Life These Days

So right now I kind of feel as though I’m living there. From one day to the next, I can’t seem to figure out me. My latest, well, whatever he is, I don’t even know, can’t even seem to even commit to a phone conversation. Text Message is as far as we’ve gotten in oh, 4 WEEKS. Seriously?!

Plus, my good friend D and I are planning a trip up to the town where this guy and his best friend (awkwardly D’s ex-boyfriend) both live. We thought we’d go to a pro football game while there, and initially the guys seemed interested in joining us. But before we purchase 4 $100 tickets, we wanted to confirm their attendance. And what do they do? Go radio silent. Noooo text message responses to my inquiries. What, are they waiting to conspire? To make sure they are both going and D and I aren’t a bunch of loonies?

And we’re getting down to the purchase deadline here, so a normal person would say, “Ya know what? I’ll just call him.” But I CAN’T call him. Somehow he’s managed to set a no phone precedent. I tried bringing up the idea of talking on the phone over a week ago and once again he went radio silent. Essentially for 2 whole days.

Men, seriously, what is WRONG with you. Some women may like the game but I’m not one of them.

Am I living in fantasyland thinking this is going to work out? I just want ONE opportunity to spend with him in person again. To see where we’re at. This isn’t some crazy stalker moment, I’m trying to evaluate if we have any interest to move forward with.

Blech.

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I can’t even explain how stressed out I am right now. My company was recently bought out, and one of my co-workers voluntarily left, leaving us short-handed and with double the workload even BEFORE he left.

So work is generally miserable, but that’s not even getting to me. It’s men. Complicated men. Men, the gender I’ve mostly written off for the past 2 3/4 years because, why not? Coming out of a tumultuous 5.5 year relationship (4.5 years of which I was engaged), I couldn’t wait to be single and just be me. I treated myself by buying my first house the moment my ex moved out of our apartment. How much more independent can you get? Meanwhile, over the last year I’ve built up a lot of close friendships.

For the past almost 6 years I didn’t have my own friends, and it feels amazing to know these people legitimately like me for me, without regard to who I’m dating.

Then enter men. My friend wanted to set me up, and although I was unequivocally content in my singledom, I let her do it. It wasn’t a love at first site sort of thing, but we stayed in contact via text message for over 2 weeks and just spent that time getting to know each other. We have so much in common, similar political beliefs, similar views of our immediate families and the families we want to have in the future. There was a lot that meshed. But . . . in the end I don’t think it will work out. I actually feel a little bit like I got rejected via text message.

And I feel like SUCH a girl for caring, and I don’t mean that positively. I am not one of those people who obsesses about men and overanalyzes every little thing they do. I’m not a game player. I’m not the jealous type. I just want to find someone I connect with. Who is more similar to me than he is different.

You know that whole “opposites attract” adage?  It’s BS.  I dated the opposite of me. We connected for a while at the very beginning, but soon we realized that what we had in common was SEVERELY outweighed by what we DIDN’T have in common. Which was basically everything. So we fought. And fought. And fought. Did I mention we fought?  It was a miserable time. There were periodic bright spots, but I think you could ask either of us and we’d both say we should have broken up long before we did. And don’t judge, but it was because of the dogs. Well, that’s at least why I stayed.  I mean, the guy slept on the couch for 9 months before we split. The writing could NOT have been more on the wall.

But now this new guy leaves me confused and questioning myself. Have I become one of “those” girls? Either the girl who cares to much or the one who over analyzes? I’m 30 years old and not getting any younger. And it’s not like I was on the prowl. I’m fine with singledom, though I admit it would be nice to come home some evenings and have someone to snuggle up to and take my mind off my cares.

Blech. I’m being so ridiculous I know. And I apologize for the random rantings that are this post.

Meanwhile, I did personal training tonight, took my dog for a walk, then went to my friend’s first Zumba class. She did great leading it.

Maybe if I can physically get myself back together I’ll be more confident. It’s crazy, I’ve heard from multiple girl friends that they think my confidence is intimidating (though they mostly say to other girls). Are you kidding me???!!  My best friend since high school told me she wouldn’t introduce her husband to me until after the wedding and that I’d have to wear a face-hiding head scarf in the wedding so he couldn’t see me.

And trust me, I’m not fishing for compliments. I have my moments. I have some sense of style, I look decent with makeup, I have big breasts, know how to style my hair, am fairly proportional, BUT I’m also chubby (chubbier than I ever have been in my life which is so frustrating . . . .).  My chubbiness has taken over my self confidence, so whatever they see is likely brovado.

