Silly with heart.
Oh it’s the weekend!! Huzzah!! HUZZAH!! No more feasting and crazy people running around the store freaking about the size of their turkeys. Just quiet. A fresh breath of air before all the students come back and the crazy comes back 
I hope y’all had a nice holiday.
Oh gosh, four years ago, I fell in love. Not your school girl “I looooove him” infatuation. I fell hard. I saw us growing old together. I saw children. I saw a little house and christmas time with sweaters. That kind of falling in love. Then, I got really sick. And he was my best friend and he was almost there for me when I needed him.But not really. So about a year after I recovered from being sick I realized that I did everything for him, and he never did anything for me in return, except show up. And sometimes, he wouldn’t show up. Heartbroken, I said I needed some space. A break. Just to clear my head. Because you see, we weren’t in a “official” relationship. We were just friends, and he would say that to me if I tried to get too close, but he shared every thought and feeling he ever had with me. He would lead me on…He would talk about being incapable of love. Like I was his therapist. I couldn’t be his therapist so I said “If we’re just going to be friends, I need space” A month later, he met a nurse while visiting his friend in the hospital.
And I didn’t hear from him again for months. Years. Until he got a new, better job. then he emailed me. Then he texted me happy birthday from him, his girlfriend, and their dog. Then he emailed me when they bought a house. And he texted to announce their engagement just a few days ago. Clearly not incapable of love.
I had deleted his number. I had deleted his email. But he keeps contacting me. He has moved on with his life, why does he keep showing it off to me? He was never interested in me, he never cared and he still doesn’t. Why does he do this?
I don’t respond. i have nothing to say about it. Even if I wanted to say something, what could I say? I don’t want him anymore. I wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole. I don’t wish harm to him, I just want to forget about him. I want him to move to the other side of the country. Maybe move to Europe. An ocean’s distance is far enough.
I feel defensive of my own life. I may not be in the best physical shape. I may not be a big cheese. I may not be dating, let alone engaged. But I’m great at my job. I have a family that loves me. I’m glad to be here, in this point of life. I look forward to the future. but I still would like to SLAP him. But I view it as this: I know the kind of man I’m looking for now. And someday, I’ll be ready to start looking for him.
Yesterday I was in the car when I spotted a couple riding a bicycle. He was peddling and she was standing on those little bars you can attach to the back wheels with her hands on his shoulders when as they glide by traffic, she raises her hand and casually smokes a cigarette as he is peddling, peddling, peddling.
It was such an image. You can figure out that relationship pretty well by that scene.
A while ago, I made a pumpkin roll and was going to post the recipe. Then I decided to post about silly things and some mopey self-pitying. Completely forgot about recipes!!
I’ll try to cook or bake something new every week, and I’ll let you know how it turns out Today I’m going to try out pulled pork. Hopefully it turns out okay. I couldn’t find the right kind of pork rub, but hopefully the kind I bought is okay dokay.
I love weekends
Hugs are really incredible, aren’t they? I mean, welcome hugs are incredible. Unwelcome hugs are like having an oily pot of grease dumped all over you. But welcome hugs are wonderful.
I really believe hugs release those happy things in your brain. Like saying “Ah yes, we’re going to be just fine! All is well!” A hug says all is well.
Have you gone without hugs for a long time? They feel weird, almost painfully uncomfortable. Going without hugs is like not sleeping. Finally when you get to sleep, you’re so exhausted that you have trouble falling asleep. I think that’s what the first hug after not having hugs is like. Then there’s something in the brain that says “Oh good, we’re going to have hugs? When are we hugging again?”
Hugs are pretty great.
I couldn’t sleep one night, and found my inner 8 year old yakking at me about ponies. Unable to explain myself to her, my 13 year old self decided to step in for me. While the 8 year old was trying to figure out a response, I fell asleep and dreamed about bears with big bow ties and british accents.
Dear Older Me,
It’s me, your 8 year old self. After having a glimpse at our life at 29, I have some stuff to say.
First, where are all the ponies? I thought I would have a stable of ponies by now. Why are you going to this job everyday? We should be married to some rich guy who cooks and have a stable of ponies that we ride in our ball gowns all day! Where are the ball gowns? We should have dozens of teal and pink gowns with gems and diamonds.
Love,
8 Year Old Me
Dear 8 year old me,
Hi. This is 13 year old me writing back for 29 year old me. Um. We totally don’t want ponies anymore. We took horseriding lessons so we could be cool like Saddle Club, but then we got car sick from the long drive and the horses were HUGE, stinky and poop ALL the time. We got pretty good at jumping and trotting, but a girl can only take so much of being carsick and then hopping onto a smelly horse and just barely missing falling into its poop after NEVER learning to canter properly because the horse was the most stupid smelly poopy thing ever. We decided to stick to drawing horses and now would like to simply read a nice book and make googly eyes at the boy who sits three rows to the left of us in English.
Love
Your 13 year old self
I celebrated my birthday a day early with my family. It was a wonderful time, the cake was amazing, I got nice presents and everyone was in a good mood. It was an awesome birthday.
