Around

I'm a little bit dizzy, trying to remember to breathe, stuck, as I am, in the middle of the latest of a series of shitty lessons life has thrown at me this year.

(Or maybe it's just a repeating of the same lesson over and over with slight variations just to make sure I get it.)

So much has been hard learned this year, and by year, I'm counting from the time they took my Dad into the O.R. and cracked open his chest...






The best moments I had this weekend were walking home from the gym. I remember feeling strong and powerful and wondering how anyone could possibly resist my awesomeness, and I'm glad I had those moments to counteract the crying and the times of sitting there trying to figure out what, exactly, I'm supposed to do now.

I know this post doesn't entirely make sense, or maybe doesn't make sense even in the slightest, but I wanted to write something, didn't want to leave a blank page.

Things aren't good right now. Things are tough. I'm struggling, but I'm coping. If that makes sense.

It got warm this weekend too. Which was weird. Going from frost overnight to getting out the fans and throwing open all the windows in less than a week.

And I'm not enjoying "Childhood's End", which is disappointing, since it came so highly recommended.

Hang on, forgot to breathe again.

Bummed

I'm genuinely bummed that Steve isn't interested in getting to know me.

I'd really hoped that we would get along (we did) and that we would then see each other again and that we'd eventually end up in a relationship.

But it's been a couple of weeks and he's had ample opportunity to ask about me or to ask for my number or contact information and he hasn't.

Which speaks loud and clear.

He's not interested.

Which is a bummer and disappointing and leaves me a little sad and more than a little bit lost as to what I'm supposed to do now.

Excuse My French

I wrote out this post and then erased it and then wrote it out again and then erased it and now I'm just going to put this....

C-Dawg and I are dealing with legal stuff from the accident we were in.

And it is absolutely breaking me.

To put it mildly... it is fucking awful.

On the days where I've had to deal with one thing or another, I'm barely holding my head above water emotionally and stress-wise.

It's awful.

Not Even An "Uh Huh"

The last few nights, someone in my building has come home (from work?) and been on the phone.

I know they've been on the phone, because their phone is on speaker and continues to be on speaker as they walk from their vehicle, slowly across the parking area and into the building.

I sleep with my windows open (even though last week was SO DAMN COLD for May that I got woken up by the chill and had to find an extra blanket go figure) and am usually up reading, so I can hear this person's phone calls.

And for the last few nights, whoever he's been talking to (a wife/girlfriend/sister/mother?) has been on a not quite angry but definitely annoyed sort of one sided conversation that goes pretty much non stop from the time this guy gets out of his vehicle and gets to the door to inside.

And I don't know if maybe he's said something before he got out of his car, but the whole (minute or so?) time I can hear the conversation? He says nothing. It's just talktalktalktalktalktalktalk from this woman, and nothing from him.

And yes, I'm assuming it's a him from the giant sounding truck noise and from the lack of verbal communication on his end.

I mean, I know when I'm listening to someone talk on and on about something, I still throw in a neutral comment or two so they at least know I'm paying attention.

This guy?

Nothing.

He may slowly be becoming my new hero somehow because the whole one-sidedness of it makes me wonder how long his drive home is and if she just talks non stop the whole way.

A Whole Other Species

Speaking of Steve, last Monday was a reminder lesson in the fact that boys are not girls and girls are not boys.

I walked in to work Monday and my closest friend at worked dragged me aside to ask how my dinner and meeting Steve had gone.

I told her the same as I told you guys... it was fun, it went well, he was interesting.

Butwhatifhedoesn'tlikeme? I blurted out, not five seconds later.

And my co-worker, who knows me so well, smiled and pulled her rolly chair closer to me.

"Victoria? Guys are not like girls."

She paused.

"I mean, here we are, first thing, talking about it; I even wanted to call you last night to ask how it went and what you wore and what you thought, but I didn't, I tried to be patient and wait til this morning."

"You have to understand that Steve and his co-workers are not currently doing the same thing. They are not all piled into his room asking how the dinner went and what he thought of you, and you know they're both busy at their job and they might not get around to talking about it for a few days."

"Oh." I said, eloquently.

"WELLTHENHOWAMISUPPOSEDTOKNOWIFHELIKESME?"

Rinse and repeat this pattern for a couple of minutes until I calmed down somewhat and understood what she was saying.

Doesn't mean I like it, but I at least understood that my co-worker might not hear back from her husband about how Steve felt the dinner went for a while.

It's in moments of understanding how different we can be that I start to wonder if men and women are really the same species at all?

These Two Thoughts Are Not Related

1. I enjoyed meeting Steve.




2. I'm ready to fall in love.










These two thoughts happened into my brain around the same time. But they're not, particularly, related. Necessarily.

We're All Canada

I've been crying at a lot of things this past week or so.

Doesn't take much to tip me over into a sobbing mess, there was even a moment at work last week where I got mad at an interaction and ended up in (private, unseen) tears.

I suppose it's inevitable that when stress is high, tears are near for me. It's in these moments, though, that I feel like there's a never-ending well of extraordinarily deep sadness in me and while I used to think that meant I was broken in some way, now I just think it means I feel more than some people do. (Or maybe not, what do I know.)

One thing I do know, is that within my family, I'm different; feelings wise.

I used to think this meant I was wrong, and then for a while I thought it meant *they* were wrong and then I just kind of shrugged and figured it didn't matter who was right or wrong, they just didn't get me...or something.

A few months ago, when I spoke to the Heart Health counsellor at the hospital where my Dad completed his physical rehab program (yay Dad, well done!) she said something to me that was one of those Oprah trademarked "A Ha" moments; a true lightbulb moment I guess.

In talking about how I felt within my family and how we were all coping with my Dad's illness and ongoing recovery, she pointed out to me that we were all different.

"We're all Canada," she said.

And suddenly, I knew what she meant.

I see the world the way I see it and that includes being in touch with my emotions and wanting to hug and touch and talk and be close. And the other members of my family see the world the way they see it and they have their comfort zones with emotions and closeness and talking and sharing and we are all different. And that's ok.

I'd never seen it that way before, and even now I'm not able to clearly explain what it was she said; it just made sense.

See, Canada is known as a cultural mosiac...where people from all different cultures and countries come together and make a beautiful image. We're not a cultural melting pot - which is where people from all over might be expected to come together and change into the culture of that country. So for this counsellor to say that "we're all Canada", she meant that we're all different and aren't meant to be like each other and that as a family member, I have to accept that and value it.

So maybe I do feel things differently than, certainly the members of my family. That doesn't make me better or worse than anyone, it just makes me different.

Maybe I cried a lot last week, and maybe I'm going to keep on crying all this week too. It doesn't make me wrong, it just makes me me, getting through this tough time.

And because "we're all Canada", I can't expect my family to understand or to know how to help me, I can just expect them to be who they are and appreciate them for that. And maybe most of all, I have to make sure I take care of myself, because I'm the only one who understands what it is I need, and within my family, (and kind of within my friends) I'm the only one who has the touchy-feely-talk-about-it-let-me-hug-you-ness that I need.

That Damn Book

I first heard about it on the internet. One of the blogs I read blushed guiltily at having devoured Fifty Shades of Grey. And needing a distraction and a little fun, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon too, and enjoy me a little "adult romance", (for mature audiences only.)

Now the last thing I thought I'd feel after reading this internet sensation of a sexy romance book was sad. I figured I'd be giggly or, well, whatever else one feels after reading some good raunchy sex scenes if you know what I'm saying, but I didn't expect to cry.

But cry I did.

And as I kept reading, I got more and more sad.

If you take out the sex part of the book, the male lead is everything I would dream about in a guy. He's gorgeous. He's a billionaire. He's self possessed and confident.

He's completely enamored of the lead female and can't keep away from her. He lavishes her with gifts and wants to protect her and take care of her and do what's best for her.

She misses him and he flies to be with her.

She challenges him and he adores her for it.

I know this is how romance novels go, I've read my share of them. There's a feisty, independent, flawed woman (many of them are clumsy and don't see their own beauty) and there's a wildly handsome and unattainable man who falls for her and they struggle through all these insurmountable problems and she leaves for a while because she can't put up with his issue but he changes for her and bing bang boom they end up together because it's meant to be and who can ignore that electric pull anyway and she's so worth him becoming a better man for.

And I'm usually just fine with this plot line and get all happy and giggly at the end and enjoy the naughty bits all the way through, but this time this book just hit me sideways.

