Nineteen.
There's a small problem I'm becoming more and more aware of.
My life from ages 19-22 is a big blur.
Maybe that just goes with the territory of an up and down, on and off, almost 3 year relationship where you're busy figuring out who you are, busy growing up, while making that fit with someone else.
I was 19 when I met him. It was during what I now affectionately refer to as the "lost year". I was tired, and scared, and stressed. I met him when I needed a bright spot in my life--when I needed someone who could make me smile.
He made me smile. He made me laugh, I was perfect. He was perfect. There are a dozen snapshots I carry around in my head of that time, funny memories, sweet ones, special ones.
Then something changed. I turned 20. I got a little bit older, a little bit wiser, a little bit more mature. But somehow, the good parts didn't keep up with me, and things got a little bit worse. We fought, we were stubborn, we let things slip away because neither of us would bend. There were other factors, some that I'm not proud of. And then he decided it was time to let go. And he did.
Except that it didn't stick, and a month later, we were back to 19. A little more scarred, a little more cautious, but back where we had been--or as close as we could get. And it worked, for a little while. Until things went south as quickly as anything could possibly go south. Reprecussions from that time lasted for a year. Things were yelled, feelings were crushed, and a 4-month silence hovered.
Then he called. And slowly, gradually, things repaired themselves. We were more cautious this time. I had other things on the horizon. I met someone new, and for a minute, I was done. Then that ended. He was the first person I called, for reassurance, for comfort, for consistency. Because by then, that's what we were for the other--something constant. Dependable.
And we slid back into our same cycle. Nothing stands out much from that point onward--it's a general haze of what happened, but I can't pinpoint any exact moments the way that I could before. Weekends, random weeknight trips, fights, hugs, tears. It all fades into a year's time.
Then summer came again, and we took a new direction. I began to lift myself out of the fog, began to see the problems, the reasons not to bury my head in the sand again. I spent that summer trying to ignore them. Fall came, and I finally had to admit to myself that things had stalled, that things had failed to change, that things were truly over. And it hurt, and it was hard, and there were more fights and more tears and more periods of silence.
In the end, it was our consistency that was the problem.
In the time that he knew me, I had 3 birthdays. I changed majors. I had my first legal drink. I voted in a Presidential election for the second time. I made new friends, kept old ones, and left some behind. I grew up during all of that--I left some characteristics that weren't favorable behind. I matured. I became painfully level-headed when I had previously been prone to overreacting.
But in his eyes, I was 19. Even at age 22, I was 19. I was still naive. I still needed him. I was still his "little one". I don't think he intended to keep me that way. And if he did intend it, I don't think that it was even a bad thing in his mind. He liked me at 19. If he hadn't, none of this ever would have started.
He wanted me to be 19, but he wanted to be 23. And his 23 year old self was more and more frustrated--he could related to my 19 year old self when he was 20. When he was 23, it was more difficult. And I was changing. I wanted to be considered his equal. And as much as he tried, I was never going to stop being 19 to him.
It's been about 8 months since that ship finally sailed for good. I learned a lot during those 3 years, but right now my focus is on what I didn't learn.
This entry is painfully personal, and I'm not sure that it'll remain up.
But it's what is in my head, and what I needed to get out. It's real, and it's the stuff that I never tell anyone. Sure, it's not the most laid-back, level-headed piece of prose on the market, but no one is perfect.
Right?
Nineteen
Finished up with high school
Headed to a state school
Wandered into you.
I just want to be taken seriously.
This is one of those "Poor me." blogs.
If you hate reading them, stop. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Do not bitch at me about this, because I do not care. It's my blog, and I'm not going to spew sunshine out of my ass all of the time.
Moving on.
I realize several things about myself.
I realize that I look very young for my age. I am aware that knowing no parameters (i.e., if I'm in college, done with college, in high school, working, etc.), most people would peg me to be 17-18. With the assumption in place that I'm in college, I tend to get 18-19.
People never assume that I've graduated, so I've never gotten the minimum guess of 22 before.
I realize that I look sweet. I'm blonde(ish). I'm short. Some might go so far as to describe me as "petite". I think I have too much personality for that term, but whatever.
I realize that I tend to be softspoken in situations where I do not know people.
What pisses me off is that people assume that, because of my appearance, I'm stupid. I'm imcompetent. I'm gullible. I'm sweet. I'm naive.
I'm NOT.
