A Positive And A Negative Internet Blog

As of this moment, I am currently typing from the best computer in ALL the land.

I say this because I built it. And by me, I mean my friend Brandon did. And I placed one screw on it.

Regardless, this has been something on my bucket list to do. I was tired of getting laptops, and didn't want to spend the crap-ton of money to get a really nice gaming desktop for Elder Scrolls MMO when I could save a good few hundred by building one. However, I'm completely inept at anything of the sort. Double however, I am a lucky girl with ALL the really smart friends who do this type of thing all the time!

You see this, motherfuckers? Shit just got real.

Enough gushing, because I could do this all night. No joke.

During in which the best computer that probably has the most love (and not the porn kind) was being built, I provided (hopefully) interesting conversation. I haven't had the pleasure of hanging out with Brandon too often, so, like all newer friends, I like to gauge reactions, pick up on their social cues, and ask questions galore. I'm usually an inquisitive person, but getting more personal is one of my more favorite things about meeting someone new. There are so many stories and opinions... and I find it particularly interesting how much one is willing to divulge.

What I like most about hanging with Brandon is that he is one of the few single friends I have. Most of my really good friends are married or are in serious relationships, the few singletons living a good few hours away. The bonus is, this is a single guy friend, and a nice one at that--I can finally see the insights of a legit good guy.

It gave me hope, some of our discussions. We seem to have the opposite of problems, which makes me laugh. Where I find that there are only guys who want to get it on or can't seem to get the balls to take me out and tell me how they feel, he gathers the girls who become disinterested because he's a gentleman about dating and getting to know someone.

I find this to be the most interesting. Socially, I find that it is more acceptable to find whether you have chemistry in a relationship first with a physical appearance. It is from there that one would decide whether the rest is worth the amount of attractiveness. Now, one could argue that people wrote to each other all the time back in the age, what with all the sonnets and everything, but I challenge you to find a good handful of sonnets that spoke about a woman's intellect, her wit, her character. I agree, there does have to be an amount of a person that draws the eye--there are certainly quite a few of my guy friends I'm just not attracted to despite all of their fantastic attributes. Yet I also gauge my attraction on attributes. For instance, the most handsome man in the world would be a monster in my eyes if I knew he was an animal abuser, or scorned those less fortunate than himself.

I feel like online dating is a less romantic period of sonnets. It is a resume for love. You'd think this would make things easier to decide, but it is actually quite more disheartening.

I remember when I'd joke with my friends in college about the need for an app that would show stats around a person's head so you wouldn't have to worry about certain aspects for dating. Typed along their torso would say if they enjoy animals, whether they keep the toilet seat down, their ability to spell... things we found so important and needful in a relationship. It would show you whether the guy was a gentleman, would blow you off for a night with another girl, or if they're hiding the fact that he only want you for your looks. Whether they are too clingy, or too distant.

I realized this week that this is online dating.

It's look at a piece of paper to see whether this person is worth your time. A list going from A-Z. You get the people who write nothing, and then you get those who have far too much on their profile that you get bored reading it. You have those who have only one picture of themselves, and then those that have well over fifteen. They place preferences on their profile to slim down the amount of research while looking at the profile, highlighting what is in common for that quick 'yay' or 'nay'.

It's judging. Constant judging from all angles. This guy is too fat; this guy is too short; this guy says he only likes Caucasians; this guy says he's looking for someone who likes golfing; this one is looking for a woman who plays video games; this one is looking for that romantic walk along the beach with some wine while they sit to watch the sunset.

Some like how effective this system is. It shortens the process of wasting your time. You don't have to get dressed up and go to some bar, but, instead, take those few good pictures to place on the page so everyone can see how fantastic you are and stay at home in your grungy clothes to see who likes that idea of you.

Perhaps this is where I hold the issue. Holding someone to a resume creates a poster boy you have an idea of. There is an argument that the internet allows people to be more who they are, be more apt to say something to another where they'd normally be quiet. I'd then like to show Exhibit A of the contributions these people have given me:

• (in the first email ever sent to me) I just want to love you and you love me back.
• Just so you know I am an open book you can ask me anything you wish. Nothing is out of bounds and I will answer truthfully. (in answer to one message I sent back to him about books)
• We should meet. (at a 47% match and nothing in common, first email)
• Hi. (I'm not kidding--this was the whole message, and the most common I receive)
• I'd be interested in one night, sure ;)

These are besides some of the messages I get back if I don't answer, in which I've flagged the message due to the contents being less than common courtesy/gentlemanly.

Out of these many emails that are so similar, with guys who have no picture at all with no information on their page, and tell me I should meet up with them (the words 'rape' and 'murder' literally ringing off the computer), there is maybe one or two that I've legitimately felt are genuine males, and we just didn't mesh well enough to continue onto more than a couple of dates. I'm not saying the above messages don't work for some girls, and I could be completely considered a bitch for not giving a chance to a guy who sent me a message completely in a text format... But do you know what this sounded like? Regular dating. Just less dismissive.

Think about it. Conversations in person start with 'Hi', and that message would have gotten a lot further had it been originally in person. And completely less interesting/creepy. Most of the messages would be.

The bonus? You get to see them immediately in person, how they act around other people. You feel a certain connection, maybe, and you're willing to take more of a chance than what you would if you were to see their profile online and judge by a picture that they aren't the one for you because they show themselves skiing. Skiing is just a part of someone, not their whole being.

One of my biggest complaints about meeting a guy? They find out I like video games, so that's what they focus on. Anyone who knows me would contest that this does happen to be a favorite subject of mine, but it's become such a turn off for me around men. They get so excited that I do something they do. I'm immediately labeled, and it's forgotten that I actually also enjoy running, writing, traveling, talking about other things. 

Online dating brings that focus out. It makes it easy to forget that people are more than just one attribute.

I don't think it's all the men's fault. I think dating recently has been made harder with our generation that demands immediate results, and those results better be exactly what is wanted. We've been taught by a generation that had to work so hard to get what they wanted, and they only wanted their children to have the best. It's bred a few good, hardworking sort with a massive amount of people who give up so easily when the world tosses their way a challenge. Place that in a dating world of shifting gender roles, where women aren't so quiet and work for a living while the men feel those old society traditions that are still being weeded through as to what is acceptable or not.

Simply the worst mixed drink in the world.

So, it was nice to get some confirmation this weekend that not every guy asks a girl on a date for the single purpose of sex. That a male specimen is actually turned off by a woman who wants a one night stand. That he knows women are more than one subject he happens to be interested in, too.

Maybe most guys out there are more like this. Maybe it's a matter of most guys having a fear of rejection that they don't speak up. And maybe, yes, I do look too far into things.

But what I do know is that I'm unhappy judging people at every corner like they're resumes and not people. And I'm tired of being scanned the same way. It's depressing when I can see how many people have viewed my profile in a day, but I wasn't worthy enough to even get a message. That's not how I want to live my life.

I've deleted my profiles. Online dating is not for me.

The Odds

Once upon a time, I was single. And then that continued on into the forever of now. The end.

Okay, so it's not that bleak. I was going for the RomComDram that seems to be so popular today. I believe my above paragraph sums up on how a singleton should feel after seeing one of these RCDs. And, truth be told, it works about every fifth film a single sees.

The first one you see: "That's funny! Cute, even!"

Second: "Ha, yeah... I laughed!"

Third: "Not completely original, but good enough for pajamas and a lazy trigger finger to change the channel."

Fourth: "Okay, I don't quite understand why people are going to see this. I'm pretty sure nothing in that film would ever happen, and nothing was believable otherwise."

Fifth: "BURN IT. BURN IT ALL DOWN."

You can use that scale for everything, really. Particularly critiquing your children's paintings.

I bring this up because I forgot recently that my single coworkers and I decided to get a cheap ticket on the online dating for a month. We three are completely different people in so many sense. Age, personality, and looks... It was thought it'd be a "hoot" if we were sign up back in March, and I promptly forgot about it because a) I didn't want to pay for crappy connections with guys and b) we weren't going to actually sign up for the thing until June because that's when one of the ladies was off another site she was paying for.

Today, while talking to friends about the reminder I was given on Friday before I left for work, one of them said, "I actually cannot wait for this. I never got the online dating experience, so I rather enjoy the stories I get to hear!"

It wasn't meant as malicious as it sounds--we were laughing, and I promised to give all the juicy details of just how many failures I'd receive now that I'd be placed on a proper site dedicated to said failures. Excitement galore.

