My Rant Against Fairytales

This a journal entry of mine that came up at lunch with my fellow bloggers, and I promised to post it. So here it is (Please keep in mind that I tend to dramatize things in my journal. It helps me get all the freakin emotions out, ha):

Why should I believe in fairytales? Why should I wait to find my prince, or to fall madly in love with someone? Why should I believe that I’m a princess? Why should I demand to be treated as such? Fairytales are what we believe when we’re young, when our daddy’s tell us that no one is good enough for us. But I can’t believe in a fairytale anymore. I won’t wait for mine to happen.

The reality is that hearts get broken, and even people who love you will hurt you. I don’t want to hold out for a fairytale because I don’t believe it will happen. I don’t live in fairytale. I don’t live in a castle where men bid and fight for me. I am not the princess. I am the girl waiting outside the castle for the men to stop trying to be princes – to stop trying to find their princesses. Maybe I’m not the most beautiful, or the smartest, or the most talented; maybe I don’t have the most or the best to offer, but at least I’m real. I’ll give what I have, but I just need what I have to be enough.

Why does Gloria try to take away my defenses???

Hi, my name is Shady, and I have inappropriate laughter.

I like to laugh. Is that such a bad thing? Yes, I realize that I sometimes (perhaps often) laugh when I say rather sad things, but does she have to point it out to me all the time? I mean, I do it every week; you'd think she would accept it by now. I laugh because I do find some humor/irony in these "sad" things, and because I don't want to cry. So yes, it is my defense, but stop trying to take it away!!! If you take it away, you better replace it with a pint of Ben & Jerry's.

She tried to take it away twice today. The first time was when I was telling her about how I have difficulty in being fully honest with Eagle Eye (was that the code name we chose?), and I wasn't sure exactly what I would tell him if I tried. Her response: "You laugh as you say that. Is there something uncomfortable in thinking about talking to him?" My response: "I don't know, I just like to laugh." The second time she tried to take it away was when I was talking about my family and said (in a somewhat sarcastic tone), "Yes, sadly, my family is boring and awkward." Her response: "You're saying these pretty sad things but laughing. Do you think that's some kind of defense?" Yes, it's my defense! And stop trying to take it away!

Another funny moment from today's session: I can't remember what she asked me, but when I started to respond I lost my thought. So I said, "I don't know, I just lost my thought." She said, "Where did it go?" I mean, what am I supposed to say to that? South America??? Where do thoughts go when you lose them? I bet they go to the Twighlight zone. (And we come full circle.)

P.S. I finally bought Beyonce's album. SO good.

Three days driving in the desert with your ex-boyfriend.

Enough Said.

Commitment Issues

As eluded to in Lars's post, I am now blogging about commitment. In one of the conversations from the infamous road trip, Lars and I realized that our "problem" is that we are too committed. And not in the overly dependent sort of way. Rather, when we decide to be committed to something/someone, we are in it for the long haul. So why is this a problem, you ask? Well, I would say that it's not a problem, but it does have some implications.

One such implication is that decisions are very difficult to make. We know that once we make a decision, there is virtually no going back. Thus, decisions can be agonizing to make (that may be a bit dramatized, but what else is this blog for?). Point in case: I have recently been presented with the choice between two research labs. Both are good choices, but I know that when I make the choice of one over the other, I am essentially locking myself into a specific research topic and dissertation. When I make that decision, I will be fully committed to it. Quitting will not be an option. So I guess I fear that I will at some point become unhappy with my decision, but I will already be committed to it and I will be stuck with it.

How does this relate to dating, you may be thinking (since dating is the theme/topic of this blog). Well... for one, the random casual kind of dating is not so congruent with such a committed personality. Yes, I know that a single date does not commit you to marrying that person. However, to go on a date with someone requires some level of interest; and to be interested in someone requires a decision, at least for me. I am not the type to dwell on crushes. In fact, I have never had trouble in dismissing crushes. I do have trouble, however, in "getting over" my feelings for someone once I have allowed myself to indulge those feelings. As some of you have seen, I may even try to deny my feelings for someone (no matter how obvious they may be) because I know that when I accept the fact that I truly have such feelings, I will have much difficulty in letting them go. I must be honest here and say that it's very possible I'm speaking in generalizations while thinking of a particularity, but it is what it is for now.

