Monthly Archives: November 2015

Always an Adventure

I can’t understand how my life is so eventful. I’m not necessarily complaining; I’m just so confused how things work out the way they do, and I wish I always wrote a blog when days go like they did today. I believe I tend to say, “I’ll do it tomorrow,” because I’m tired from the long day, but then the next day something happens and I get swept up in the day and then I’ll do it the next day, and then the next, and so on until it never gets written. Today will not be one of those days.

After last night’s work bowling party where I rivaled one of my supervisors followed by an LGBTQ mermaid dance party where I danced with one of my lovely local gay friends as though I was auditioning for Dancing With the Stars, I thought I might be hungover at the start of my day. Thankfully, I was not. On my way out of the building at a quarter to 10, I had to stop to ask the management office if they would leave my Blue Apron package somewhere accessible, and who was in the office but Maintenance. Gotta love my life, truly. The coincidences are remarkable. Anyway, I chatted with management and her daughter and Maintenance for almost a half an hour before I had to get to work. Work was wonderful. One of my supervisors and I destroyed a hallway in cleaning out a closet that was intended to be a “testing/assessment closet,” but ultimately had become a storage unit. Together (and with the help of bands like Mumford & Sons, Colplay, and the like), we weeded through most of what was in filing cabinets, on shelves, piled on top of things, in boxes, and strewn about the room. We filled the four giant “shredding bins” around the office with outdated or photocopied testing material. We made a giant cart full of dumpster trash, which we later transferred to the dumpster. We filled an entire giant recycling container with old journals, files, and boxes. We moved filing cabinets into and out of the room numerous times. We swept, vacuumed, remodeled (someone had to kick a few shelves out of the wall to make some room–hint: it wasn’t me), and kept ourselves entertained. It was a pretty awesome five hours at work, doing something I completely enjoy (cleaning, purging, and re/organizing).

JUST as we were finally finished and excited to get out of the building before 3, we encountered a gentleman seeking entry to our building. Words can’t describe the state that this man was in. He drove what I’ve only ever encountered as a construction vehicle–one of those large trucks that looks like a dumpster on wheels–and after both my supervisor and I attempted to contact two of our other offices to no avail, he proceeded to share much of his history…his time in a psych ward where the employees were worse than the patients, his work history, when he drove a truck for a living, not just for the sake of driving it, his history with the woman he was looking for and hadn’t yet decided if he was going to see, and his difficulties with utilizing a gps device. My supervisor and I pulled together the resources (scrap paper from his car, a pencil from mine) to write him directions obtained via Google Maps to an office we knew had 24 hour accessibility, which he then proceeded to criticize and plan differently. His inability to accurately read social cues was remarkable. We all but had to physically walk him to his truck and place him back in it. It was fantastic.

I got home in just enough time to place my Blue Apron items in the fridge, plan a small portion of my evening, and get ready to leave. My friend/neighbor and I drove to Boston for their annual Faneuil Hall Christmas Tree lighting. It took us approximately a half an hour to find a parking spot after the hour and a half drive, but we did it, and it only cost us $1.25. Success! Upon arriving in Faneuil Hall, we found that the police had created a barrier and were not allowing people to get anywhere near the stage/tree, so we inched our way towards the front/middle of the barricade. We actively practiced managing the crowd by directing through traffic behind us instead of in front of us with newfound friends. We also wound up making it through the barrier when they let some of the people through with the help of one of said new friends, Georgia boy, who did not hesitate to make Googly eyes at me. Georgia sort of glued himself to us (okay, we invited him), and agreed to come to the dive bar hosting the comedy stand-up line my friend and I had tickets to see. He stopped to purchase a carnation for me from a woman selling them on the street, which is both romantic and pathetic from my judgmental and non-romantic perspective. He put up with our walking extra far to go to a Citizens Bank so I didn’t  have to spend $2.00 to take out money from a foreign ATM. He was funny at times. He pushed the line at others. Once at the bar, he drank at minimum a handful of Rolling Rocks and bought us all a round of Jim Beam Fire. Actually, he also bought all of our drinks, which wound up being ridiculously inexpensive because we were some of the bartender’s favorite customers in some time. Our bartender, Bob, also caught my friend and I (really her) “borrowing” a glass and gave us (really her) shit for it. And yet he still barely charged us for our drinks. When I dropped Georgia off back near Faneuil, he didn’t hesitate to kiss me. Drunk boys that look like dudes I slept with already don’t really do it for me, but whatever, it was a kiss, and I’m single, and I hadn’t had one of those in a while (too long, if you ask me), so I rolled with it. He told me I sucked for not staying out. I said I knew and I was leaving anyway. Boyz r dum. (Well, many of them. I’m fortunate enough to know some that don’t.)

