Why “I’ll Make Love To You” makes me miss the 90s

I kind of love this. And yes, I still enjoy Boyz II Men every once in a while. http://feministing.com/2012/01/27/why-ill-make-love-to-you-makes-me-miss-the-90s/

Frosty

Chilly mornings like this make me thankful to only have a pup with which to snuggle. If I had a person in my bed to cuddle with, I’m not sure I’d make it to work on time.

Ch..ch..ch..ch..changes

I’m starting to realize how much I’m struggling with a number of things lately, most notably my new job.

Change is something I’ve been forced to embrace, and while I may not always do it with open arms, I’ve accepted it. As a kid, I never had a choice as to where we would move, we just sucked it up and moved. I would go to whatever school we lived near, and I’d make friends with the kids who accepted “the new girl” into their circle. It was how I lived most of my life growing up. Moving around and learning to adjust. Now that I’m on my own, I’m finding much of that significantly harder to do. Now I make the big decisions and I am the only one to face the consequences. And while liberating it also scares the complete and utter shit out of me.

I have always been a “people pleaser”, its always been my mission to make sure that anyone around me was happy. It’s part of who I am, and I’m not sure I’ll ever lose that part of me, but being the one to make my own decisions means that I’m not going to make everyone happy, and that’s disconcerting to me. I won’t be able to make everyone say “good job” or, “you did the right thing” because in some people’s eyes, I haven’t, or I didn’t. And there’s nothing I can do to make it better. There’s no magic fix it pen. That’s just the way things happen.

I know its one of those facts I’ll have to come to terms with. I know its something I’ll never be able to do for the rest of my life without being miserable and unhappy, and probably dying an early death. That doesn’t make it any easier, but I know it and I recognize it.

Right now though, I’m also struggling with not having anyone super close to share all of this with. I have friends I can talk to, but it doesn’t ever feel the same as just being able to cuddle up next to someone as they wipe away your tears of worry and concern about making the right decision and doing the right thing. My friends are great cheerleaders, but we lack the closeness of cuddling. I really just want someone to give me a giant hug, dry my tears and tell me things are going to work out. And my dog is kind of failing in that respect.

I am super scared of what my new job holds for me. I got comfortable with what I knew and now it’s changing in a crazy way. Hopefully for the better, and hopefully with positive challenges. Fear of change is a good thing. I just need to keep it in check.

What this girl wants (sort of)

I’ve been hitting some strange bumps and getting thrown some interesting curve balls recently in life. Nothing too strange or out of the ordinary, a lot more just realizing things that I want, that I don’t want, that I need or that I don’t need.

And a lot of it has been on the dating front.

Yes, I know, another dating post. I’m soooooooo original.

It’s more that I’m just realizing I should probably put some of the things down into words where I can come back and reflect on them before I forget them. Not that I will, but writing things out always helps me remember and reflect on what exactly has been running through my head. And helps me to make sense of what usually comes out as nonsensical.

I love that word, by the way. Nonsensical. It’s just so, perfect.

Now, what I want.

I want a steady person in my life, who’s going to offer me things I haven’t experienced before. I want to find those opportunities in a relationship that are going to allow me to grow, and challenge myself, and allow the other person to challenge me, to build two people who are better together than we would be alone. Eventually, I’d like to marry this person and have kids and a dog or two, and be able to send my kids to college, and retire comfortably and travel all over the world with this person.

Admittedly, yes, I want to find "Mr. Right."

I’ve read so many trashy romance novels, been in so many relationships that Mr. Right seems like Mr. Just Good Enough, or Mr. We’ll Make this Work, but I’m tired of that. I’m tired of feeling like my relationships are exhausting, emotionally draining and make me feel like there are a lot more struggles than fun times together. That’s not "right." Now, don’t get me wrong, relationships require work, require struggles, compromise and learning, but it shouldn’t be an everyday kind of thing. It should be to improve what’s going on, not to just keep the status quo.