Maybe it's because I met Steve last week and he wasn't "drawn to me like a moth to flame" and he hasn't "been unable to keep away" from me and seeing that stark contrast just made me sad. Where is my perfect guy who is utterly drawn to me?

By the time I'd finished the book on Saturday I was miserable.

And when I'm sad and miserable, my brain shouts all the nastiest things at me (fat, ugly, useless, no one loves you, no one even likes you) and that just makes everything all the worse.

But after eating a ridiculous amount of chocolate and popcorn and wanting to sit and wallow in how awful that damn book had made me feel, I took myself to the gym and felt better by the time I got home.

Maybe someone should go around putting a warning label on these books. Not "mature audience", but "do not read if feeling low about your current romantic situation".

Cuz then I would have waited a while to read that damn book. And my weekend might not have been so damn sad.

The Latest Thing To Make Me Cry

RIP MCA - Coldplay Tribute to Adam Yauch

Um

Someone here has a guest(?) who brings a cat on a leash.

I have thoughts about this.

They go a little like this: " ... "











(P.S. May the 4th be with you... Heh...)

Under Pressure*

I'm dealing with some stress right now, unrelated to work or health, but far far more stressful than it should be or maybe could be.

And so that, unfortunately, is making things in general tougher than they would usually be.

Stress and anxiety making me more stressed and anxious and yes, mindfulness and meditation are genuinely what's helping the most. But I'm still grumpy at work and little things are bothering me and they all seem to pile up and while I know logically it's just this one big worry making everything else seem big, it still feels big, regardless of whatever logic puzzle my brain gnaws away at.

Case in point? I was SUPER annoyed this week when I forgot to "post" the broken posts in the morning because I'd remembered to do it last week (post mega stress bomb) but hadn't remembered Mon/Tues/Wed and it seemed curse-worthy.

Which it wasn't.

But, nonetheless, I'm still hoping this post posts on its own, as scheduled, because even taking little worries/thoughts/troubles off my plate helps me feel a bit mellower.

I know, know, know this too shall pass, and I've been through much worse, but this has been one of those weeks where every day I've wondered why it wasn't Friday and every day I've wished I could just stay home and sleep.

I'm not cracking under pressure, I'm just feeling strained at having to carry the added weight of it.

And I'll be happy when it lessens, and at some point, disappears entirely.





*(And now you're going to be singing Queen all day too, aren't you? You're welcome.)

Test

Testing the "fixed" scheduled posts not posting issue....

Cycle

(Yup, forgot to "force post" again this morning. Sigh)

I don't want to say it's a "vicious" cycle because that's perhaps too much of an exaggeration even for me, but I'm a little bit stuck in a not so great cycle right now.

I'm under a lot of stress and it's wearing on me which runs me down and also makes me tired but unable to sleep well which also runs me down, and because I'm tired I don't want to exercise as much even though I know that might reduce the impact of the stress, but I'm too tired to exercise so I don't and then I don't sleep well which makes me feel not good so I don't feel like exercising and, well, you can see the loop, yes?

I'm not at my 100% health wise and so I've been kind of taking it easy with the gym since my cold, but now this stress and anxiety and worry about the stress is wearing me down and I feel too tired to go to the gym and then I get mad at myself for being "lazy" when really the lazy is only part of it and, well, I just need to go to the gym, don't I?

Except, I did walk a 10 K three days ago, so it's not as if I'm being completely sedentary and so maybe it's not so much the cycle as holy smokes woman would you ease up on yourself already? But I think if I did go to the gym I might feel a little less stressed but I also don't have the energy to go but maybe I should and now this is the post that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends. . . .

Edited to add: Self? I think you forgot that you did yoga on Monday too. So maybe it's ok if you didn't do much cardio Monday/Tuesday. My goodness, self, take it easy on myself already.

Sleepy

So, yes, C-Dawg and I did walk the 10K on Sunday and, yes, I enjoyed walking it much much more than running it! (Seems like a kind of a "duh" statement, really.)

But I'm also super pooped, yet again from my weekend's adventures and feel like, I think for the third week in a row, I would really quite like a weekend to recover from my weekend.

I didn't mention it beforehand, but I (finally) got to meet Steve this weekend. (The co-worker's husband's co-worker?)

I didn't mention it because I didn't want to curse our meeting yet again, so I figured I wouldn't write about it til I'd seen the whites of his eyes. And I also didn't mention it because I was trying to keep my nerves to a minimum, and the not talking about it to anyone helped. (I did tell two girlfriends a day or two before it happened but I told them "I'm going to tell you something and you can't say anything and you can't talk about it after I tell you ok?")

And I also didn't mention it because blogging's become a little on the complicated/frustrating/confusing/annoying side with Blogger's still-to-be-fixed scheduled posting issue, so I figured I wouldn't mess with it at all.

But, yeah, please imagine me Saturday night, nervous about the race in the morning and nervous about dinner in the evening.

I'm so proud of myself for managing to sleep!

The race was fun and I stretched and had a good bath after and felt pretty good, and then I just distracted myself until it was time to get ready and go.

The dinner was fun and nice and enjoyable and that's all I'm going to say, because what else is there to say?

Yes he was interesting and attractive and yes I'd be happy to see him again but, well, yeah.

No point in starting to think about anything other than what is and so I met Steve, the end.

Plus, I'm super sleepy and this was a lot of typing and I don't even know if I'll be awake enough to remember to "post" it in the morning so....yeah.

I'm sleepy. My 18 hour day on Sunday probably has something to do with that.

Learning To Be Gentle With Myself

(Whoops, guess who forgot that Blogger wasn't working this morning?)

I woke up Saturday morning feeling, for lack of a better term, vomity.

I ate a gentle breakfast and lay down on my couch. I didn't feel great, but I also didn't quite feel horrible enough to take anything for the stomach un-niceness.

After a couple of hours, I decided to nap for a bit. I kept setting my phone's alarm for ten minutes and then coming to and setting it again.

After an hour of that I said screw it, and turned the damn thing off and just napped.

I woke up around 2 in the afternoon feeling better.

Which gave me pause.

For the past few years, whenever my stomach feels less than good I always try to figure out what it is I did that made it that way.

What had I eaten, or not eaten, or maybe what was I worried about and had that set my stomach off or how else had I made this happen.

But waking up after my nap I stopped blaming myself and thought for a minute.

Hadn't I had to take a gravol in the middle of the day on Tuesday when I suddenly felt like throwing up while eating an apple?

And hadn't a co-worker walked out of a meeting on Thursday looking grey and headed straight for the washrooms?

Maybe, just maybe I was fighting off some stomach flu.

Maybe the not-happy stomach I woke up with wasn't my fault at all.

And maybe I just know myself well enough that I knew this was a "sleep it off and feel better" kind of thing rather than a "you ate something and now you're hurting so go deal with it" kind of thing.

Maybe I shouldn't always assume my stomach is upset because of something I did. There *are* stomach bugs out there, me!

And so it was a good reminder to be gentle with myself and not always be so quick to point the finger or be angry with myself.

I think this one quite possibly wasn't my bad at all.

It's That Weekend Again

I'm only ninety something percent sure (because I always like to give myself a mental "you don't have to if you don't want to" out even though I most likely won't take it) but I think C-Dawg and I are going to walk the TC 10K tomorrow.

I've written about how the experience of walking it the first time was amazing, and about my experience of running it last year (which was a real struggle, even if my post glazed over that truth,) and honestly, I'm a bit nervous of this time, even though I'm not sure how a walk through downtown with ten thousand other people and your best pal can be anything but fun.

I'm going to re-read the advice I wrote out for myself last year even though we won't be running it, and I'm going to make sure I stretch and take an epsom salt bath and maybe even pop an Advil, but that'll all just be me being extra cautious (except for the stretching, my IT band insists on that ever since the "bowling incident" gave it a run for its money) because really, it's just a kind of a long walk and it's not like I haven't wandered along Dallas Road for an hour and a half with this friend or that already this Spring.

So here's to us, and here's to everyone running, walking, or wheeling their way through the TC 10 K tomorrow.

If you're in town and haven't seen the 10K in action, you should totally head down and cheer/watch/participate. It's awesome! Especially if you go down to cheer.

The cheering really helps. And the silly ones stick with you.

("GO NADS!")

