Not the Destination: Part I

I am a collection of experiences. This is life, right? Not the destination, but the journey. I have the strangest memories. Nobody has memories like mine. Of course not. Memories are unique. Every person’s memory of the exact same event will be different. Perception.

I wish there was some way of comparing my childhood memories with those of my younger brother. We have led such completely different lives -- especially in the fifteen years since the divorce (has it been that long? longer?), but even before.

I have memories of hospitals and physical therapies and children who I somehow knew were dying even though I probably didn’t even yet know what death was. There were clowns there. I remember the clowns. And the nurses. But the doctors and my parents aren’t much more than a blur. There was a toy box, too. When you went back for check-ups, you got to pick a toy from the box. I once picked the pink elephant from Carebears. I loved it. I cried once for it, because it wasn’t there when it was time for bed. I think my dad went and got it for me, but I’m not sure. I mostly remember the crying.

I also have a stuffed beagle that I have had since … forever? Her name is Muffin. She has been in storage for a year with most of the rest of my belongings. Sometimes, I wonder if she thinks this means I love her less. I just don’t want to lose her.

I remember the first time my dad taught me to say “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” It didn’t make the words hurt any less. It never, ever did. But thanks for trying, Dad.

I had friends in first grade at Wild Peach Elementary. I still remember all of their names and faces. But we were only friends at school. We did not have playdates or sleepovers. And I didn’t really have friends after that for a long time.

I remember that time, in second grade, when my mom “accidentally” baked my hamster by leaving it outside in an aquarium while she cleaned its cage. I have never been convinced that it was an accident. That hamster was vicious.

I also remember, many years later, how she killed my pet iguana by unplugging its heat source. She eventually owned up to that one. I really liked that iguana. Strangely, she didn’t object to the obscene number of pet turtles I was keeping.

I remember playing ball with my dad and little brother once. I hit the ball really far and my dad was surprised and kind of proud. He made a big deal out of it, anyway. I wasn’t that horrible at sports. I just got nervous around the other kids. Because kids are so cruel.

I am a collection of my experiences. This is my journey.

Do ice cream trucks still exist?

In keeping with the theme of belatedly posting content, the following post was created 02/26/11.

I am sharing my boyfriend with his children this weekend. What this actually means is that I get to spend a lot of time “cleaning” the house while he is at his mother’s with his kids. They haven’t met me yet. It is, in my opinion, too early – especially considering that his wife doesn’t yet know he’s seeing anyone. Sometimes, I think I am the one guiding this whole process. I am an expert at divorce, despite never having been married. Thank you, Mom, for these small gifts.

I am not complaining, mind you. Time alone in the house gives me time to vegetate, and also time to do all those little nitpicky chores that he won’t ever notice, but that I certainly will. Things like cleaning the outside of all the doors, because a door is a first impression and I don’t want people thinking that the inside of my home will be icky before I even open it to allow them in. Though this house has a long way to go before I will willingly allow people inside.

It also gives me time to get used to the sounds the house makes. I will never understand that – how all houses have their own creaks and groans and random bangings. Sometimes, these things further convince me that this place is haunted. They certainly further convince The Boy that this place is haunted. But that is still a story for another time.

I’m also acclimating myself to the sounds of the neighborhood. It’s relatively quiet here, even though the “ghetto” is just a hopskipjump away. We are technically in the narrow margin between the “wrong side” of the tracks and the “right side.” It’s not a bad neighborhood. I rarely see the neighbors and never hear them, unless one of them is mowing the lawn. Someone knocked on the door earlier, but it was right after The Boy left, so I chose not to answer it. Because who knows what was out there. OMG, strangers! I don’t like strangers.

Earlier, I thought I heard an ice cream truck playing the tune of Justin Bieber’s Baby. But it couldn’t be, right? Do ice cream trucks even exist anymore? Probably not. And if they did, they would have better taste in music, right? Right.

I would certainly not want any ice cream infected with Bieber Fever.

No, really, do ice cream trucks still exist? And if so, where can I find one?

I lived in a trailer park when I was a kid, and there was an ice cream truck. We could hear it coming for miles. All the little trailer park children would run screaming to our parents, begging for dollars and quarters. That ice cream truck driver was like God in our little minds. I mean, really, what beats having ice cream delivered practically right to your door? Nothing, that’s what.