To be honest, I've always been iffy about the online dating process. In the beginning, it was the "online scare", that whomever you were talking to, it wasn't actually them! They were all predators and just wanted to rape you (if you were female), or sexy females who would do anything for you in the right price range (if you were male). I remember being sixteen and watching a couple talk about how they'd met in an online chatroom, they happened to not be super creepy, and then they got married and lived happily ever after. A CliffsNotes version. It was shocking, and I don't think even the news reporters knew how to handle them. I believe the best they could do was place extreme warnings among the positive reeking from their relationship.

Now that it's mainstream, we see the commercials: "Married Five Years" to "Married Ten Years" to "Married Six Month". But you can't see the statistics of the people who have been married or in a committed relationship without online help. They don't have commercials for that--who would make a profit, I suppose? Could it be a PSA?

Whatever it may be, one doesn't really see anything until they read articles such as this or this over the years. And since one basically has to seek them out, who is to say they're even accurate, despite the place they were published?

Either way, it's making sense. Online dating doesn't necessarily mean that one's dating options are suddenly skyrocketing through the roof. All it means is that there is more work involved, more deciphering and worry than just going to the local bar, or even just deciding to finally be with that guy friend who always catches your eye (The RCDs get to you, people. They hunt you down, tell you you're fat, then place some ice cream in front of your face as an experiment as to how hard they can laugh at you while you cry yourself to sleep (that, my friends, is an exaggeration of the physical world, but true in the imaginary)). All this has really done is brought up our main issue of dating in the first place--are the people you get a first impression from who they actually say they are?

I say first impressions are simply the worst, even if they're good.

For me, online dating became an easier way to ignore the opposite sex. I'm not there in person, so I can nix anyone who messages me with bad grammar/spelling, anyone who sounds like a pretentious jerk right away, and anyone who is blander than spray butter. Basically, I've become a worse person since the process has started for dating without a physical presence.

Summing yourself up may seem fun, like those chain letters of 500 questions everyone sent to every single friend on their list in the 90s, but no one ever read anything beyond the name of the friend who sent it. No one cares. They don't have to. What they really care about is how they are, how awesome their experiences are, and how original one is in comparison to anyone else's profile you go to.

To say the least, I'm not looking full-on forward to this experience. I'm bitter against the white lies, but more so against the time invested. Reading through novels, not getting the personal touch of a smile right away, the disappointment of meeting to see that the person isn't who you thought they'd be... Swap those around a bit, and you've got yourself a normal dating life anyway!

Either/or, it's frustrating. In a world made for two, options are slimmed. You get to an age where everyone speaks of marriage and children, and not agreeing with them turns into the awkward pink elephant everyone wants to still talk about.

So, I'm going to take this as I always do: as half a joke and full honesty. The stories will be interesting to be sure. And I plan on getting my money's "investment".

A Year Over A Quarter Of A Century Old

Today, I turned twenty-six.

Last year, I was twenty-five. I had a list of things I wanted to accomplish, a few only having been truly checked off.

My first was to run a 5K. This was so incredibly important to me, and my best friend Mandikat made this happen. She started her own journey, and instead of being selfish, she prodded me to join in with her on her body experiment. I began to run, every day. I listened to zombies gnash at my heels, every day. I was able to focus on myself, for once, and I found out how much control I could really have over my life, body, and, most importantly, my happiness. And I did two 5Ks. I thank her for that every single day (at least, in my head I do. Sorry for not always being as verbal, Mandikat <3 p="">
My second was getting another job that got me over what was considered average for my age mark money-wise. I amazingly found this during the fall, when I could have been considered at my worst. It took me some time to make a decision about if I could actually make the jump, and then it was actually doing it, all the while inner emotions/turmoil dispersed around me like fireflies. The lights would blink, showing me all the things I could have--but then it would go dark, and I'd be lost for those few moments, floating around in limbo as I shook, debating on what was right and wrong, and if I was strong to do what I wanted to do. I not only took a deep breath and took the plunge, but I also found it was one of the best decisions of my life thus far. I gained my social life back. I found new friends. I learned that working at a company can mean being more than a minion. I learned the value of fifteen minutes--and how much gas that would be. I also learned more about family, and how to live with my brother again. I'm pleased with this.

My third was to find more about myself in love. Seeing how my previous years I was too scared to really dive in, I promised myself that a quarter-century was long enough. I realized that, after running and realizing how life was without a social life, I was ready for love. Not just some crush as I've had in the past, but a good steady position. It wasn't that I wasn't afraid of getting hurt--it was that I saw that I could handle that hurt, and knew I'd be able to get through it if I was rejected. This was the most difficult for me. I've always struggled with this, but I was determined to not let anything deter me.

I found out that not every guy is honest. I got that because there was a guy in which I made a connection, and for two months, we spoke non-stop every day through messages, sharing stories and experiences. It was simply amazing, how much we had in common, and I'd finally found someone at work who got my nerdy behavior. After those two months, I mentioned him to a coworker, who promptly told me he was engaged to someone else--and he'd never spoken a word of her to me. It was the first time that I saw why a girl would try to steal someone away from another. I "got" it. And it wasn't me.

I also realized that not every guy is who they say they are. A single guy for a week wooed me, and I found out that he was not only a swindler of hearts, but he lived with his ex-girlfriend, with whom he had a child, and also had another child, the same age, with another. All working at the same place.

I picked up a stalker for a couple of months.

I especially saw that guys were not the assertive behaviorists they claimed to be. The amount of guys who accumulated crushes were embarrassing--but even more so that I was told about them when I was leaving my old job. None of the guys I would have seriously considered, but the fact that they were all very outgoing guys, it was very disappointing to find out that no one had the balls to say anything (especially since I was none the wiser).

The closest I would say that I would have come to "love" was dashed away so fast, and so complicated, I don't think I've really ever gotten time to really discern it being over. It's the first time I lied to friends about being okay. The first I was dishonest to myself about being okay. And the hardest thing I've tried convincing myself out of.

Friends have told me that being friends with someone you had any romantic things with is basically impossible. I took this as a challenge. I thought I'd proved them wrong. But, as it turns out, disassociation is the only thing that takes away the confusion and allows you to move on enough to be friends. If you disagree with me, then the other person is going through what I'm dealing with, which is: trying to not take things personally; assume that every single action/spoken word means absolutely nothing unless clearly stated in a factual way while staring at your face and is willing to sign a testament that it is indeed truth; comparing every single other opposite sex to the commonalities that seemed to work so well; wishing they'd never see you again; wishing they'd somehow see you again; wishing they'd see you again but with them over you and having you see what you missed out on, even though they want your happiness at the same time; wishing they could somehow meet NPH (this doesn't really have to do with relationships, but I assume that every single person in the world wants to do this, which is why it was added to the list).

This last thing I've somehow learned the most about, and yet absolutely nothing. Every time I seem to have learned a new truth, it's completely negated in another form. Love-hurt has basically become a virus in my eyes--it slowly becomes immune to behaviors, and you just have to keep coming up with more to block what is inevitable, and you just keep coming back to the traditional friend support system that is considered your herbal supplements. They work, but they just don't prevent it from happening again.

This love taught me that you sometimes need to accept things and walk away. You can never fully understand why some relationships don't work, despite it having every sign pointing to "YES". Neon signs. With their own arrows pointing to those arrows, and people taking pictures of those to place on the internet for others to make memes about because they're ultimately jealous of what was found. This love taught me that connections can be denied and pushed away. That it really is up to each individual what they decide to do with what is laid upon a table. And that I will sometimes just never understand why someone would say 'No' to what is seen as a great opportunity.

It taught me the importance of placing blame on no one, and the patience of healing. I found it so dramatic, and still do, and it wasn't love (way too fast for that), but I was definitely infatuated with the happiness and feeling, and, being myself, I know I can take growth from this per usual and, eventually, I won't look back at the moments and miss them. Eventually, I won't have a hope that is there simply because I don't want to feel sad at the potential anymore. And I eventually will have all of the gears working on the same machine rather than some keeping a door open "just in case" because I don't like burning ideas to spread ashes in the wind for others to use in their gardens unless proven for the best.

So, love wasn't checked off the list. But learning about myself in love was. So was making new friends, facing my fears head on when they arise in a situation, trying new things I'd typically say no to because I judged it too quickly, embracing life every day because it's too short, singing every day, allowing myself to be vulnerable around others so they can see I am a person, too... and not allowing a mishap with a shot at love determine that I won't attempt again.

Twenty-five was an amazing year for firsts and rediscovering. And the bonus about being this young is that I can repeat that for so many years to come. I find that I'm blessed several times over, and I'm always surprised at this. And, the fact is, I think I always will be surprised. But I'll never be not thankful. How can I be when, after so much struggle, I have so much more outweighing on the scale that shows epicness?