Anxious

I had an interesting insight last week, one that has come from a lot of work and self-observation and one that I think helped. Or will certainly help in the future.

And can I just say again how much I do not like this new layout and interface and it is stinky and I do not like it and it is making me grumpy when I type and probably will do until I get used to it but seriously why fix something that ain't broke? (Especially if your "fix" breaks it.)

Anyway.

At the end of last week things to do with work (that I do not talk about) got very stressful. And by Friday I had a stressful event (work related) at the end of the day and the afternoon was awfully stressful and then another out of my control and yes I'm a control freak and this was bad thing was thrown at me and by the end of Friday I was wound as tight as a very tight thing. (Even thinking back to how I felt has got me all riled up and strung out again.)

Thursday night, as I lay in bed thinking about the event and the possibility of it going wrong, I started to think about how I might possibly get into a car accident on the way there and how that would just make an awful situation even worse and how would I handle that when we still haven't settled things from the last accident and wait a second . . . Why was I worrying about getting into a car accident?

It wasn't so much an AH HA! moment as it was an ohhhhhhhh moment.

So that's what my brain does. Takes a worry (the after work work event) and runs with it and freaks out about other things too. Imaginary car accident, never finding a boyfriend, getting suddenly ill, losing my job for some random reason, etc.

And yes, the work my therapist (counsellor, whatever) pointed me towards has helped a lot with me noticing when my mind is starting to run away with things and so I was able to somehow pull away and just, well, fall asleep I guess, because I don't remember having a terrible night's sleep.

But I remember being less worried Friday morning and just regularly stressed by all the ridiculous but real things that were happening.

So I'm going to be observant now of when I'm worried or anxious or nervous about something so that I can point out to myself that what my brain is saying isn't so much about the imaginary things, but is really just a fantastical extrapolation from the actual thing I'm worried about.

Cuz it's good to learn that everything my brain says isn't true.

Especially the bad stuff.

More Than Words

Extreme - More Than Words 

I can't hear this song without being taken back to high school.

Not only did I find the guitarist to die for good looking and dreamy, (and, er, can I just say that re-watching the video, I'm still thinking the same thing?) but it was the perfect song to play over and over while thinking about the boy I had a crush on.

I can't remember anymore who it was, but I'm sure with a yearbook in hand, I could probably take a few guesses. What I do remember is listening to this song and knowing the two of us should be together. That nothing was more perfect than this song and what it meant about us and how desperately I wanted him to ask me out.

So it was a nasty surprise to go over to one of my best friend's houses and to have her tell me that she and the boy were now dating. (If that was even the term she used. She probably said "he asked me out" or that they were boyfriend/girlfriend now or something.)

I remember her telling me that and that when they'd talked on the phone (do teenagers do that anymore?) he'd told her that this was their song.

Their song.

I was devastated.

It was my dream and somehow someone else had ended up with it and not only a random someone, but my friend, my really really good friend and I started trying to figure out what was better about her than me.

She was cuter than I was, I decided. In a cute, I want to pinch your cheeks kind of way. And she didn't have bad skin like I did, of course. Why would I have assumed he'd ever have liked me anyway.

Somehow, I distinctly remember where I was standing when she told me this fact, that it was *their* song. I was at her front door, the door of her new house with the sheep in the back yard, on my way home.I think my Mom was waiting in the car.

Teenage pain is awful. It's so real and everything seems like the end of the world. (Especially the boy you love loving someone else.) Which is maybe not so different from adult pain.We just know it's not the end of the world, it just feels like it for a while.I wish I could go back in time and tell that teenage me that one day I wouldn't even remember his name.

And now, thinking on it, I wonder if it was Kelsey.

And if it was Kelsey, he went on to date another of my very good friends.

But maybe it wasn't Kelsey and I just had the bad luck of always liking guys who ended up going out with my friends.

(Also? I just looked up the singer fellow and he's still completely dishy! Nuno Bettencourt for those who are interested.)

We Still Don't Know What It Was

I've had a small ant problem in my apartment.

Small because (knock on wood) there haven't been too many of them, and small because they're little ants.  (People tell me they're called "sugar ants", which is probably some sort of karmic irony for my sugar love/addiction.)

The resident manager and I have been trying to deal with them for a couple of weeks now.  I'm weirdly not happy with the "poison them with trick bait and kill the entire colony" thing, but my great plan of killing them one by one hadn't really gotten us anywhere except continually creeping me out and making me feel guilty.

Then something odd started happening, and neither of us have or had any idea what it was.

There started to be a trail of... debris, under where the ants were coming out from.  (They seem to come out of cracks in my window ledge above a radiator.)

I'd clean it up and half an hour later would have to clean up again.

It was weird.

I googled, but couldn't find anything to explain it so I emailed the resident manager to tell him I was giving in to his poison idea.

"They're having an ant rave," I emailed.  "It's like Coachella or something, and they're making a mess."

"Look out for tiny little water bottles," he emailed back. "That's a sure sign of an ant rave.  And I'll come seal off the cracks tomorrow."

My world is so much happier when people share my happy little world view.  What fun is life if you can't giggle your way through it.

Spoiler Free

I saw The Hunger Games this weekend.  I'd wanted to see it opening weekend, but couldn't find anyone willing to brave the crowds with me.

And then I had a couple of busy weekends and so it wasn't until this weekend that I finally rounded up some people to go see it with me.

And I'm glad we went.

It's funny, I think both of them were a bit disappointed in one thing or another, but any disappointment I felt towards the film was a bit different.

I wish it had been longer.

Maybe I've been spoiled by HBO's wonderful adaptation of Game of Thrones, because I wanted everything to just go on and on.  And when I started thinking about it, I realized that I wanted an hour for each chapter.  I wanted each moment to have the rich detail it deserved.

Not that they didn't do a good job at adapting the book, but somehow everything they did just left me wanting more, it all seemed so short to me.

I was so involved in the book and I think, had they wanted to, they could have dived into the story and brought us along to the world in an even deeper way.

Which is perhaps a wonderful thing to wish - that the movie was even longer.

I enjoyed the movie and I think they did a good job.  Parts of it I thought were wonderful and I enjoyed the opening scenes very much.  And yes, I cried even though I knew what was coming.

I think LotR was the last time I was this happy with an adaptation of a precious book.  I was nervous they'd ruin it and they didn't and I'm happy they did a good job with this one too.

Oh, Blogger

So remember when I said Blogger was introducing a new look and I wasn't sure I liked it?

Well, it turns out (as most technologically based things do) it was more complicated than just a change of font/layout.

How do I know this?

Well, because my posts stopped posting.

From what I've heard, I've been lucky.  Some people have lost posts and in some cases entire blogs.  I have a backup of my blog...not that I'd know what to do with it if I had to, but still.  And really, if my entire blog disappeared, I'd be more sad about the loss of an online diary record of my life than anything else.

But, yeah, my posts stopped posting.

I usually schedule posts to publish before 8 in the morning.  That way I figure people have time to read (but not of course on work time, ahem) and by the time I'm home for the evening I can answer any comments and see what people might have said.

And some days I get home and there are crickets, and usually I just figure the post didn't strike a chord with anyone enough for them to comment and no big deal.  But this week, I came home on Tuesday (I think) and thought... huh, I wonder why no one commented, I should go see what I had to say and why it was so boring.

And I went to my blog and my post wasn't there and I thought... hmmm, that's odd, I must have made a mistake, like put in PM instead of AM and so I went to manually publish the post and weirdly enough, it was all set to publish at 7:57 am and.... hadn't.

And it's tricky trying to report an issue to Blogger, but after a couple of days of this happening (not just a fluke then) I found "help forums" where other people were having the same issue and I felt better knowing I hadn't turned into some kind of ham fisted blogging idiot.

And then the new layout kicked in and suddenly everything didn't make sense.

I'm not a huge fan of change, and have, in fact, resisted changing to the upgraded template since they suggested it way back when, but this was a forced layout change to the "dashboard" and me no likey.

It's also very unfortunate that the new layout has seemingly brought with it the inability to schedule posts as the combo is, I predict, going to make a lot of people jump ship to a platform that will a) allow direct contact and support and b) not make massive errors that go unfixed and un-acknowleged for days.

This is a free service, I remind myself.  And it's worked pretty darn well for me for nearly seven years.  I'm not about to angrily storm off at this inconvenience, but it's annoying and I don't like things that mess with my flow/patterns/routines.  And Blogger's Google owned, is it not?  And aren't they a fairly massive company?  I would think they'd have some investment in a product working well and properly.