That is probably my best memory of that trailer park. Mostly because I don’t remember ever seeing an ice cream truck since then.

Always armed with excuses.

I have developed a habit of writing blog posts when I’m away on the weekends and without an internet connection. Then, I’ll forget to post them when I get back. So, now, I am finally posting a series of meaningless ramblings that were written almost a week ago. This will probably end up being a running theme as my life is currently rather chaotic. The following was written 02/25/11.

Yes, yes, I know. I was supposed to be redesigning this place. Creating content. Working on becoming a “real” blogger. Or at least one who actually, you know, blogs. But you see, as usual, life got in the way.

So what’s my excuse this time? Well, I’m moving.

The thing is though, due to my inherently indecisive nature (and various other factors, but mostly that), I can’t just pack up and move like a normal person. No, I have to do this shit in stages. So, four nights a week, I still live at my mom’s and go to work and live my life as I have for the last year or so. And the other three nights a week, I live in South Louisiana with my boyfriend. All of my belongings are slowly making their way down here (furniture will be last), so I will actually “live” here before much longer, but will probably still keep my job and live with my mother four days a week for a while. Because just moving is far too much for my fragile psyche to handle.

Quit judging me. This is the way I roll.

But, hey, it’s an adventure! No, really.

I have lived in Louisiana for pretty much my entire life, though that life has been interspersed with brief stints in Texas and Arkansas and a few briefer jaunts about the country. However, South Louisiana is like a whole different planet. Seriously. If you have never been here, you have no idea. And you should totally come visit, because it is awesome, but completely different than pretty much anywhere else.

Because when I say South Louisiana, what I am telling you is that I have moved into what is pretty much the heart of Acadiana. Um, hello, what did you expect? I am dating a coonass after all. Oh, wait, you probably have no idea what that means.

Google. Or move to Louisiana. Actually, just move. Google will never properly explain the intricacies of such a thing.

I am actually supposed to be doing some more clean-up on the house we are renting, but I am lazy. And bloated and crampy. TMI? I don’t care. I’m also terribly grumpy.

I might go throw a few things in the wash and then snuggle down and watch a movie. Or read a book. But mostly likely? Yeah, there’s not going to be much “cleaning.” Good thing we’re mostly done. And that the boyfriend doesn’t really stay here much when I’m not here.

Because he thinks the house is haunted.

But that is a story for another time.

I much prefer my virtual reality.

I’ve gotten excited about a lot of things lately, but have followed through with pretty much nothing. Most notable of these things? I finally got into a Beta Event for Rift: Planes of Telara. I’ve been super excited about this game since a friend first introduced me to it when it was merely a blip on the horizon (pre-beta, obvs). It’s been in Beta since November-ish, but I haven’t been very aggressive about trying to obtain a beta invite because it went into Beta right about the time that I met the boyfriend.

So I finally got a beta invitation, and what happens? My stupid satellite internet has thwarted all plans for gameplay. The Beta Event is over tomorrow, and I still haven’t managed to get the game fully downloaded and patched. It’s a 7+GB file, so yeah. I really should have just left my laptop at a friend’s house and let the file finish downloading and patching over the course of a night. But I haven’t really had the time to go to a friend’s place and leave my computer. Nor am I willing to be parted for my baby for any period of time.

Why is it even necessary for me to leave my computer elsewhere? Obviously you are not acquainted with HughesNet and the devilish tease that they call highspeed internet*. You see, when you live in the middle of nowhere, satellite internet is your only option. And they know it. And so they do horrid things to you like implementing download allowances. So, suffice it to say that my internet would crap out completely well before this file was even 1/4 through the download.

So, yes. My inner geek is in serious pain. No Beta Event for me. But I won’t stop trying. I need Rift in my life.

What did I do today?

Work. Oh, and completely dismantled the receiver/DVD player for our Home Theater System. A few weeks ago, it ate my brand new Inception DVD. Would NOT eject it. Would not play it. My mad google-fu produced only one solution. Take it apart. And so I did. And put it back together. Correctly, even. Yeah, I’m shocked, too. Surround sound is still on the fritz though, so we’re getting a new one anyway. Putting the stupid thing back together was kind of  waste. Not that it matters. I wanted a new one anyway. My mad google-fu also produced many negative reviews of that particular product.

