Let's Face It

I'm not going to reach my goal ((promise). cringe.) of 30 posts this month.  It sucks because I like to pride myself on promise keeping, but I've been living an actual life, people. With work and boys and NYC and everything. So, while I'm sorry to fall short, I'm not sorry I've been too busy. And I know no one out there was too disappointed with my still fairly frequent entries.  No matter what my mother says.

Baby Steps

You know what? Who cares if I'm behaving like a toddler. This new whateveritis of mine (attitude? outlook on life?) IS only a few years old, so I suppose I'm bound to make a few mistakes while I figure everything out. And get used to not being able to figuring everything out. Black and white got thrown out the window and left behind a whole lotta grey. But part of this late immaturity manifests itself as me having a fit because I'm not getting everything I want or I'm ashamed of a mistake. Quiet tantrums, for the most part. And instead of turning on others, I scold myself. Progress?

Choices: Part Deux

Again, I'm likening myself to a toddler. Sigh. Apparently, I needed one of my choices taken away. Wasn't making my mind up fully enough, so one of my options removed himself from the equation. Maybe that's what I was waiting for anyway? 

I do have a history of procrastinating until there really is no time to do anything other than the task at hand. Not sure if this situation totally relates to this particular problem of mine, but there are parallels. Instead of making a clear decision right off the bat and getting to work making THAT work, I hedged. I hemmed and hawed. I MOSTly chose Door Number 1. Only I kept the key belonging to Door Number 2, in order to peek inside from time to time. Well, Door Number 2 changed his lock and won't be inviting me for any more visits. 

Now I get to focus on 1. That's a good thing right? And J says I have a problem with commitment! Crazy talk.

Choices

I think I made mine. Why "think"? Probably because I'm never completely sure I'm doing the right thing. Worry seems to seep in wherever it can find a crack and I'm full of them. It seems as if every time I get one of those cracks filled in, the pressure moves to another area and creates a new fissure. 

In my head, I know choosing one boy over another doesn't have to be a life-long commitment. But the idea of missing a good opportunity bothers me. And things are too new with the chosen one to know for sure whether or not I've made the right decision. When does that confidence kick in? A few weeks? Months? Never? Or should it have already happened, right away, like in a movie? The answer is most likely "never". I really, really hate that answer, because I really, really hate doubt.

No need to wonder, A; of course this is about you.

Work, Work, Work

I did it! It had been a while, 7 months to be exact, but it hardly hurt at all. 

Obviously, when I left my job in NYC, I knew I'd have to find another one eventually. Well, I knew it when I wasn't fantasizing about a giant check being dropped into my lap from the money fairy. Or pretending I was going to discover a long forgotten trust fund. Any day now. Or at least a great big bank error. While I'm waiting around for one of those things to happen, I might as well keep myself busy with work.

The truth is, it wasn't so bad. Strange, to be sure, since I'd been doing the same thing, with the same people for so long, but way less than terrible. I did feel a little rusty, but it all comes back rather quickly when you're plunked into the middle of things.

And the thought of the numbers in my bank account going up and the numbers attached to my debt going down is a big relief. While it make not actually make the world go round, money does affect one's stress level in a big way. No matter how much I wish it weren't true.

Not Fair

Like a toddler, apparently I can't handle having too many choices. When it comes to boys, I'm used to them making the decisions for me. If I don't like him, it's easy to just ignore him. If I do, it can go two ways: he likes me too and we move forward or he doesn't and I never hear from him again. It's a pretty efficient system. 

Why, oh why, then has the universe chosen to screw with me by throwing too many options my way? How do I make sure I'm doing the right thing, making the correct choice? A selection of jobs would have been nice. And easy, for that matter. But too many suitable suitors? Not fair.

Speaking Of That Interview...

Obviously, I provided the interviewer with my references. And all three were people I knew would speak well of me. Duh. But only 2 of them were people I'd warned about receiving a call. Both were eager to help and both got back to me after they'd been contacted to let me know the calls had gone well.

The third is more complicated. My best reference, to be sure, but the one about which I was most nervous. Probably why I avoided the warning. When the woman conducting the interview informed me she'd spoken to all of my references, all I could do was wonder what had been said. Never did I imagine this person's report would be less than positive, but I wanted the actual words. And I spent much of the interview wondering about them. I'm still wondering. 

Wouldn't it be fantastic if everyone would just say what they're thinking? Positive reinforcement shouldn't end with adolescence. It would make my day to hear the kind words that were said ABOUT me, spoken TO me. This experience is making me try even harder to let the people in my life know I love them and think the world of them. Some of them actually get uncomfortable with this sort of acknowledgement. That just means they don't hear it enough. Most of us don't.

