I am sitting at the kitchen table, computer on, mind at ready. Feet proped on a cookbook filled bent cardboard box, I am the epitome of...nothing. This is the same place I've sat through out the week studying for the GRE. My experience thus far is that I am terrible with vocabulary, quasi decent in recalling algebra and geometry, and abominal in argumentive essays! And I do me abominal. Oh, I understand the idea behind a five paragraph essay: introduction, three subject paragraph, and conclusion. I can even outline one. The area of error is flowing logical ideas from my head to the computer in under 30 minutes. Nope, not my forte.
Instead, I sit here, typing, ignoring the closed purple Kaplan study guide and notation filled lavander notebook paper, blogging. Not truly guilt-free, but undeniably intimidated by a single occurance a week from now.
You are forewarned. When asking what I've been up to, what is going on, there is not much else. Well, that is where all my attention is. The last week of my summer cafeteria job ended on Friday. General cleaning the first half of next week, followed by an immediate jump back into the catering life style. My cohorts from this summer are moving to Texas and retiring come Spring. Dining Services revamped organizational responsibility. None of which directly affects me, though I wish it did. I am in the need of change in my life. I am begining to want to rthink this wish.
Last week I was in Denver at a Westcoast Swing dance convention. I enjoyed it, save for the communication abilities of the carpool driver. Dancing and meeting new peopel is a fun combination. While remaining unobtrusive I did flirt (yea me) and exchange a few bits of information with memebers of the oopposite sex. My realistic optimism keeps me in check. So I was suprised when one asked about coming down with a group of people to come dancing in a few weeks. It is nice to make friends.
What has all this to do with cheese and grapes, you may ask. Truth be told, not much. Only that was breakfast today. It wasn't until now that my roommate reminded me it was fast sunday. Last week wasn't the first of the month I guess. Look what vacations do to your sense of time.
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
So much
I keep having ideas of things to write. Words fly through my head, forming and reforming sentences. Then I get home, and a different type of whirlwind takes over. Projects, sewing, reading, studying (which is nearly as scary as the idea of the actual GRE test!) all warp my time into nothingness. Where does the time go?
This summer has flown by. I did do my first BBQ...well, I helped. I got to plan it, but didn't have to pay for it. Still, by the time it was all said and done, the guy I was helping got the better deal. The time spent wasn't hard, but it was a distraction to keep the food up and going. Overall meaning? the food table looked great, I didn't relax a whole lot even when dancing, but the night was a great success. I wouldn't mind doing it again; provided I had all the ability to get my own volunteers and organize things my way. Yep, my job has made me a control freak. My boss even called us all that at one of our planning meetings. It's hard to get out of the cycle when it's what you do. Everyone likes to do things their own way.
Sad to say that this is going to be a trying time a work this next semester. I am not thrilled about it, and am rather dreading the whole thing! Seven football games! two of which are on Fridays (which make it ten times worse). Planning the Holiday Buffet exhibit in November, Education Week in August, and still needing to use up my two weeks of vacation time I've gained this last year. Even visiting Miranda for a week in Febuary doesn't cut into my time too much. I need more vacations I guess. Anyone want to go to Hawaii?
In short, I'll come up with more interesting stories. Sherise makes me happy as she sits and listens to all my oddball antics, smiling despite the hectic leap from one subject to the other. I love listening to her, but usually end up talking more by the end. Hmm, note to self: work on that.
This summer has flown by. I did do my first BBQ...well, I helped. I got to plan it, but didn't have to pay for it. Still, by the time it was all said and done, the guy I was helping got the better deal. The time spent wasn't hard, but it was a distraction to keep the food up and going. Overall meaning? the food table looked great, I didn't relax a whole lot even when dancing, but the night was a great success. I wouldn't mind doing it again; provided I had all the ability to get my own volunteers and organize things my way. Yep, my job has made me a control freak. My boss even called us all that at one of our planning meetings. It's hard to get out of the cycle when it's what you do. Everyone likes to do things their own way.
Sad to say that this is going to be a trying time a work this next semester. I am not thrilled about it, and am rather dreading the whole thing! Seven football games! two of which are on Fridays (which make it ten times worse). Planning the Holiday Buffet exhibit in November, Education Week in August, and still needing to use up my two weeks of vacation time I've gained this last year. Even visiting Miranda for a week in Febuary doesn't cut into my time too much. I need more vacations I guess. Anyone want to go to Hawaii?