So beginning the dating process is a big decision in itself. And if the beginning isn't hard enough, the ending is even worse. When we committed people know that the end must come, we often try to deny and/or avoid it. We try to make it work. We try convincing ourselves that we can change things. We nearly drive ourselves crazy in order to keep the relationship alive. But sometimes it must end - yes, we must "quit". We would much rather have the other person come to this realization on their own and make the break for us; then, all we can do is accept it. But when we are the ones who have to make the break, well we're not so good at it. For instance, I dated a guy in high school for at least a month longer than I should have. I knew for that last month that I needed to break up with him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Sure, there are many possible reasons why it was so hard for me, but I think that at least part of it was that I had made some sort of commitment to the guy and I do not back out of my commitments. There are no take-backs, but that's exactly what I was doing.

Well, this is where my thoughts end for now. I think I've babbled long enough about commitment.

Business Matters

Lars, I have had the same problem trying to post comments. I have tried to change the settings, but am not having luck.

I have also enabled all of you authors to have admin privileges, so now any of us can change settings and what-not for the blog. In other words, whoever is the first one to get tired of seeing our Twightlight friends can now change the background. Also, all of us can now try to fix this problem of posting comments.

Laura's Having Trouble Figuring Out the Blog Like an Old Person

I WANT TO POST COMMENTS! Are you having the same trouble as me posting comments under your fabulous writings? I click on "post a comment" and it leads me no where! NO WHERE! Well, a general comment then--I love all the thoughts (except for the one about my Cuddle Burrito coming closer and closer to being snatched from me). Mankini? What a terrible and terrific name. I totally agree with faux flirting--not cool. And Rachel, it's definitely not all your fault. I appreciated our road trip convo--it's true, why do we always have to find blame somewhere? If it's not in us, it's in him. Can't we all just get along? 

Anyway, we need to fix the comment posting thing, or perhaps it's just that I need to stop being an old person because the answer to the problem is quite obvious. 

Wedding Ruminations

As you already know, two fellow bloggers survived a road trip, survived almost running out of gas twice, and survived being two single girls at a wedding. And here is one of them making up for the lost time with a long post and a classic visual:

A voice echoes in the crowded room, "All right all you single ladies out there, it's time to catch the bouquet!" The following walk toward the dance floor is starting to feel more and more like apprehensively crawling onto an over-sized petri dish. Fortunately at this wedding, I am in good company, hidden with my fellow blogger behind the giggling gaggle of ringless girls (I naturally write "girl" realizing it feels more acceptable to be a single girl than a single woman). Extremely Tall Girl has no competition when it comes to catching the floral ball. She triumphantly holds it high, smiles for the camera, probably knowing the catch means nothing, probably secretly wishing it did. Oh if only it were that easy: a beautiful man flies toward my face as I gaze upward with colored lights illuminating my starry pupils and smile of awe, while other girls are jumping at him rather violently knowing, "there's not too many of those." But it does them no good--the man comes straight at ME, and lands gracefully into my receiving hands. Ah. What a lovely scene. 

You all know what comes next: the Sexy Leg Show. The single men are now asked to gather (and why is it so much easier to naturally write men as opposed to boys?). You would think a chance for some healthy competition would leave the men running to the plate; however, it takes a good two minutes longer for them to step up after the groom stretches his neck upward scouring the room for his single friends. Finally, an unimpressively sized group of guys moseys on to the dance floor with pocketed hands. The garter is flung. Ironically, Very Short Guy has no competition as he is literally airborne to catch the lacy trophy, all while the guy it was actually heading toward watched in both fear and amusement, without taking one step back nor forward, hands still at side. This scene might actually be a more realistic portrayal than our share of the tradition. 

And all the while, I'm analyzing the amount of men on the floor: "...Huh..." 

It's dwindling, girls. However, I refuse to jump and push. I remain in the back of the gaggle with my bud, snickering at the nonsense of it all. Besides, we are still in our young 20's for goodness sakes (mid 20's is probably more accurate but we're not going to go there)! What's the fuss about? But when it comes down to it, I can't deny my hands were slightly raised, just in case that bouquet so gracefully decided to land in them. I refuse to be airborne, 1: because come on, who wants to be compared to Very Short Guy? We has gots to be smoother than that! 2: It's supposed to be easy. No jumping necessary. 

Point: I had breakfast with a bridesmaid the morning before the big day--awesome girl. She had recently gotten married, quite quickly after meeting her man (much like the bride of the weekend). I asked her a common question in regards to her husband, "How did you know?" mostly because the ability to know, to be certain that this is the person you should wake up next to every day for rest of your life baffles me (let's just say what that really means--to know you want to be fondled by this person for the rest of your life truly baffles me. Baffles.)

