused. And pleased.

And, sure enough, she came back the next week with positive news. The fellow had passed her inspection.

"He's nice. And attractive. I like him. He's a good guy."

She told me a bit about his family background and his upbringing, including the three languages he speaks (cool!) and asked what I thought.

I told her he sounded like someone I'd like to meet and that, of course, I trusted her judgment.

It's funny, because in the time I've been online, I've never been quite as hopeful about a guy's potential as I am with this one.

Even without knowing if he is, indeed, single, or wanting to date, the fact that someone who knows me (I've met her husband, so he knows me a bit too) and knows this guy thinks we might get along gives me hope.

There's so much to be said for this kind of "matchmaking."

Another of my favourite people at work met her current husband because mutual friends thought the two of them would get along and set up a barbeque so they could meet.

And one of my dearest friend's parents met at a dinner party that was put on for the sole purpose of their friends introducing the two of them. (And, I like to add, this was in the 60s, and both of them were in their mid-30s. Very "late" to be unmarried at that time. And they're still happily married now. With a lovely collection of grandchildren.)

Of course I'm trying to remain neutral. Calm. We may not ever meet. Or we might meet and just not feel anything worth pursuing. It's just nice to know there are still people out there looking out for me. It's just nice to know I might still meet someone. The natural way.

ZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz

Very very tired.
Brain all go sleepy.
Fingers can't type on own, need brain.

K? Bye bye.

Fan -F*&ing - Tastic

Somebody That I Used to Know - Walk off the Earth (Gotye - Cover)

Relatively Speaking

Man that title's cheesy, but, hey, when the brain's not working, the brain's not working, so let's just be happy there's anything up there at all.

I was watching The Wire this weekend (it's one of a few shows that people kept insisting I try and even though I'd tried it already and not liked it, I tried again) and in the second season there's this whole side to the story that involves a guy and his cousin and how close they are.

They're like brothers, really.

But I wouldn't know.

I didn't grow up with cousins around. Or Aunts or Uncles or Grandparents for that matter, so I don't know what it's like to have cousins.

Most people seem to like it, and some people, like in the show, love their cousins and are very close with them.

I've met my cousins (or most of them at least) but I don't know them and didn't grow up with them. So, since tv's the only thing I have to go on right now, I'm asking you instead.

What's it like growing up with cousins? And all that kind of extended family? What did I miss out on?

The Online Thing

I think, really, I'm only going to keep a profile on an online dating site for my own amusement.

Well, "amusement" is not really the right word. More for the novelty and "I'm bored, I should go check out some profiles"-ness of it than anything else.

I do not enjoy the process of cold meeting someone, and the times I've done it, other than Chad, it hasn't ever gone anywhere. And even that didn't go anywhere.

I suppose, in real life, dating's like that anyway, you throw more back than you catch, but I've never been the dating type.

I meet a guy (party, social event, friend's place, etc.) and we connect and we go out and we're together.

Sure, still sometimes I meet a guy (party, social event, friend's place, etc.) and we connect and go out and it doesn't work out but more often than not it has. For me.

I could get all mathematical and do charts and analyze all the factors/whatevers, but really I think I can say that online dating does not work for me. I don't meet the right guys and even when I do meet guys, my game's thrown off and I'm not myself because it's such an artificial way to do it.

The unfortunate thing about this decision, is that I still don't meet guys in my day to day life.

Spy caves are, oddly enough, inhabited by very very few single men. And there are none in my spy cave. And I don't go anywhere else on a regular enough basis and my friends have run out of single guys to introduce me to.

So I guess I'm just going to have to keep hoping for the best real life can throw at me and I'll just go for there.

I'm not going to be one of those "we met on line!" success stories even though everyone knows someone who is.

It's not going to be me and I'm ok with that.

Oh, Yeah, Right

Um, I'm feeling a little "durr" at the moment.

As in... oh.. a blog? That I'm supposed to write in?

Right.

OK.

Um.

Durr. . .

So, uh, Happy New Year! And, it seems my brain is still on holiday mode, which does not bode well for work today, so, I'll try to pull my brain cells together now and yeah, write some more of this here blog stuff soon.

Durr.