In short, I'll come up with more interesting stories. Sherise makes me happy as she sits and listens to all my oddball antics, smiling despite the hectic leap from one subject to the other. I love listening to her, but usually end up talking more by the end. Hmm, note to self: work on that.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Filled Saturdays
I had an eventful Saturday. For those of you who haven't heard, someone decided that using a knife to put holes in the sides of all four of my car tires were the best way to get across their point. Sadly whomever did this failed to tell me what the point was. I didn't even realize there were all flat until later!
Full story: I got home just after midnight from dancing and a store run. After receiving a text asking if I was "still around" I got ready for bed. (I mention the texter, guy number 2, due to a second text 24 minutes later telling me he "just got home" to Ogden from Murray...it takes me that long to get to Farmington! Ah well.) Four hours later, I was out to door, greeted with about 3" of fresh snow. Brushing off my car, I hopped in and got ready to head out to the temple. For a brief moment I wondered it my seat had been lowered, which I can't do, but figured I was a bit tired. The real kicker was when I tried to drive out it felt like I had my parking break on. I opened the door and noticed my front tire was flat. Yuck!
Rather than be late due to changing a tire I ran inside and asked Toni, my roommate, to give a ride in. 4:30 am, and not a word of complaint! Angel, I'm telling you, God sends me angels. Brushing off her car the second flat (same side as the first) was noticed by me. Probably the weather change, they are old tires due to die on me at any moment anyways.
I like serving at the temple. I was suppose to help organize the shift that day as the normal supervisior was gone, but she'd asked me and another girl to do it. No worries. I got a ride home with one sister that lives just down the street from me. She's the one who noticed the second side of the car had flats too. We got out of the car and looked at it. Maybe the weight of the car had cause it to go flat was her thought after seeing a strip of rubber that was the source of one flat tire. I doubted it (Really!?!). Looking at the other ones it became pretty clear that the sides had been punctured by a 1" blade. My car was the only one that it happened to. Luckily we'd seen several cop cars nearby, so she drove me a block away and dropped me off. I got the number for disbatch, and called them.
The police officer was great. He asked if I could think of anyone, but other than odd texts at midnight, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Now, let me explain a few facts. I've now learned that upset former boyfriends tend to let air out of tires or arrange nails to punture them, frustrated theives usuallly slash one tire, punk kids may do two, but if you must have really made someone mad for someone to be vendictive enough for all four tires to be attacked. I've still no clue as to who it could be. Even the officer said I didn't seem like the personality that makes a lot of enemies. (I laughed at the whole situation most of the day.) Whomever did this doesn't know me well if this is suppose to teach me something or get me to change. Especially without a clue as to what lesson or change needs to occure.
Well, Tanner came down for breakfast at noon, then slept on my bed while I called places to get old tires. One Discount Tire salesman managed to get the "I can get you new tires for..." before I could stop him. He actually quoted me a price near the cost of used tires. I told him it'd be all four and he dropped the price more. Appointment made I just had to get Mom to call AAA for a tow truck!
In the meantime, Tanner and I went to check out a KSL Car. I'd looked right after the cop had come by. The thought was along the lines of: you just need to get on this and buy a car, it's time. It's a great Mazda 3, hatchback, automatic shift (I'd prefer manual) that I opted to test drive. Got Mom, dropped off Tanner, and made it back to my house right as the flat bed showed up! Even the Tow truck guy was mad in my defense. He offered to do something about if I knew who it was. Funny man.
We got down to the tire shop right when I thought we would. They were ready and got it in the shop, tires on, and me out the door ASAP. The tow guy was impressed with how quick they were to get it in and up off the floor. The tire guys half joked if I'd gotten the tires slashed, and I said I did. That it was true or that I laughed when I said it seemed to suprise them. Everyone was so helpful.
Even my date that night. He called to let me know he'd be 30 minutes later than originally planned. I had just enough time to get dolled up for a military ball.
Over all, I was lucky on Saturday. Someone destroyed some very old tires, but nothing else on my car, or the block, was harmed. I found wonderful people to help all day long. I even had the car guy call me back to say someone had a possible offer for him, and that if I offered $1 more he'd sell me the car instead. So I have new tires, and am off to get a new car today!
What an blessed interesting weekend!