I’m tired of the status quo. I deserve to be impressed. I deserve to feel loved and be able to make someone feel loved in return.

Now, I’m not on a quest to walk out the door and marry the first man I bat my eyes at. I’m on a quest to find a working, functional relationship that eventually can turn into a satisfying, loving marriage that I deserve.

Yes. I deserve it. For all the shit I’ve done in the past, for all the stupid things I do and have done, it doesn’t matter, I deserve it. We all deserve to feel loved.

Time to work on finding it

Good or bad?

What constitutes being good at something?

Usually we find it to be that we’re successful, or we have a good track record or that we’re just given a pat on the back and a coveted gold star sticker.

But what makes someone “good” at relationships? What determines if someone is a “good” boyfriend or girlfriend? Taking the aforementioned ways to determine success, most of us would be awful. My relationships have all ended for one reason or another, not necessarily giving me the best track record in the “good girlfriend” department. At least by typical success measurements.

I think that instead of tying to figure out what constitutes success in a relationship, we should instead focus on what we want out of a relationship so that we can inform our partner, or future partner, what we want so that they can determine if they can provide that to us. And vice versa.

Being a good boyfriend or girlfriend to someone has a lot to do with good communication, and not what you assume or expect out of them. I’ve learned that assuming and just expecting things out of my significant others results in a lot of frustration and unhappiness. Whereas when I’ve effectively communicated to them (i.e. “i like flowers, it’d be nice to get some every once in a while”) I find my relationship needs more satisfied, and myself a happier person for having been able to tell someone else that yea, I like this but don’t necessarily bother with this other thing.

I’ve been told I’m a bad girlfriend. I’ve also been told I’m the best girlfriend in the world (see how that worked out). I don’t necessarily think I fall on either of those extremes, and try not to let some past judgement affect who or how I date. Instead I’ve read some books on improving relationships and communication, and learned that someone’s opinion of me really is just that, an opinion. I won’t judge you on the “way” you’ve been in past relationships (unless of course it was abusive, in which case goodbye), its not fair to write someone off when you have the ability to make your own mind up.

Like I said before, a lot of your own personal happiness in a relationship comes from being able to communicate with your partner. I’m slowly learning that myself, its not easy. Just because you’be been a bad partner in the past doesn’t mean you have to suck at it for the rest of your dating life.

Case of the Mondays

You ever have one of those days when you really start to wonder why you got out of bed that day?

That’s definitely been my day today.

Tess has been “sick” for about a day now, with not much I can do for her other than making sure she gets outside often. Last night I was too slow and she left me a wonderful present on the floor. Thankfully this morning I awoke when she started whining and got her outside. I also gave her some green beans this morning in hopes they’ll help her little corgi tummy. (update: I made it home to no mess and solid poop. Yes, its the little things in life!)

On top of a sick pup, my commute in took 2 hours this morning, as metro was fubar’d above and beyond the norm. To the point that taking a bus to the pentagon, after an hour of waiting for their “shuttles” was a significantly faster option. While I love the ease of the metro most days, and that I can spend my mornings reading instead of cursing traffic, its days like that which makes me regret not driving.

I also managed to sleep funny for the second night in a row and now my neck is super stiff and I am lacking my normal range of motion. the two aleve I took earlier have helped a little, but I feel like I need a chiropractor to put me back together.

Add to that a slight case of pms,  little apathy and general over analyzing of things, I’m wishing I was back in bed, cuddling with the pup and sleeping in.

Yea, even the optimist has bad days.

Here’s to knowing it’ll get better

Dating on a Monday

Apparently going out on “dates” (if you can even call them that, since the person I’m talking about, B, and myself, have previously refered to them as “hanging out”) on Monday nights is a no-no. Or something screwy and small-townish like that (I’m not hating on small towns, it was more of the ”people-are-less-crazy-ass-busy” kind of a reference).

My coworkers are an odd conglomeration of ridiculous personalities, sick and twisted senses of humor, and crazy ideas on what’s acceptable, what’s not acceptable and what exactly we should eat for lunch today. But to all but one other person, Monday nights are not “date night.”

