Write round

This is my ode to sex in the city and everything Carrie Bradshaw, minus the revolving door of men, hats and designer clothes. What that really means is that most of the time I'm out living life and then when it gets a little confusing I try to figure out my thoughts for strangers to read. I've been doing a lot of ponder, as per usual, regarding the places in life that are broken, confusing and really I suppose just out of my control. I've decided that dating is not a game you play if you live your life by the Golden Rule. It seems anytime I treat people the way I would like to be treated I end up still single. Not that, that is always bad, I've dodged a hell of a lot of bullets. And I'm super thankful. Which leads me to my second point.. I don't think I'm savy enough to play the dating game/ be a serial dater. Well I'd give the second one the old college try, but damn the rest is too exhausting and complicated. So I don't know. And I mean that very literally. I'm lost. I'm anxious. I should be sleeping. This is one of those things that goes unresolved. I have no desire to control human behavior, but I suppose I desperately try to make sense of it. People act within a patter of behavior, and when I don't know that pattern, life just throws me for a loop. So I'm still writing, still figuring out and still not sure what's next or how to fix the broken places. I'm tired of the song and dance. I was hoping for a life filled with passion. I'm not sure if every misstep is forward or back. Am I just weeding out the unlikely's or getting further from the mark? I'm trying to make sure I don't whine. I'm probably having an epic fail. I think mainly this is the blog that never ends because the finality really puts it all out there.

Bang for your buck

I want a shiny new tattoo, to increase the value of my real estate. There's no limit to curb appeal. Sex sells, as long as you don't think about it too much. Bedroom eyes and retail therapy often end in buyers remorse. If you think about it, and you shouldn't; there's no sense using logic when it comes to romance. Go with your gut and the force will be with you, until the particles split, then it's gone baby gone. You'll see stars when your bubble bursts. It's never a fair fight when I didn't know we were playing. Life is just a game, sectioned out like a cafeteria tray, except you can't go back for seconds, but the lunch lady is always grouchy. At least you won't lack for consistency.

Hunting Season

I got lost in coincidence, that appeared to be fate. Or whatever other devices people use to explain a thing that happened with no reason, but just seemed right. I didn't intend to be deceived. I'm not sure that was the intention, though it certainly seemed to be the end result. I'm not a good gun dog. I run when I'm spooked. And that could leave you trampled. Or Shot. Even if by accident. It's harder to count the casualties when you are one. I'm not sure that death by vernacular seduction is as painful as it is poignant. There's no warning shot. Just a split second where you realized you read your fortune cookie wrong.

Strong in the broken places

The old stand by rant is ever ready to be written, partially on principle and partially because I don't know how the hell else to protest a personal injustice. It's like going hunting. (I think, I've never been hunting,yet I digress.) You don't know what's in there until you flush it out. Once it's out you can decide. I think life is a lot like that;, but way more I need to write a blog on editing my emotions, so that they're less damning in the event that they're read. I don't need people to read this, I just have to write it. No matter how embarrassing it is, when I write it down it gets better. I exercise the demons. I know some men with really great emotional intelligence, but still I wonder if I would get the same satisfaction if I just went hunting. I've written like 400 drafts in the last 2 days. Some of them start great, some of them say exactly what I want, but none of them seem to exercise the demons. I have written, and written, but I haven't felt spent. It's as if I've had 400 epiphanys. Sometimes I write because I love words. I love to put words on a page, I love how you can manipulate word. I love song lyrics. I love the emotions that you can illicit. Words can be super sexy. If you manipulate them. I have this dilema, where I believe people. I'm not sure if it's because I want the words to be true, or because my intuition is giving the go ahead. Then I start to wonder about the intergrity of words. It's mildly disabling to live in a world where you have to expect people to lie. Maybe it's just a matter of finding that happy medium between expecting people to lie and just not saying anything, unless your certain. Maybe there isn't even a middle ground there. Maybe people just good spooked. Maybe they're just bad gun dogs. If there's one thing I do more than any other thing it's ponder. It's damn near scientific. I haven't cured cancer yet, but frankly I haven't even given it a whirl. I think most often I ponder actions and reactions. How many shape the world around me, and what I can do do make that happen differently. Then I ponder how much face I can save by not writing crap down in a blog that 4 people read. Back to pondering. Or as it should read, back to cutting my own throat. That's more succinct.

The False positive

If there's one thing I do more than any other thing it's ponder. It's damn near scientific. I haven't cured cancer yet, but frankly I haven't even given it a whirl. I think most often I ponder actions and reactions. How many shape the world around me, and what I can do do make that happen differently. Then I ponder how much face I can save by not writing crap down in a blog that 4 people read. Back to pondering. Or as it should read, back to cutting my own throat. That's more succinct. I'm an individual that is often lead by intuition. For better or for worse.. it's a slippery slope. Sometimes I get so caught up in a moment and my guts are doing a happy dance, but my brain may be pushing the abort button. This generally results in FUBAR. Frankly, most roads often lead to FUBAR. I know a little bit about a lot of things, but I also know a lot of nothing. I don't know anything about men, well at least nothing I'd want to admit to.