What A Difference A Week Makes

At this time last week, I was feeling pretty crappy. Lonely and hopeless and just blah. Of course a portion of that crappiness was due to pms, just like it is every month (curse, indeed!) but there was more to it. A long string of dates that went nowhere, fruitless job searching and a lingering injury were the major culprits. Here's what happened to turn those things around:

1) A silly little trip on a couple of steps in Harvard Square (6 weeks ago!) left me with a damaged ankle which is still bothering me and I likely would have had x-rayed right away if I were insured. Although, several years ago, I was convinced I had a broken ankle and it turned out to be only a sprain. A sprain that bothered me for months. This injury has kept me from my daily walks, often the only time I get out of the house during the day and it has been a pain in the ass. While it's certainly not 100%, I'm trying to not let it stop me from getting out more often.

2) That interview I mentioned went smoothly, as expected and I've been called about working. While I'm less than thrilled at the prospect, I AM looking forward to being busier and not broke. And who knows? Maybe I'll like it more than I think I will. Uh huh.

3) After hitting a two-week lull on the dating website (read: ran through all the good prospects), suddenly new guys were popping up and I had dates with 4 of them last week. I was busy, had fun with each of them and heard back from 3. Decent batting average, if I do say so myself.

Another Quickie

How can I, at my age (36!) still scare myself silly? Yesterday, I made the idiotic mistake of watching a scary movie ("The Collector"-don't bother). I assumed it would be fine because I was watching during the day, D was in the house with me and she would be staying the night. Wrong.

While I got through last night fairly well, tonight (it's just past 2am), as I was finishing up a phone call with C and brushing my teeth as he regaled me with less-than-thrilling revelations from the new Oprah biography, I started to realize it was almost time for me to get to bed. Alone in the house. In the dark. With memories of The Collector (spoiler: it's the exterminator!) in my head. 

I thought of trying to keep C on the line until I fell asleep, but he was near exhaustion. And so, I'll be lying here, attempting to think of rainbows and blueberry muffins hoping I get enough sleep to keep myself from looking like a zombie for tomorrow's interview. But I will do so with the television running. And the lights on. And a baseball bat under the bed.

Hmmm

I realized as I was posting that last bit that I was IMing a friend, watching "Celebrity Apprentice" (go Cyndi!), texting my cousin and eating my dinner all at the same time. No wonder it's hard to listen to one voice, coming from one person; I'm so used to the bombardment of stimuli. Modern life? Too much city living? ADD?

So, the bigger lesson, perhaps is learning how to focus my attention on one thing at a time. Why is this so difficult? Any ideas? And don't suggest giving up "CA", not while Cyndi's still kickin'.

And yes, this counts.

Are You Listening?

Because sometimes, I'm not. I may be daydreaming, stuck on the thing you said three things ago or trying to list the states in alphabetical order. I will LOOK like I'm paying attention, but that's not always the case. Obviously, this is something about which I've become aware. And as such, something I'm working on improving. Not improving my fake listening, but ACTUALLY listening.  

So, it was exciting when a visit to my local Buddhist prayer meeting included a lesson on "deep listening". We were to ask a partner an open-ended question and listen to her answer for five minutes. And not say anything. And I did. I listened. Deeply. Except for the part where I got distracted by thinking about the fact that I was really listening. But that only lasted for a few seconds. 

And the big accomplishment, in my mind anyway, came when the tables were turned and I was the answerer. Before we'd started the exercise, I had informed my partner (a woman I'd just met) that I was much more the talker than the listener. But when it was my turn to talk, those five minutes seemed to drag on soooo long. I even stopped in the middle to say "my five minutes are much longer than yours!". She didn't agree. The point, I think, is that it was easier for me to listen than to be listened to. In this instance, anyway. Should that make me proud? Because it does! 

In closing, I'm sure YOU were not the object of my faux listening, but now you know for sure that all my attention will be focused on you. Or at least that thing you said three things ago. 

I Suck. Wanna Make Something of It?

Eventually, I'll need to double up on these posts. And I will; my list of topics hasn't even received so much as a glance yet. 

I'm skipping an out-of-town family event this weekend because I can't afford to go and I'm trying to figure out exactly how I feel about it. On the one hand, I'm proud of myself for not spending money I don't have, something I would have done in the past. But I don't like missing these get-togethers. It always feels like I'm missing something important: fun, bonding, future inside jokes. There'll be reports and photos, but it just isn't the same.

The other reason I'm staying put is an interview I have on Monday for a job. It's not a job I want to do, but it's a job at which I excel as well as one I can earn some decent money doing. The interview is a formality and I should start getting work right away. These will be temporary assignments, so I'm hoping they will be relatively pain-free. Maybe having somewhat of a schedule will be enough to pick up my mood which has been fairly sucky as of late. Fingers crossed.

I Know, I Know

I've skipped a couple of days. But I vow to have 30 posts up this month. It's not the pressure of writing everyday that is getting to me, I just keep forgetting. My life is not terribly busy at the moment, but I'm really trying to make it busier. 

The last time I looked for a job I was 11 years younger and not sure what it was I should be doing, but I had a few interesting connections, so I went on interviews at a few interesting companies. In the end, a job I wasn't looking for landed in my lap. It wasn't something I'd studied for, but it was something I did well and it was a job in which I became very much emotionally invested. It also consumed a great deal of my time and energy. While it wasn't what I'd planned on, that job provided me a livelihood and a whole lotta love. 

