You've probably heard me say (repeatedly) that I've been single for over 4 years, and celibate for 2 years.
For a long time, it's been a statement of pride for me. I'm proud of my high standards and my resolve to forgo one-night-stands and wait for something more serious. I make fun my single-ness to prove that it doesn't bother me in the least.
Sadly, that is completely falling apart, and so am I.
I'm starting to realize that not only do I not like being single, but that I'm utterly and desperately lonesome. I've not been in anything even close to an intimate situation in two years, not even kiss. And it doesn't help that the last few times I had my eye on a man, it crashed and burned in a way that shocked even my therapist.
It's starting to affect my formerly unshakable self-esteem. I mean, there's only so much rejection a girl can take, right? I've never thought of myself as a particularly pretty girl, thanks to my height and plain features, but I've always been of the opinion that at very least, I clean up good; that I can be pretty if I put in a little effort. But after a series of heartbreaks and slight weight gain, it's come to the point where I'm so insecure about my body and personality that I just can't be attractive anymore, regardless of how much "cleaning up" I do.
To make matters worse, I'm retreating into myself. I'm becoming introverted and have no drive to go to any social situation. I've just given up, really. And I have nobody to talk to. I'd feel guilty unloading on my friends, and I'm not close enough with my family to confide in them. All can do I cry to myself and occasionally let loose on my blog.
But really, how can I be so unhappy? I have a good job, a roof over my head, food on my plate and friends that care. I can't always get what I want, but I always seem to get what I need...So what right do I have to be so miserable?
I just don't know.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
On Finding the Root of the Problem
As you all know, I've been seeing a therapist since March, and now, 3 months later, I'm still surprised at some of the things I've been discovering about myself.
When I first decided that I wanted to seek professional help, it was for social anxiety, specifically, social anxiety that was created very uncomfortable and inconvenient psychosomatic symptoms (physical symptoms which are caused by or notably influenced by emotional factors). I assumed that it would be relatively simple to get the whole thing sorted out.
My first big breakthrough was when the Dr and I sussed out that my anxiety stemmed from a fear of social situations. Makes sense, as I was bullied pretty badly when I was a kid. I thought that would be the end of it. As it turns out, things are not that simple.
In the last two weeks, we have hit upon another area that more directly affects my current social nature. I never would have guessed it, but apparently, I'm too passive for my own good.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Leah? You mean that girl with so much energy and enthusiasm that she's practically bursting at the seams? Passive? Surely you jest!"
Sadly not, is my reply.
I've never considered myself to be a martyr, or even a particularly giving person. I mean, I give when I can, and I like to be a help, but I keep to myself too much to really think of myself as a naturally giving person. But one aspect of my personality that is quite pervasive is that I do not want to inconvenience people, or allow them to feel anything but content. I put others' well-being before my own because I assume that if I didn't, I'd be considered selfish or self-centered. Example: I very rarely, if ever, as people for favours, even ones as small as getting a ride somewhere (unless they offer, of course). Why? I see no reason why someone else would want to spend the time and gas just because I want to go to T&T Supermarket, but it's a 2-hour bus away.
Of course, this is a very flawed way of thinking, because I know I would do the same for a friend. I hold myself to a double standard where it's my duty to help others when I can, but I don't believe that others should reciprocate.
This whole issue came into discussion today when discussing yesterday's competition at the Mòd Chanada. The Dr asked if any of my friends or family were there to cheer me on. I said that a few were interested, but ended up being busy that day. What about the rest? He asked. I explained that I just assumed that they weren't interested in watching a competition in a language they didn't understand, and that was okay. -But they didn't go just to support you? -No. And I just started bawling right there on the couch. No, none of my friends were there to cheer me on. I cried pretty hard, just thinking about how apparently, my friends didn't care enough to support me in my first Gaelic competition. Not that it was their fault, or that I blamed them. Just that it hurt that they weren't there. But then, the Dr said something that threw me for a loop:
"Did you tell them how important the competition was to you?"