I'm intelligent. I dont' say this because I'm conceited, but because it's true. I'm very competent. I learn quickly, and I remember what I've learned. I'm not gullible. In fact, I'm very slow to trust people. I'm very closed off. I do not like to let people in. I'm not sweet. I'm blunt as hell with a mouth that a sailor would be ashamed of. I say things like "Fuck" and "Penis" and "Asshat" without a second thought. I'm not naive. I'm not going to qualify that one, but I'm not naive.
Stop assuming this shit about me. Stop assuming that because of the way I look, you can offer me $50 for tickets that I'm asking for $60 for. Stop saying things like "Sweetie, face value for those is $44."
Yes, and then there were $12 in service charges, so face is now $56. And I want that $12. Don't say "If those were lower level..." The game is sold out. There are guys donating kidneys for tickets to the Mavs playoff games. They are not going to care what level these seats are at. They do not have a possibly obstructed view. So when I say "I'll take $60", I'm not going to buy your bullshit justification of why they're not worth $60.
Note to self:
Blog about being pissed off re: appearances and the way people are treated because of them.
It must be Thursday--I never could get the hang of Thursdays.
Just call me Arthur Dent.
Tom does, at any rate.
Thursday is once again off of the schedule for next week. You give a day a chance to redeem itself, and it sends you right back down the shitter.
Whatever, Friday was awesome. Friday is the new Thursday.
I'm getting an intern (I think)! Woohoo! This was completely impromptu and unexpected. My team was at lunch today, and I happened to mention that I knew someone who had interviewed for an internship in another department. My head honcho supervisor said "Do you think we could use an intern?" to the group, and we all nodded emphatically. She said she would check with HR about getting one for the summer. Woohoo! An intern! Fewer reps to call! Fewer media kits to file! Less general shit work to do! Someone else can be responsible for printing and copying status for a few months!
I love it. LOVE. IT.
Don't get me wrong--calling reps and filing media kits and copying status (OK, maybe not that last one) have been good for me. I'm much more comfortable on the phone now than I was before. I know what to ask for when I request a rate card. I'm learning about publications and newspapers and all that fun stuff. Media kits are good to know about, so that when I'm sifting through 75 of them in my desk drawers, I remember that Fortune's is a dark blue while Forbes is gray.
You know, that kind of important stuff.
But the thing is that as I've grown more comfortable with those kinds of tasks, my workload of higher level tasks has grown considerably, and it's oftentimes difficult to finish the higher level tasks when I have to stop to do something like field calls from 10 reps that I left voicemails with in the morning. So, it'll be nice to have someone who I can divvy up the workload with, or have help me when I have more complicated projects to work on.
I'm considering renaming myself "Newspaper Maven". Seriously folks--I know more about newspapers and rates and ad sizes and terminology than I ever wanted to. If you name a city, I can most likely name the major daily off the top of my head. If you say a paper name, I can tell you what state it is located in--if not the specific city. I can tell you if a paper has zoned editions available. It's a little bit ridiculous. It wasn't intentional on anyone's part--it's just the way that the projects have fallen out lately. Oh well!
I should probably work on replacing all of the burnt out lightbulbs in my apartment tomorrow. I could call maintenance and have them do it, but considering that I've called 3 times to have my thermostat looked at and it still hasn't happened, I'm going to just do that myself.
I think I,
I could use a little break
But today was a good day.
FYI
I turn 23 on Saturday. Things I'd appreciate getting include:
1) Season 1 of Scrubs on DVD (it comes out on May 17)
2) a copy of In Good Company on DVD
3) alcohol
4) help moving in August
I'm entirely joking, of course.
I categorically refuse to ever give these up.
Girls' nights out/in.
I don't care if someone talked me into reproducing, I'm 40, and I've been married for 10 years. I ain't letting go of them.
There are just nights when you need some quality time with the girlfriends to do all of the things that guys give you crap for--drinking girly drinks (see: pina coladas), watching chick flicks (tonights movies are In Good Company and 13 Going on 30), shopping for couches...
Oh.
Yeah.
We do the unconventional girls' nights as well. Tonight, the agenda is to go buy a couch (for my friend--I'm still highly satisfied with the giant watermelon). She called me at my desk an hour ago and said "I have to go pick up the dog, then we can start on the girls night."
"What are we going to sit on?"
"Oh. Shit. Bring a pil--no, you know what? Let's go buy a couch. Fuck it--let's just do it tonight."
"Will they deliver tonight?"
"Probably not, but I'm buying one anyway."
Okay then.
So, the agenda consists of movies, alcohol, and a couch. And a long-haired Chihuahua named Coa. That's pronounced "Co-ah" for those of you who needed to know that mindless bit of information.