Manic monday on a thursday

So in my quest to side bar from being a little black rain cloud, I think I lost my words a little. Not that I always need to have something to say, but I'm sitting on some sort of turbulence and it's tough to spit it out. I've had a week that's a little surreal, though yesterday brought it home with the clarity of the same old same old. I just had to double check that to assure I had enough prepositions. Sometimes I lose those too. I'm rare with out words, and sometimes the lack of them simply means I haven't been able to find the right ones to put together. I like to be succinct damn it. Accuracy is key, because words are powerful with layers of meanings. Once I'm running against the clock here so I can go get pretty for work. I think that makes it better and worse. So here's the dealio, the process. Something commercial worthy is totally in the works and pretty much waiting for something to happen to make it all go away. I think I naturally like bugger these things up, since I get all flustered and lost for words, or some other thing to over analyze every movement thought and action from a person to determine if I wore the right shoes or not. I go from charming and funny to twittering and awkward. Now that's pretty sexy. The mens come a runnin. What up player?! High fives all around. Then it makes me furrow my brow, which causes wrinkles, It's a viscous freaking cycle!!! I really wish there were stronger punctuation than the exclamation point. What if I'm more adamant than excited? How will anyone know? Distractions distractions. Sigh. I digress. I was reminded yesterday of my impending trip home. Reminded like a cop pulling you over for a speeding ticket, how welcome my presence is. Oh the trauma boiling point of hysterical laughter. I need body guards. Or something. I suppose this means I found my words. Though I'm not sure what they accomplished, just to prove that I don't have to weep out all my emotions. To sum up I suppose it means 1.) I'm probably going to be late for work, 2.) I might be a little in like and am expecting it to get completely FUBAR any moment now and C.) You can go home again, but you may have wished that you didn't, know matter how adorable your nieces and nephews are, and how hard you to intend to snuggle the little monsters. Though I don't really want it to be FUBAR. I want to create a new acronym that means everything is awesome and forehead wrinkles are sexy.

All Blogs go to Heaven

Wowza. So yesterday I suggested (suggested!?) that someone read my blog. For just a little insight into my soul. For the sake of posterity, I perused it a bit myself. WTF? Not that I'm that surprised by the content, but no matter how well written I'm feeling a little vapid, over how apparently sad I am that I can still belt it out with Beyonce. No matter how well I put the words together. From now on I'm committing to not whining anymore about how sad I am that I'm a spinster. just kidding. But mayhaps, I'm committed to looking a bit more thoroughly at the whole picture rather than just lamenting singleness. Trust me I know the other side ain't bliss. I think sometimes I find it hard to find balance between expressing myself and religious wing nut. I'm just so damn good at religious wing nut. There's something morally wrong with that sentence. or something. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps it's the ongoing identity question. Finally something new and different. A 30+ woman struggling for identity. What breath of fresh air. No, but seriously, and quickly, because I have go to slap some make up on I can be pretty for work....and maybe a few other things. wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more. Where was I? oh right... seriously Good little church girl seeks to be surronded by fantastic people for quality time. Sometimes the world blows up and I write about it. But feel free to remind me about what's important. BTW, that was a figurative belt it out with Beyonce, trust me. TRUST ME, you don't want me to sing. I know, because most likely, I've probably got a song stuck in my head that I'm singing.

Double header

I feel broken and wordy, pathetic at best. you labeled me by comparison and it made me feel unheard. Life goes by in strides for some, but as for me I plan to put a cork in it and pretend it's all rainbows. Shove it under the rug, until it bursts through the seams, it's worked for this long, and no one wants to ruin a good thing. So i'm done with heart felt words that reveal the inner most working of my soul. Cyborgs have all the luck and I intend to make them jealous with my robotic nature and painted on smile, and we can all pretend that R2D2 is the next Stevie Wonder.

loose ends

I sometimes wonder if I spend a lot of time asking the wrong questions. Or maybe I'm just asking the wrong people. Sometimes life makes me sad, and sometimes I'm just too honest about it. I'm not sure if that's what's right. I'm blue. Something is missing and I'm afraid of life, loneliness and abandonment. Like I said. Blue. I've figured out, well I've been figuring out, that I thrive when I'm around people I love. Quality time is my thing. Making the people I love happy, makes me happy. But in the midst of that I'm blue. And alone. Life is going on without me, and I'm going to run out of people to love. Then I'll never be happy. What do you do with that? I'm not sure how to fix it. It kind of makes me want to run away from life, so that I won't have to feel abandon, but I'm fairly certain that's both unhealthy and unhelpful. I know there are lots of people I could love, that need love, but it's just not the same. Crying doesn't seem to help. Feeling like an orphan doesn't help. Maybe that's it? Maybe that's why it's so poignant. So highlighted. I hate living in this tension where I feel like I can't go visit my family, because it's so tense and uncomfortable. I think maybe the dilemma, is that no one wants me to be the person that loves them. We may have a square peg, round hole situation here. They all want those needs to be met by someone else, a spouse or a child, parent etc... and I think that's right, that's the way it's likely supposed to be, except that I'm not a spouse or a parent, and I'm not sure how I fit into the child category. I just lost my place in the world I guess, and I'm just not certain what my role is. I guess that's an epiphany. Maybe it's some sort of personal weakness that I need to have identity with a role, I think I have enough going on in my brain without bringing in anything else into the chaos. We'll slay that demon later, or maybe never. Honestly, probably never. So I guess to sum it up, I'm at loose ends. I don't need a fix me, I think I'm just happy I cracked the code seemingly about why I'm feeling a little lost. Sometimes this is really embarrassing, to write things down and let people read your thoughts. Often times I just find it refreshing to express my feelings without making eye contact.