This next year will be even better. Challenge accepted.

Evil Fairy...Let's Name Her Renne

Can it really be considered a "New Beginning" if there was really never anything there to start with?

I supposed that question is moot, because obviously there was something at least from my side. I know my part in things better than anyone else. And I know that it was there on my side. It took some extra time for me to figure that out.

Isn't that amazing? That one can be in a state of something for months, and because it has become such a norm, you don't even realize what you've become.

I had become dishonest with myself. I didn't like that. It's one thing to be dishonest with someone else, but quite another to be dishonest with yourself. If you're lying to yourself, you have no idea how others are perceiving you. It's not just that you have no idea what you're doing, but that others are getting a feeling from you that is almost like a wild card. One that you didn't play. A third party came in a laid down a Wild Draw 4, and you're left with nothing but the need to sort through your cards with a new sense of urgency in hopes that you're not thrown completely off guard, that you have some color to place into discard. Because, let's be honest--no one wants to be going through who knows how many turns picking from the pile until they're finally back in the game.

I can be seen as a hasty decision maker. This is mostly due to the fact that I'm not fantastic with memory. If I don't do what I think up now, I'll forget later, and then it's the dusty ornament your grandparents got you when they went on that Europe trip when you were six, and you just didn't have the heart to throw it away, despite it not going with any of your surroundings.

It haunts my soul. It plays with my mind curtains like a cat, pawing and scooting the cloth around because I've forgotten something I want to do in life, and it waits patiently like a dog in hopes that I will eventually get back to it with the zest I had when it was once thought up.

Doing something when you first think it up can be much more fascinating than waiting. Waiting, like procrastination, can sometimes further the sensations of wonder. It turns into an anticipation, a giddiness that even turns into passion. Sometimes, yes... waiting is a pleasure.

But I can't wait.

I can't wait around when I have things to do. I can't tap my fingers while it seems there are better things going on. My attention span, while loyal, has a tendency to forget. It's not fickle. But when I get caught up in the moment, and the anticipation has brought it up, and the giddiness is turning into passion, and all other thoughts have been placed in a time capsule because only now is existing, I can't wait.

This is a large hypocrisy, I understand. Because my kind of living in the moment is more about decision making and wallowing in it with a full heart. Drowning in it. Focusing. From the simplest of eating an ice cream cone to painting a portrait. It's not that I'm terrible at multitasking, it's that I feel I can only do one thing at a time because then I know it is getting done well. Half-ass won't do.

And I like to enjoy a moment. Laugh and soak in the love. Cry and realize what I'm learning. Play a video game and not miss anything that will have me stuck later on because I was distracted by something else (true story--when I'm playing a video game, I will certainly be paying more attention to that than you. My bad.).

As you can probably tell, this trait in myself does not mix well with being dishonest. It makes things confusing, particularly relationships due to the communication effect. One cannot communicate properly if even they don't know what they mean.

So, I made a hasty decision. And failed. Miserably. And I tried again. And failed. And a third time, with even more failure. I realized I'd been more dishonest with myself than originally thought.

Two things I've learned: I've found something that makes it difficult to be myself, and being dishonest with yourself is a sneaky evil fairy named Renne whispering what you think you know in your ear. FACT.

Morale? Be yourself, but know who you are so that you can look at yourself every few months and realize that you're not being yourself so you can be utterly confused and conflicted in your position in life so you can think you're making a decision that you will later change your mind to suit your whims at that particular time.

Glad we had this talk.

Because, You Know, I Haven't Updated in Forever. So, Here's a Novel For You.

Something I've slowly learned about myself over the years is how I've gone from being an open idealistic lover to a more closet romantic woman.

Most people find the small changes in themselves. “I used to like the color pink—now I can't stand the thought of it.” or “The taste of shrimp disgusted me, when I was a kid. I eat them at least once a week!” and, the ever popular, “I never believed in ghosts, until one haunted my bathroom after I moved into that creepy cabin.”

I'm kidding. No one ever stops liking the color pink.

I'm happy to report I'm not quite the cynic I once became after my college experiences. I was quite the innocent, growing up with parents who taught my brother and I well. Not that he and I weren't little shits (and that we still aren't), but we took our parents' word as truth.

Don't do drugs, they can screw up your life. Good friends will have you smiling at the end of the day. A clean room instigates a clean person (we both didn't follow this last rule until closer to the more 'now' time; it's mostly true).

But one of the most we held true to our hearts was the importance to be with the ones we love, and never settle for less.

I can freely say that this was what changed with me most, was how I went about their advice.

At first, I lived in a Disney-esque state. I lived in a small town, and dealt with small matters. But I dreamt big, and, in the face of what I thought was considered animosity, I stood for justice. We didn't have much to go against in our tiny town, at least, not in my eyes. And I had the hardest time understanding what seemed to be the simplest of matters, such as why someone would take the time to be a bully.

I remember a distinct moment in which we were all standing in line for lunch, and a small group of the said “popular” crowd started picking on one of the boys for wearing a Spice Girls shirt. During lunch time, there were only two lines, and our lunch periods collided for 5^th graders all to 9^th graders; we were in 8^th grade. This meant that there were well over 100 spectators, watching either in silence or snickers, while three kids who were meant to be looked up to mercilessly insulted their classmate for wearing a shirt with a girl-band on it. I was with two of my friends, who ignored the scene and talked with each other. I muttered darkly as the boy tried to ignore them, failing miserably, his cheeks getting redder and hotter as the bunch continued with their banter. He opened his mouth a couple of times to say something, but then stuck his hands in his pockets and faced forward instead. The anger in my heart couldn't take it any longer.

“What, is that bugging you?” I asked, my voice barely louder than their rambles. They glanced over at me, then shrugged it off and went back to it. “So, what, is it because of his shirt?”

“It has five girls on it,” one of the boys, Jeff, said.

“So? I like the Spice Girls.”

“You're a girl. If he likes them, it's gay,” he sneered. This was during the time when we didn't really know what gay meant, but the term was thrown about like we did. All we truly knew was that it was considered derogatory, and it was looked down upon.

“So, him wearing that. It's affecting you in some way? To a point that you need to tease him, make fun of him?” I jerked my thumb at their victim. My voice had gotten louder, and some people had stopped talking to see what was happening. “As far as I can tell, you're only making yourselves look dumb.”

“Like anyone will listen to you.” It was true, I was considered an outcast at this point.

“At least I'm not the one everyone wants to shut up. And that's what you should do.”

The boys tried to laugh it off, but the crowd had turned slightly against them with my words. My friends growled at how they were jerks, but I was still angry. I was angry at how the three popular kids had such power that they could tear down a boy, and cause a crowd to ignore their incessant idiocies. I was angry that no one else in the crowd had been willing to say something. And I was angry knowing that my words hadn't changed a thing in their demeanor.

When I got to the counter to hand over my lunch ticket, the adult manning the counter said, “I saw what you said and did there. Good job.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, but, in that moment, I was angry at her, too. She was an adult, and she didn't do anything to stop it either. I had been the only one who took the cards that were dealt, whereas everyone else passed.

These are the things I learned at school in my small town. As I explained the situations that didn't make sense to me while growing up to my parents, they'd press their lips together. These are the things that don't change, unfortunately, they'd tell me, and maybe a bit to themselves.

I was lucky, and relieved, to leave after my sophomore year of high school to my arts school. Most kids would be devastated to move during this time, to have to leave their friends and life. I, instead, was content with the knowledge of not dealing with the people in that school again. And that's where I learned more about the grey areas of life.

My most favorite people in the world (still to this day) did drugs. The teachers and adults treated us as equals, rather than children to scold and send on their merry way so they wouldn't have to continue to be dealt with. And I found that not all things depicted in movies weren't exaggerating about our world.

And it was where I had my first dashes at the idea of love.

You see, at my other school, the thought of being at all romantic with any of those, for the lack of the better word, jerks, made me want to hurt someone. But my new school? It was filled to the brim with people who were different than anyone I've ever met. Artists, in every single person, and they weren't afraid to show it. The school encouraged everyone to be themselves. And it was amazing.

I won't divulge into any details, as I'm sure my stories aren't as exciting as the next, but I had my few dashes with boys that got me realizing that love wasn't as easy as I'd anticipated. I'm unsure whether it was because of my small town, but I didn't have too many crazy families to deal with. I didn't know too many divorced parents, and the ones who happened to be were very civil. And I didn't know any parents who fought, either. Not any fights that weren't unhealthy, anyway.