Full story: I got home just after midnight from dancing and a store run. After receiving a text asking if I was "still around" I got ready for bed. (I mention the texter, guy number 2, due to a second text 24 minutes later telling me he "just got home" to Ogden from Murray...it takes me that long to get to Farmington! Ah well.) Four hours later, I was out to door, greeted with about 3" of fresh snow. Brushing off my car, I hopped in and got ready to head out to the temple. For a brief moment I wondered it my seat had been lowered, which I can't do, but figured I was a bit tired. The real kicker was when I tried to drive out it felt like I had my parking break on. I opened the door and noticed my front tire was flat. Yuck!
Rather than be late due to changing a tire I ran inside and asked Toni, my roommate, to give a ride in. 4:30 am, and not a word of complaint! Angel, I'm telling you, God sends me angels. Brushing off her car the second flat (same side as the first) was noticed by me. Probably the weather change, they are old tires due to die on me at any moment anyways.
I like serving at the temple. I was suppose to help organize the shift that day as the normal supervisior was gone, but she'd asked me and another girl to do it. No worries. I got a ride home with one sister that lives just down the street from me. She's the one who noticed the second side of the car had flats too. We got out of the car and looked at it. Maybe the weight of the car had cause it to go flat was her thought after seeing a strip of rubber that was the source of one flat tire. I doubted it (Really!?!). Looking at the other ones it became pretty clear that the sides had been punctured by a 1" blade. My car was the only one that it happened to. Luckily we'd seen several cop cars nearby, so she drove me a block away and dropped me off. I got the number for disbatch, and called them.
The police officer was great. He asked if I could think of anyone, but other than odd texts at midnight, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Now, let me explain a few facts. I've now learned that upset former boyfriends tend to let air out of tires or arrange nails to punture them, frustrated theives usuallly slash one tire, punk kids may do two, but if you must have really made someone mad for someone to be vendictive enough for all four tires to be attacked. I've still no clue as to who it could be. Even the officer said I didn't seem like the personality that makes a lot of enemies. (I laughed at the whole situation most of the day.) Whomever did this doesn't know me well if this is suppose to teach me something or get me to change. Especially without a clue as to what lesson or change needs to occure.
Well, Tanner came down for breakfast at noon, then slept on my bed while I called places to get old tires. One Discount Tire salesman managed to get the "I can get you new tires for..." before I could stop him. He actually quoted me a price near the cost of used tires. I told him it'd be all four and he dropped the price more. Appointment made I just had to get Mom to call AAA for a tow truck!
In the meantime, Tanner and I went to check out a KSL Car. I'd looked right after the cop had come by. The thought was along the lines of: you just need to get on this and buy a car, it's time. It's a great Mazda 3, hatchback, automatic shift (I'd prefer manual) that I opted to test drive. Got Mom, dropped off Tanner, and made it back to my house right as the flat bed showed up! Even the Tow truck guy was mad in my defense. He offered to do something about if I knew who it was. Funny man.
We got down to the tire shop right when I thought we would. They were ready and got it in the shop, tires on, and me out the door ASAP. The tow guy was impressed with how quick they were to get it in and up off the floor. The tire guys half joked if I'd gotten the tires slashed, and I said I did. That it was true or that I laughed when I said it seemed to suprise them. Everyone was so helpful.
Even my date that night. He called to let me know he'd be 30 minutes later than originally planned. I had just enough time to get dolled up for a military ball.
Over all, I was lucky on Saturday. Someone destroyed some very old tires, but nothing else on my car, or the block, was harmed. I found wonderful people to help all day long. I even had the car guy call me back to say someone had a possible offer for him, and that if I offered $1 more he'd sell me the car instead. So I have new tires, and am off to get a new car today!
What an blessed interesting weekend!
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Something Scary
I walked into the house with a small group of girls. One speed away from the door, package in hand, to some unknown place. Two wandered in, belatedly introduced, only to begin their conversation again ignoring all around. Standing in a walkway, currently unused, no familiar face in view, I wanted to walk back out the door and head homeward. I'd come, entered, done the scary thing for the night, day, week even! How could I wander in a home I'd never entered before? Introduce myself to complete strangers surrounded by friends. Like walking into a new ward I was a flopping fish desperate for glimpse of anything that would hold water. Stomach swashing back and forth, heartsick, I had to find the one individual I could name. Sadly, I knew this would not ease my fearful pain nor restore any confidence. It was the reason I was here, frightened by thoughts of anonymity or mere acquaintance to the host. Who am I to come here? hoping for a pause of a moments attention? Cowardice rooting out my very soul I moved slowly, following the speedy white rabbit across the cooridor and up the stairs to the dance floor, where he is sure to be.