What else? Nothing important.

I am carefully considering my final votes for the 20sb Bootleg Awards, and will likely be casting my votes before bed tonight. Not that it matters, but it’s fun.

I’m going to actually sit down and formulate a real post at some point. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll think about it tomorrow.

*Yes, I really do hate HughesNet that much. If you intend to do anything other than surf randomly, it’s not for you. SERIOUSLY not for you. The download allowances are kind of pitiful.

Pardon the Dust.

I’m currently working on “redesigning” How Everybody Gets Found. There will be clutter and brokenness.

In the meantime, you may e-mail me at hilary@getting-found.com.

Time Management

The way my life has been going the last couple of months leaves very little free time for myself, which leaves me very exhausted (or maybe just overwhelmed).

I generally am home Monday thru Thursday nights, because I work Tuesday thru Friday. Because my boss is a mega-douche, I work 7AM – 3PM on three of those days. That’s not the douchey part. The douchey part is Wednesday. On Wednesday, I work 3PM to 11PM. Which means I get barely any sleep before I have to be back at work at 7AM on Thursday. Which means I usually pass out super early on Thursday evening. So, that leaves pretty much Monday and Tuesday evening for anything “productive.” Or for socializing outside my “boyfriend circle.”

My “boyfriend circle” is how I refer to the people who I actually socialize with when the boyfriend is around. These people include the fam, the bar crowd, and a few select friends. They aren’t any more or less important than those outside the circle. They’re just more “boyfriend-appropriate.” Those outside the circle? Oh, about 90% of my friends – generally geeks, gamers, and others that the boyfriend would have nothing in common with, along with a few of my guy friends.

My point being that I end up trying to squeeze the majority of my life into about two days a week, because my weekends are pretty much boyfriend-exclusive no matter which part of the state we’re in. It’s a new relationship and we don’t see one another as often as we would like. What else might you expect?

I need better time management skills, but honestly, in my meager spare time, the last thing I want to do is manage anything. I mostly want to veg out and surf the internet while watching my pups chase each other in circles. And sometimes, that even seems like too much. Sometimes, I just want sleep.

This is not to say that I don’t get anything done. I clean and do laundry. And I bake. I bake a lot, actually. And this might even be blogworthy (especially The Weekend of 1000 Cupcakes), but I never remember to take photos or document the process or even make note of my recipe tweaks. I should do that.

So yeah, obvious need for some time management here, as much as I hate the thought. Currently, I’m waiting for the next two parts to KylaRoma’s Custom Day Planner Tutorial, because it looks like the perfect jumping off point for solving my time management woes. I’m also looking at a few other DIY planner projects around the web, because the pre-made ones just never quite seem right.

Once the planner is done, I’m going to start piecing together a recipe book, which will probably ultimately just be a 3-ring binder filled with the recipes I use most often (usually cake/cupcakes). I just haven’t found the time/energy/will to actually sit down and do it.

It’s possible that I have ADD, but that’s a story for another day.

The last crack.

This post has been brewing in the back of my mind since I re-started this blog. Something I have wanted to talk about so badly, yet haven't wanted to talk about at all. I know that makes no sense. I suppose the reason for that is that I should probably talking about it with the person who it directly concerns. Only we're not speaking. And I don't know if I want to change that. I waffled about this post. Decided I was going to post it, decided I wouldn’t, and then back again. Asked for advice, rejected the advice, reconsidered the advice.

Ultimately, it comes down to this. Some people move on and some of us ride the drama llama until it falls over dead. And while I wish I could really just move the fuck on, I am really more the second type. And so it goes.

Also, this belongs in my Thirty Days of Truth, but I don't know if I should label it "something I need to forgive myself for" or "something I need to forgive someone else for." So I'm using it as both. Because I do what I want.

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2011: My next great adventure.

I did not make a "resolution" for this new year. I set a theme. Truth. I intend for that theme to permeate my thoughts and actions through this year, and hopefully through those that follow as well. I am never as honest as I should be. Especially not with myself. (And yet, I have an oversharing problem! Odd.)

There are a lot of things I want to talk about, but firstly, why have I been MIA so often lately?

The simplest truth is that I was dating two boys. It is more complicated than that, and maybe not as bad as it sounds, but details are messy so I will just leave it simply at that.