"..." (blink blink)
"Or how much it would mean to you if they were there to support you?"
"Well...no."
"Why not?"
"Well, I put out an invitation saying how much fun it would be, with Celtic music and dancing shows and stuff..."
"But you didn't talk to them about how it would mean a lot to you if they were there?"
"Um...No"
"Why is that?"
"Well, I didn't want to coerce or guilt them into doing something they wouldn't enjoy for the sole purpose of making me feel good"
"Didn't you tell me just last week that you went to a sporting event that wasn't your cup of tea for the sole purpose of cheering on a friend?"
"Yeah..."
"So you can support your friends, but it's not okay for you to expect friends to do the same for you?"
*confused sputtering from Leah*
We seem to have discovered the root of the problem, or at least another layer of the root. So now, I'm starting assertiveness training. I have to learn to confront people around me to let them know how I feel. Not only to prevent being walked over, but to ensure that I get the love and support I need. I mean, if my friends don't know what I need emotionally, how can they provide the emotional support that friends are meant to provide? And on the other side, if I don't tell me friends if they've hurt my feelings (even without meaning it), how will they know not to say things like that again?
If I don't let people know what is important to me, how can I ever hope to break out of my hermit shell and live to my fullest potential? Man isn't meant to live alone and independent from other men; not completely. I need the support of the people around me, and unfortunately, the people around me can't read my mind, so I have to tell when I need help or support.
Funnily enough, the discussion moved to dating after talking about the Mòd (another area where I'm painfully passive). As an example of assertiveness, the Dr mentioned "wing-men" and the process of active support in the pursuit the opposite sex. I guess it's not surprising that I had no idea that "wing-men" existed outside of the world of sitcoms. And so, my therapy homework for the week is this: ask my Gaelic tutor about that cute, be-kilted piper at yesterday's competition, and if he's single, contrive with her to see him again (because, as we all know, Leah can't resist a man in a kilt...).
Be assertive. Be be assertive. :P
When I first decided that I wanted to seek professional help, it was for social anxiety, specifically, social anxiety that was created very uncomfortable and inconvenient psychosomatic symptoms (physical symptoms which are caused by or notably influenced by emotional factors). I assumed that it would be relatively simple to get the whole thing sorted out.
My first big breakthrough was when the Dr and I sussed out that my anxiety stemmed from a fear of social situations. Makes sense, as I was bullied pretty badly when I was a kid. I thought that would be the end of it. As it turns out, things are not that simple.
In the last two weeks, we have hit upon another area that more directly affects my current social nature. I never would have guessed it, but apparently, I'm too passive for my own good.
Now, I know what you're thinking: "Leah? You mean that girl with so much energy and enthusiasm that she's practically bursting at the seams? Passive? Surely you jest!"
Sadly not, is my reply.
I've never considered myself to be a martyr, or even a particularly giving person. I mean, I give when I can, and I like to be a help, but I keep to myself too much to really think of myself as a naturally giving person. But one aspect of my personality that is quite pervasive is that I do not want to inconvenience people, or allow them to feel anything but content. I put others' well-being before my own because I assume that if I didn't, I'd be considered selfish or self-centered. Example: I very rarely, if ever, as people for favours, even ones as small as getting a ride somewhere (unless they offer, of course). Why? I see no reason why someone else would want to spend the time and gas just because I want to go to T&T Supermarket, but it's a 2-hour bus away.
Of course, this is a very flawed way of thinking, because I know I would do the same for a friend. I hold myself to a double standard where it's my duty to help others when I can, but I don't believe that others should reciprocate.