Whilst familiar in face, I remained frozen inside while smiling what I hope is brightly and saying hello. Not enough people to disappear into the crowd after a brief welcoming, I stood fast wondering what proper Emily Post would say to do. Politely excuse ones self, then make a graceful exit to the front door. Admiring the room, I did the only thing that would make me move, in any direction, I asked him for a tour of the home. Windows opened to show off the outside; dark beyond the room's light, frigid air spun around us. Shivering I wished desperately to slide out there and wander amongst the geese to find the unseen three huddled somewhere away from party goers, safely way from putting themselves in awkward social situations of any kind. Opening windows on a Febuary friday night attracts attention. Soon the tour had a group of individuals and couples walking out the back door and hearing my feeble conversational skills. I stood shuttering in the wind, coatless, on the slab of cement called patio. Breath, deep breaths. Calming thoughts are fine until my whole body racks and jitters, desperate for the indoors. There may be people inside who have more claim upon his attention, but it's out of the wind. Besides, the night's blackness hasn't swallowed me whole, so I doubt it will be so kind tonight. Back inside my wits gather just enough to ask some questions. Smile at jokes and make appropriate noises of amazement. Truth be told, I am interested, amazed, and impressed. But how do you work in that you like the door handles? Ah, the kitchen looms just ahead, hubbub of activity and distraction.
I meet a moment when my breath returns, only to loose my claim of attention of my kind tour guide. Someone says hi to him, and I'm introduced briefly to the two chattering girls I'd trailed behind earlier. Everyone scatters different directions. Conversation's talent of not saying much, yet appearing to be engrossed, allow the slip of the one person I actually know. Remaining still means holding up the wall turns into an important duty, even if those around are discussing names they wouldn't call their children. I must admit smiling, it is an oddball topic, but not one I can really jump in much. Not in the mood to pull it down a different path, the topic it stretches beyond the engagement of anyone around. Instead I watch "mocktail" smoothies provide a delicate dance between host and another girl. Both know where each other is, the equipment needed, and how to work around the throng passing by their corner. Reminding me of moments in my kitchen safely tucked away doing dishes or last minute cookies. I smile sadly. Lost days, sights of such familiarity makes me wonder if there is a chance and if none, then ... nothing, no point in dawdling.
I should have eaten before I came. The food on the counter a step away is too far. It would look like I belonged if I ate, that I fit in this place. That is too much of a contradiction, so I meander away. I meet the birthday boy, chat a mite. Skills still on the fritz I feel I do little other than smile like a bad joke has been told. Perhaps the joke is me. Here. Now. Standing holding up the wall. Commenting on my wall supporting skills, I slip away to tour the living room on my own. I am surprised there are people there, and karaoke. Oh joy. To sing in front of family is impossible, strangers slightly less so, but still pretty close. I've done it once, admittedly, with some friends playing band hero or some such. Luckily the guitars were much better and louder than me, so no one could hear my lyrics, much less the pitch. Tucked safely on a small corner of the couch, smiles ensue when no one knows the verses to "Singing in the Rain" but all join in on the chorus.
I should try and redeem myself before vanishing. The vanishing trick may prove the better choice. There is another party I've promised to stop by before bedtime; it's creeping closer with each moment, beckoning me least the predawn light find me already too tired for expected activities that have their own set schedule. The kitchen finds the same wall being supported by the same people. Lemming-like we all trail to the dance floor. One boy and over ten girls does not a hopping dance party make. Still, he's trying, poor birthday boy. Internal laughter at the sight says I must stay to help out. to see if anything can be done. Slowly some unwind, more trickle up stairs, and then there are three boys, twenty-odd girls, and a seven year old. Nerd guns, twister, and several playlist changes, and my unconsciousness in the situation is fading. Hiding in the corner does little to easy the returning panic. Shaking may not show in my fingers, but I feel it. It eases momentarily when laughing at stiff imitations of hip hop are done by our retired tour guide/host. The life of the party he meanders confidently from space to space. I envy that, wish for the return of that assurance, hope that I will find laughter at these moments next week. Not yet there.