I was dating two boys and it was taking a lot of time and effort on my part. Mostly because one of them lives over three hours away. I was tired and I was stressed and I was generally unhappy with the situation. And, of course, they were too. Or one of them was.

But I'm horrible at making decisions. Because OMG, what if I choose the wrong one?! What if this one decision sends my life hurtling into unalterable ruination?! Whatifwhatifwhatif. And so, I prolonged the agony, basically dragging myself and these men through hell. Or at least tormenting us all unnecessarily.

Eventually, we reached a point where I was seeing one of them a lot more than the other. And the one I was seeing most was the one that lived farthest away. And that pretty much said more than words could.

We were spending long weekends together. Holidays. Christmas AND New Year's Eve. He'd met my mom and grandmother. Drove me to the hospital when my grandfather was rushed to the ER with pneumonia. I'd met most of his family. This wasn't casual anymore and there was no point denying it.

And yesterday, Jailbait and I called it quits so that I can freely be with a man who may be just a little more right for me.

He's twenty-six, from South Louisiana, and in the middle of a fairly messy divorce. (Bring on the judgment if you like, but that home was wrecked long before we met. And I still had reservations about even being friends with him because he was married. Wait. Why am I trying to justify this? Yes, I am involved with a married man and that is wrong. I should be punished.) He has a gorgeous smile. I think that's what really got me.

We met at work. One tends to meet a lot of people in the hospitality industry, especially working the hours I was working at the time (seven days a week). I checked him in and was not even particularly nice to him, but the next morning he kept finding excuses to come to the lobby, and then he would find excuses to come talk to me. And in the eight days that he stayed here (he was in town for work), something developed. That was six weeks ago. We've been together at least one day a week since then - usually three or four.

He is not perfect. He is simply a good man. He has a good heart. He has the best intentions. He has not always done the smart thing or the right thing. He has made mistakes. Most importantly, he has learned from them. He has strong hands, blue eyes, and a Cajun accent. He is nothing that I thought I wanted, and maybe exactly what I need.

I am not making predictions, or even wishes. I am not shouting anything from the rooftops (though I may sometimes gush on Twitter). I am simply going with the flow. Que será, será.

But it's an adventure, this not knowing.

Happy Holidays!

I know I have been quite (in)conspicuously absent recently, but it’s been busy around here what with the holidays and the leading of a double life and all.

It is so much easier to keep my mouth shut than to bother sorting out what I should and shouldn’t say. And so I do. But that is not to last for long, because I do plan to start 2011 with a heaping plateful of truth.

But I still have a few days of 2010 left in which to enjoy secrets and lies and my busy, busy double life.

For the record, no, I have not become a secret agent. But it’s a damned shame. All of my talents are being wasted with this hotel business.

Change is coming. I can taste it on the air.

And so, I bid you happy holidays and the warmest of wishes for the new year from myself and the two furballs at my feet.

Family.

Tons of things I’ve been meaning to post about over the last couple of weeks, but I’m a procrastinator was busy. You know, with that life thing I was referring to in my previous post.

If it hasn’t been made clear from the (meager) content of this blog, I am single and without children. Human children, that is. But, for as long as I can remember, I have always had canine children – my furbabies. I find it very hard to be without a dog in the house. Almost unnatural. They are man’s best friend, after all. Woman’s too.

 

    

Meet Turbo. Turbo is my gorgeous two year old Pomeranian. I “rescued” him from my brother about a year ago, after my nephew was born. (They had three dogs in the house and it was just too much with a new baby.) He’s a bit neurotic and has some separation anxiety issues, but he is such a joy to have in my life. Very smart, and generally very calm – especially for a “toy” breed. He is very much my dog. I live with my dad, and he has very, very little to do with him or anyone else who enters the house unless I’m not here. In fact, when I’m working and my dad is home, he tends to banish himself to his crate until I do come home.

I recently decided that Turbo needs canine company, because prior to moving in here in July, Turbo had always been around other dogs. I’m sure he’s content to be the only dog in the house, but I felt that companionship might be welcome. And this was pretty lucky since he sired a litter of pups in November and the owner of the bitch was ready to start getting the pups out of her house (at only five weeks old – not the greatest idea, but that’s for another time). So last week, we welcomed home the newest addition to our family.