This whole issue came into discussion today when discussing yesterday's competition at the Mòd Chanada. The Dr asked if any of my friends or family were there to cheer me on. I said that a few were interested, but ended up being busy that day. What about the rest? He asked. I explained that I just assumed that they weren't interested in watching a competition in a language they didn't understand, and that was okay. -But they didn't go just to support you? -No. And I just started bawling right there on the couch. No, none of my friends were there to cheer me on. I cried pretty hard, just thinking about how apparently, my friends didn't care enough to support me in my first Gaelic competition. Not that it was their fault, or that I blamed them. Just that it hurt that they weren't there. But then, the Dr said something that threw me for a loop:
"Did you tell them how important the competition was to you?"
"..." (blink blink)
"Or how much it would mean to you if they were there to support you?"
"Well...no."
"Why not?"
"Well, I put out an invitation saying how much fun it would be, with Celtic music and dancing shows and stuff..."
"But you didn't talk to them about how it would mean a lot to you if they were there?"
"Um...No"
"Why is that?"
"Well, I didn't want to coerce or guilt them into doing something they wouldn't enjoy for the sole purpose of making me feel good"
"Didn't you tell me just last week that you went to a sporting event that wasn't your cup of tea for the sole purpose of cheering on a friend?"
"Yeah..."
"So you can support your friends, but it's not okay for you to expect friends to do the same for you?"
*confused sputtering from Leah*
We seem to have discovered the root of the problem, or at least another layer of the root. So now, I'm starting assertiveness training. I have to learn to confront people around me to let them know how I feel. Not only to prevent being walked over, but to ensure that I get the love and support I need. I mean, if my friends don't know what I need emotionally, how can they provide the emotional support that friends are meant to provide? And on the other side, if I don't tell me friends if they've hurt my feelings (even without meaning it), how will they know not to say things like that again?
If I don't let people know what is important to me, how can I ever hope to break out of my hermit shell and live to my fullest potential? Man isn't meant to live alone and independent from other men; not completely. I need the support of the people around me, and unfortunately, the people around me can't read my mind, so I have to tell when I need help or support.
Funnily enough, the discussion moved to dating after talking about the Mòd (another area where I'm painfully passive). As an example of assertiveness, the Dr mentioned "wing-men" and the process of active support in the pursuit the opposite sex. I guess it's not surprising that I had no idea that "wing-men" existed outside of the world of sitcoms. And so, my therapy homework for the week is this: ask my Gaelic tutor about that cute, be-kilted piper at yesterday's competition, and if he's single, contrive with her to see him again (because, as we all know, Leah can't resist a man in a kilt...).
Be assertive. Be be assertive. :P
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
On Professional Perspective
Some of you may know that I'm currently in therapy for social anxiety. Nothing so serious that I needed any intervention, of course. Just inconvenient enough that when I found out that therapy was covered in my work's insurance plan, I looked into it.
I've always been a firm believer that perspective is everything. It's helped me to become the compassionate, open-minded person I am today. I've learned (through much hard work, to shift perspectives in my thought patterns. However, I know that one's perspective is always limited, even when one have a good grasp of how it works.
Now, for the first time in my life, I'm getting a professional perspective on myself, and it's proving to be extremely valuable. One particular perspective shift though, really threw me for a loop, and it's that shift that I feel compelled to share.
I was bullied and ostracized by my peers as a child, but I never really gave it much thought in my adult life. I always just dismissed it as "Kids are cruel" and didn't let it bother me. And I thought I was a better person for it. Unfortunately, I didn't just dismiss it. It seems I repressed it...REALLY repressed it.
Anyone who knows me know that I'm not one to repress my feelings. If I'm happy, or excited, or confused, or upset, everyone knows it. But when asked about my emotional memories of my childhood, I was shocked to realize that I didn't really have any. Not that I didn't have any emotions as a child; I just don't remember them at all. I repressed and avoided my childhood emotions to such an extent that I've somehow convinced myself that they didn't happen by erasing the memories, especially the painful ones.