So I don't like blogger's new look.  (Or "user interface" I suppose is the fancy proper way to put it.)  And I'd really like them to fix the scheduled post issue ASAP.

For now, I'm going to have to try to remember to log on and manually publish in the mornings while I'm eating my breakfast.  So if there's no posts there some days this week, you can know that my brain wasn't awake enough to remember.

Ugh and argh and harumph and sigh.


Edited to add:  I remembered to self publish this this morning.  Signed in and hit publish while eating my breakfast.  And just got home to find?  Still didn't work.  ARGH!

A Bit of a Ramble

I'm still kind of waiting to catch up on my rest from this weekend.

I can't tell if that's a good thing because it's Friday and therefore the weekend and I can rest, or a bad thing because it's Friday and therefore the weekend and you'd think I'd be less tired a weekend after the tiring weekend.

But hey, they keep predicting rain and it's ended up being pretty much sunny with a few rainy sun showers (except for yesterday) and let's throw in a rainbow or two for good measure!

But it's possible I shouldn't have said that out loud in case it jinxes things so let's just pretend I never said anything ok?

Is it Friday yet? (Woah, did I seriously just type that?)

And I'm pretty sure this post isn't going to post when I schedule it to which means it won't show up until I get home from work and manually publish it even though it was set to publish first thing and so that means Friday will be over by the time this post gets out there so yay?

A Baby Boom!

(I was going to type that "there are babies coming out of the ying yang right now", but then I realized that that could be taken literally and I started giggling and thought it might not be quite the right thing to say!)

I know so many people who are having or about to have or just had a baby. Like, this month!

My friend S2 just had her second, not to be confused with S (from B&S fame) who's about to have their first. And my co-worker friend had her second on Monday and our other co-worker's wife had their baby on Tuesday. And a wonderful old friend of mine from high school just sent me their birth announcement and I had a friend send me a Christmas card letting me know they were pregnant and I bet you that baby's due any day now and I've just suddenly remembered a former co-worker of mine who must be due really soon and all of a sudden it's all babies all the time!

It's kind of crazy and cool all at the same time and I don't know about the rest of the world, but I'm in the middle of a baby boom this month.

Seriously.

Um...

I don't know why, but yesterday and today, my posts didn't publish.

Even though they were set to publish at whatever o'clock, they just sat there. And when I went in to check, they were sitting there, waiting to go, even though they were supposed to have gone hours ago. And they wouldn't publish themselves, I had to manually hit "publish" even though I'd done that the night before or whatever and in six years this has never been a problem.

So, um, I'm not really sure what's going on, but... yeah. Things aren't quite right.

Anyone else?

Cool

My desktop on my laptop (heh, top, top, top, top, it sounds funny now) changes every day (or every time I startup I guess) and has always been a collection of cool desktop pictures and images my brother gave me.

A couple of years ago, I threw in a photo or two that I'd taken and was always pleasantly surprised when it would pop up.

It only occurred to me a month or so ago that I could put more of my own photos into my desktop photo folder and so I put it on my "to do" list.

And two weeks ago, I spent a few days going through my photo library and made a collection of my photos that I like the most and I chucked them into the desktop folder.

This past week, my photos have been starting to show up as my desktop and every time it happens, my thought process goes something like this:

"Cool, a new desktop photo." (I'd gotten very used to the old rotations)

"Oh, that's a nice picture."

"Wow, did I take that?" "I took that!"

"Hey, my pictures are good!" (insert huge grin here)

It's been a really cool experience, seeing my photos bigger and "in use."

And, somehow it's been actually quite eye-opening to actually look at them and like them and think "Hey, that's a good picture and I took it!"

So it's been a fun week, waking up and wondering if it'll be a familiar screen or a new one.

And I'm pretty happy with the shots I took.

Which is a nice feeling.

Hockey

Last year my team made it to the final round of the playoffs and while it was all very exciting and hopeful, my Dad was also going in for his heart surgery right then and so my metaphorical heart was elsewhere.

Last week, I was pleasantly surprised to see the streets once again filled with Canucks flags and people wearing Canucks jerseys on the first day of playoffs.

I love the fact that we all come together to cheer on our team and it's these moments of togetherness that remind me just how much I like people.

I'm not sure we (and yes, we get to say "we" even though none of us are really out there on the ice with the boys) are going to make it past this first round this year, we're struggling, and to be honest, I don't want a repeat of last year's awful crowd mentality choices.

But I'm hopeful we'll go another round, because I love the spirit and energy of this town when we're all sporting the colours and waving the flags and hoping for the same happy ending.

I like the playoffs for that.

Is It Friday Yet?

You know how sometimes you get back from a holiday away and you feel like you need time to recover from your holiday before going back to work? Like, you need a vacation to get over your vacation?

Well, I need a weekend to get over my weekend.

Seriously.

I am completely and utterly exhausted from this weekend and all I want to do is sleep in and rest and recharge and be by myself for a day or three.

This weekend also showed me that my body's still not at 100% from my cold and I got run down again and man oh man does my body ever need balance to stay healthy and stress, even "fun" stress throws off my systems and I need to remember to give myself lots of down time on weekends like this.

But, yeah.

I need a weekend to help me recover from this weekend.

Or Is That Just Me?

Does anyone else find tugboats absolutely cute and adorable and hug-worthy?

Unexpected

A couple of weeks ago, my Mom booked me in to come with my Dad and her for drinks with a former neighbour of theirs.

I know, it sounds kind of convoluted, it did to me too, but as it was over the long weekend, I said fine.

And then last week, as my cold was starting to set in, my Mom called and let me know that apparently this lady's current neighbour would be joining us, and her son, who was visiting from a province far far away.

"So only dress as cute as you want to for someone who's visiting from Ontario" she said.

*sigh* (a sigh only the single daughters can understand)

So on Sunday, my cold and I went over to this lady's house, not really knowing why I was there other than to be polite and because I'd been asked.

And you guys? I had a blast.

My parents are super bright, witty people with strong personalities and I got to see my parents get teased and I roared with laughter every time it happened. It's such a rare sight for me to see my parents with their peers now that I'm an adult and I really enjoyed it. Plus these two ladies were hilarious and all in all I had a great time listening to the conversation.

And yes, the visiting son was nice and friendly and right around my age and if he lived in town I'd be happy to hang out with him again.

And that was nice. It was nice to meet a nice single guy my age, even if it didn't have the possibility of a romance. It made me feel normal again, somehow. Like a reminder that there are most certainly single guys out there and some good ones to boot.

So thank you, former neighbour of my parents, for the unexpectedly fun afternoon out.

Routines

Do you have any little superstition sort of things you do?

Like, I prefer if the speed on the treadmill is an even number, so I'd rather be at 4.0 or 3.8 and not 3.9.

And I still, when I'm talking about certain things, knock on wood to like, un-jinx myself. Even if there's no actual wood around. Knock, knock, knock. (And if I think about it, I probably follow it up with a triple knock on my head too because I first learned it as "Knock on wood, hairy wood's best." Which I'm now realizing might look odd to people...)

Un-Good

Yeah, so that cold kicked me in the butt.

And according to this blog, it was right around this time last year that I had my last cold (or certainly my last cold that was bad enough to write about) which I guess is a pretty good track record, but also makes me wonder if there's something I keep doing around this time of year to get myself sick.

I felt this one coming too. Had a long week, felt exhausted and just wanted to rest, but we had a staff social thing that I went to and verily did thereby enjoy a few beverages.

And as much as I like being just a little tipsy every now and then, I think it must just tip my body over the "strong immune system" scale to "now you're in for it." because I remember lying on the couch that Sunday evening wondering if I was hot because I was fighting something off or if it was because I was wearing flannel pjs in the second week of Spring.

And then I made the mistake of saying "oh, it must be the pjs, my immune system is SO AWESOME it's kept me from getting sick for, like, ever."

Duh duh duuuuuuuuuh.

I felt kind of sniffly Monday and by Tuesday I remember thinking "yeah, I think I have a cold." I had to take half of Wednesday off to have a filling repaired (grumble, grumble, it's the needle I hate the most, that sucker hurts and then it still hurts the next day) so I figured I'd just take the whole day and fill myself with cold meds (because I also didn't want to suffocate lying on the dentist chair.) But let's just say that by the time I got into work on Thursday I knew I'd made a big big mistake.