Meet Riot! He’s a tiny little bundle of fluff with a rapidly developing personality. He’s adorable and so fluffy that I might just die from the overwhelming cute overload!

I’m afraid he may have developmental problems and separation anxiety from being taken away from his mother and his litter so early (it is recommended that toy breeds not be separated from the mother earlier than ten weeks), but nothing has manifested yet. He whines when he’s hungry and when he wants attention. He doesn’t make much complaint about sleeping in the crate at night or when I’m not home. He’s got the makings of a good little pup.

I can’t wait to see how he grows and develops. It really is like watching a child develop as his personality emerges complete with quirks and eccentricities.

Unfortunately, Turbo is terrified of him. I’ve never seen him shy away from another dog, but he runs from Riot when he attempts to play. I’m really starting to wonder if Turbo realizes he’s actually a dog. It’s possible he thinks he’s some type of rodent. Maybe as he gets bigger, Turbo will be more comfortable with him.

Don’t give up on me.

I’ve been busy lately, and for once, it has been less about work and more about life. And changing and growing and learning and knowing and things that are new. And people that are new. Things that may be right and good, but feel wrong, so how do you really know unless you make a leap of faith?

One day, I’ll be able to tell you about these things in a less vague and ramble-y sort of way, but until then, you will just have to trust me when I say that I am embarking on my next great adventure and it is so good.

I’m starting to get regular days off at work again and am slowly rediscovering my social life. And my love of Crown Royal. (Stop judging. I earned this.) I just spent two days indulging in sloth and fun and alcohol and fantastic food that I did not have to cook or clean up.  I can’t say more than that right now, and it pains me.

Why all the “secrecy”? Really not much of a secret. Pretty much everyone knows who I was with and where I was and what went down, but I find that dwelling on things too much tends to jinx them. So, this is officially a No Dwelling Zone. For the time being anyway.

Besides, I have a lot to figure out and someone’s going to get hurt, but at least all involved are aware of the potential for intense emotional trauma. So nobody can say that they weren’t warned or were caught unawares or any of that nonsense.

If there’s one thing I can say about myself, it’s that my Crazy is always on prominent display. So no one can blame me when they end up embroiled in drama and intense emotional turmoil. Or they can. But they’ll just look stupid. Because, hello? You were fucking warned.

Downtime.

Finally! I got two consecutive days off. Shocker, I know. This, unfortunately, has not lead to an excess of downtime. I still have a lot of demands on my time.

I spent a few days after work visiting with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. While visiting with my brother is not always a joy, his son is such adorable perfection. It is so amazing to see his personality developing. I wish I were able to spend more time with him. I had not seen him since January and had missed many of his little developments. He crawls and talks and is nearly walking. He has a fairly extensive vocabulary for such a young tike, though some of the words he’s picked up from my brother are less than appropriate. Favorites include “ass” and “boobies.” My sister-in-law will have him fit to appear in public again soon enough, I imagine.

They left to head back to Texas on Friday, leaving all of my spare time to the boyface. Nothing very interesting to report there. Just spent time being together, watching movies, etc.

I went on a bit of a baking spree just prior to Thanksgiving. Made a batch of Black Bottom Cupcakes and some pumpkin pies. Still have much baking planned, but my ambition ran out quicker than I expected. When I bake again, I will attempt to take photos and share the recipes. I plan to do a bit of tweaking next time. Perhaps I shall bake again tonight. Perhaps not.

Just bought a new batch of soaps from Geeky Clean’s  Cyber Monday sale. Can’t wait for them to arrive. This time, I purchased the Light-Up d20, Browncoat Field Ration, Boba Feet Foot Scrub, and Scrubasaurus Rex (in T-Rex). Cannot wait to be all geeky clean!

I have some shopping to do and need to get my oil changed today, so I shall keep this short and sweet.

Give Thanks!

Happy Thanksgiving, blogosphere! I am making this short post from my phone (via Blogger-droid) while at work. I hope you are reading it from the comfort of your home while stuffed full of nummy Thanksgiving goodies.

It's been a busy week and will continue to be so until Sunday-ish. My brother and his family are in from Texas for the holiday. I hadn't seen my nephew since January. He has grown so much! He is ~ 14 months old and loves me, yay!