Some things, I don't remember, but they're in my mind because my parents told me about them (like coming home from school crying and asking "Daddy, why don't I have any friends? Why doesn't anybody like me?") Some of the things that I DO remember, (like being beaten up on and called "weird" and "ugly") have memories attached to them, but they are from an odd, third-person perspective.
So what did I do? Well, my parents and teachers told me to ignore the bullies and insults, so I did. I lost myself in literature. I read to escape the hurt. I never really dealt with it. I never got any real emotional support for my sadness and loneliness because I never recognized it, soothing myself instead with fictional friends: The Bobsey Twins, Mowgli, Mary Lennox, The Pevensies, and a multitude of other lost children from my favourite stories.
After a bit of probing, my therapist made an interesting observation that he admitted surprised even him, and certainly shocked me. He said that my descriptions of what happened to me as a kid fit into the exact same formula as rape victims. I have no emotional memory and I dissociated from the event itself (ie, the third-person memories or complete lack of memory)
I never really thought of myself as needing therapy before. Now though, it makes so much sense! I was bullied to the point of trauma by my first real exposures to society, so now, I can't help but be afraid of social situations. I was trained to assume that I was not likeable, that I didn't deserve the attentions of others, and I've carried that with me (though mostly unconsciously) into adulthood.
I always just thought of myself as a inherently defective (just a little bit!), but now I know that society broke me when I was little, and I have the professional perspective that will help me to myself. And through all the suddenly-resurfacing pain, it kinda feels good.
I've always been a firm believer that perspective is everything. It's helped me to become the compassionate, open-minded person I am today. I've learned (through much hard work, to shift perspectives in my thought patterns. However, I know that one's perspective is always limited, even when one have a good grasp of how it works.
Now, for the first time in my life, I'm getting a professional perspective on myself, and it's proving to be extremely valuable. One particular perspective shift though, really threw me for a loop, and it's that shift that I feel compelled to share.
I was bullied and ostracized by my peers as a child, but I never really gave it much thought in my adult life. I always just dismissed it as "Kids are cruel" and didn't let it bother me. And I thought I was a better person for it. Unfortunately, I didn't just dismiss it. It seems I repressed it...REALLY repressed it.
Anyone who knows me know that I'm not one to repress my feelings. If I'm happy, or excited, or confused, or upset, everyone knows it. But when asked about my emotional memories of my childhood, I was shocked to realize that I didn't really have any. Not that I didn't have any emotions as a child; I just don't remember them at all. I repressed and avoided my childhood emotions to such an extent that I've somehow convinced myself that they didn't happen by erasing the memories, especially the painful ones.
Some things, I don't remember, but they're in my mind because my parents told me about them (like coming home from school crying and asking "Daddy, why don't I have any friends? Why doesn't anybody like me?") Some of the things that I DO remember, (like being beaten up on and called "weird" and "ugly") have memories attached to them, but they are from an odd, third-person perspective.
So what did I do? Well, my parents and teachers told me to ignore the bullies and insults, so I did. I lost myself in literature. I read to escape the hurt. I never really dealt with it. I never got any real emotional support for my sadness and loneliness because I never recognized it, soothing myself instead with fictional friends: The Bobsey Twins, Mowgli, Mary Lennox, The Pevensies, and a multitude of other lost children from my favourite stories.
After a bit of probing, my therapist made an interesting observation that he admitted surprised even him, and certainly shocked me. He said that my descriptions of what happened to me as a kid fit into the exact same formula as rape victims. I have no emotional memory and I dissociated from the event itself (ie, the third-person memories or complete lack of memory)
I never really thought of myself as needing therapy before. Now though, it makes so much sense! I was bullied to the point of trauma by my first real exposures to society, so now, I can't help but be afraid of social situations. I was trained to assume that I was not likeable, that I didn't deserve the attentions of others, and I've carried that with me (though mostly unconsciously) into adulthood.