So how did she know? The typical and frustrating answer usually is (*insert gleeful, high-pitched voice*), "I just knew!" Fortunately, this married bridesmaid gave a more substantial answer for a quizzical single like me. She knew because it was just easy. They immediately felt comfortable, and it just fit. She wondered why people believed relationships required putting so much fuss into it all, questioning everything, laboring over interactions, finding excuses for their partner and finding blame in themselves. She believes, and actually knows first-hand, it doesn't have to be like that. It can be...easy. 

Well this just sounds ridiculous. Easy? We have a blog because we have some adjectives for dating in mind...and easy is obviously not one of them. However, something else to note is that before this major life decision, she was fighting another one. Previously engaged to an aspiring pastor she had been with for four years, she was fussing, questioning, laboring, finding excuses and finding blame. Deep down she had the knowledge that he put his church before everything, including any future family and including her. We can easily say "ugh, typical," in response to this, yet we can also easily respond with, "he's dedicated and passionate, and he's working hard for God. I'd be selfish to take him away from that." If we loved the guy, we'd most likely go with the latter. Ugh, typical...but true. 

She had asked him to go to a family member's wedding with her (may the wedding theme live on!) and he said he couldn't because, you know, church stuff. How can you argue church stuff?? But it was really important to her, and she knew that a more fitting guy would see this in her pleading eyes. She also knew that his church, which was also her church, would actually love for him to go to this wedding with her. Despite knowing this and other comparative, painful revelations, she was stuck because she was already so committed (an upcoming blog topic by Rachel that I will not get into now). Hey, I've been there and I'm sure you have at some point. You become blinded in the behavior patterns, and someone telling you it's supposed to be easy sounds not just ridiculous, but like an insult. 

He ended up telling her after a year of being engaged that he didn't love her anymore. Heartbreak. She spent two years not dating and it ended up being a spiritually enriching time. She even thought to herself, "this would be the perfect time to meet someone, because I don't actually need to meet someone." Isn't it interesting how it always works out like that? Here's an embarrassing thought of mine for you to have fun with (just call me airborne guy in disguise *said with accompanying shudder*): sometimes I want to be in that spot of not "caring" to date because I know it is at this point I'd probably meet someone really great who thinks I'm equally great...but isn't that still caring? So then I get frustrated that I am caring when I'm not supposed to be, and even more frustrated for being tempted to hope for a "spiritually enriching" time because it would prepare me for this great person, which defeats the purpose. Not sure if that made sense; give me a "hear hear" if so, or a "God bless her" if I won your perplexed pity.

Back to bridesmaid. It was exactly at this time that she met her now husband, and again I say, it was easy. Even though her message seems too easy to be true (har har), she is a woman who speaks from experience, who has been on both sides of the track. Well ladies, what do you think? Is it supposed to be easy? This is an especially pertinent question for two certain bloggers (I'll own up to the fact that I am one of them) who just last night made a joke deal (or serious perhaps?) which basically states: 

"If you jump, I'll jump." 

In other words, if this other blogger states her feelings to said person, consider me airborne alongside her (with a totally different said person, of course. We don't share). Yet as I type this, I think there's no point because jumping implies this is not easy, and it's supposed to be easy or else it's fussing, questioning, laboring, finding excuses and finding blame (yet, don't we do all this anyway when we decide to not jump?). We tell ourselves to get over the bouquet because it's not landing gracefully in our open hands, regardless of whether or not the bouquet knows our hands are open and available. Instead we hide behind a wall of willing women, snickering to ourselves and secretly shaming ourselves for being on the dance floor in the first place, dreaming that the catch actually means something. 

This is where I'm at now: I'm not going to jump for the bouquet. There's too many lights on the dance floor, too large of a crowd, and the bouquet just might be too pretty, and colors possibly too different from my dress (although my hands might be slightly raised upward). I refuse to jump. Sound good? Sound stubborn? Yep, that's because it might be, but instead I'll call it "not caring." 

In the mean time, I'll probably get smacked in the face with some other bouquet thrown at me. And I'll come here to complain about it. 

By the way, while this was being written, Chandler and Monica got married. It wasn't easy for them, then again, it's television. 

Can I post twice in a row?