Wait, seriously?

Any night of the week could be considered “date night”, in fact, I freaking hate the connotation of “date night.” It implies that two people go out to dinner, make googly eyes at one another while playing footsie under the table at some ritzy restaurant they don’t necessarily want to be eating at, and after they leave, they half-assedly make out on the walk to drop off one of the parties of the date, don’t know how to end it (do we hug? do we kiss? do we “do it”? *blushes*), and everyone gets left with blue balls. It also, apparently, implies that such activities happen on any night falling during the time frame of Thursday – Saturday. But heaven forbid it be on a non-weekend-esque evening.

Or at least, that’s what my coworkers say.

They’re bringing up the fact that I’ve hung out with the same dude 2 Mondays in a row (with a third possibly in the works). And while one of them only eats yellow food, and they’re making fun of me for MONDAYS! I don’t get it. We’re both busy people, we both have had a lot of things to do (a la, I was in OH at a wedding Wednesday – Sunday last weekend, he’s at the race track Wednesday – Sunday this weekend), I don’t necessarily feel like being a pleasant human being on Friday nights (I like to stay in, consume most of a bottle of wine -or two-, and watch action flicks while cuddling with my dog, we’re BAMFs), and Monday just happens to be the first day we can make plans to do things together.

Now, I recognize, not everyone likes to be civil after the first day back to work after the weekend, Mondays, admittedly, tend to suck like a hoover. But let’s be honest, isn’t ending that day with a few beers, dinner, and god awful 80s movies kind of a great sounding way to kick off your week? I dunno, I thought so, thus the advent of the Monday night beer and movie night. But my coworkers, well, yea, they still give me shit.

I guess that’s what happens when you haven’t dated since the early 80s.

HA! Zing.

Also, I gotta say, that while I only partially agree that Mondays kind of suck for dates (you’re not really guaranteed a night cap and some nooky – unless you’re quick), they’re not a bad way to get to know someone. It takes the pressure off, you know whoever you went out with just had a shitty day b/c nobody likes Mondays, you know you had a shitty day, so cheers to that, clink your glasses, dig into your food, bitch about work and watch John Cusack try to ski down the side of a mountain. 

Don’t make fun of me for it, b/c I decided it was a great idea first.

When you’re ready to take it to the next level, then you venture into those “normal date nights” in which you can try to guarantee some nooky, a nightcap, and possibly some more nooky, strictly dependent on whether or not your banging Superman/woman. And we all know, with the exception of Lois Lane, we are not. Even though our sex drives may rival that of an 18 year old male.

But for now, Mondays work for me. I’m free, I have a great time, and I love crappy movies that spawn entertaining discussions about awkward family members, the strange lone old guy at the bar, and the fact that the bartender bought us shots. I like that bartender.

I might even like the guy

Released.

In some more recent months, since February when I hit the big 2-6 (*gasp* now I’m in my LATE twenties), I’ve been realizing that while I’m crazy, a little self-absorbed and have a geek complex that rivals some of my closest male friends, I definitely am way more comfortable in my own skin than I ever have been before.

Sure, there are the occasional things that I don’t understand why I do them (dropping the f-bomb in front of small children), or that I’m not terribly thrilled with (I have soccer player legs, and while I love them, I wish they were skinnier, just a tad), I’m getting significantly more comfortable with who I am, what I look like, and just being comfortable being me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not perfect (see above), but hell, I’m pretty damn awesome.

I have a totally geeky side to myself. It doesn’t necessarily come out right away, but if you spend enough time with me, you learn that I crush over the “underground” tv shows, wish I could have a love affair with what I feel as though TV has created as my perfect man, and I love to play challenging video games (just not on the Xbox, I HATE that controller, I guess I have small hands).