I always just thought of myself as a inherently defective (just a little bit!), but now I know that society broke me when I was little, and I have the professional perspective that will help me to myself. And through all the suddenly-resurfacing pain, it kinda feels good.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
On Self-Inflicted Torture
I have a bad habit of developing crushes on guys and deciding to stay friends with them. As time goes on, I'm starting to realize that this may not be the smartest Idea I've ever had
Every year or two, I meet a guy that I fall hard for (It happens, I guess, ha ha!), and when I realize that nothing is going to happen between us (as it always does), I have my little cry and get over it. And since I get over it, of COURSE I can stay friends with them, right?
Well, I don't know how right it is, because it always goes a little bit wrong.
The problem with crushes (at least, with me) is that I never get over them 100%. It's more like 99%. That tiny 1% lingers in my heart and whispers "What if?" and "...but you never gave me a chance!" This is a purely emotional response, of course, and my rational being knows that it's a good thing we didn't get together.
The other problem is that I don't like not having friends, so I cant justify purposefully losing one just because his romantic potential dwindled to zero.
The result? A lamentable state that I find myself in far too often: witnessing a man I still have 1% of feelings for falling in love with another woman. Or my best friend. Or asking me for advice on how to woo another woman.
I'm happy, of course, when said male friends are happy and in love. And I'm happy to help in cases when romantic advice is solicited (what a laugh coming from me, eh?) or if a sympathetic ear is needed.
I'm not so happy that every time this happens, it's like pouring a drop of lemon juice on a tiny open wound. It's a bearable pain, certainly, but it's a teensy pain that just won't go away and gets pricked again and again.
And so I ask myself again and again: why do I keep doing this? I mean REALLY?
Every year or two, I meet a guy that I fall hard for (It happens, I guess, ha ha!), and when I realize that nothing is going to happen between us (as it always does), I have my little cry and get over it. And since I get over it, of COURSE I can stay friends with them, right?
Well, I don't know how right it is, because it always goes a little bit wrong.
The problem with crushes (at least, with me) is that I never get over them 100%. It's more like 99%. That tiny 1% lingers in my heart and whispers "What if?" and "...but you never gave me a chance!" This is a purely emotional response, of course, and my rational being knows that it's a good thing we didn't get together.
The other problem is that I don't like not having friends, so I cant justify purposefully losing one just because his romantic potential dwindled to zero.
The result? A lamentable state that I find myself in far too often: witnessing a man I still have 1% of feelings for falling in love with another woman. Or my best friend. Or asking me for advice on how to woo another woman.
I'm happy, of course, when said male friends are happy and in love. And I'm happy to help in cases when romantic advice is solicited (what a laugh coming from me, eh?) or if a sympathetic ear is needed.
I'm not so happy that every time this happens, it's like pouring a drop of lemon juice on a tiny open wound. It's a bearable pain, certainly, but it's a teensy pain that just won't go away and gets pricked again and again.
And so I ask myself again and again: why do I keep doing this? I mean REALLY?
Thursday, February 23, 2012
On Finding My Nerd Niche
I have been noticing lately how my relatively recent addiction to "Doctor Who" has bumped me up to a new level of nerdy. And I'm surprisingly pleased about it!
I've been a nerd all of my life, but since high school, I've always felt a little like a fraud around those nerdy friends closest to me. Why? Because I wasn't a part of the Star Wars vs. Star Trek rivalry. And everyone around me was. I've never been into Star Trek and *brace yourselves* I'm only lukewarm about Star Wars. I was a poser in the world of Sci-fi nerd-dom.
I will admit, I managed to acquire a bit of cred by getting into Firefly, but I never felt it was quite enough.
But not anymore!!
Although it's more of a phenomenon on the other side of the Atlantic, "Doctor Who" has allowed me to be a fully-fledged sci-fi nerd in my own right! Yay me!
As someone who tends to shun the culturally mainstream (and no, I'm NOT a hipster), being a part of the DW fanbase gives me a sense of belonging that I never felt before.