A story that will hopefully make you smile as much as it did for me: I got Nicole's FB comment on my wall (Got my hands up/they're playing my song/and now i'm gonna be okay. Yeah! it's a party in the USA!! ps, preach, sister. preach! *waves hand as if to fan myself*) right as I was running out of the house this morning (already horribly late for work) and all I could think about on my 30 minute drive to work was that I was hoping "Party in the USA" would come on the radio. It didn't, but that is because God had something better planned for me (as is usual).
I got to work only to find out that my client had to cancel. Instead, I sat around doing paperwork, wah wah. After an hour, I got in the car and was trying to figure out how to turn this day into a productive/enjoyable one when suddenly I heard a beat I recognized. With 102.7 being one of my two stations of choice for the past few weeks, I was, to say the least, ecstatic to hear the opening notes of "Party in the USA". No doubt I turned that sucker up and bumped it all the way to the freeway. My hands were definitely in the air and I was nodding my head like yeah. Then, as the song ended, I switched to 104.3, the other half of fave radio stations for the time being, and this was the list of songs that accompanied me on the ride home:
1) The oh so empowering "Stronger" by Christina Aguilera
2) The lovely "Lucky" duet by Jason Mraz <3 and Colbie Callet
3) The always entertaining throwback, "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurythmics
AND to tie it all together
4) "PARTY IN THE USA"

Best drive home ever. Thank you for sharing in this wonderful moment with me.

Back when I was young...

Back when I was young, flirting meant something different then it does these days. Although I may not have been a fan of flirting when I was younger (probably out of sheer ignorance of proper flirting technique), I have confidence that I understand its original purpose. Let me introduce you to Trevor Mankini (yes, Mankini), terror of my life during Kindergarten and 1st grade. See, not to brag, but Trevor and his best friend Ryan had big crushes on me and my best friend Candace, respectively. Trevor would often flirt to let me know of his interest. I'm sure you can imagine: sticking his tongue out at me at the lunch table, chasing me on the playground, stealing the tire swing from my bare hands, etc. His most valiant effort to express his feelings for me was his final goodbye, on the day he found out I would be transferring schools come second grade. I don't remember it happening (which means it probably never did) but his friend told me that he snuck up behind me on the playground and kissed me on the back of the head. Weird, yes. Genuine flirting, definitely. I knew, without a doubt, that Trevor liked me.
However, today flirting has lost its direction. Rather than being an expression of interest from the pursuer to the person whom they have developed a yearlong playground crush on, flirting has become a tool to build the self-esteem of the pursuer. Following me? This is where things have gotten so messy. Guys (and ladies too, but lets be honest, I'm here to vent about guys) will often say something along the lines of, "Dude, she is crazy. She thinks I like her and I have no idea where she got that from." Well buddy, perhaps it was all those times you actually WERE flirting with her. Look, I understand that you don't have feelings for her and that is why you can't understand how you were flirting. All those times when you felt like a BA for making her laugh at your jokes, or played "just one" song on your guitar so that she could call you a great musician, or bought her coffee because it makes you feel like you are fulfilling your gentlemanly duty, THAT WAS FLIRTING. Flirting for your own good though. I believe you don't have feelings for her. I absolutely believe that you were not trying to lead her on or send her any false messages. More than anything, I believe that you were is such dire need of feeling like a BA, great musician, or gentleman that it blinded your ability to see what messages you might actually be sending.

It's just a thought.

A Wise Boy Once Said... (Surprising, I know)

A boy/guy once told me that a guy will not engage in such activities as even "platonic spooning parties" unless he has some sort of interest in her. At the least, he thinks she's hot. So it seems that there is no such thing as a platonic spooning party or platonic anything that involves some form of physical contact (well, maybe hugs are still safe). I mean, do we really need to review the last year of my life???

Also, I have found myself regularly reminding myself over the last couple days that this crazy drama I/we go through is NOT ALL MY FAULT!!! These boys seem innocent enough, perhaps even dumb enough. But it's not true girls - don't fall for it! We are not the crazy ones, always misinterpreting things; and it's not our fault that they don't understand us when we actually use our words. Ahhh, so glad I see Gloria tomorrow. :)

Dreamie?

Laura, someone is spying on your idea.

Wait, I have an easy solution: we should find a guy willing for a platonic spooning party. Cuddle bucks? *sighs*

Privacy...

Lars, welcome to the blog. We're glad you can contribute now. And thanks to all of you for already making great use of this thing! haha.