The boyface is also home from college for the holiday, so I'm trying to squeeze time in there when possible.

Perhaps more Truths later this evening, or perhaps I'll regale you with tales of my recent baking adventures. Or maybe I'll just ignore you to have more adventures!

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Exhausted.

No, no. I have not abandoned this blog just yet. I just had no time this weekend, between work and spending time with the boyface.

The new schedule came out at work today. Everyone else is cut back to five days a week because they hired a new girl. I am still scheduled for every day between now and the 30th, and probably for a while after that. I can’t remember the last day I had off. I believe it was October 31st. So yes, so far scheduled for the full month of November. Probably for most of December as well.

They will work me to death because I will let them. I will let them because I need the money. My last paycheck was actually enough to live off of. Sad that I had to work 36 hours of overtime to make that. Minimum wage doesn’t go very far at all.

My time with the boy was good. We didn’t go to my favorite Mexican restaurant, but we did go to another Mexican place with his brother last night. It was nice. Never seems like we have enough time together, but he’ll be back on Wednesday for Thanksgiving break, so yay!

I can’t form coherent thought processes, so I believe I’ll call it a night.

Truth: Something people seem to compliment you the most on.

On my 30 Days of Truth page, I warned that I would not be doing these in order. True to my word, I am starting with day eleven. Something people seem to compliment you on most.

This one is easy. I receive the most compliments on my hair. It’s also probably the easiest thing for me to accept compliments on. My hair is pretty fabulous.

I have always been complimented on my hair, even when it was natural. It is long and thick and full of body. I can do practically anything with it, with a little effort. It is never lifeless or unyielding despite the dying and bleaching, despite how I try to flatten the life out of it most days. My hair rarely lets me down.

In the last several years since I’ve been dying it various shades of red, I’ve received even more compliments on it than ever. People just love redheads, even when they know it’s from a bottle. It’s actually been red on top, black underneath for the past year or two, and in the last six months or so, I’ve added candy apple highlights. So in addition to getting compliments on the condition and length of my hair, I also get a lot of compliments on the color (which are harder to accept since they should really be complimenting the dye manufacturers).

My favorite color products? Feria by L’Oreal in Ruby Rush for all-over red. It’s fantastic, vibrant color from a box. I’ve used several other colors, and in my opinion, this one surpasses even the professional colors I’ve tried. Another that I like is L’Oreal Excellence HiColor in Intense Red, which is a slightly deeper red and has good staying power. I generally choose the Feria though. Beyond the Zone Color Jamz in Candy Apple for the highlights. I LOVE Color Jamz. Vibrant colors and the consistency of the dye makes for easy application. I have used a lot of “wilder” colored dies that were very liquidy and runny and just a mess to use. This one has more of a gel consistency and I adore it. (And yes, I do pre-lighten before using the Color Jamz. No way around that. I don’t take it all the way blonde though, just light enough for the color to take.) Any black dye will do since there’s no worry about fading.

As far as a haircare regimen goes, I have none. Shampoo and condition with whatever. I don't even have a particular brand I use. Just whatever I pick up at the store. I switch it up occasionally because my hair likes change. I rarely use any product at all, other than whatever heat protector I happen to be using (usually this or this). I'm actually pretty careless with my hair. Just blessed, really.

I mostly thought to make this post because I’m in the middle of a touch-up dye job right now, and I had not yet posted today. And now it is time to rinse and ready for bed.

Tomorrow is payday (36 hours of overtime, yay!) and I have a date with the Jailbait. We’re going to my favorite Mexican restaurant. Should be a fantastic day (minus the eight hours of it that I will be working, of course).

Finding a Niche.

If there has one thing I have noticed whilst lurking about the blogosphere, it’s this: the only “successful” bloggers, have found their niche. Be it fashion blogging, mommy blogging, photo blogging, career blogging, etc., they’ve found something that people immediately identify them with.

I’ve spent a lot of time on 20SB and clicking through links on various blogs in search of fodder for my Google Reader, and the thing I’ve noticed that many of the writers I follow have in common is that there is one thing that they are really good at writing about.

This makes me think that I will likely never be a really “successful” blogger. I am not a mommy or a fashionista or a photographer or chronicling my amazing weight loss journey. I am just your average girl flailing and floundering about out there in the Real World. And really, that’s everyone so why would anyone want to read that?