I have a theory about these things. People who I know who have had horrible things happen to them, they have a choice in life—to either make it worse, or better. I have been innumerably lucky to know the people who have chosen to make their lives better. The ones who were too poor to have enough food to go around, the ones who came from houses with parents who didn't care if they were home or not, the ones who were abused emotionally...physically. Tragic back stories that these unbroken people decided to change to brilliant futures.

But I got lost in these stories. The chipper girl who was ready for adventure and life, she faltered at how possible it was for her to take on the world when it turned out to be just as big as she'd hoped.

The chances I had at love, I wasn't ready for. I knew because I learned from other people's mistakes. I watched while people got insipidly drunk, would make out with a random person, then later lament to me about the woes of how it was all going wrong. I was told the stories by my guy friends who would purposefully lead a girl on, use them, then toss them aside, laughing the whole time. Some girls weren't much better. For college, it was considered a time to experiment without any ramifications—no one thought the consequences could touch them, the immortality of a young adult.

Perhaps I took too much of a protective stance for myself. All I knew was that I didn't want to be placed in that same category, looking pathetic and weak all because I wanted to feel as if I'd had some connection with someone. Because that's what I saw in those girls after they finally sobered up, realized what they did last night, and tried desperately to justify their actions and make it all okay.

Their actions didn't mean anything to me, but I knew what I wanted. I didn't want the one night stand people would giggle over having. I didn't want to have the bragging rights people smugly spoke of having due to the amount of people they hooked up with the night previous. I didn't want to deal with the drama my friends consistently had on whether a kiss was just a kiss—or if it meant something more.

Because, somehow, deep inside, I knew that it shouldn't be that difficult.

As the years went on, I became more cynical of how love was, and less impressed with my generation's attempt at finding it. I became who I wasn't. I mean, I became not who I intended to be. I was hidden behind a mask because it seemed too difficult for me to grab the world and see how I could change it for the better anymore. I couldn't seem to fit in.

This past year, I had a more official coming back to roots. I was lost in three separate phases, growing up, but it took me until now to finally pin down what it means to be myself, and what it means for me to love. Always a work in progress, being me (I am so far from perfect, if it were a scarf, it'd be labeled infinity long...if that makes any sense at all), but I feel at home where I used to feel chaos earlier. I can love as I wish.

I'm not as open as I once was about it. Before leaving my lovely (/sarcasm) school, I used to gush about the type of love that transcended time. About connection, and how there is one person for everyone.

But now I'm wiser. I still believe love transcends time, for friendship and otherwise. And I believe that everything is connected, that people connect and should listen to their soul more on where they should be, who they should be with, in life. But I also believe, now, that there are certain people for certain times in your life. The opportunities we are given, especially in love, are to guide us in life, to teach us how to become even better than we are now. I've had connections with people who have been my friend for years now, and I've made quite a few more connections this past summer that are only going on a couple of months. There has even been a connection with someone that only lasted a week, and I would never give those moments back, as I was able to place a piece of my puzzle together on how I can better love someone. Love is easy, really. When in doubt, love. You don't need a definition, you don't need to perfect the rubik's cube that is love before attempting it, you just...do it.

So, maybe I'm not as open about it. I still find myself shying away from situations, or balking from sharing. Particular moments from this past year has gotten me more comfortable with myself, that balance between my roots and how I want my future. There were no mistakes in my eyes, just life. The romantic core I have has survived, and I intend to feed it.

But not before I feed my other love, adventure. Because that was another thing I once gave up.

Never again.

What, I Have To?

Despite having never truly been, I have always believed love should be easy. It's a natural, free state that requires nothing in return.

And yet, it seems to be the most difficult thing in the world to describe, to show.

Love, to me, should be like rain: soothing, yet loud. Gentle, yet makes it's mark. It washes the soul to make it fresh, ready to grow.

I do not believe there is such a thing as too much love. Although some can drown in it, and it may take some time to recover, true and honest love, unselfish love--one cannot get enough.

There are days when I bask in love.

My mischievous-love comes out to play many times. It's shown through pokes and teases, a smirk and my eyes dancing in laughter.

My affectionate-love typically goes hand-in-hand with my mischief. My teasing is accompanied with a snuggle, my poke with a kiss. If you know me, my smile shows just how much I adore your presence.

Tough love is my rare love. I use this love when I've had enough. When my other love isn't listened to. When, simply put, you need to get over it--and so do I.

Although there are many other types, true love I've never had. Perhaps this is because I believe that type of love to be the most complicated and hard to obtain. It's filled with compromise, forgiveness, and definitely stamina to stand the test of time. At it's core is friendship. It isn't like the blockbuster films, it cannot be contained in a little box with a delightful bow on top.

One cannot assume they've found their true love without trials and tribulations.

You don't fuck with this kind of love.

I'm not one to conform (as many of my family will tell you). I have my way of going about things, and the more you push me one way, the more likely I am to go the other in defiance. This is mostly due to the fact that I want my decisions to be my own, not because I saw everyone get into a line. Too often, people stand there, not even knowing what they're standing for, but they saw the line, and everyone seemed to have a good purpose for it, so why not do it yourself?

And true love isn't a conformity. Not really, in our world. How many people have gotten married and divorced this year? How many people are on their third marriage? It common, and not shameful, to have to go through this much trail and error to find who you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with.

But I'm not one to conform. I want it right the first time. None of the bullshit. Straight to the punch. One day, I'll get it right, because, my other belief?

When you know, you know.

To Steal A Guy

There is an art to stealing the man you like, I am told.

I liken it to a Tango. How strategic everything must play out, between feet and hands, where skin touches, and eyes meet.

You need a mischievous-like characteristic. A part of yourself that wants trouble.

I think we all want a little trouble in our lives. A little bit of drama that makes us feel special. Different. Wanted. Think of how boring life would be if it were perfect. Just imagine: You walk outside, barefoot on the grass, and there is no dog-doo on your lawn. Next, while walking to your garden, there are no bees to sting your nose as you lift flowers to your face. The grass is mowed, there is no garbage along your road, and absolutely no dead fish in the lake to fill your nostrils with it's vile smell.

You go to work and enjoy it immensely because everything arrives on time, deadlines are made, guests are courteous and understanding while associates correctly give information, and no disaster of a project going amiss. You drive home with no traffic. Dinner was easy; the dishes, no chore. You do a walk with the dogs in just-perfect-temperature weather. You don't even sweat.

And you drink some tea before slumbering perfectly in your bed for eight hours. You're up the next day to do it all over again.

This would go over well for about two days. And then our minds would say, "Fuck this shit." and start complaining that we are bored--drama out of boredom.

I once caught myself complaining that while laying luxuriously on an inner tube, it wasn't fully pleasant because the sun would keep getting in my eyes. I had to restate my sentence as soon as I heard it leave my lips.

And maybe that's why people want the extra trouble. There's something to taking what's not yours, despite the many who claim "all's fair in love and war."

What does that even mean? Does that mean that taking a man from a relationship is justifiable? Does that mean causing strife in those situations is worth it? What is the point in which someone would look at the affair (no pun intended) and see that this outcome was best?

We watch these blockbuster films in which the couple finally gets together--a kiss as our last image, and nothing else. What about that other side? Or, we do see that other side, and you know what makes it okay? The other partner was a huge dick/bitch, so they deserved what came to them. Things tend to be a lot more complicated than that.

But here's my question: Do you want to be the one with the guy who left a girl for you?

Follow up question: What's to stop him from doing the same thing to you?

Which leads to: Shouldn't there be some time between? Maybe there are some statistics one could look up on lasting relationships in which one of the partners was stolen from a previous, and what caused their next relationship to be healthy.

Most of these questions seem to be irrelevant in matters of love (even lust). And maybe that's what the quote means--all is fair because one is not thinking logically with love. It's all a matter of the heart. Where morals can even be rearranged because of that feeling that aches in one's heart, where the only way that the ache stops is simply by seeing the smile from the one you like.

I once thought the only way to truly love was to allow the person to be happy. I never thought to question that my theory could still be true if the person were with me.

It's amazing what one is willing to reassess for love. Or, even truer, when one thinks that chance at love will never occur again.

On Putting The Lonesome On The Shelf

Dear Boy-I-Have-Yet-To-Meet,

A Venting of the Heart

I've never quite understood dating.

It's like I've some sort of spliced gene; I've got the quality, but not the substance.

Many times, I've pondered what it all means, and what it's meant for. Projects for school were dedicated. I tried to make a science of it, love. I watched documentaries, read books, made lists... I tried to control it.

Apparently, every body except me knows that you can't control love.

A friend signed me up for an online dating service. At first, I was completely open to the idea. After all, I live in place that barely gives me a man to look at. And the men who are there... long story short, they have more than enough problems.