You know you're sick when your co-workers take one look at you and say (while backing away) "You should really go home."

So I did.

And I managed to use the last reserves of my energy to buy some food and that magic juice someone recommended to me last year and then I got really sick.

Like, not just the sniffles sick, but this cold is trying to kill me and I almost wish it would succeed kind of sick.

I did a pretty good job taking care of myself, drank lots of fluids, napped and rested, made myself eat well even though I wasn't hungry and (gasp) couldn't even stand the thought of chocolate! It was a bad one though, and I had a couple of nasty days.

I was really actually grateful that it was the long weekend so I didn't have to take any more days off of work and that people were understanding of me backing out of visits and events.

I looked almost as hideous as I felt, which could have been amusing and I read a book or two while I wasn't napping and I even got out in the fresh air for a walk one sunny day, but thankfully, I hit a Neo Citran Saturday night and that seemed to just (sorry to be gross...) dry things up and when I woke up Sunday morning I remember thinking that I felt human again.

Like, a human with a cold, sure, but human. And I was really really grateful.

My Mom always says that an illness that comes on quickly (flu, food poisoning, the like) goes quickly, and the bad part of this cold stuck to that rule. And it was such a relief to feel "just" sick rather than horribly sick that I don't mind that I'm still not at my best.

The weirdest lingering part of this cold is the brain-slowness. Like, sure, I understand that I'm still a bit sniffly and that my throat and head are still a bit sore but I did not know that my entire brain was still going to be filled with cotton balls.

Like, why does walking and chewing gum have to be so complicated?

So I was feeling really really un-good, but now I'm just feeling a little bit not 100% and I'm promising myself to not mix tired and alcohol again especially next April. I'd like to break the April streak!

Home For A Rest

You'll have to excuse me, I'm not at my best
I was sick all last week, and I've got no brains left
This so called real bad cold was nearly my death
Was so sick from a cold, I stayed home for a rest


(For those of you who don't know)

Unrelated Thoughts

I've just spent the last ten minutes watching these two crows do this.... thing. One of them lands on a branch and then the other one comes and lands on it so the first guy has to go to a lower branch and then the other guy lands on it and they just kept doing it until the first guy took off. And all I want to know is why? Is this a dominance territory thing? Is it a Spring/mating thing? Is it a "I just don't like you" thing? Is it something even less human?

Happy Easter weekend guys. (I kind of forgot about it, probably because the candy and chocolate has been in the store for so long. Guess I'll have to say bye bye to Cadbury's creme eggs for another year.)

I really want a breakfasty breakfast. Wanted it for dinner last night too. But I only have eggs and bread in the house.

I want to meet Steve really really soon so we can go on a date to see Hunger Games.

I have new upstairs neighbours.

I already did my taxes. And got a refund.

I didn't do anything fun with it.

I was texting with my best friend from highschool when I told her I wanted breakfast for dinner. She told me she was making corn and fish sticks and rice for their dinner (she has two kids) and all I could think was "how the heck did we get grown up enough for her to be making dinner for her kids. Like a real adult."

I made sugar cookies this weekend. I don't own a mixer. I mixed by hand. Literally. I broke my wooden spoon, so I just dug right in there.

I think the icing is what makes them taste good.

You know how sometimes you hear a song and you like it but then months later it comes on just at the perfect time on the perfect day and it becomes your anthem and you fall madly in love with it like never before? This.

Hugs all round.

How Does It Know?

Why is your hair always awesome the day you're going to go get it cut?

Seriously! It's perfect!

Are You?

Are we all socially awkward to some degree or just some of us?

Other than at work, when I'm totally in spy mode, I rarely feel completely at ease.

It's some combination of wanting to do what would make the most people comfortable while still being comfortable myself and wanting to just do whatever it is I want to do even when I don't know what it is I want to do.

Like, I really don't like meeting people somewhere. Our staff recently had a social event and I drove there with my closest co-worker friend and her husband and another co-worker and I was comfortable. But when we got there and I saw that some of our staff were already there and some hadn't arrived yet I felt awkward. Like...where do I sit?

And is it ok to not interact with everyone particularly? And does anyone notice that I'm sitting here by myself and I kind of don't mind but I also wish I wasn't by myself?

I genuinely don't know if everyone has some variation of these thoughts or if it's just some of us. I know I'm not alone in this sort of social awkwardness and you'd probably never know it to meet me, but still...

I guess I'm wondering if there are some people who feel comfortable and/or confident in pretty much any and all social situations.

Reddit has a meme (which I will forever call a "me me" thank you very much) called "SAP" which stands for Socially Awkward Penguin. People create these mini stories about a situation where they were awkward; kissed someone who was going for a hug or tripped down the stairs in class or whatever.

Are we all just at least a little bit of a socially awkward penguin at some point?

Awwww Man

I've just realized, I'm running out of months to get married.

At some point in the last decade or so, I decided it would be really cool to get married on one of the "all the same number" days.

Like to get married on the first of January 2001 so my wedding day would be 01/01/01. And I figured I had a bunch of time to get married, but I've just realized that I've run out of years that work.

December 12th of this year would be my last chance to get married on a matching day and I think it might be rushing it to meet someone, get engaged and married all in the span of nine months. (Heh.... unless it was a shotgun wedding I guess.)

Maybe I'll have to aim for January 15th 2015 or April 4 2014 or something instead.

Too bad about 12/12/12 though, that's a bummer.

(Happy fourth of the fourth, by the way.)

You Really Are

I suppose this will apply equally to real life, but I've noticed that on the blogs I read, people don't tend to see themselves the way I (and I assume others) see them.

I read a few blogs where the people post pictures of themselves and/or themselves and their kids and often the people will say something about how they look extra tired today or how they think their hair/lips/teeth/skin isn't good or something that I'm sure they see, but I don't.

Most of the time I think they look great, or I see something in them they don't seem to have noticed. Or I wouldn't have noticed the flaw they pointed out if they hadn't pointed it out.

And because these people are strangers, it's not like I can just call them up or sit them down and say listen... you're way prettier/handsomer than you seem to think, you really are!

So if I could tell the entire Internet something, or at least the portions of the internet I read and follow, I'd tell it that you're all so so so much better looking than you give yourselves credit for. So stop picking yourself apart because from where I'm standing (sitting, actually) you look great.

And you have pretty eyes and your smile is awesome and I love your freckles and I wish I had your hair and your body is rockin' and you never look tired to me and I wish you could see yourself how I see you.

Why Don't They Teach This Stuff In Schools?

I realized the other day, rather depressingly, that everything I know about relationships and love I learned from tv and movies.

And books too, I suppose.

But my guidance growing up and heading into my first relationships was from the Hollywood type love stories that only now am I realizing aren't how reality works.

Maybe some people's parents sit them down and talk about relationships and how they can work or could work or should work, but I'd venture to suggest that not many do, and where else do you discover about how to respect someone in a relationship and how to be respected in a relationship and what a real, healthy relationship looks like than through what you read, see, and watch.

When I watch shows nowadays that are aimed at today's teens or youth (yes I do watch 90210 and Glee, leave me alone!) I think they're being shown an even more unrealistic portrayal of love (and sex!) than I probably grew up with.

So, armed with this new realization; that my fairy tale romance is not going to actually be a Rom-Com Chick Flick, how do I figure out how to fall in love and stay in love?

Seriously, someone should have taught me how this really works.

TGIS

I feel like there's nothing much to say other than happy Saturday and thank goodness it's the weekend, eh?

I chose this photo to remind me of the gorgeous, sunny weather we had last weekend, which disappeared Monday morning and hasn't been seen since.

I sometimes wish you could bottle up sunshine and the feeling of a perfectly sunny, blue skied day and open it up when you needed a little boost.

Wouldn't that be cool?

Now if you'll excuse me, my brain and I have to go think up other fun inventions to create. Have yourself a happy little weekend and enjoy whatever weather you're getting.

Straw Poll

If you could live financially securely (no money issues) without your job, would you quit or would you keep working?

Unknown Territory

So let's imagine that I've met Steve and we hit it off (which, really, is what's likely to happen, I'm a decent person and apparently he's a decent person and we'll probably get along just fine) and we start "dating."

Now, I have to put "dating" in quotation marks because I'm not entirely sure I've really ever kind of done it before.