Of course, I suppose that it really depends on how you define success. If all you’re looking to do is clear your head, then I suppose it doesn’t really matter what you’re writing about.

A lot of people define success in blogging as being able to use it as a means of financial gain. While it would be utterly fantastic to be able to sit at home and pound out blatherings and get paid (or at least get free shiz), that’s not at all what I’m looking for.

I think, in the end, I want what most people want. Acceptance. Recognition. Someone to understand, relate, and maybe once in a while say, “Hey, it’s like she crawled inside my head and said it so much better than I ever could have.”

Is “flailing, floundering, semi-crazy twenty-something trying to get on with her life” actually a niche though? I think not. Maybe I should learn to bake something fancy.

Average

Today was uneventful.

Work was average. I was informed that it will probably be another two weeks before having a day off even becomes a remote possibility for me. But hey, who needs downtime anyway, right?

I am reaching the point where I am becoming something of a work-zombie. When I am not at work, I don’t want to do anything. Case in point, today. I came home, parked on the couch with my laptop, and did nothing. For the last six hours, I have barely moved more than my mouse-clicking finger. I’ve read blogs, news sites, twitter, etc. I haven’t posted much though, because that seemed efforty.

In fact, I just had an entire conversation with the Jailbait about how I was tired, but getting up to go to bed seemed efforty. But if I allowed myself to sleep on the sofa, I would just be uncomfortable. And I would probably wake up stuck to the leather sofa. That could be remedied by putting a blanket underneath me, but that would require finding a blanket. Again, efforty.

Luckily, I finally mustered the energy to sit up and make a blog post about nothing so as to not get out of the blogging habit. Otherwise, I might have jut laid there staring at the ceiling all night because getting up and going to bed would be too much effort and hey, who really needs sleep anyway?

And now that I have bored you with tales of how I am old and exhausted and whiney, I shall convince my fuzzy dog that bed is where we need to be and slowly make my way down the hall. But first, I have to convince my butt to remove itself from the sofa.

How to Lose a Guy.

As I stated previously, I am recently relationshipped. When I say “recently,” I mean “just this week.” We’ve been seeing each other/talking/feeling out the situation for a few weeks, and I’ve known him for roughly nine years though I only just “met” him as an adult in the last few months. And very recently, in a fit of what was probably sheer insanity, I said, “Okay, sure, we’ll give this an ‘official’ try.”

There are a few things you have to know about me to understand where this is going. 

Firstly, I fail at relationships. For myriad reasons. I can sabotage a relationship so fast it’ll make your head spin, if you’ll forgive the cliché. Sometimes, I know I’m doing it, and sometimes it’s subconscious, but it's generally bound to happen. I can only think of one relationship that I’ve had where the demise wasn’t mostly my fault (and we are not going there right now). 

Secondly, I am a serial monogamist-turned-commitment phobic. From the time I was sixteen until I was twenty-one, there was a string of unhealthy failed “relationships.” The relationship that ended in 2006 left me devastated and it took a year for me to get back on the horse. Unfortunately, I picked a downright psychotic horse to get back on and seven months later was thankfully back to singledom. 

My last “real” foray into relationship-land ended in mid-2008 (with the exception of a minor foray back into the 2006 relationship that landed me in utter devastation to begin with during the summer of 2009).  I spent the majority of the months between December 2008 and February 2010 hiding behind an unhealthy friends-with-benefits situation, followed by a couple of failed attempts at handling long distance romance. 

There is a lot of “not ready to talk about that yet” here, but those are the basics.

Now, I am actually attempting to have a real, live relationship with a real, live boy, with real, live feelings. And I am completely terrified. The potential for me to totally destroy this kid emotionally is significant. And I can’t discount that possibility because I am apparently really good at screwing people up. And sometimes, I can’t control that ability. It’s like a really horrible, backwards super power. Just call me Heartbreak Girl.

I find myself not ready to really tell people that we are in a relationship. Maybe because it’s too new, maybe because I think it’s doomed to fail. I don’t know. I just find myself using the phrases “just friends” and “I’m not sure yet” when I’ve already told him (and a few others who are close to me/us) that I’m going to try. 

Will my doubts be a self-fulfilling prophecy? Is this the quickest way to lose a guy? I could so use a Magic 8 Ball right now.