It was fun, for a time. In the oddest way, I saw that I was attractive. People visited my site on a good average. I received many messages, all telling me that not only was I cute, but I had intelligence to boot. I was different.

I wasn't quite sure what to do. I responded to everything and everyone. I tried to do as the site said as well, which was search and message others; they said that females found better matches if they were just as assertive.

This has proved time and time again to be wrong in my experience. Assertiveness gives me nothing but trouble. Don't get me started on flirting.

This is mostly due to my inability to tell if people are flirting to be fun or serious. I flirt to be fun--a lot. It confuses a handful of guys, but once they see my sense of humor, they all join in. The problem with this? No one can tell when I'm seriously flirting. And it can get touchy oh-so-fast. Mostly because I can't tell if someone I start to seriously flirt with is being serious either.

Then, the bee dance commences. The godforsaken does-he-like-me-or-not bee dance from hell.

You know what I'm talking about. The part of when you can't tell whether he said he liked you in one way or another. The part of when he hugs you for longer than you expect and you think it means something. The part of when he smiles and you can tell he's genuinely happy around you.

And who can forget the part of when you act like a fool who can't stutter a word. The part when your message doesn't resound what you meant, or it could be taken both ways. When you stay up all night thinking of why he didn't message you back. The part, especially, when you realize you have no chance.

I stopped going to the website for a few weeks. It was all too much, the messages, the searching, the wondering if they're desperate--or if you are. The messages began to dissipate, but I still checked my email in hopes of finding something. Three successful marriages did occur in friends from dating online, so there had to be something to it, right?

In the science way, I came to a conclusion. It didn't matter whether I dated online or in person--I got the same response. People who I didn't like asking for dates; people who I would totally date not at all interested; people who both parties felt the connection, but something came up and nothing could come of it.

I'm fucked either way.

So, in a subdued way, I made my way back to the website. I updated my profile. I started answering questions to get better matches. I wrote back to people who had messaged me weeks ago and I hadn't responded.

Oddly, I started receiving a stream of messages, like I'd unblocked a pond that had once been a stream.

All these people, like me, were putting their hearts at risk, and thought I was worth it. They unabashedly said I was pretty and they were interested. They were doing what I couldn't: saying, "Let's go on a date." These people were doing much more than any guy in my "real life" would do--ask me out besides making me feel like I was wanted.

I'm still fucked--after all, I'm just as susceptible to the pros and cons on both internet dating and face-to-face. And, the guys all seem to be the same, no matter where I go (seriously, guys? Can you prove me wrong and be straight up for once?).

But there's a respect I have for online dating that I didn't have before. People who would never have the courage otherwise have a chance to get their word in and say something.

The bee dance has changed. And, until the guys out there are just as willing as the internet ones to come straight up and say "You're the one I want to date.", I'm apt to continue clicking away and finding what I want in life.

Fun Fact: The bee dance has always been a term I've used to explain how difficult it is for me to date. There always seems to be these steps I don't get, complicated steps that are supposed to mean the simplest of things--like "That pollen I got from that flower is right over there". I don't hate bees, but God knows I hate that dance.

Adoration

I have an unfathomable love for certain men I've chosen to adore throughout my life. Some left as soon as they entered (teenage years had me loving people whom I later realized were for looks, not anything else). But, these are some that I will never shake.

David Bowie

As a friend once said, "David Bowie is like wine... he gets even better with age." I suppose the future will really tell true, but, until then, I will always get goosebumps when I think of his concert (best I've been to so far, hands down). I don't know what else to say. I understand that he's not the greatest actor, but, damn his music just touches my soul. I cannot ever place how much I adore him.

I also think he has a great sense of humor (see Extras).

Jeff Goldblum

He's funny, Jewish, and likes the environment. Whenever I talk about the guy I want in a relationship, my guy friends always use his name to pick on me, saying we were a match made in heaven.

I wish.

Neil Gaiman

This love is a little different. This love started with creativity, where I read a book by him, saw a film based on a book of his, and perked interest. I then found out that he did comics. And I read more of his books. And saw more of his movies.

I would love to shake this man's hand in hopes of ever creating such wonder. He'd be an awesometastic uncle.

Jon Stewart

I don't think I need to explain this.

Well Liked:
Christian Bale - Oddly enough, this was because of Howl's Moving Castle. I respect him now.
Tim Curry - Great actor. Love most of his work.
Dustin Hoffman - Wonderful everything. He makes me want to be an actoress.
Johnny Depp - He made me want to be an actress. Though he started doing films quite regularly now, slightly ruining the effect he once had on me, he still has my heart.
Shigeru Miyamoto - He created Legend of Zelda.
Owen Pallett - Most recent love. His music...
Paul Rudd - It started with Clueless. It's continued with the fact that he was on Friends, and then he appeared in "Wainy Days" in The Pickup. Also, props for Role Models.

Random Fact: These were the only ones I could think of at this time. And the only reason why John Krasinski wasn't on the list was because I've yet to like a movie he is in (but, hot damn, I'd totally date him).

/edit: I forgot to put Will Smith. I don't even know why. I've loved him since the day I saw him on TV.

Only A Dream?

Russ-L: So, I had a dream last night that you got a boyfriend.

Me: Sure it wasn't a nightmare?

Russ-L: Well, there was a part where I was being stabbed by a guy, and then I stabbed him back. But you were just in there somewhere. You said, "At first, I went to college not wanting a boyfriend because I was too busy, but now that I have one, it's great!"

Me: You sound like a PSA.... What'd he look like?

Russ-L: I didn't get a good look at him.

Me: This is my possible future husband and you don't remember?!

Russ-L: I remember that I approved.

I then said something to the effect of being happy he approved, then wondering what he did look like (I'd like to know what one of my best guy friends sees me with), and then saying, "Wait, I am to busy for a boyfriend. Like I should even be wondering."

Thinking back over this morning's conversation really did get me wondering. They always say, if you really want something, you'll get it. And it's not that I never wanted a boyfriend--I've obviously tried the route of liking someone, and it just doesn't work for me. At all.

This "season" has me going into it without a care. I want to laugh and not even see the possibilities. My mother, the ever-wanting-her-daughter-to-at-least-go-on-a-date mom, has already asked me if there are any possibilities out there, after catching my twitter comment of being happier single the more I think about it. Though Unrequited Love sucks face, I figure that if I just don't fall in love, nothing will happen, especially when the guy turns out to be a shithead.

I've still yet to be proven wrong, by the way. Just pointing it out.

However, when I replied to her as being sick of the whole scene, and that I don't even wanna test the waters until I'm for sure (which, in all honesty, is a total loop hole for myself--are we ever sure?), and that "they're just people," she had to say:

Mom: I'll take that as a yes.

Me: Nope.

Mom: Yep.

Me: No!

It's not that I'm denying anything. I'm sure my parents wonder about that every day. I've just gone through so much of that filing system, and nothing good comes from it. And I'm sick of wasting my time on something that doesn't work. It's like an expensive video game that sucks--if it breaks, I'm not going to be putting any time/effort into buying another. It sucked. And was expensive. And, even if it were in the clearance aisle, I'm pretty certain I'd just chuckle and say, "We all knew it'd be there someday," and walk on past.

My cynics come from the idea that someone should be confident enough to not give up on me if they really liked me. Not fair, but I stick by it. I do have enough on my plate to choke an incredible hulk. RA, training, classes, residents, writing, video gaming, friends and family... The stress in the air is pretty palpable at times. Adding a boyfriend to the mix... ever seen fireworks explode at a gas station? Neither have I, but I can imagine it would be pretty horrible.

Some would call this giving up. But I seriously am sick of going through the process. Thinking of someone as a constant, like some math problem gone wrong. Double checking, thinking, wondering situations. It becomes such an engrossed, disgusting love novel-esque Lifetime drama that I can only see that I begin to wish I'd never thought of liking a person in the first place. I don't know how my parents did it, or continue to do so. I don't know how anyone does it.

I hope it's like what I always say when someone says they dislike something. "You just haven't found the right one, then." It works for anime, video games, books, art, TV shows, computers, dishes, pets, lotion... even cities. Couldn't Love fall under that category?

I'm just not willing to waste my time. Not anymore. I don't waste my time on bad food, bad video games, bad TV shows or anything else... It's just that, in order to even get to the point of getting the good one, you do have to keep checking it out. I'm just lucky with video games because Gamestop allows me to rent for a few days.

I'm sure people, especially my parents, hate my unthriving luster for a love-life. And you'd figure I'd know by now how "it all works." Freaking everyone is doing it around me. Friends, co-workers, teachers... I'm certain even the freaking leeches in our lake are finding what I can't seem to grasp. It's quite a battle, debating on whether you want a relationship because you want what everyone else has.