Some other beginning's end.

I'm always disappointed when people don't rise to the challenge. I hate feeling lied to or deceived. I want to believe the best about people until they give me a reason not to, and then I'm just disappointed, and I feel dumb. I'm so tired of intuition not working out. One day it'll all be worth it? I want to believe it, but right now the doubts are ahead by a nose.

Once again I think I missed my lesson on the art of being a woman. I'm just so bad at coy. It kind of breaks my heart. Maybe I'm too tall to be coy? is there a height requirement? If you ask me I'll probably tell you. I feel like I'm lying if I don't say what's on my mind. I'm pretty sure that might ruin everything.WTF do I do then? I know it's just a matter of not feeling secure. I'm just not sure how to get over that. It would help if I was better at dating. I want to stand firmly that in that you can say what you think as long as your actions are still respectful. I just don't think everyone agrees.

The importance of being Ernest

I'm having a really bad case of middle child syndrome. Or maybe it's just a solid dose of reality. They say, hell even I say, life is all about choices. Sometimes when you choose something else, you're inadvertently making another choice, that you wouldn't necessarily choose on purpose...or something like that.

So maybe in deciding to move away, I've asked everyone to just ignore my emotional well being and just please make decision as if they don't effect me in any fashion. Which is kind of the train of thought that brought me to Portland. People don't stop living their life based on whether or not you're around or even happy. A decision I full support. That's not what I want for people and that's not what I chose. Obviously I chose to live my life apart from people I loved, since everyone else was moving on with their lives no matter how unhappy I was with mine.

So I leaped. And for once in a really long time I was happy. I am happy-ish, mainly, over all in most circumstances. But just because I'm happy doesn't mean I'm not confused, or jealous, or feeling unloved a little. Those things maybe put chinks in my armor but they don't destroy my joy, just lower it to a dull roar.

But now I'm confused and a little sad and in need of better boundaries. I know I'm not selfless which is what people say right before telling you how awesome they are. Not to worry, you shan't be disappointed. I feel like I put a valiant effort into considering other people's feelings before acting. Maybe not 100% of the time, but I give it the old college try. At least I intend to.

So why is it that everyone isn't allotted the same courteousy? I know not everything is about me, but isn't something about me? Is the answer that you just stop giving a damn about other people? that's easier said than done. maybe the answer is that you just have to fake it. Phone it in a little for the sake of appearance, so that you're getting equal measures of out put and input.

I do think that's the solution. I will put exactly as much effort into love you as you put into loving me. that way no one feels depleted. Then other parts of me just want to abandon ship all together. Get a new status symbol/relationship/friend/tattoo/piercing/adventure and I will be super cool and no one else can play with it and feel super cool except for me. You'll all be sorry then.

I wish life wasn't so annoying right now. I've had some crazy unhappy thoughts and I'm not sure what to do about it, I'm not sure when it's time to do something about it. I've given up on people giving a damn, which frankly frees up a lot of my time, so now I don't have to give one either. That's life for ya. I need life to change, I'm freezing and I feel like a stranger. I was angrier earlier now I'm just ready for life to change, things to be different.

Handbook on awkward adult situations ( A work in progress)

I love it when angst is thoughtful and productive. If you're gonna be introspective you might as well get something out of. That's my motto. I suppose. 2011 was a year with a lot of crying. Hell I don't think I've been that emotionally accessible in my whole entire life. But in other news it did up the instances of gratuitous swearing, with and without board games. So I guess we'll put that in the pros column shall we? Jolly good.

Sometimes I feel a bit ridiculous writing down my thoughts. I don't really care if anyone reads them, but then again maybe sometimes I do care. But I get embarrassed if people mention it. I'm not sure what the solution to that one is.

Consider this post to be in place of my annual newsletter I send out every year. If I write all the words I want I'll get in trouble. I'll probably get in trouble for writing that. Damn censorship!

Is it just an illusion that other people don't feel awkwardness when it's around them? Or is that legit. Maybe a magic trick? I'd love to know more. I'd love to not care if other people are awkward, because generally in that situation, I'm pretty damn sure they don't care if I feel awkward. I'm not complaining, not at all, I just think it would be nice to level the laying field. If you don't, why should i? see win win.

Man how I'd love to actually write down more in depth what I'm thinking and feeling,not but since I have no desire at all to poke the bears, I'll just bottle it all up like a good middle child. But mark my word, sooner or later, someone is going to have to pay for my therapy!

2012

It seems so wrong and unfair to start a new year or to be happy when someone you love is miserable and heart broken.