Then I saw the pictures in the digital camera. And I saw my second chin. And my bingo arms. I was so shocked as I flipped through the pictures. One after one, I looked really fat. I thought “That can’t be me” I’ve lost an inch around my waist! I’m working out! I’m not that fat.
I am that fat. Realization washes over me, and I’m still numb with surprise and disappointment. What’s more not only am I fat, but that part in my hairline that falls out when I’m under chronic stress is evident in the pictures as well. A quarter size half circle where my hair parts. I have dark circles under my eyes. I look hassled, even in the pictures where I’m laughing.
I have to write it down, I have to say it. I never want to look like this for my birthday ever again. Not one birthday. Not one. I don’t want to be so fat, that I have two chins and bingo arms. I never want to be so stressed that even with makeup on, I look ill.
I am grateful for my family making my birthday so special. I had a lot of fun! It was a wonderful day. But I also realize that I really need to stop whining and wishing and do something about taking care of myself so that I don’t end up dying of a stroke or heart attack before I’m 40. I owe it to myself, and if that’s not motivation enough, I owe it to the people who love me enough to celebrate my birthday, right?
I feel like I’m really pathetic right now. I’m going to get a good night’s sleep, and then just begin tomorrow with determination.
Tomorrow will be better.
**Morning Update***
Tomorrow IS better! I lost 3 pounds and two inches off my waist. So, my efforts are working. It’s working. I just need to keep up the effort and kick butt. So I just wanted to say that I’m not going to feel sorry for myself anymore. I’m going to take more time to take care of me, and keep doing what I’m doing because it really IS working.
Sighs of relief.
The last few posts I have tried haven’t published, even thought I’ve clicked “Publish.” It is vexing. Hopefully this one works.
NaNoWriMo has been unsuccessful. I will not give up. I have trouble sitting in front of my desk top writing for hours and hours and hours. My bum gets a little numb after a while. Numb bum. I giggle everytime.
So I’m going to try writing some of it by hand. Not all of it, but some of it. Just to really get some of this stuff down. I can carry my notebook with me and just start writing anytime. So far that is working better than anything else.
This morning, I had a cool moment. I picked up this bright pink binder with flowers from my office shelf and thought “this will be a good binder for NaNoWriMo, and as I’m putting the blank sheets in, I vividly remember being in Elementary school and putting blank note paper in a Lisa Frank Unicorn Binder to write a story that was nothing more than a cheap imitation of Beauty and the Beast (since I was only in elementary school, it was adorable, not sad)
How funny it is that twenty years later I’m doing the exact same thing. I felt like I was in two places and two different times at once. Kinda like a giant bell that vibrates when it’s ringing.
I don’t know about you, but when I was a young, I wanted to be a unicorn SO badly. A unicorn just like the Lisa Frank ones on my binder. I just thought it would be awesome to be a unicorn, just running around and being all magical…
Do you ever wonder what your 8 year old self would think about your now self?
I’ve written a few post drafts. But my thoughts won’t stick, or by the time I finish writing, it doesn’t really seem to matter to me enough to post it and have you read and comment on it.
There are a lot of tough choices that I have to make in the next couple of days. And there are some hard things that will happen no matter what I decide.
We move too fast. We hurry to here, and there and what do we do? We are impatiently waiting for the next thing. We hurry to get to a place and we have no idea where that actually is. We have mile markers of success and achievement, but at what point have we arrived? At what point do we settle down and say “This is a good place to stop. I think I’ll stay here.”
There’s nothing wrong with ambition. Or not knowing where you’re going. But lately, I feel so caught up in the need to keep moving, to hurry up in the line that I’ve forgotten what I’m so impatiently waiting for in the first place. I need more time. I want to slow down.
I do know this: Tomorrow is National Vanilla Cupcake Day. I am making cupcakes
Is it me, or has this week winked by? I feel like it is totally zipping past me.
I have made little progress actually writing my novel for NaNoWriMo this week. I have finally come up with a plot though, and it is much more simple and fun than the convoluted mess that I was moping about before. Armed with intention, I am sure to succeed.
When you are drawing or painting, you go from general to specific. General shapes and form and motion, then adding layers of more specific details until you have your finished product. In counseling, you follow a basic model of counseling skills, add a theory or model to work from and then tweak it to meet that client’s specific needs. So I took the basic plot structure, and then started adding the details. Who is the main character? What is the problem? What is the complications? After a day of note taking, I finally have a plot. Now it’s time for a writing frenzy and see what else pops up as a result. My professor used to say “Work with intention, and you will be more effective”.
I think it’s funny that he always used the word “effective” rather than “good, better, bad”. He never said “this is good” he would say “This is effective” I sometimes sit and think about the word “effective”. I find myself saying “effective” as well. Usually in regards to helping people, or developing community. I discuss how effective my staff can be at developing community if they are rude. How effective are they to helping others if they cannot help themselves? But I don’t think you can say how effective something is without knowing the intention. Practice with intention to be effective. Very specific words lacking values of good and bad.
My intent now is to nap. zzzzzzz…..