Tomorrow will unknowingly be filled with worry; will I make it to work, will Bonnie remember I have to leave early, will passover go well, will the temple be too busy...the slow moments reflect on tonight. On the inaction, and actions. Knowing I couldn't have changed a thing, yet wishing for some sign...
My corner is visited, found out in his the circling of the room. It is nice to have a body stand close. Arms crossed in self comfort this girl is certainly not ideally situated for positive body language. Still, does he oft return to this corner, pause near me, or is it just the music controls off to the right that need his proximity. I stand, brushing shirt sleeves with him, watching the room, almost feeling that the secret comments floating in my head will be meet with laughing banter. Proximity and wishing may lead me to hope, but no sure signs are available with three boys, twenty-odd girls and a seven year old on a newly made dance floor.
I do disappear, in a perfectly tactless way. Goodbye to the entertaining mother and daughter duo I hear her words only to smart internally. My awkwardness may have been only noticeable to some who know me well, or those who meet me expecting conversation, warming up on the dance floor and in a short game of twister. Still, I walk away while the music is being adjusted with out a goodbye to anyone else. I quake down the stairs, through the remolded hallway, and out the front door. certain I shouldn't have come. Crashing inwards I feel the tears ache in my chest. Sinking deeper to a place I've forgotten; shut away for such a long time. I'm desperate for a way to laugh at it all. Someone to smile at my theatrics reminding me not all is as I see it.
I dreamed last night. Holding hands in the middle seat of a SUV. Nephew in a car seat next to me when it happened while I was helping the baby. I panicked, even then. Stoic and unmoving I just turned and glanced at him in the corner of my eye. I really wanted to smile grandly, curl under his arm, breath in the relaxing feeling of being home at last. Yet, like 2 years ago, I find only fear. Terror of what might be, doubt of its reality, even of it's possibility. So I wake, wonder, and systematically botch several text messages later that day.
Should have gotten a raincheck on that house tour!
Whilst familiar in face, I remained frozen inside while smiling what I hope is brightly and saying hello. Not enough people to disappear into the crowd after a brief welcoming, I stood fast wondering what proper Emily Post would say to do. Politely excuse ones self, then make a graceful exit to the front door. Admiring the room, I did the only thing that would make me move, in any direction, I asked him for a tour of the home. Windows opened to show off the outside; dark beyond the room's light, frigid air spun around us. Shivering I wished desperately to slide out there and wander amongst the geese to find the unseen three huddled somewhere away from party goers, safely way from putting themselves in awkward social situations of any kind. Opening windows on a Febuary friday night attracts attention. Soon the tour had a group of individuals and couples walking out the back door and hearing my feeble conversational skills. I stood shuttering in the wind, coatless, on the slab of cement called patio. Breath, deep breaths. Calming thoughts are fine until my whole body racks and jitters, desperate for the indoors. There may be people inside who have more claim upon his attention, but it's out of the wind. Besides, the night's blackness hasn't swallowed me whole, so I doubt it will be so kind tonight. Back inside my wits gather just enough to ask some questions. Smile at jokes and make appropriate noises of amazement. Truth be told, I am interested, amazed, and impressed. But how do you work in that you like the door handles? Ah, the kitchen looms just ahead, hubbub of activity and distraction.
I meet a moment when my breath returns, only to loose my claim of attention of my kind tour guide. Someone says hi to him, and I'm introduced briefly to the two chattering girls I'd trailed behind earlier. Everyone scatters different directions. Conversation's talent of not saying much, yet appearing to be engrossed, allow the slip of the one person I actually know. Remaining still means holding up the wall turns into an important duty, even if those around are discussing names they wouldn't call their children. I must admit smiling, it is an oddball topic, but not one I can really jump in much. Not in the mood to pull it down a different path, the topic it stretches beyond the engagement of anyone around. Instead I watch "mocktail" smoothies provide a delicate dance between host and another girl. Both know where each other is, the equipment needed, and how to work around the throng passing by their corner. Reminding me of moments in my kitchen safely tucked away doing dishes or last minute cookies. I smile sadly. Lost days, sights of such familiarity makes me wonder if there is a chance and if none, then ... nothing, no point in dawdling.