As for privacy, we can change the setting of the blog to where only we can read it, or a select few that we invite to read it. Or we can come up with code names, which is always fun. Are you girls able to play with the settings? If so, please feel free to change anything. If not, please let me know what you would like changed (esp. if the twighlight background gets too old, haha).

I don't know what to do with the grace-filled thing. My brain still doesn't work. However (sorry for the grammar, Nicole), I DID watch Glee last night, and all I have to say "Don't rain on my parade!"

I'm here! I'm here!

Guess. What. 

I just finished my assignment. You know...the one due two weeks ago that I fabulously saved for my Christmas break? This calls for a celebration! And I will celebrate by joining this crucial and wonderful blog! Sorry I'm late girls. This seems to be the downfall to my life--not checking emails, responding late, and then disappointing my supervisor. Well he can just suck it. Wow. I see I am really going to utilize this blog already. 

Question: Is this blog private? Or do we need to come up with code names of some sort? Or do we just say, "To hell with it! I'm talking about you and I don't care who knows it!" Because there will be talking. Oh, there will be talking. 

Sausage fest. Why can't they just nicely state, "Sorry you're the only girl," like we note to McBean all the time even though we don't have to? See, girls aren't that mean after all (But we will demolish you on a blog if necessary)

Remember my long conversation that so led Nicole to write on my wall, "How's the work coming?" Got an email from the other participant yesterday, and he described the convo as "grace-filled." I refuse to read into this quite simple, little ol' two-worded statement, but I am opening the floor up to all of you to read into it. You're welcome.  

I'm going to go buy a cheeseburger now. Cheers. 

 

A few tips...

After recently returning from a casual dinner event where I was the only female surrounded by 5, yes count them, 5 males, I have two tips of wisdom to add to the bunch. Preface: I think very highly of the gentleman I dined with this evening and these tips are directed at no one in particular (even if I use a direct quote or interaction from you).

1) Do not refer to our gathering as a "sausage fest" within the first minutes of interaction. At least ask me how my day was first.

2) When sitting at a crowded booth, don't forget you have a lady sitting next to you and still think that you can have all the leg room you want. (I don't want to have to sit in fear thinking that if our knees brush you might assume I'm pouncing)

Thank you.

P.S. Where is Roldy?

Lessons at the Airport

Today was a busy day, flying from one coast to the other. The holiday season brings out the best (or worst) in us all, and in my rush to catch my flight, I was not able to observe any outlandish behavior. I did, however, take note of a few key occurrences...

First, there are attractive men flying to and fro the continental U.S. I think airport pounces are appropriate. You'll never see them again, so why not? (*for the record, there was no pounce...but given the chance I would consider it.)

Second, screaming babies should not be allowed on the plane. I don't know if there is a screening process prior to boarding that would determine if your child will end up wailing at the top of their lungs. There should be. (*cabin pressure, blah blah. I get it. still...)

Third, apparently jean shorts are still in. I don't know when they even began to be "in."

Fourth, it is not the job of the chief flight attendant to entertain on a 4+ hour flight. Give me my peanuts and ginger ale and let me sleep. No one thinks your funny. Oh, and saying "wasn't that a great landing? It was our pilot's first. And don't forget to give us a good word on our airline's website!" is a poor choice for final words.

Finally, adults should not pair up and wear "Thing 1" and "Thing 2" t-shirts.

Miss you already, happy Monday!
PS- where are my werewolves?? Vampires airbrush their abs and look shady...

Thank you for saving me from boredom....

Why does everyone decide to cancel on me on the same freaking day?!?! I have successfully wasted 2-3 hours at my practicum site so far today, and must wait 3 more hours until my supervision group begins. grrrr.

That being said, I am so glad you girls gave me something to look at! Nicole, thank you for even labeling your venting. Kelli, great choice of name.

I wish I had substantial thoughts to share, but finals took it all out of me. I couldn't even come up with a new facebook status yesterday.

It's about time...

This is glorious. Watch out world, you are about to be educated on life.

P.S. I'm so glad that Bella and the vamps could join us.

well done.

Oh. My. Gosh.
Twilight.
Rachel, you are wonderful!

Ok, in light of today's text:
An Open Letter to Pasadena Residents:
1.) putting antlers on your car is a no-go. please do not EVER do this. wreaths are out, too. bows are clever, but no.
2.) that spongebob squarepants in holiday attire sitting on your front lawn? watch out: i'm coming to knife it. the macy's holiday parade was thanksgiving; please quit confiscating the floats and sticking them on your lawn, and then call it "decorative."
Thank you,
~a concerned citizen