And I mean, Jesus, I hate seeing people who absolutely adore another person to the point of looking like a dumbass. I mean, there's a reason why I don't get drunk. I think that's why I don't want to fall in love, either.

I don't want to be:

*the girl always looking around for the guy she likes
*spewing impressive material to... well, impress
*thinking about if I look good or not (it's dramatically time consuming--those five-fifteen minutes could be used for perfectly good Dr. Mario or crocheting or something)
*thinking about a boy when I could be contemplating more on my future, career and creativeness towards what I want that to entail
*trapped

I also don't want to be alone forever.

I think it's kind of like swimming for me. It's all fun and joy until I realize that the real reason why I took the lessons was so then I wouldn't drown when/if I fall from a cruise ship at sea.

I talked to Mandikat after supper today, too. I was almost on the verge of tears, I've missed her so much. Hearing about her yearly trip made me happy, as we talked about the talent show, her family and what we'll do the next time I manage to get to come.

I've always envied how willing she was to put herself out there for hurt, when it comes to love. She dated someone for seven years, is now with another, and has dated a few when she was on breaks with said seven-year-guy, and even had some not-so-good ones before him. with as many tries, like so many of my other friends, I just can't see how it all comes about. What is it inside of a person that makes the bold move to initiate something that could mean forever? And after that heartache is gone, what the hell happens to make you think that you should go through it again?

Inexperience kills me. And I limit myself. But I still haven't found a reason to jump off the bridge. I really can't trust enough, myself or that other person, whomever it may be, to get that close. If I screw up, I'm fine with it--it's me, myself and I. I'll take the blame. But another?

I've always hated the person who screwed up a part of a project for class. A heart is a bit more delicate than a grade for class.

And yet, I can't stop watching it happen. The Office, Disney flicks... I sometimes feel as if I'm making myself watch what I won't allow to happen. Torture via subconcious. We are our own worst enemies.

Random Fact: 53% of women in America would dump their boyfriend if they did not get them anything for Valentine's Day. I also don't want to be that girl.

My Virtue Of Patience Wavers

Apparently, vampires wasn't only on my mind. Yesterday, Russell rented Interview with the Vampire, and Martha had never seen it. It'd been a small while since I'd seen it, though I knew that Tom Cruise did a little to well creeping the bah-geezes out of me as the little-too-enthusiastic-to-be-a-vampire vampire. So, while I wasn't trying to not fall asleep (it's a long movie and it was past midnight), I payed attention to Martha's reactions, which are always a movie in themselves. I ended up being giggly most of the night, a cuddly.

I blame the whole experiences on Tanya and Jessica, who decided it was time for me to read a favorite series of theirs about vampires, though, to tell the truth, it's young adult and very much so romance. Sickeningly so. Apparently, four books worth of sickeningly so.

And, now, going to be a movie. The trailer looks cheesy, the characters don't look anything like I read and it makes everything so much more creepy than the books actually seem... And, yet, here's me, the girl who read the book and feels slightly excited to see it in person. When will I ever learn?

Besides the point, since I've gotten back into my vampire fantasies, I've been struggling not to buy Charlaine Harris' newest part of her series as well, whist also freaking out because September is drawing near, with True Blood, something I wrote about before. It seems I'm not the only one who wants some vampires on screen more often. Though I'm still awaiting who they've chosen for Eric, I'm still excited to see my favorite series come to HBO. HBO. A series. I love when it's a series because they don't have to leave so much out. I hope that's hint enough.

As it is, reading Twilight was pretty fun, to say the least. Since reading All Together Dead, I've been on a fantasy hiatus, no books interesting me or just plain too lazy to trust a title. Since I'd forced my books on Jessica, I found it only fair to read something she recommended.

God, were they in love with each other! They were so in love that I began to actually start being optimistic about that true love gushy crap! And it ended on such a sour note, too! She wanted to become a vampire, but let's not get into that (as much as I love to read about them, I don't think I'd ever want to be one...). I actually enjoyed it, and finished the book in two days. Besides myself, and never wanting to admit to anyone that I was on a love-high, I started the second, amazed I was so entranced and that I wanted more.

Let me explain. A seventeen-year-old girl goes to school, meets a boy who frustrates her to no end and they end up getting together. Normal. Many love stories start out that way. But then said boy is a vampire, has girl find out, he stays in her room at night, throughout the entire night, and they have no troubles with her knowing anything until one random vampire decides that he wants to hunt her down and kill her? I have to keep reminding myself and Tanya and Jess told me: This was a love story, not just with it on the side. It just seemed wildly irrational for a 110-year-old vampire, though still the age of looking 17, wasn't to fall in love with an actual 17-year-old and... I donno, not control himself.

I think that's why I got the love-high. By the end of the book, I'd bought the fact that love has no boundaries. And it was blissful.

And then that damn second book. By the third chapter, they were broken up and I ended up being on an emotional roller coaster Stephenie Meyer left no detail out of how excruciating it was to not be around the one you love. And then, when she finally seemed over it, she wasn't and he came back and then there was another boy involved...

Ugh, the complications were endless, and I'm very sulky to start the third. True love or not, vampires and werewolves aside, I have to say, I hate that love complication crap. I didn't want to be caught up with it in the first place, and I realized that, while the story was interesting in all that, I'm adjusting to the form of writing. Everything is so normal, and I can guess most of everything before it happens, which gets boring. Jess told me that it was science fiction for people who didn't like science fiction. But the love thing still catches me off guard.

It's probably why I'll start my next novel when I finally get off my desk duty at five.

I just keep trying to think of what else life means, as these portray that it's love and nothing else. I mean, there's more. But what really keeps us all from going crazy? I mean, I am bored. Bored. And reading these books have made it perfectly clear how incredibly boring not only my love-life is, but just in general how quickly I made a nice little schedule for myself. How life purposefully makes that schedule with having to work two jobs, try not to use my car for gas purposes, keep up to date with friends and conserve money as best I can.

A few weeks ago, I found my glow-in-the-dark stars and quickly placed them above my head where I could star at them a few feet away from me before falling asleep. My father, when we decided to go from my frilly pink room to sky-blue with green grass and clouds, used glow-in-the-dark paint to put stars in my sky. Every night, I'd stare up at them, touch them. Last night, when looking at my own stars, I couldn't help but think how much closer they seemed when I was a child. Everything seemed so much closer, and now it's so far spread, like thinning butter. I keep wondering when it'll run out.

I look at my boring life and every day wonder how I can spice it up. And I begin to see that perhaps I'm the only one who has a problem with it, and if I want to add some spice, I'll be the only one wanting to do it. It's difficult to get my friends to go spend the day at the beach, or just bike past it in the least. I think that's why I've been so unwilling to really talk with Mandikat, as she's doing exactly what I want to do, and can, because she has no financial worries in the least, besides her loans. She has a new boy on the prowl with her, no worries of gas, car insurance (car maintenance or anything car related for that matter), food, living, jobs... It's embarrassing for me to explain to her how I can't do many things with her because I can't afford to do much after spending the gas to get to her. Even if I had a car with great gas mileage, I don't think it'd be much different.

I just don't like the idea of being stuck. It makes my insides squirm, especially when it's boring me. I sometimes love the tedious, the without-thought-work. But when that's how life begins to feel, I feel this itch to run. Start a water balloon fight or something. Something besides working and doing the mundane details of life.

Some people would say "Welcome to life. Better get used to it."

But I don't think I have to choose that. I don't think I have to "get used" to anything if I don't want to. I just need someone to agree and not hesitate so much. If we really want to do something, I've always believed that it will happen when the mind is set (mostly because I've done it every time).

I'm bored. Come play with me!

Random Fact: The first TV soap opera debuted in 1946. It's fascinated the rest of our population for ages thereafter. Whether you want to be or not.

On Duty

I know I haven't updated for ages, but I feel like I have a legitimate reason, which is the end of the year stresses. There is just too much going on for any body's health.

Technically, I was done with finals last Thursday. I was given an extra day in two of my classes to fix some smudges here and there for portfolios (everyone got it), and then I went home for the weekend to spend Mother's Day with family and friends. I then got back to a time of being on the brim of constant panic. I don't have anything to panic about, but I've gotten the bug just when I thought I'd puked it out.

Most of it is just nerves for summer. I want it to begin so bad, my brain hurts. I'm consistently in my room for check outs, when everything is happening for goodbyes at a different time. That's the thing about being an RA. When the fun is happening, you usually have to say no--it's what I've signed up to do, so I'll live with it, but most of my Senior friends are having get together times that I truly wish to be involved in. Who the hell knows when I'll officially see them again? They're going out into the real world. I've a few years before I can finally make that step in the forevers.