See, I've always just met a guy and then been in a relationship. Um, withsomesexthrowninthere. Pardon? What? Hmmm?

So the process of going on outings or dates or getting to know someone slowly over a series of events is a foreign one to me.

I did start down that road last summer with Chad. We met, our initial meeting date, and then we had another date a few days later and then we went on a movie date, and I was nervously anticipating how the whole "dating someone" thing would play out.

I remember being nervous about how I would know when a kissing moment was approaching and I remember thinking about introducing him to C-Dawg and seeing how they got along and wondering what he'd think of my apartment when he came over.

It was new to me and unfortunately, I didn't get to play it out very far, so the whole "dating" thing is still new.

So if Steve and I meet and get along and decide to date, I'll just have to go with what feels right and try to figure things out as we go.

I mean, there's probably no steadfast rules on how things progress (coffee to movie to outdoors to dinner?) and I'm sure each new relationship is different, so I'll try to just relax and see what happens.

Cuz I may not be great at being that relaxed, non worrying person, but I can always practice and learn how to be more that way, right?

Right!

(Uh Oh)

Blogger is "getting a new look" and I'm going to have to upgrade... something I've avoided. So... here's hoping things go smoothly, but if things end up out of whack, you know why!


(Hmmm, ok, nevermind. It's not yet forcing me to upgrade what I thought I had to upgrade, just the look of things... panic averted for now)

Pout

Why can't salty things be good for you?

Like, why do chips and things have to be all "mmmmm, look how yummy we are!" and then secretly be all "just pretend we're not super high in fat and sodium and have absolutely no redeeming nutritional value ok?"

I guess it's partly that I love salt. And sugar, but let's not get distracted here. And salt isn't really a great thing health wise, but why is it that all savory (read: salty) snacks are unhealthy? Even the healthy ones?!

For example, I bought "almond crackers" that are so darn tasty that my Mom and I nicknamed them "crack crackers" and they're gluten free and have healthy nut fats and protein or whatever but a handful of them are worth, like, seventeen thousand calories and dude! All I wanted was some salty goodness I mean come on!

So I guess I'm just having a little babyish, immature pouting session that things that taste good and salty can't be super healthy and good for you.

Pout, pout, pout.

*walks off stomping my feet*

Ok

So, Steve...

Steve being the name I have decided to give the co-worker's husband's co-worker that I may one day meet if all the stars align and I decided to give him this name because I've just recently fallen in love with Shameless and who wouldn't want to be Fiona and Steve, at least for the first little while and did you say all this in one breath because I typed it all in one. (But seriously, I love this show. How is everyone not raving about its awesomeness?)

Um, sorry, I distracted myself there on the Shameless site watching clips and previews and what was I talking about?

Right, Steve.

So if when I get to meet Steve, a few things can happen.

1. We can very obviously hit it off and get along and plan to go on another date.

2. We can all have a nice evening and then Steve and I report back to our respective co-workers that we both seemed like nice people and then Steve gets my phone number and calls me.

3. The evening is nice and fun but I have no idea what I think about Steve and don't know what to do next.

4. We get along politely but then one or both of us decides we're not interested enough to follow up.

5. We don't hit it off and it's ok and we'll all just move on with our lives.

6. It's awkward and uncomfortable and I corner my co-worker in the kitchen and talk strategically about how to smuggle me out the back door.

7. Some variation of us getting along and then trying to date and who knows, really and yeah.


Or maybe it's as simple as

1. There's an attraction

2. There's really NOT an attraction

3. There's the possibility of an attraction

But, yeah. In some ways, it's more fun to wonder about what he's like and if we'd hit it off, because if when we do meet, things will be whatever it is they're going to be and there'll be no more room for wondering and hoping and daydreaming.

And while I know wondering and hoping and daydreaming can be dangerous due to their ability to set me up for a big disappointment (and so yes, I've been trying to keep them to a minimum) they're still part of who I am and how I function. I can't make 'em un-be.

Anyway. If Until I meet this guy and find out what happens, I will not know. Ain't that the kicker of life?

Ahhhhhhhhh

It was gloriously, gorgeously sunny this weekend, and on Saturday a friend and I walked down to the beach and sat for an hour talking about where on earth we're supposed to meet our next boyfriends and work and cooking (or how we both don't really know how) and great tv shows.

I got home and found a collection of new freckles over my nose and cheeks; it's my yearly reminder that sunscreen is important and it's a month or so earlier than usual for that to have happened. But what a lovely reminder it was.

There's something I love so much about how my skin smells after time at the beach in the sun. Even if I had to wear long pants and a wool coat to keep warm. It's just so awesome to be able to sit there, basking away without a care in the world.

I felt it that evening, of course, lying, overheating on my couch, but even that's a treat after just last week, cuddling under my blanket as it snowed and hailed.

I love watching Spring rolling in, and this weekend was the first in what I hope is a lot of really awesomely weathered weekends this year.

Whoops

I just accidentally posted a picture and now I'm deleting it, but I'm writing this because sometimes people see posts that then don't exist when they show up and I think I got too much sun today and my brain's a little fried and I should probably stop trying to type because I keep making mistakes and hi! How are you? Pretend you didn't see anything ok? Kthxbye.

March Marched Quickly

Holy kaboley, how did it get to be the twenty fourth of March?

And, Happy Spring by the way, Northern Hemisphere goers.

This month has been an emotionally tough one for me and I'm noticing my stomach is giving me pain again for the first time in a long time so huh, let's put two and two together and come up with stress = bad, shall we?

I have this feeling that there's light at the end of the tunnel, that I'm turning a corner towards an easier time, and even if that's not true, it's a nice feeling to have. And I would tell you truly that I believe it's in no small part due to the work I did with the therapist during the most acute part of my Dad's illness. I knew it was the right thing to do, and I thank those of you on here who encouraged me to seek out help and support from a professional at that time.

As someone who's met with the gamut of "mental health professionals" from social worker to spiritual life coach to counsellor to psychologist to psychotherapist I can tell you that the money's worth it. (One of my best friends, when I was freshly broken hearted from my first relationship told me I should go see a counsellor. "I can't afford it." I told her. "It's an investment in yourself," she said. "The best one you'll ever make." Wise beyond her years, that one.)

This post really just started off about me being baffled at how quickly this month has gone and then noticing that it hasn't been the easiest one for me. I should probably stop talking now before I go on the massive tangent I can feel coming.

So, happy Spring, happy Saturday, have a good one.

Just Me?

Am I the only one who stares up at those acoustical ceiling tiles during a massage or at the dentist or something and finds faces in the little dotty patterns?

Struggling Again

Two down posts in a row...sorry about that. Rough week The Third, I guess.

Maybe I'm just one of those people who's not meant to be in a relationship.

Maybe I'm not meant to be close to people.

I can't find a man to be with me, haven't really kept a romantic relationship going for that long anyways. I don't think my family likes me much. Sure, they love me and all, that's biologically programmed and expected, but like me? Doesn't appear so. I'm just someone who doesn't quite live up to what they'd hope I would in so many ways. Constantly not quite good enough.

Friends? Sure, I've got em. But they all have their "person", their significant other, and most of them have kids; their own family. And if you read up a paragraph ago, I don't have that man in my life to be my person, I don't have that close friendship you get when you're in a committed romantic relationship. So yes, I have friends, but they'd all get along fine without me, and I've grown tough enough that I think I'd get along if they all left. Which sometimes I suspect they will, given time.

I know I struggle with things. I know I don't feel like I deserve support or love. I know I don't believe people want to take care of me and I know I get hurt when people say things in anger. I know I do my fair share of keeping people at a safe distance, I know I'm trying so hard so much of the time to reduce the hurt to cushion myself from the blows that come from caring about someone else and I think that's what has me thinking that maybe I'm just not meant to do this.

Maybe I'm only built to handle a certain hermit like level of closeness. Maybe I'm meant to live a slightly miserable life alone in the safety of my own emotional security.

I don't know, maybe I'm feeling sorry for myself, maybe this is all just a giant pity party.

I keep getting around to accepting that there may never be a significant man in my life. Right now, I feel like maybe I'm not meant to have anyone in my life. Maybe I'm just not able to handle the hurts that go along with that. Maybe I'm tired of hearing that I'm letting people down or feeling like people have let me down and so I should just not.... be with people.