I should have eaten before I came. The food on the counter a step away is too far. It would look like I belonged if I ate, that I fit in this place. That is too much of a contradiction, so I meander away. I meet the birthday boy, chat a mite. Skills still on the fritz I feel I do little other than smile like a bad joke has been told. Perhaps the joke is me. Here. Now. Standing holding up the wall. Commenting on my wall supporting skills, I slip away to tour the living room on my own. I am surprised there are people there, and karaoke. Oh joy. To sing in front of family is impossible, strangers slightly less so, but still pretty close. I've done it once, admittedly, with some friends playing band hero or some such. Luckily the guitars were much better and louder than me, so no one could hear my lyrics, much less the pitch. Tucked safely on a small corner of the couch, smiles ensue when no one knows the verses to "Singing in the Rain" but all join in on the chorus.
I should try and redeem myself before vanishing. The vanishing trick may prove the better choice. There is another party I've promised to stop by before bedtime; it's creeping closer with each moment, beckoning me least the predawn light find me already too tired for expected activities that have their own set schedule. The kitchen finds the same wall being supported by the same people. Lemming-like we all trail to the dance floor. One boy and over ten girls does not a hopping dance party make. Still, he's trying, poor birthday boy. Internal laughter at the sight says I must stay to help out. to see if anything can be done. Slowly some unwind, more trickle up stairs, and then there are three boys, twenty-odd girls, and a seven year old. Nerd guns, twister, and several playlist changes, and my unconsciousness in the situation is fading. Hiding in the corner does little to easy the returning panic. Shaking may not show in my fingers, but I feel it. It eases momentarily when laughing at stiff imitations of hip hop are done by our retired tour guide/host. The life of the party he meanders confidently from space to space. I envy that, wish for the return of that assurance, hope that I will find laughter at these moments next week. Not yet there.
Tomorrow will unknowingly be filled with worry; will I make it to work, will Bonnie remember I have to leave early, will passover go well, will the temple be too busy...the slow moments reflect on tonight. On the inaction, and actions. Knowing I couldn't have changed a thing, yet wishing for some sign...
My corner is visited, found out in his the circling of the room. It is nice to have a body stand close. Arms crossed in self comfort this girl is certainly not ideally situated for positive body language. Still, does he oft return to this corner, pause near me, or is it just the music controls off to the right that need his proximity. I stand, brushing shirt sleeves with him, watching the room, almost feeling that the secret comments floating in my head will be meet with laughing banter. Proximity and wishing may lead me to hope, but no sure signs are available with three boys, twenty-odd girls and a seven year old on a newly made dance floor.
I do disappear, in a perfectly tactless way. Goodbye to the entertaining mother and daughter duo I hear her words only to smart internally. My awkwardness may have been only noticeable to some who know me well, or those who meet me expecting conversation, warming up on the dance floor and in a short game of twister. Still, I walk away while the music is being adjusted with out a goodbye to anyone else. I quake down the stairs, through the remolded hallway, and out the front door. certain I shouldn't have come. Crashing inwards I feel the tears ache in my chest. Sinking deeper to a place I've forgotten; shut away for such a long time. I'm desperate for a way to laugh at it all. Someone to smile at my theatrics reminding me not all is as I see it.
I dreamed last night. Holding hands in the middle seat of a SUV. Nephew in a car seat next to me when it happened while I was helping the baby. I panicked, even then. Stoic and unmoving I just turned and glanced at him in the corner of my eye. I really wanted to smile grandly, curl under his arm, breath in the relaxing feeling of being home at last. Yet, like 2 years ago, I find only fear. Terror of what might be, doubt of its reality, even of it's possibility. So I wake, wonder, and systematically botch several text messages later that day.
Should have gotten a raincheck on that house tour!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Valentines Day
Joseph: Happy singles awareness day! :)
Me: I'm suppose to be aware I'm single? Who knew.
Joseph: Ya, today is a nationally recognized day for all single people to feel depressed and to be made fun of by those fortunate enough to be married.
Me: So I shouldn't be happy with my life, and satisfied.
Joseph: Typically singles sit at home by themselves in the evening watching a chick flick with a carton of chocolate ice cream.
Me: Minus the chocolate ice cream, sounds like my plans. Want to join me?
Joseph: Join you? ...
Me: So that's a no.
Me: Would it help if I said I had chocolate pudding?
Needless to say that successfully ended our text conversation. Far too many retorts spun in his mind. We talked for about an hour. Hard to be SAD when your best girly friend is so chipper on the phone with you. :) sorry Joseph, I had nothing but happy thoughts all evening. I even enjoyed my movies. Although some company is always welcome.