Of course, there are other stress-related things, for sure doing with the relationship statuses of the everyone. Mandikat broke up with her boyfriend of seven years, people are getting engaged like the plague whilst others are getting pregnant/married within the next months. Others are considering/have cheated on their "significant" others.

To be honest, it's a hard choice to say which disgusts me most. Seeing people kind of throw their lives away by marrying young and having kids, money lost on the college never well spent or the thought of people cheating. Probably the cheating. I get a little sick whenever I think of myself in any of those positions. For myself, I am too young to want myself to have a kid or get married; I have the dreams and goals for my future that includes the money I've invested.

But cheating? I don't care what it is. There is harm. Betrayal of trust. It embodies everything that... I hate? It's a hard thing for me to not be judgmental of. It's something that can be avoided by the choices we make. It never "just happens". Something has been leading up to it, and if it happens, then those choices from the beginning should not have been made.

I'm tired. Extremely so. I'm on a constant go. I can't even take precious naps, as there's always a phone ringing or a door knocking. You think I'm bragging, that I think of myself in popular demand. This is just the end of the year.

But I have my happy moments. I brought more things up from home to make my stay in the same room for the next year and a half more comfortable. I've been playing Mario Kart Wii in any non-working waking hour. I walk the puppies at the Humane Society, play Guitar Hero with friends and have some of the most memorable conversations with people I now consider to be best friends.

College really is some of the best years of my life. And I plan on continuing that factor, even after my education is finished.

Random Fact: The common belief that dogs are color blind is false. Dogs can see color, but it is not as vivid a color scheme as we see. They distinguish between blue, yellow, and gray, but probably do not see red and green. This is much like our vision at twilight.

Rinse & Repeat

I sometimes wonder why I keep doing things to myself. It's amazing how comforting it can be to be destructive. Like a fat kid to food, or the need to be in a constant relationship to prove that you're needed somehow in life.

Oftentimes, when I feel in a depressive mood, it means "it's that time of the month," though it doesn't mean that's any better. I like to think I'm a gal who can take things in stride, liking change and being okay with pretty much anything.

Yet I find myself loving routine.

The tediousness of making my bed, washing a dish, writing notes in class... and when that sudden routine is gone, I feel odd, as if a treat were taken from me. I get worried, anxious and wonder what to do with myself.

And I don't talk about it. Else wise, I'll want to talk about it all the time. So, instead, I think about it all the time. As I always tend to think and rethink things over. Who would have thunk that I'd be such a second-guesser? A believer of knowing myself, I rethink the stupidest situations of my life.

When it comes to those times, I try to find the biggest rationale; "How can I deal with this situation?"

Options:
*Freak out
*Talk
*Write
*Think some more

A little anxiety attack later, I begin to realize that none of the options above do me any good, at least in large amounts. Freaking out isn't the healthiest of options. Talking can be good, but if I don't watch myself, than that's all I'll be talking about. Writing can be a good way to get feelings out, but after a while, it's like talking--there's only so much (though, many good ideas can sprout from it). And thinking in general tends to get me in trouble, as I loop and loop in my head, bashing myself with images and ideas to a point of deciding never to deal with the situation again, which usually leads to me separating myself from said situation in every way possible, as I "can't take the heartache."

It's completely unhealthy emotionally wise. I know this. It burns down bridges, makes awkward relationships and ultimately withdraws self from others in a depressing manner. To be honest, it's downright emo.

Ever since I was a little girl, watching The Little Mermaid so many times that the tape doesn't even play properly, I'd been waiting for my own "true love." The kind that no evil can tear apart, the kind that has no wavering or wondering about the other's true feelings... you know, the crap Disney sells to us every damn movie.

But that's not the real world. We hope to see that in someone's gaze or smile. Instead, I now see relationships that hold on to each other by strings of sex. Jealousy, envy and cheating ruling the campus world. I find it rare when a true relationship emerges from the stockpile of junk, as the relationships I see tend to sprout from drunken nights where they vaguely remember making out.

Ah, l'amour.

But those only become my issues when it comes to finding the guy I adore. I don't drink, smoke, party... This could be described as the boring college girl who studies, but that's not true. I'm not impressed by someone's drunk-spell or ability to relax their minds via some drug. As much as I hate to admit it, I like feeling emotions, rather than numbness of the everywhere. I must, as I continue to place myself in certain situations for the beautiful vicious cycle to take me over.

You could chalk it up to inexperience. I've never dated anyone, or been anything other than good friends. When it comes to anything over than friendship-love, I couldn't even tell you which foot goes where. I dilly-dally so much, mouth shut, waiting patiently for his outcry of "Disney-love," then essentially crash, placing myself in a bought of self-pity and icing my heart over to promise myself that I'll never do it again, blocking away any sense of affection for fear of opening myself up.

Over the years, I've managed to place myself in many destructive situations, not just with relationships love-wise but friendship-wise as well. I'm amazing like that, I guess. As soon as the hint of "more-than" hits, I'm scurrying off, paranoid about the loss of friendship, wondering what every gesture means and convincing myself genuinely that there is no possible way that that person could like me more than a friend.

I set myself up for that.

I boast an air of finding true love, imagining a friendship blooming afire into passion, but whenever the thought shows a hint of reality, every single reason not to follow through is booming into my skull as well as a list of proof that there is no way I am looked at intimately by Mr. Infatuation.

It would be easy to break the cycle. Easy as saying, "Hey, I like you," which, by the way, can't seem to cross my lips if it means more than friendship. I have turned down four guys for my current infatuation, yet I refuse to show the true feelings for fear of... what? Rejection? Non-rejection?

I have so many excuses. I could say the things I like in a guy that could counter the reasons of all the waiting, the patience, the hopeful heart rather than the aggressive one. I want an attractive, humorous, affectionate, witty, bold, mature guy that has attention only for me, for starters. I'd like him to make the first move, as then I know his motives (and it's a bonus if he asks first, which means he respects my needs/wants as well).

I guess, the thing is, I did have four guys who made the first move. So, I'm waiting around for the one who is like a good friend, who's attention is all over the place and affections come at the cost of who knows what'll happen. His moves are on many females. And, though I'm being over dramatic on his behavior, as he's a really nice guy, I'm just ending up hurting myself all over again. Just like Senior year in High School. And Freshman year in College. Oh, and Sophomore year, too.

I have trust issues. And I'm beginning to think it's more with myself than other's.

Random Fact: Divorce rates in America
Age....................Women...Men
Under 20 years old 27.6% 11.7%
20 to 24 years old 36.6% 38.8%
25 to 29 years old 16.4% 22.3%
30 to 34 years old 8.5% 11.6%
35 to 39 years old 5.1% 6.5%

Happy Days

Being "in like" is... like wondering where the hell you are in life. You just don't know.

There are so many questions to be answered, but you realize that none of them matter as long as you get that one hug, that one skin contact you crave since the last.

You toss between whether you actually like this person. You wonder if you like them or the idea of them.

But then it doesn't matter because you start to think that maybe you've been seeing what you want to see, and that it all doesn't matter anyway because you don't even know how he feels and you start to look at yourself and whether you're even good enough, and then all of those looks that you thought meant he liked you now looks like a friendship stare and you're not that pretty and you don't fit into his category of perfection and you space yourself away and then it gets awkward and it can come to a point of never knowing and you're forever in this awkward friendship phase that could have all been avoided had you just said something.

I've known him for a little over a month. I've been happy. I've been hopeful. I've been grossly girly in like.

I could talk all day about effects and thoughts and interpretations.

But all I can really do is be myself. My happy, hopeful, grossly girly "in like" self.

I've been in the cuddliest mood since who knows when, and I can't even satisfy myself with the one I'd want to.

The sick thing is, all of this could be solved with words. For a creative professional writer, that should be easy as pie, right?

Ha. You're funny.

Random Fact: The "save" icon on Microsoft Word shows a floppy disk, with the shutter on backwards.

Showertime

Sometimes, I'll spend days pondering the most mundane detail. I've watched movies that I'll come back to weeks later and try to find some meaning of why I feel the need to keep coming back to what is only seen as entertainment value. We always try to find something meaningful when it really isn't, just so we feel better about our lives.

When I saw American Beauty for the first time, I found it rather ridiculous that a boy thought that video taping a plastic bag for five minutes was something interesting. I sometimes wondered if the director put that in there as a joke.