It’s funny, in college when I had issues with men I was 70lbs lighter than I am now. So what man is going to want me at this point?! Hence the rejection via text message.

Ugh, just pour me that glass of wine and let’s call it a night. Thursday, I hope when I wake up to you tomorrow morning you’re kinder to me than my recent lovers. Oh, wait, that would be NONE.

Good night

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It’s been over a year since I’ve written on this blog, and yet I’m writing tonight with no particular purpose in mind other than that I felt like it.

In college I became very into journal writing and never let more than 2-3 days slip between entries (although most were daily).  My four years at the university are summarized in a whopping 14 different journals, and I still get a thrill out of rereading them. I feel like I’m eavesdropping on someone else’s personal thoughts. They hardly seem like mine anymore as those words were transcribed anywhere from 8-12 years ago.  Yet the memories they bring to mind are still so fresh.

Unfortunately post-college the consistency with which I wrote began to deteriorate. I blame it on a number of factors. Busy with work, adapting to a new environment during a new phase of my life, and living in an unharmonious relationship with a partner I never seemed to agree with.  I found that the memories I was making really weren’t any memories I’d want to relive at a later moment.  The few entries I made during that time bring tears to my eyes when I reread them. They’re full of sadness and anguish. It was at that time of my life that I first discovered “hate” as an emotion, and it’s not something I like to be reminded of.

But now I’m in a new, although somewhat settled in, phase of my life. Two and a half years ago my fiance and I split, and though we still keep in touch here and there, striking it out on my own was the best thing I ever did for me.

Moving out of the apartment we’d shared for more than 5 years, I decided to make a big leap. Instead of sharing an apartment payment with my significant other, I decided to foot a much more substantial mortgage payment all on my own. It was the best thing I ever did.

So now I live alone, keep my own hours, report to no one, and am just now beginning to journal again. It’s difficult to get back into it. Partly because my life doesn’t seem nearly as exciting as the years wrapped up in that 14 volume archive. But living in the past never helped anyone progress toward their future.

I’ve also debated opening up a much more personal side of myself in my blog. I’m not an exhibitionist by any means (my journals have never met with another individuals eyes, although I’ve shared pieces of some entries with my dearest friends), but there seems to be something so freeing about the idea of sharing my thoughts with the world.

In all honesty, it’s unlikely anyone will ever read them. And in fact, WERE anyone to ever read them, I’d prefer they were strangers. I’ve been a singer my entire life and I would much rather perform on a stage in front of 500 strangers than in a small room with 10 of my closest friends. To much room for judgement, I suppose.

So, I guess that leaves me here. I apologize for my rambling. Or maybe I don’t. It’s a part of me. Ask anyone who knows me. And as this site is meant to be an extension of my thoughts, perhaps my ramblings are the most appropriate words to fill the page.

Hopefully over time I’ll fill this “online journal” with more compelling and intellectually stimulating ideas and discussions. But then again, maybe I won’t. It’s all about where life takes me.

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That’s exactly what I’m having. One of those days, perhaps weeks, when everything seems to go wrong. The hardest part is that there isn’t really anyone I can talk to about it. Not even sure if it’s worth complaining about. It just seemed for so long that everything was going right, but that I was waiting for the shoe to drop. And it kind of feels like it has now.

The root of my problem is my inability to confront people or show them my worth. I’m so worried about either overselling myself, or making others feel like they’re inferior.

Think of it like this. In an interview, I have no problem detailing my strong points, elaborating on everything I’ve done right in my career and selling myself as the answer to the business’s current problem. It’s when I get offered the job that I have the problem.

You see, that’s when the salary negotiations start. Then I’m actually selling my abilities for a price. And I always feel like, “Who am I to tell you how much you think I’m worth?” If I try to negotiate for more money or better benefits, I feel like I come off as greedy. And who would want to hire someone who’s only in it for the money?!

You, like a lot of my friends and family, may say that’s the point of capitalism and of having a career. Few people truly believe in the work they do. I know I don’t (at the moment). So why should I feel guilty for trading my time and effort for money?

There is no reason other than I may have some “I have to please everybody” psychosis.

Ugh. Just one of those days.

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Today I received a letter from the U.S. Census Bureau. Upon opening, I realized it wasn’t the actual census, but a letter informing me the census would arrive in approximately a week and that I should complete it and return it when I did.  Seems like a waste of postage, but that’s government for you.

I have to say, I’m actually excited about filling out the census. I feel like I’ll be putting my mark on history, no matter how small a contribution it may be. How do you feel? Will you take the time to complete it?

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