I hate to admit it, but it really feels great. I've found my nerd niche and I plan on settling down for awhile. :)
Now that I got that off my back, I have a nerdy story that will probably give my sisters a chuckle at my expense:
While watching "Big Bang Theory" last night, I predicted one of Sheldon's lines. Not because he's a predictable character, but because I had the exact same reaction to Raj's statement about the replica Ring of Power.
Raj: "It even has the Elvish inscription!"
Leah's brain: "Pffft it isn't Elvish. It's the language of Mordor written in Elvish script... Geez." Followed by a recitation in my head of the "One Ring to rule them all" along with the BBT cast.
Yep. Even I was surprised by my level of nerddom on that one. Ha ha ha!
I've been a nerd all of my life, but since high school, I've always felt a little like a fraud around those nerdy friends closest to me. Why? Because I wasn't a part of the Star Wars vs. Star Trek rivalry. And everyone around me was. I've never been into Star Trek and *brace yourselves* I'm only lukewarm about Star Wars. I was a poser in the world of Sci-fi nerd-dom.
I will admit, I managed to acquire a bit of cred by getting into Firefly, but I never felt it was quite enough.
But not anymore!!
Although it's more of a phenomenon on the other side of the Atlantic, "Doctor Who" has allowed me to be a fully-fledged sci-fi nerd in my own right! Yay me!
As someone who tends to shun the culturally mainstream (and no, I'm NOT a hipster), being a part of the DW fanbase gives me a sense of belonging that I never felt before.
I hate to admit it, but it really feels great. I've found my nerd niche and I plan on settling down for awhile. :)
Now that I got that off my back, I have a nerdy story that will probably give my sisters a chuckle at my expense:
While watching "Big Bang Theory" last night, I predicted one of Sheldon's lines. Not because he's a predictable character, but because I had the exact same reaction to Raj's statement about the replica Ring of Power.
Raj: "It even has the Elvish inscription!"
Leah's brain: "Pffft it isn't Elvish. It's the language of Mordor written in Elvish script... Geez." Followed by a recitation in my head of the "One Ring to rule them all" along with the BBT cast.
Yep. Even I was surprised by my level of nerddom on that one. Ha ha ha!
On Symbolic Dreams
Last night, I think I had a symbolic dream. It went thusly:
I was walking along a street when an elderly Asian man in a bright red silk jacket with gold trim asked me if I would carry his baby granddaughter for him, as she couldn't yet walk and he was too tired to keep carring her. I happily agreed, so he gave me the baby and walked in front of me. Slowly, though, he get further and further ahead of me. I wasn't surprised, as I was laden with an infant, who was quite heavy, and she was sleepy, so getting awkward to carry. At one point, I stopped to show her something pretty in a store window, but when I looked up, her grandfather was gone. I hurried ahead, but he had disappeared into the downtown crowd. After searching for him, I decided to walk to Chinatown, which was nearby, and hope that it was where he was heading. But he was nowhere to be found. Out of desperation, I went into what I thought was a community centre, but instead of city employees behind the counter, there were Buddhist monks. Some wore the grey robes of Korean monks, and some wore the burgundy and gold of Tibetan monks. Assured that they would be able to help, I waited until one of the monks was free, approached the counter, sat the baby on it, and started to explain what had happened.
Sadly, my alarm went off before the monk could help me.
But it got me to thinking. Maybe the baby symbolizes my life and responsibilities that are are getting a little too heavy and awkward for me to carry alone comfortably, even if I don't resent them and am glad to carry them. Maybe I should get back into studying Buddhism to see if it can help me with my burden.