Maybe next year we'll think of it before dark. Your still my ling distance valentine; happy SAD day.
Me: I'm suppose to be aware I'm single? Who knew.
Joseph: Ya, today is a nationally recognized day for all single people to feel depressed and to be made fun of by those fortunate enough to be married.
Me: So I shouldn't be happy with my life, and satisfied.
Joseph: Typically singles sit at home by themselves in the evening watching a chick flick with a carton of chocolate ice cream.
Me: Minus the chocolate ice cream, sounds like my plans. Want to join me?
Joseph: Join you? ...
Me: So that's a no.
Me: Would it help if I said I had chocolate pudding?
Needless to say that successfully ended our text conversation. Far too many retorts spun in his mind. We talked for about an hour. Hard to be SAD when your best girly friend is so chipper on the phone with you. :) sorry Joseph, I had nothing but happy thoughts all evening. I even enjoyed my movies. Although some company is always welcome.
Maybe next year we'll think of it before dark. Your still my ling distance valentine; happy SAD day.
Over Thinking
Everytime I come to post something my mind draws a blank.
Similar to the scene in Mom's favorite movie, You've Got Mail, I sit at my computer trying to come up with the perfect thing to say (Meg Ryan is talking about an insult) and nothing, a complete blank. How frusterating. Put me in my car, hour drive back to work or home, and I'm rife with witty ideas and moninomes. Reading books my mind rearranges funny scenes, or commentary that would entertain. Even watching Masterpiece Theater I come up with ideas. But with the keyboard at my fingertips, computer at the ready, I am paralized mentally. Frozen at the inability to articulate.
Suddenly I'm back to looking across the dance floor at that guy I might, maybe, possibly get a crush on. Where a smile is suddenly all I've got to offer. Get him to laugh, nope, that's saved for recollections of sudden stupidity later on at home when I recount my wonderful adventures of "Silly Girl Syndrome" once again striking. Tanner will bemoan my lack of finese, and lack of getting kissed. Mom and Dad internal groan at the irrationality of it all. Steph, being recently cured of my ill fated ilk, laughs. Naturally all reactions pick me up and remind me that eventually I'll find my odd voice again. Some random fact will filter it's way to the top.
Perfect example is regaling my crew Saturday night about why I was asked to draw a line up the back of a girl's nylons for a 1940's skit. Why I knew the necessity of this simple act, and could expound on it to the point of expalining why having a soilder for a beau was not just a social, but a beneficial part of life, is beyond me.
Still, for this odd moment of run-a-way thoughts scribbles of a page; full of spelling errors, life is good. I'm enjoying it.
'Till I get my mind repaired. Love you all. Have a wonderful V-day!
Similar to the scene in Mom's favorite movie, You've Got Mail, I sit at my computer trying to come up with the perfect thing to say (Meg Ryan is talking about an insult) and nothing, a complete blank. How frusterating. Put me in my car, hour drive back to work or home, and I'm rife with witty ideas and moninomes. Reading books my mind rearranges funny scenes, or commentary that would entertain. Even watching Masterpiece Theater I come up with ideas. But with the keyboard at my fingertips, computer at the ready, I am paralized mentally. Frozen at the inability to articulate.
Suddenly I'm back to looking across the dance floor at that guy I might, maybe, possibly get a crush on. Where a smile is suddenly all I've got to offer. Get him to laugh, nope, that's saved for recollections of sudden stupidity later on at home when I recount my wonderful adventures of "Silly Girl Syndrome" once again striking. Tanner will bemoan my lack of finese, and lack of getting kissed. Mom and Dad internal groan at the irrationality of it all. Steph, being recently cured of my ill fated ilk, laughs. Naturally all reactions pick me up and remind me that eventually I'll find my odd voice again. Some random fact will filter it's way to the top.
Perfect example is regaling my crew Saturday night about why I was asked to draw a line up the back of a girl's nylons for a 1940's skit. Why I knew the necessity of this simple act, and could expound on it to the point of expalining why having a soilder for a beau was not just a social, but a beneficial part of life, is beyond me.
Still, for this odd moment of run-a-way thoughts scribbles of a page; full of spelling errors, life is good. I'm enjoying it.
'Till I get my mind repaired. Love you all. Have a wonderful V-day!
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