It’s taken me a while to get here, to admit, aloud, that I LOVE Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Battlestar Galactica and playing video games (especially from the original Nintendo and even SNES). I used to hide that I was an uber geek, but now, well, it’s one of those things that just tends to come out when someone first meets me. First dates? If they’re not familiar with “frak” or the original Muppet Show, well, they get the dump. Back when I was 18? Oh hell no. Nobody knew I owned the first 4 seasons of Buffy, or that I played Counterstrike with the guys when I was hiding in my dorm room while my hallmates were getting plastered and bringing home random guys. I can bullshit with the best of them, so yea, that guy Kyle, he wasn’t real.

Well, he might’ve been, but his handle was b10wsurh@d0ff

Yea, that’s right. He was THAT guy. And I’m pretty sure I never met him. Unless I may have randomly accosted his face while I was drunk at that party that one time… If so, sorry Kyle, you’re an awful kisser.

Now? I embrace my inner geek. I get all involved in “Chuck” and have seen the entire Firefly series (along with Serenity), and get a girly hard on for pretty much anything Joss Whedon touches. Yes, even Neil Patrick Harris. I’m actually really bummed I couldn’t make it to San Diego this year for ComicCon, since it was the last ever “Chuck” panel, since this is the last season for the wonderfulness that is “Chuck”.

Btw. I want to frak Chuck.

Next topic.

Not only have I managed to embrace my inner geek, but I’ve definitely embraced the fact that I’m quirky and a little different (as my mother would say “unique”, bullshit mom. bullshit, everyone’s considered “unique”, I’m just weird. be honest.). I always wanted to be “one of the cool kids” in grade school, and that just wasn’t going to happen with my mom dressing me, and my bifocals and braces. I was a disaster with a capital “d”. I had a few friends, we’d play Pokemon on our Gameboy’s on the bus to school. Until some kid made fun of us, and we’d hide them away and sulk in the corner. High school came around, and well, I transferred high schools, hoping for a change, and Catholic school doesn’t make “fitting in” any easier. Instead I was the drama jock, who played varsity soccer (yep, no boobs AND soccer legs, thankfully I’d lost the glasses and braces by that point), and was the czar of the drama club. We were a bitchin’ group, but man oh man, the drama club will forever be high school outsiders.  College taught me there were no cliques, only people who got drunk together and people who didn’t. I joined the former group and found out, that if you could do awesome party tricks, or shotgun a beer the proper way, you were bitchin. I definitely had some party tricks up my sleeve, somehow never learned to shotgun a beer and stayed away from keg stands, but hey, those party tricks and the fact that I’m hilarious when I’ve been drinking helped my reputation for being an awesome person.

Graduating college sent me into a self-loathing, wtf am I doing with my life, spiral. No close friends, everybody’s moving, getting jobs, creating whole new circles of friends. I tried being E the ridiculous skank, I tried on E the kickball drunka$$, I tried on E the “normal” person, and I’m sure a few other personas that didn’t ever work out. It’s taken me a while to realize that I’m not just one of those, I’m those combined with other ridiculous things I tried to blow off.

Ha. I said blow.

Yes, I’m also partially a 10 year old boy. Who thinks bodily functions are rather hilarious from time to time. Especially farts. Just don’t fart on me, or I’ll punch you.

Since I hit 26, I’ve started giving less of a crap about who likes who I am, and just making sure I’m comfortable being me. People’s opinions still get to me, I still worry that I’ll word vomit on a first date with some hot guy who won’t understand my humor, but hell, if he doesn’t get it, then we really shouldn’t date. I don’t care how nice your shoulders and biceps are. Even if they make me drool. You don’t think I’m funny, and this would never work. Sorry.

I’ve become closer with people who put up with me and my antics, aka my friends. They think I’m ridiculous, I’m sure, but hell, that’s what everyone thinks about someone who’s not their clone. Parts of each of us are just absolutely crazy. It’s what makes us all awesome, myself included.

And I love it. I love all of it. It’s taken a lot of work, a lot of heartache and struggles over relationships and romances and judgements, but I’ve made it. I’m happy to be me.