So now I have souvenir therapy games and a t-shirt from today’s closet cleaning, a fun story shared with a supervisor, a bunch of pictures from Faneuil’s tree, a carnation dying on the dash of the Jeep to dry out and live there, and a new Facebook friend who will look me up when he’s back in the area. These days are so surreal. Sometimes I really can’t believe this is actually my real life. I LOVE IT!


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The Day I Stopped Giving A Fuck

Ahh, today. Today…the day where I literally have no voice. Today…the day where I probably did more work than all of the days. It is THE day. The day I stopped chasing and started living. Sure, I can’t really go out and “live” tonight, because I’m in recovery mode, but I did so on Monday, and yesterday, and plan to tomorrow and Friday and/or Saturday, and I think I should take a day off this weekend and do very little. Just for me. I deserve that. I’m a great person, and I’m smart and fun and enjoyable to be around, and I have a lot to be proud of, and I’m sick to death of trying to find more meaning in the evaluations of the few people whose opinion I value for what are clearly the wrong reasons.

I almost stopped going to DG on Mondays, but I changed my mind…because the few things I wish to avoid about that place, are nothing compared to the many things that make it fantastic. Maybe FBW is a more appropriate environment for me; I should look into that. So, anyway, I’ll play nice, I’ll minimize the bitterness, and I’ll go there for the reasons that I enjoy going there…when I feel like it.

Tuesday trivia may become my new favorite, or if/when I get my own trivia night, then that might be my new favorite day. Truly, yoga day is my favorite day but I’ve been having trouble scheduling that into my workweek. Not sure why I’m even bothering to rank order them. I guess I put of lot of stock into DG Mondays, and the idea that I would speak/sing. I was actually more interested in doing that before, and less interested at present. Honeymoon phase, maybe. Who knows. Who cares.

I’m openly admitting that my feelings were hurt and thus my pride and also acknowledging that I am stronger and bigger than that. So here’s my e-battle cry (because I legitimately have no physical voice): I AM WOMAN! HEAR ME ROAR…A GIANT FUCK YOU! 😛

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From my sickbed.

Today’s post has to happen prior to the effect of my “NiteTime Severe Cold & Flu” juice because I will absolutely pass out, regardless of what I’m doing. Now I understand just why they wanted to ID me when I was buying it. This shit is deadly, and if I only knew how to make sizzurp, I’d probably try to do what the kids are doing these days.

Anyway, time for an update. I think I’m done again. I wrote about 65 text messages and deleted 63 of them. I  sent one and I saved another. I didn’t have the balls to send the one I saved and the one I sent was not met with a reply. I think I need to take a hint. I think I need to stop telling myself that I can’t give up if I haven’t yet tried. I don’t think that’s how this works. I think two people have a mutual interest in each other and then something happens. Sooo…I think I go back to staying away. Or at least keeping my distance. That seems safest and maybe the best I can do/get.

Plus, this thing happened and it got me thinking. Someone posted one of those wordy meme things on Facebook and tagged me in the post. It read “being single doesn’t mean you are unwanted or undesired. It means you know your worth and are waiting for someone to be worthy.” Fuck, did that bring up a lot of shit for me. This is what people think of me…this is the impression I give. This is not the reason I’m single. Well, it’s part of it. There’s definitely a part of me that believes I could be in a committed relationship–hell, I was considering asking someone on a date. Mr. Wonderful and I could have been something, maybe. Or maybe the draw to him was that he was going away, or that he was actually unattainable from the start. Maybe that’s my draw to this other guy too. He’s essentially unattainable. I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend. But I digress…

So anyway, the biggest reason I’m single is because I’m selfish. I thought we went over this, blog. I thought we had this all straightened out. I like to do what I want to do, when I want to do it. I like not having to censor myself or consider what someone else wants when making decisions. I like that much more than I like the feeling of companionship. I have companions anyway, I just suck at attachment so badly that I don’t seem to have the ability to make good close friendships. This is the thing I wish I could change the most.

Anyway, the selfish thing and the short-term nature of my life right now. I mean, I’m leaving Worcester. There were two people I could have considered staying to hang around a little longer, but neither appear interested. So I’m outty. I’m headed back to the PHL where I can hopefully get around to making more of those close friendship connections and mingle with the masses. I miss one of my besties, Ted. I hope our plan to live in different apartments in the same house works out because I think I was happiest during that time in Philly.