November.

This is my absolute favorite month. For a long time, I wasn’t sure why. 

I sometimes attributed it to the weather turning cooler (November in Louisiana is the beginning of Not Summer). I hate to be cold, but I love dressing for cooler weather. Sweaters, and tights, and hoodies – Oh my! And it is so time to start busting out the cool-weather wear. The temperature has already dipped into the 30’s a few times!

Maybe it has something to do with another year of my life being half over. Though as I get older, that’s not necessarily something I look forward to or celebrate.

But this year, I realized there is one reason in particular that I have loved this month in recent years. 

No Shave November!

So many men “celebrating” this month by tossing their razors aside. So many sexy, bearded, lumberjack-esque men! I love facial hair on a man. Beards are, in my opinion, the sexiest thing EVER. (Moustaches, not so much. Moustaches are icky and pedo-esque. Unless you’re the epically mustachioed Tom Selleck. Or my dad. My dad looks good with a moustache. But that may be because I’m used to seeing him with one. Tangent! Back to my point.) My love for the beard is all consuming.

It has actually been hypothesized that I am only attracted to the man child I am currently dating because he grew a beard after high school. And I can’t technically deny those allegations, as the first time I saw him after that, my first reaction was, “OMG! HOT! WANT! *DROOLDROOLDROOL*.” But I hadn’t seen him in something like six years, so who’s to really say how I’d have felt if the beard hadn’t been present?

Just this morning, the Jailbait texted me to inform me that his beard trimmer had been tampered with and, as a result, he is significantly less bearded than he has been. His reaction to this? “Oh god, she’s gonna leave me!” My reaction? Rage! And when I find out who is responsible for this treachery, they will be punished.

No, seriously, I wouldn’t leave him if he suddenly became un-bearded. I don’t think. I’m not that shallow. Maybe. I’d prefer we not test this though. 

So, to all the gentlemen out there who are participating in No Shave November, I thank you, from the bottom of my little beard-loving heart. 

And to all you ladies out there who are unfathomably complaining that your man is participating in No Shave November: what the hell is wrong with you?!

I’m back.

For real this time, maybe? I don’t know. 

I feel the urge to blog, as opposed to just “journaling.” To me, there is a distinction. I tend to get much more personal and mundane in journaling, and I keep those monotonous ramblings confined to LiveJournal. There, I get whiney and deeply intimate with my ramblings. When “blogging,” I always want to be more objective about the goings-on of my daily life. And I feel the urge to be more meaningful. Which is probably why I keep abandoning this blogging attempt. Because I fail at being meaningful. 

So much has changed in the past year, and so little at the same time. 

My foray into finding employment in Texas did not work out and so I returned to Louisiana and minimum wage mediocrity. I work as a desk clerk at a mediocre motel chain. Work myself practically to death, actually. For nearly the last six months, I’ve been racking up overtime – generally only having one day off every two to three weeks. It is good financially, as I barely break even, even with the extra hours. Physically and psychologically? Exhausting. It is not a hard job, really, but it does tend to be stressful. Especially recently. Especially when most of my coworkers are burned out, despite the fact that they actually have days off. I just don’t have it in me to not care. I wish I did.

I am recently not single. My first “official” relationship in over two years. My first attempt in two years at a real emotional connection with someone who lives less than six hours away. I had forgotten what this was like. And I had forgotten that I am terrified of commitment. I am trying to work around it. It’s hard though. Made harder still by circumstances. I am dating a boy who is five years my junior. A boy who is the younger brother of my very first boyfriend (though we have in recent months “voided” that relationship on the grounds that it was so long ago). It is even more complicated than I will bother relaying in graphic detail at this time. 

COMPLICATED. Why must everything be so? Eh. C’est la vie, right?

I have plans for this blog this time around. Plans to actually SAY something or do something or just put myself out there. I’ve updated my 20SB account, in hopes of becoming more active there. I should be more social online, considering the amount of time that I spend attached to my computer, phone, etc. I am always plugged-in. Sometimes I think it would be nice to unplug, disengage, for a while, but really, what a lonely life that would be.

I am tired, and while it is not quite late, I think I shall turn in for now. But this is a step, and later there will be another, and perhaps shortly this blog and I shall be strolling along together hand-in-hand.