I was just notified that my last post, Mumford & Son’s “After the Storm” lyrics, was my 20th post. And I realized I have failed miserably at keeping a blog.

It’s not that I don’t want too, I just have a memory like a sieve, and therefore when you’re so connected, you lose touch. Facebook, Google+, Twitter (which you’ll notice, only gets anything written in it when I post on FourSquare), FourSquare, this that and this other thing. Social media is making me unable to write more than 140 characters about anything important. Which sucks, b/c I love to write. My texts could go on for days, but I’ve had to abbreviate myself.

Those of you who interact with me outside of reading this blog know that I LOVE to talk. I don’t necessarily do it well, sometimes I have verbal diarrhea, but I could talk a fly’s non-existent ear off if given the chance. Not that this is a constant occurrence, I don’t HAVE to talk all the time, I also like to listen, to be there for people, but if given the “so how was your day?” I tend to take it literally and describe the monotonous events of my day. Which is why it’s weird that I haven’t been able to translate to a blog. I do word vomit, but it’s sporadic, uncontrolled and usually ends up in my deleting what I wrote because it was pretty nonsensical. Oh well.

So 20 posts. That’s it. That’s all I’ve had to write in the past few years of my measly blog’s existence. It makes me sad. It makes me feel slightly motivated to try better to keep up with posting. It makes me realize that I spend way to much time on the computer, and not enough time outside enjoying things that I think would be fabulous to write about. It makes me think about all those other blogs I started that have fizzled out, but how I still think about their layouts, and how I could have multiple blog sites, but have them all tied into one.

It makes me wish that I could have ONE app on my phone to allow me to post to Facebook, Twitter, Google+, FourSquare, my blog, my tumblr, etc. It’s just ridiculous, and I’m tired of having to hit up TweetDeck (which is not interacting with my FB), then go to various other apps, or websites, in order to feel like I’m providing something of absolutely no substance to people who really could care less. But hey, I wish I could provide unsubstantial life events to every site without effort. Technology has made me completely and utterly lazy.

Oh well. Enough of the “CONNECT EVERYTHING!” feeling I’ve been having lately. I guess it’s probably better I have to make the effort, so, you know, I can waste even more time at home, instead of walking the dog. Speaking of the dog, I need to get her out more, so I get out more. No more of these short lame-o walks we’ve been taking. Maybe this time, we’ll go around the block (okay, so maybe not this time, but when it stops raining!)!

Again, I apologize, I ramble random things that are only slightly tangentially related. It happens. Word vomit. Can’t stop it.

On a completely different note, I found that I do kind of <3 that M&S song. The lyrics kind of picked me up the other day when I was having a bad one, thinking about all the crap that’s gone on recently in my love/lack of/who knows what’s going on “love life”, among other things. It’s always fun to find songs that fit with what’s going on. And then I play them to death on my iPod, and I can pretty much guarantee you in a month I won’t want to hear that song for at least a month.

So how does this all tie into the fact that I’m a miserable blog keeper? Well, it doesn’t. It ties into the fact that I like to ramble in my writing, and that’s about it. Hopefully, one day, I’ll start doing it more often. So here here to making another vow (that I may end up breaking in a couple of weeks time) to maintain my blog better, keep it more “up to date” and eventually post on real issues. Like WHY did I not get to go to ComicCon for the last “Chuck” panel and profess my undying love for the goofy tv show?

After the Storm

And after the storm,
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won’t rot, I won’t rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won’t rot.

And I took you by the hand
And we stood tall,
And remembered our own land,
What we lived for.

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And now I cling to what I knew
I saw exactly what was true
But oh no more.
That’s why I hold,
That’s why I hold with all I have.
That’s why I hold.

I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I’ll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and mine so small.
Well I’m scared of what’s behind and what’s before.

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair.

And there will come a time, you’ll see, with no more tears.
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears.
Get over your hill and see what you find there,
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair

 

~Mumford & Sons