This is not the type of job I'm looking for now. I may not know exactly what I want, but I know I don't want the emotional investment anymore. Not from a job, not now. My hope is that I'll find enough work to keep me busy-ish (I still have plenty of my work to do.), allow me to meet some new people and bring in enough money to stop my worry, with a little to set aside for when I want stuff again.  Oh! And some health insurance wouldn't hurt either, although I suppose I can just wait a little while for that. And while I'm not going to say I'm willing to do ANYTHING, I'm kinda willing to do anything. 

Wish me luck.

Babies and the End of the World

"2012": Crappy movie. Really. LB, you warned me, but J had it from Netflix and I'm just a sucker for disaster films. I've always been excited by the thought of impending doom. Wait. That didn't sound right. Anyway. 

When we were kids, my sister and I loved the book "Baby Island". A recent read-through made me realize how silly and poorly written it is (along the lines of a "2012"), but we were taken with the idea of two young sisters, shipwrecked and caring for a passel of infants and toddlers on a tropical island. With armfuls of dolls, we would pick a corner of the house and pretend we were responsible for all those little lives. 

I suppose that was the beginning of my love of the last-people-on-Earth genre. And I will, to this day, and most likely forever, read or see anything involving said circumstances. Maybe it's the "we're all in this together"ness. Or the onus of having to sustain civilization; making the choices about what will be important. 

What I think I love most, though, is that the characters are compelled to say exactly what they mean (The world could end at any moment!) and not take each other for granted (You could be gone without notice!). Obviously, it's just not practical to live one's life as if each day is your last. If that were the case, I wouldn't be worrying about my credit card debt. But I can certainly try my best to let my loved ones know they are just that and be kind to anyone else who might cross my path. I really don't want the guilt weighing on my conscious when the earth splits in two under my feet and I'm sucked into the molten core in the middle of my supermarket.

Casual Friday

Someone recently-ish accused me of treating men casually and I was very taken aback. Certain this wasn't the case, I argued my position. The last couple of weeks have made me re-examine this argument and the conclusion I've come to is...I was right all along. 

Have I gone on a date with a guy and never spoken to him again? Yes. Have I fooled around with a guy I wasn't necessarily interested in? Yes. I'm guilty of these offenses. I will also cop to prolonging bad dates just to have a great story. But the key, I think, is that I go into each new date with a glimmer of hope that this one will be "the one" (whatever "the one" means is a whole.'nother.story). 

A couple of weeks ago, I was getting ready for a date that seemed especially promising. I'd been nervous and extra anxious, worrying over what to wear and whether to use the straightener or the curling iron to do my hair. This guy was handsome, funny, musical, grew up in a lovely home, had an interesting job in the arts and our sole phone conversation had gone very well. But I've been on enough first dates to know that things don't always work out the way they seem to on paper. There've been too many surprises for me to get my hopes up. (Sometimes it works the other way: a guy I'm not so sure about ends up being a lot of fun. Obviously, a much pleasanter surprise than the alternative.) I texted C on my way out the door, expressing my exasperation at myself for, despite knowing better, being excited. His response summed it up pretty well: "aww. hopelessly hopeful". Me, in a texty nutshell.

April Fool

At last, and at great pain, I've found a downside to being less cynical and more trusting; there are assholes out there in the world perfectly willing to take advantage of such a positive approach to life. 

It used to be very easy for me to think the worst of people, to see sinister motives in kindness. This was because I didn't have much of an interest in finding out their true intentions and I certainly wasn't interested in getting to know them. In many ways, it's easy to not trust anyone: none of your time is wasted getting to know someone who may end up being someone you don't wish to know; if you're prepared to be hurt by anyone at any time, you're never taken by surprise; and of course, if you don't allow yourself to feel close to anyone, you'll never feel betrayed.

But I made a big change and a decision to give the benefit of the doubt whenever I have the chance. This is a really, really good way to live. I'm sure it is. Even if it has the potential to cause hurt feelings. 

Here's the short version of the story: Girl meets boy. Girl and boy exchange 1,000 texts over a fun, flirty week. Boy takes girl out a couple of times. Girl, despite less than strong feelings for boy decides this thing can work after all and, as a result, makes a rash (read:stupid) decision. Boy never calls girl again. Now for the REALLY lame part: Girl makes this mistake a LOT.

Despite premenstrual crankiness and some general malaise, I'm going to look at the onset of April and this sunny day which followed days of downpour as a fresh start. I'm determined to stay positive and keep doling out my trust. The chance of being hurt is worth the risk of that big payoff I get from so many of my loved ones and the one I'm sure to get one day from some lucky, lucky boy.

Postscript: Girl's sending of hostile emails and texts only improves bitter mood slightly. Girl may need pissed off cousin with a flaming bag of dog crap to really feel better.