Sorry, my fuzzy brain + meds is doing the distraction thing again–so I’m selfish, there are very few people who would make me consider being less selfish, and I’m leaving the Worc in like 10 months. I need to remember this shit when I get those thoughts about trying to make it work with someone local. This is the second largest reason why I can’t ask anyone out on a date. I need to deactivate these stupid dating apps because I truly do not want to go out with anyone from a dating app and I really only added them for amusement purposes anyway. I just got sucked into using them. But to be honest, I feel awful talking to anyone because I know that when they ask me to hang out I’m just going to say no. Heh.

Because I’m selfish. I want to chat, but I don’t want to meet. Silly girl.

Enter NyQuil-like Walmart product-induced coma…

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My feverish mind is not the most insightful…

When you’re sick and your brain can’t focus on something for more than a minute or two at a time, but you have moments of clear memories from a recent event and some make you feel warm and fuzzy but others poke at your heart like toothpicks checking to see if the muffins are ready…yeah, that’s me tonight. I was very optimistic when I arrived home at an entirely-too-late hour last night, not helping the laryngitis that morphed into something more debilitating only hours later. Perhaps it’s the fever speaking, but I’m much less confident than I was 20 hours ago. I think I’ll settle somewhere in the middle; let the overconfidence and the fear each rent some space. I wouldn’t argue that’s necessarily worked in the past, but it’s certainly been a recent pattern. So to the two people who read this blog other than myself as a log of many things I wouldn’t remember otherwise, be prepared for more vague bipolar posts. It’s like my new therapy.

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Tonight I may have found the middle.

Tonight I pretended I did.

Tonight I passed it.

Tonight I stopped pretending in my head that I was going to play it cool–that I was going to be part of the sidelines.

Tonight I played it cool…sometimes…and became part of the sidelines.

But tonight it turned out that my being a part of the sidelines was actually my being awesome.

Tonight I decided I would go for it.

Tonight I recognized my own “jealousy” and I acknowledged what it would look like to truly trust.

Tonight I agreed (with myself) that I could do that.

Tonight I became too terrified to sing in front of other people.

Tonight I was supportive of other people singing in front of me for the first time.

Tonight I played it cool.

Tonight I didn’t get so drunk I lost sight of tonight.

Tonight I realized that my “Monday cigarette” gets me “high” every time.

Tonight I turned down actually getting high.

Tonight it was in favor of being the “hot girl” in the short skirt trying to get money out of people I didn’t know.

Tonight I got money out of people I didn’t know.

Tonight I decided I would follow the path I so eloquently laid out for people I barely knew who got a vibe from me that I had my shit together and truly meant what I was saying.

Tonight I acknowledged that yes, I am closed off. And yes, I am cynical. And no, I don’t believe in forevers. But I am realistic. And I believe that feelings happen outside of our control and I know that I won’t *really* deny them if and when they do. So maybe I needed new people to sit down and have a conversation with me about that, but either way they did…and I’m so much less existential than I was yesterday (the royal “yesterday;” I’m existential as fuck).

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Sometimes I think the Universe screams at me and I don’t even hear it.

I spent a LOT of time convincing myself it was okay to ask someone out and then a lot more time convincing myself it was a bad idea. And then…we wound up in the same place at the same time alone together doing something I (or maybe we both) enjoy. And I…was too drunk to really remember it. What I do remember has come through a filter of awkward. I think I made it awkward. I think I make things that make me nervous extra awkward. I’m so good at not being nervous relatively regularly that I hate when I don’t have a choice and it just happens to me.

Then I think I got friendzoned today. Or, as a friend put it, maybe it was a defensive maneuver. Or maybe I’m thinking about it too much. I did get the green light for hanging out though, so maybe I can just do what every guy who gets friendzoned does and stick it out. Hope I’m needed for some White Knighting. Or give him time to see just how fucking amazing I am. (That last bit there was sarcasm. I’m amazing, but I’m not for everyone…actually, I’m not for most people.)

So the universe created the situation and I kept playing in my head over and over, “ask him out, like on a real date.” And I wouldn’t (at least I don’t think I did). I started rehearsing different verbiage in my head and then shushing the internal voice, recalling my previous post about needing to run far and fast in the opposite direction if I ever chose to do it. The friend that considered the friendzone a defensive maneuver also suggested I text back how much I am interested in being more than friends, but I don’t think that’s the right path for this situation. I think it’s going in the direction it needs to…friends. Friends first, or friends forever, or friends for now, but any which way friends.

Maybe I’m not the only one thinking this. Or, more realistically, maybe I am.

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