Informally, the agenda consists of talking about boys, boobs, work, girls that annoy us, food, the beach trip in August, and other such hot topics of conversation while we drink the alcohol and sit on the couch with the movies playing as background noise, and Coa looks at us and sighs because he could be doing so many Totally Cooler things with his Friday night, whether he lacks a major part of his gender identity or not.
This, obviously, is more the girls' night in variety. In Austin, the routine was Trudy's, then Center Stage. I had to adapt for Dallas, but I think I can get into the groove of Pina Coladas and perhaps some Pluckers delivery.
Girls' night out is another matter entirely. Girls' night out is loud and crude and drunk and fun. Not that girls' nights in aren't, but out is just an animal all its own.
Cliche, but
Girls just wanna have fun.
RE: Thursday, May 12
Dear Universe,
I'd like to let you know that I have made the executive decision to cancel next Thursday, May 12.
Please forgive the inconveniences this may cause you, but Thursday needs to be taught a lesson. I'm not ready to formally remove Thursday from the week on a permanent basis, but I feel that a one-week suspension from existence may help it learn how to be a nice day like the rest of the week. At this point, it has fallen lower than Monday--and we all know that that can never be a good sign.
Thursday's offenses are as follows:
1) Causing me a nervous breakdown at work. My workload was no different than it was on the previous days of this week, and yet Thursday brought on the frustration, near tears, and general mental exhaustion.
2) Causing me to write $1,125 in checks for rent and bills. Oh. My. God. Yes, Thursday, you had to take the ONE TIME in the past FOUR YEARS that my bank account balance has been above $1,000 and kill it in the name of Rent, Cable, Internet, and Auto Insurance. I want to live in a world where there is free Internet, Rent, Cable, and Insurance, dammit.
3) Putting traffic on 635 at 7 PM. This doesn't even touch on the fact that you had me at work until 7 PM. Right now, we're just addressing the fact that there was still TRAFFIC AT SEVEN FUCKING PM. This is absurd. The silver lining to staying late at work is SUPPOSED to be that there is no traffic, and that I (God forbid) enjoy driving for once.
4) Hiding my checkbook. I had to write $1,125 worth of checks today, so of course it was the day you decided to hide my checkbook. Way to go, Thursday.
5) Hiding my stamps. They were on the counter. Now they are not on the counter. Thursday, this is all your fault.
6) Keeping me at work until 7 PM. Thursday, I have now worked 44 hours this week. This is absurd. You should have let me out at five, but once again, I was the last person to leave. Thursday, you had better come through with a promotion and a raise sometime in the near future as part of your redemption program.
7) Causing me to miss the FREE alcohol and festivities at Taco Diner for the Wall Street Journal Cinco de Mayo celebration (see #6 for reason).
As you can all see, Thursday has committed some heinous offenses, and deserves to be punished.
However, Friday, if you can be particularly kickass, I might consider making Thursday's punishment less severe, and putting it on a probationary status prior to cancelling it.
To finish, a message brought to you by Loverboy:
Everybody's working for the weekend
Everybody wants a little romance
Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance
It's a good thing these guys only meet every other year.
http://www.cnn.com/2005/LAW/05/05/cheerleaders.law.reut/index.html
Where are my Killer Ds, I ask you??? If the most entertaining thing to come of this Session is the "1, 2, 3, 4, we can't shake it anymore" bill, then this is a huge letdown after the fleeing and harboring fleeing Democrats last time.
Continuing to delve into the female psyche.
It's a scary place, but someone has to venture in there and report back to the masses, right?
This was all prompted by my dinner this evening. A female friend called me this afternoon and said "OK, I went to the bar where he was at on Friday, and now I need to talk about what happened and what it means. Margaritas in twenty?" This conversation got me thinking about how most girls (note: most. Not all think like this--some do the complete opposite, some do a modified version, some just don't think. Period.) react to just about anything a guy does until the words "I want to be exclusive" are spoken.
Girls are weird.
Seriously--we're total freaks. Guys seem to think they have us pinned insofar as our quirks are concerned--we show abnormal levels of attention to dates on the calendar, we have a list of things that you must do to stay on our good sides that we'll never actually reveal to you, the fits we throw over something as mundane as you calling an hour late would make you think that we had just been told that the world is ending. Or Nordstrom is closing. Something like that.
But gentlemen, you really have no idea how deep-seeded these issues and freaky hang-ups are.
Do you know that a female has analytical skills that would make most engineers cry?
We don't reveal these often, and rarely to a male. You see, we seem to focus on one area of our lives to overanalyze.