Or maybe just not close. Maybe I should have a thousand acquaintances that I can keep at an arm's length.




If only I could believe I'd actually go for any of this. . .

I Felt It The Moment It Happened

It's rare for me to lose a friend.

I have some people I consider dear friends that I haven't seen for years and years. Some that I haven't necessarily spoken to or emailed in forever, other than a Christmas or birthday card during the year. But friendships, for me, are something tidal; in flux, rather than something that ends. Sometimes certain people slip away for a while, but I always know they're there. So it was shocking to me when a friendship I thought was a lifer imploded spectacularly a few years ago.

I'd invited my closest friends to get together for my birthday. Always an awkward thing for me, to celebrate myself, and I was uncomfortable, not wanting anyone to feel left out by hearing about the dinner second hand. So I sent out emails, including a couple of couples that were close to these friends of mine just so no one would feel I'd been rude or unkind.

Almost everyone was able to come (except for my very pregnant friend and another who couldn't find someone to babysit) and I'd guessed that this particular friend and his wife would probably not both be able to make it as they had a new baby, so I was pleased when his wife showed up, it meant she was getting a good evening away from being a Mommy even though it would have been great to see both of them.

We had a yummy dinner and a nice night and some great stories were told and it was a very memorable birthday celebration for me all told. I was pleased I'd taken the risk to ask people to come, it was kind of a big deal for me.

It was a shock to me therefore to get a text later that evening from the wife telling me that her husband was disappointed that there were couples and husbands there. He'd assumed it was a "girl's only" evening.

I apologized as profusely as one can via text at 12:30 am, but I felt horrible and guilty (as is my way) so I sent him an email apologizing for the misunderstanding. I felt awful, and it put a huge damper on my birthday evening.

I got an odd, angry, terse email from him the next day and when I responded, he told me if I wanted to clear up the "misunderstanding" (he put it in quotes...my first indication that we were on very different pages) I had to talk to him in person.

So I did. I drove over, mightily confused and wanting to assure him that I hadn't *not* invited him as he was assuming, but that I had wanted both of them to be there.

But he wasn't listening. He went off as they say, and I stood at his door, mouth agape. He tore a strip off of me for being "embarrassed" to have him as a friend and how I'd "purposely" only sent the invitation to his wife whereas I'd "obviously" sent it out to other men and husbands.

I was stunned. Dumbfounded. Shocked.

I held myself together and calmly told him that I understood that he was upset but that he was wrong and that this was all a big misunderstanding.

He wasn't listening and he didn't believe a word I was saying.

I don't remember most of what he said, but one phrase has stuck in my mind.

"If you'd only just stop caring what people thought of you, you would have invited me and not cared what anyone else would have thought of me." He yelled.

And that's when it hit me.

He was right. I needed to stop caring what he thought of me.

He was treating me horribly, not listening to my side of the very simple story and had said very hurtful things. This wasn't how a friend treats a friend and I needed to stop caring.

I told him once again that I was sorry. That I heard where he was coming from and could see why he was hurt. But that he'd misunderstood.

I felt the friendship end in that moment, certainly from my side.

Sometimes the damage done is irreparable.

"Aren't you coming in?" he said, obviously calmer now he'd had his say and told me what was what.

"No." And I left.

And although I tried to continue a friendship with his wife, it wasn't sustainable and the three of us aren't in a friendship anymore. Which, sometimes makes me sad and sometimes makes me angry. I'm not yet at a point where I see it in a positive light. It was all so extraordinarily hurtful and wrong and ugly. Even just writing about it again has gotten me riled up and hurting all over again.

I can probably make a list of the times I've felt a relationship break. And it's never pretty. And only sometimes is it worth slapping a band aid on and working to fix the break. When the hurtful thing said to me is too large? I can't. But sometimes I do, sometimes it's only a flesh wound.

This wasn't one of those times and at the time, it was one of the hardest things I'd ever gone through. But as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and the whole thing certainly did. I'd rather it had never happened, to be honest, but it did, and I made it through.

What I wonder, though, sometimes, is about the moments in a romantic relationship where I feel that same break? But keep on going, pushing through, hoping for the best. It hasn't served me well in those cases. Would I have kept on trying to make things work with this friend if we'd been romantic partners? I like to think not. But I wonder. And why would sleeping with someone make me think it's ok for them to treat me poorly?

In Which A Dishwasher Becomes Allegorical

(No, seriously.)

So when they kicked us all out of our building back in August they told us that part of the extensive renos they'd be gutting the kitchen and because of that, they'd be putting in new everything, including a dishwasher.

Now I don't know how it is where you live, but here, apartments (especially the older ones, which most of them are) don't have dishwashers. So those of us who were returning to the building were all pretty excited at this addition. I haven't had a dishwasher since I moved out of my parent's place (except for when I lived with what's his name in the house we were going to live in once we got married and oh, right, that's not this story) and haven't really missed having one. Can't miss what you don't have and all that?

So as long as I've lived on my own, I've washed my dishes by hand. When I stayed with my parents for those few months while we had to be out of the building, I kind of found it hilarious just how clean my mugs got in their dishwasher. (Yes I brought my own, favourite mugs with me when I stayed there. Things just taste better out of my mugs!) And I looked forward to seeing just how clean things would be once I had my own dishwasher in my sparklingly new kitchen.

But, of course, as these things go (or so I've been told), construction doesn't ever (?) go as smoothly as planned and we were told, when we moved back in, that there was a holdup with the dishwashers.

Insert very intelligent information here about how the water system in this old building wouldn't handle the new load from the dishwashers which meant new...er.... bigger? water mains and that, apparently, had to go through the city/municipality, which meant we had to wait.

I was only a little grumbly about this, as the empty dishwasher hole was a great place to put my recycling boxes. A few of my friends (and my folks) thought we should get a reduced rent for not having a promised appliance, but it wasn't worth it to me to go down that route, so I waited.

They told us it'd probably be January, but that didn't happen, and then February came and went and my recycling bins sat happily in their spot.

What *did* happen near the end of February is that the city came and started digging up lawns and sidewalks and all sorts of exciting things. And that went on for a good three or four weeks.

Fast forward (or reverse really, if you want to be chronologically accurate to today's date) to last week when we were gleefully informed (ok, we were just informed, but I was pretty gleeful about it) that our dishwashers were arriving and ready to be installed. TA DA! I was so excited I told everybody. The dishwashers are coming, the dishwashers are coming! My friend in the building and I practically jumped up and joy with glee at the prospect. (Ok, I may have actually jumped a little.)

So the plumber guy came by to install the dishwasher last weekend, and I was here, awkwardly turning down the volume on my newest addiction, but then feeling even more awkward that there was no, like noise to distract him from the fact that I was ten feet away in another room, to hear him mumbling away.

Meanwhile, I'd sent excited texts and emails to my parents and friends. "It's HERE! My DISHWASHER!!!!!!!! I can have clean dishes! YAY!" My Dad emailed back, asking if they could bring a load of dirty dishes by. I giggled; it was the exact joke I'd expected to hear. My friends were excited for me, most of them having lived in older suites or basement suites at one point, and knowing how rare it is to have a dishwasher in an apartment.

After the plumber's second trip to the circuit box, I asked him if everything was ok.

Um. No.

Turns out that while the electrical was all technically hooked up, it wasn't actually working. And while no one really knew why, they figured it was some kind of safety precaution the electricians had taken.

So after a few phone calls, buddy installed the dishwasher and hooked it up, promising me that once the electrician came by, it would work perfectly.

I emailed back my parents. "Sorry, you can't bring your dishes by today, the thing doesn't have electricity!"

"Well", said my Dad, "At least you have a new cupboard!" (My Dad's awesome. I laughed. He rules.)

We got an apology email from the building, saying that the dishwasher saga would soon come to an end once the electrician got in to fix whatever wiring needed fixed in the suites.

But, of course, sagas rarely end smoothly, and the poor electrician had to do some fiddling to get the electrical box off the wall where it'd been painted over (guffaw!) but then lickety split and a twist here and there and I had a fully functioning dishwasher.

And here's the thing. Do I love it? Yes. Are my dishes amazingly, spectacularly clean? Yes. But do I need it? Can't live without it? How did I ever cope before? Would I die if they took it away? No. No, no, and no.