It's not that I've never found something "stupid" and found it more interesting than others. In fact, I think I think too much about things. It's just hard to talk about those kinds of things without other's thinking you're crazy, changing the subject or not responding in the least.

I like those who will humor me. Instead of saying, "Okaaaaaaaaaaay..." or "Where did that come from?" and getting offended for the oddest reason, they automatically answer truthfully, never skipping a beat.

I suppose this is the time to admit that I've been asked out a couple of times since being back, if not having passes made at me. It's been the oddest experiences with the best times these past few weeks, and all I can think about is that, in a sea of people who suddenly decided I'm worth their time, how am I suppose to find the one who is actually worth it?

I'm picky. I want what I want, and wasting time isn't my "thing."

A friend told me, "You don't have to feel guilty about going out with someone just to get experience of a boyfriend."

But I do. It's like I'd be lying to myself if I just started dating someone if we'd talked only twice. It could be old school, but I like hanging out a little before making some guy pay for dinner and a movie. And it makes me nervous when all attention is on me when I feel there are more important things for attention to be on.

I've just get these ideas of love being "I'll know," but there's no way to tell. You just follow your heart.

But my heart says wait until I know. And I'll know when I have a friend, not just someone who's willing to pay for dinner.

Random Fact: Nobody yet has explained satisfactorily why couples who marry in January, February, and March tend to have the highest divorce rates.

Looking For Something New

About once a year or so, I'll get so bored that I decide to be selfish on purpose (I know, weird, right?). I decide to use some time to google myself.

I usually only find a few things that are actually me, considering I never give out my last name over the 'nets, which means they're newspaper articles.

I found one presenting the fact that I was participating in some First Year Experience in college, another was for the student A Honor Roll in High School... Interestingly enough, my brother was on the B Honor Roll during one of the semesters in 2003 while I was on the A. I'd brag and boast, but he's two years older than me, which means his classes were probably harder than mine.

On the note of my brother, he won an iTouch (the little jerk) in a Halloween costume contest. He was Edward Scissorhands. I'm wanting to see the photos, just because this is a character I never would have thought he'd portray, but I fully support it, as Johnny Depp is attractive and any Tim Burton movie is okay on my list. I'm insanely jealous, but this means that my father gets my brothers old MP3 player. Suddenly, we're a family of electronics. New computers, MP3 players, console systems... Not that I'm complaining. It's a sanctuary, really.

I love hummus. I always will. Yum.

In the worst news, I've been told by a friend that he thinks we should go out. Wait, let me rephrase that. He said, "Would I still be a viable dating possibility for you if I get a PA?"

I didn't know what to address first. The fact his wanting to date me was out of the blue or the fact that I had no idea what a "PA" was. I took the latter.

After the explanation of piercing your Prince Albert, I took the next "subtle" clue that he liked me. I told him that I didn't want to offend him, but I'd always considered him a friend, and I'd also never had any experience in "the whole crotch area."

The whole conversation turned to be a little awkward, as he asked if I was sure I didn't want to even explore the idea, and the fact that I said, "but also, aren't you into guys?"

One main reason I don't want to date him is because I feel as if it would be for all the wrong reasons, such as him not telling his family he's gay. Because his family likes me, and has asked previously if we were dating, I feel that a main reason to date me is to also take control of his fear about them possibly finding out that he's attracted to the same sex. Another is that he's much more sexual than I am, something I have been and want to wait for when the right guy comes around. I'll be a girl who wants to take it slow, and I know, considering I'm his friend, that this isn't something he'd want in our relationship. TO add to that, the things that I adore him for as a friend would drive me crazy as a couple, and I would feel the need to have to do something; as a friend, it isn't my place--as a girlfriend, I feel like I'd have a say, and it wouldn't bode well.

But the biggest of all is that I'm just not attracted to him. I've always been the type to look at intellect, humor, passion... and he has all of these things, to the max. I'm just not attracted to him for some reason. Attraction shouldn't be the only thing to base a relationship on, but it is definitely something that has to be there on both sides. And I don't even want to explore something that I know would just end up ruining one of the few good intellectual relationships I have.

I told him that I appreciated him telling me, as I lack in the boy confidence department, that I was really sorry and it meant a lot. He said he had to go on a walk.

I feel bad, especially since I've complained to him before about certain boys and them never noticing me... But, in my head, he's a man who loves men. He's one of my best friends that passing bodily gas around is considered a competition. He's always been there for me.

I just hope that it wasn't all because he thought of me as a prospect for coupling. And if he did, I hope that he at least knows that everything I've done and will do is for the sake of friendship and nothing else. The worst thing is giving the wrong idea.

On the selfish note, freaking A!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Is there a reason why any boy I want isn't lining up?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!??!?!?!

At least there'll be a good amount of time until I come home.

In addition to new things on the 'nets, I've become a part of the 43 Things community. I'm kind of stoked to see how it will all come out, as I've placed things that will take time on it (i.e. raise the money... I have a lot of traveling and buying consoles).

I also have a lot of things that I probably won't be able to cross off until I've done them for over a year (i.e. 'Do yoga every day,' 'run three times a week,' 'write in my blog every day,' and so forth...).

I also have the simple (i.e. Bungee jump, finish crocheting blankets, crochet/knit hats, beat God of War II on Titan Mode...).

And the impossible (i.e. Meet a celebrity on my top ten list, laugh in the face of danger).

But it's nice to write them down. Every time you add something, it shows how many people also have that same goal, so you know you're not alone. While I'm the only person who wants to write for a gaming magazine, there are 19,862 who want to stop procrastinating like me. You get to have up to 43 things you want to do, but then you cross them off as you do them and add more.

I'm excited to see what will become of it.

Random Fact: Almonds are members of the peach family.

Is This A Slinky?

What is it that causes us to really think about beauty? What initially caused us to look at someone and see something that pleases the eye? How do we place attractiveness?

Obviously, it can easily be placed on society--they make it so by having magazines, movies, novels, TV shows... But I know some people who find some of the most unimaginable people.

Personality can always play a part. For the life of me, I can't understand why there are so many people who are in love with Professor Snape from Harry Potter (given, I adore the actor who plays him, but the character himself? Wow.). Especially the descriptions given from the novel. Yet there's some odd cult following towards loving him.

I do love the obscure. Quirky, interesting habits tend to arouse my attention.

But sense of style goes so differently.

I see students who go around wearing clothes that haven't been washed for two months and students who wear freshly washed clothes that look like they haven't been washed for two months. Ripped jeans from a slide into first and brand new pants that have perfectly formed holes that a machine made with precision.

Fashions Made Only By Opinions:
Smoker (it's cool!)
Drinker (it's cool!)
Videogamer (it's nerdy!)
Poet (I'm a starved artist!)
Painter (I'm a starved artist!)
Gothic (I hate the world!)
Emo (The world hates me!)
Otaku (I wish I were Japanese!)

It's odd to put names to things because it suddenly makes it sound really bad to be apart of any group. Yet I find each one to have something alluring about it and I'm a little envious to what they're capable of. And it's scary to see how easily we're able to place people within those groups.

I was once told by my mother to stop hanging out with a certain someone in junior high because of the way they dressed and the possibility of them smoking and getting into trouble. I said that I wasn't doing anything (we have a good trust between each other) so there wasn't much to worry about. She said that she wasn't worried about me doing things, but the fact that being associated with that person would cause others to think that I was doing exactly what that person was doing.

I still don't get what the whole hype of pleasing complete strangers. If I don't know them, who cares? If I do know them, they know who I am and that I don't do the things that person is doing.

Still, when I walk into a store for shopping, I have ideas of what I want to buy. I won't buy the shirt that has large print, flowers or shows off voluptuous curves but rather a black tank-top, black hoodie or cute Invader Zim shirt. Getting something "girly", as people so well put it, is a kinda tough part for me, if only because I like the image I portray (or at least what I hope to): Simplistic, odd and one of a kind.

And who doesn't want that? A one of a kind look? Sure, some are going for a certain look (Jessica Simpson, Micheal Jordan, Christina Aguilera), but to change it in some way to make it a memorable fashion, that it's theirs (in the seventh grade, I was the biggest tomboy around, baggy jeans, baggy shirts and I wore every necklace I owned at the same time. I now shake my head at those pictures.).

Of course, most of this is just speculation, a way for my mind to make a continuous round-about as to why people do the certain things they do. I'm sure there's some scientistic term and answer for it all. I'm just too lazy to really figure it out.

Random Fact: They have a toilet paper encyclopedia. If you give some information, and they publish it in their ongoing encyclopedia, you get a free pack of toilet paper and your name as the author. They also place strategic puns throughout their entire site. Toilet Paper World