The love life.
It goes something like this.
Boy meets girl. Girl and boy decide that they are reasonably attracted to each other, and that they think they can stand to be around each other for several consecutive hours without anyone else around to save them from bad conversation and awkward silences. Boy and girl go out. Boy and girl talk. Boy kisses girl goodnight.
Boy goes home, goes to bed, and thinks "wow, I had a great time." the next day. Boy goes to lunch with a friend on Monday, and might mention "I think I'll call her again--the date went well."
Then boy will return his attention to his food and say something along the lines of "So, isn't the boss being a dick today?"
Girl goes inside after boy kisses her goodnight, and the calamity starts.
First, girl begins a conversation with herself in her head:
"When we were at dinner, he looked at me. I mean, he looked at me. What does that mean? He brushed my hand three times when he was reaching for his water glass--was that accidental? It had to be on purpose, right? I mean, three times. Three times means that it's gone beyond being accidental. He said 'I had a great time.' Does that mean he wants to have a great time again? Was that just his way of politely thanking me for the date while he was really thinking 'Not a snowball's chance in hell'?"
Girl goes to sleep. The next day, girl calls her girlfriends. Girl has a specific set of girlfriends that she will call, and each will serve a specific purpose.
Girlfriend #1 is the pessimist. Girl calls her for the worst-case scenario breakdown. Girlfriend #1 tells her that he was probably spacing out when he looked at her, that his water glass was right next to where her hand was resting on the table so of course it was an accident that he brushed her, that having a great time was probably the nicest thing he could think to say because he didn't want to blatantly be an asshole.
Girlfriend #2 is the optimist. Girl calls her to boost her ego and get her hopes up. Girlfriend #2 tells her that he couldn't help but stare at her because he is obviously falling in love with her, as evidenced by the fact that he brushed her hand three times on purpose. Girlfriend #2 explains that "I had a great time" is as serious as he can be on the first date without scaring Girl away, and that he wanted to say more if only he could have.
Girlfriend #3 is the realist. She will laugh at Girl for the fact that she is succumbing to the female overanalyzation dilemma and tell her she's an idiot and that she should find something else to think about. But then Girlfriend #3 will tell her that he looked at her because he was having fun, that the hand brushes were most likely accidents but perhaps subtle ways for him to guage whether she was physically attracted to him, and the fact that she didn't move her hand would have signified that. Girlfriend #3 tells her that "I had a great time" means exactly what it sounds like--that he had a great time, and that Girl should just be content with the fact that she made his evening a good one, and that the odds are in her favor for having another chance at doing that.
Now, don't start thinking that Girl is a psychotic marriage-seeker who wants to throw Boy down on one knee as quickly as possible, grab him by the nuts, and smother him with a Relationship.
The truth is that Girl probably wants to move at whatever speed they are both comfortable with, and that if Boy never called her again she'd be disappointed because she had a good time, but it would be fleeting. This is a fundamental difference between guys and girls, and I think that it's a lot of the reason that guys get freaked out and think that girls are getting too serious too quickly.
For some reason that I can't explain (and I wish I could, because I would be obscenely rich), girls think in black and white. If Boy tells Girl that he likes her, but that he wants to take things very slowly, Girl will (99.9% of the time) say "OK. All I needed to know was where you stood, and now that I do, I can go with that." Girls need to have definitions, girls need to know where the guy stands, girls need to know where the girl stands. This doesn't mean that a girl isn't laid back--the fact that she's going with whatever flow works for both of them suggests otherwise.
The funny thing is that girls do this even when the roles are reversed, so to speak. Case in point: A friend of mine had a very casual "relationship" about six months ago. She wanted nothing more out of this pseudo-dating scenario than to have a good time, have someone she could call when she was bored, and (let's be honest) have a good old fashioned booty call with no obligations or strings.
And yet, my friend still had to deal with this stuff. This time, it was the opposite--Girl spent her time anlyzing whether the guy was interested--same scenario, different spin. This time, Girl was concerned that he was interested, because Girl didn't want him to be. It's like we can't escape this inclination, even when we actually want nothing more out of the guy than the use of his penis and a chance to let ourselves go.
It just means that we're wired differently. So don't freak out if a girl seems to be seeking definition--she may just need you to say "I like you, and I like seeing you, and I just want to take it one hanging out session at a time" in order to take a deep breath and say "cool." Needing definition does not equate to "I need to be with you 24/7 and move my toothbrush into your bathroom and have clothes at your place in case I spend the night on a weekday". It just says that females need more reassurance than males.