So it didn't bother me that it wasn't ready to go on that first day. I found it rather amusing. Perhaps I was the tiniest bit upset, having planned out how I'd load it full of my tea-stained mugs and see them glistening by eventide, but it made me realize, when you don't need something and it's just a nice surprise that you're not really all that invested in and have gotten along just fine without, it's not a problem when things don't go perfectly.

I'd never had a dishwasher in this apartment, so I didn't notice the extra months of hand washing particularly. And the debacle of the installation? *shrug* Just kind of gave me something else to look forward to. I'd lived just fine without the thing, so it wasn't upsetting that I couldn't have it right that first moment.

Which is where the whole allegory thing came to me.

I don't need certain things in my life. Like a dishwasher, or an expensive convertible sports car. So it doesn't bother me that I don't have them.

But there are certain things in my life that I don't need.... but I still want. Like a boyfriend. And that's where I'm getting stuck and upset and hurt and disappointed. And bothered.







(Which makes it ultra ironic that when I was chatting to a friend's Dad the other day and I mentioned that I'd "gotten a dishwasher" he, with a twinkle in his eye, said "Oh, you're dating?"

Heh.

I wish.)

Randomly

Sometimes there are stories or thoughts in my head that want to come out, but the idea of sitting and typing/writing them out seems somehow overwhelming so I put it off and put it off.

Kind of similarly, I know how much better I'll feel mentally and physically after I go to the gym but the idea of going and having to do all that work seems overwhelming so I sometimes put it off.

There's often a lot of back and forth "talking" that goes on in my brain. "I should go to the gym." "But I don't want to." "But I'll feel better after." "But I feel fine now." "But I haven't gone in a few days." "But I want to watch just one more episode and it's so comfy lying on the couch." "But I only have so much time." "But really is it worth the effort when it'll probably be busy right now." And usually after a few days of the lazier of the two voices winning on whatever argument I'm having with myself, I get annoyed or frustrated or extra blah and I do something about whatever it is I wanted/didn't want to do.

Like, really, this post. This is a perfectly nonsensical and unnecessary post but it's gotten me back in the mojo or flow or whatever it is that I didn't have over the last few days when those stories and thoughts were just sitting there in my head knocking at the walls trying to get told. Imma trying to say something here, I gots me some stories to tell, but I'm a little bit busy having what appears to be a civil argument with myself. In my brain. About a lot of things.

How was your weekend?

Growing, I Suppose

I'm going through something right now.

I decided/recognized this yesterday after yet another weird week of feeling....off about a lot of things.

It's one of those "times of transformation" sort of deals where there's a lot of figuring out of things that, while not exactly pain free, aren't necessarily bad things to figure out.

Things about me, I guess, and how I feel about me and things I do and don't do and maybe want to do or am afraid to do and how I feel about myself and other people and who other people are and show themselves to be and what it all means.

Caterpillar cocoon butterfly sort of thing except I'm not sure this is the struggle that takes me quite to butterfly yet. Or maybe it will be and I just won't know because there's still the drying of wings that has to happen when you break out of those suckers.

And plus, it's not like a butterfly's life is going to be nothing but air...to steal a sports metaphor.

So anyway, whatever it is that's going on is going on and ongoing and I'm just here trying to not avoid it too much. Or at all, if possible.

It's weird being me.

And happy St Paddy's Day while we're at it.

In Which I Refer To The Weather

The weather this week has been very . . . March-like.

And for anyone who's spent an early Spring around these here parts, you know what I mean.

I don't know about you, but I grew up with a nursery rhyme type thing where April showers brought May flowers and the only other line I remember is "March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb."

Well, this March has come in more like a crazy person who is making the choice not to take their meds for a while.

This week alone, we've had snow, POURING rain, freezing coldness, crazy wind (power outage crazy), gigantically sunny blue skies, hail, and almost everything in-between. (If there's anything left to be in-between.)

But March weather just makes me smile. It's a constant mystery as to what's going to turn up in the next hour or two, never mind what tomorrow's going to bring.

So, yeah. This March is being very lion like right now. (Or crazy person like.)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to go turn up the heating a bit. In March.

Go figure.

DST Can Bite Me

Yup, the time change got to me.

Oh, I did fine the first couple of days; getting up "early" on Sunday and being all proud of myself because it was actually really early because 8am was really 7am and look at me, I'm going to beat this thing!

But by Tuesday, I was all confused. I was super tired when I attempted to get up at the supposedly regular but not really regular time, and I wasn't hungry by lunch even though I'd been starving by eleven the day before. And then suddenly it was 7:30pm and I hadn't had dinner yet and then I was trying to fall asleep at 11:30 but my legs wouldn't relax and it took me a while to turn over and then it's dark again in the mornings and man oh man, does anyone make it through the time change unscathed?

From what I can tell, none of us like it, and none of us particularly want it (except perhaps when it's late in the evening and the sky's not quite completely dark) and I don't know why we keep doing it and seriously, it's an entire hour's difference. It's jet lag without the added fun of a vacation!

So here's to feeling hungover all week while still being unable to get the time straight and waiting for our bodies to adjust to how things are going to be for the next few months before we do this all over again and I start complaining about how short the days are.

Ugh.

This Is Either Me Growing Up, Or Becoming More Jaded

But this friend of my friend that I'm going to meet (or the next guy, for that matter) isn't going to be perfect.

He isn't going to be all the things I dream of, secretly and outloud, in a boyfriend/potential husband.

He can't possibly be the exact combination of things I imagine my guy being and so I'm trying not to be disappointed by that before even meeting him. Or someone.

If I had to, I could probably write a list a mile long of the traits I'd like in my future life partner type fellow, but I think I've either lost or given up the idea that that list is actually fair or can be matched to a real, life, not made for tv person.

This guy can't possibly be perfect, and I think it's the first time I've known that *before* meeting someone, and I'm not sure what that sets me up for.

This Video Made My Weekend

Tough Guys Sing Savage Garden - Truly Madly Deeply Do

Boing Boing*

I got all excited on Saturday when I remembered that this was the "Spring Forward" time change weekend. My evenings would start being even longer, with even more light than they've already gotten, hurrah!

But then my alarm went off Sunday morning (don't ask) and I remembered the down side to this time change... the mornings get darker again, and are suddenly much much earlier than they need to be.

Meaning, this morning, I'll have to be out of bed at what will feel like 6 instead of what should feel like 7.

I managed to get myself hungry in time for a pretty close to on time dinner Sunday night but then was still hungry for the rest of the evening so somehow that backfired on me.

But, yeah. Time change. I forgot this was the one where you lose an hour's sleep.

And I miss it already.




*It's the noise a spring makes, of course.

Rough

So, yeah. Rough week.

Rough couple of weeks actually.

I'm emotionally exhausted and it's taking its toll on me mentally, physically, and (well, duh) emotionally. (Thanks for that one brain.)

I wish I was getting on a plane today and flying off to somewhere warm and beach-y like a couple of my friends are. I relish the idea of sitting on a lounger sipping a drink and reading a book while contemplating the next time I should go jump in the waves or walk along the beach.

I can't even talk about it and I certainly can't control or fix it and I just wish it would all go away, all of it all of it all off it now.

I hope things will settle soon and I am doing the best I can to take care of myself, but man oh man, some time away from everything would go down really well right now.

Ouch

When someone says (or does, but more often says) something that hurts my feelings, my instinct is to pull away or to put another brick up in the wall between us.

I had a counsellor once who told me that I should respond in these situations with an "Ouch!" to let the person know they'd hurt me (because I am useless at actually telling someone what they've said hurt my feelings) but I can't bring myself to do that either.

"Ouch, that hurt."

I mean, it seems like a simple enough thing to say, but I always figure that the person's either going to say they didn't mean it to and that I should stop overreacting and then I end up looking like an idiot or they're not going to care and then I end up being even more hurt. So I don't say anything. Because maybe I'm overreacting and they probably don't care anyway.

I feel a lot, lately, that I should stop trying to be close with people and should maintain the safe distance I have with most of the relationships in my life. It doesn't stop the hurts completely, but it makes the sting somewhat less painful if you haven't let the person close.

I don't really know what this says about me... is it a trust issue? A low self-esteem issue? What is it I'm protecting myself from, and why is it so painful?

I don't know if I should even try to change or just accept that this is how I am and keep a strong safe zone around myself and my heart.

I don't know. . . and I'm scared to death to even try to let anyone else in ever again.








So, yeah, it's been a rough week....can you tell?