I don't pretend to be an expert, but it IS my mind. And I HAVE been thinking of picking up a few of my Buddhist habits once again. Maybe this is a sign that my subconscious agrees. :)
I was walking along a street when an elderly Asian man in a bright red silk jacket with gold trim asked me if I would carry his baby granddaughter for him, as she couldn't yet walk and he was too tired to keep carring her. I happily agreed, so he gave me the baby and walked in front of me. Slowly, though, he get further and further ahead of me. I wasn't surprised, as I was laden with an infant, who was quite heavy, and she was sleepy, so getting awkward to carry. At one point, I stopped to show her something pretty in a store window, but when I looked up, her grandfather was gone. I hurried ahead, but he had disappeared into the downtown crowd. After searching for him, I decided to walk to Chinatown, which was nearby, and hope that it was where he was heading. But he was nowhere to be found. Out of desperation, I went into what I thought was a community centre, but instead of city employees behind the counter, there were Buddhist monks. Some wore the grey robes of Korean monks, and some wore the burgundy and gold of Tibetan monks. Assured that they would be able to help, I waited until one of the monks was free, approached the counter, sat the baby on it, and started to explain what had happened.
Sadly, my alarm went off before the monk could help me.
But it got me to thinking. Maybe the baby symbolizes my life and responsibilities that are are getting a little too heavy and awkward for me to carry alone comfortably, even if I don't resent them and am glad to carry them. Maybe I should get back into studying Buddhism to see if it can help me with my burden.
I don't pretend to be an expert, but it IS my mind. And I HAVE been thinking of picking up a few of my Buddhist habits once again. Maybe this is a sign that my subconscious agrees. :)
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
On Moments of Hopelessness
It's been one of those evenings.
One of those horrible times when, just for a while, nothing goes right. And it just spirals into chaos.
It starts small: a supper ruined, a little feeling of loneliness...
And now, there's just one phrase that keeps popping into my head: "Is this it?"
I mean, of course, this isn't it. I know that there's a great big world out there, full of wonderful and exciting things. It just seems like, for the moment, it's ever so far away from me.
I suddenly feel like the little world that I've been living in, where I'm comfortable in my own skin, and happy with myself, and pleased with my own accomplishments and skill set, is just not enough. I feel an emptiness that I've always been able to fill with odd hobbies and intellectual pursuits.
I come home, eat supper, pet the cat, then spend the evening indulging in one of my many little hobbies or trying to keep my apartment clean. But I'm not making friends on a scale that I should be at my age. I'm not very good at it. I like people, I love my friends, but I don't like going out. I never do.
And if I don't sort myself out soon, I'm going to be THAT woman. You know the one. The one who never goes out and just gets frumpier and frumpier as the years go by, then finally ends up in some kind of institution, alone.
And I feel powerless to stop it.
And where did all this come from? From a spoiled supper and bad hormonal timing.
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
One of those horrible times when, just for a while, nothing goes right. And it just spirals into chaos.
It starts small: a supper ruined, a little feeling of loneliness...
And now, there's just one phrase that keeps popping into my head: "Is this it?"
I mean, of course, this isn't it. I know that there's a great big world out there, full of wonderful and exciting things. It just seems like, for the moment, it's ever so far away from me.
I suddenly feel like the little world that I've been living in, where I'm comfortable in my own skin, and happy with myself, and pleased with my own accomplishments and skill set, is just not enough. I feel an emptiness that I've always been able to fill with odd hobbies and intellectual pursuits.
I come home, eat supper, pet the cat, then spend the evening indulging in one of my many little hobbies or trying to keep my apartment clean. But I'm not making friends on a scale that I should be at my age. I'm not very good at it. I like people, I love my friends, but I don't like going out. I never do.
And if I don't sort myself out soon, I'm going to be THAT woman. You know the one. The one who never goes out and just gets frumpier and frumpier as the years go by, then finally ends up in some kind of institution, alone.
And I feel powerless to stop it.
And where did all this come from? From a spoiled supper and bad hormonal timing.
Happy Tuesday, everyone.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
On Kids These Days
When I say "Kids these days", naturally, I don't mean ALL kids. I mean a frightening number of kids, or things that kids do these days that other generations would probably not DREAM of doing.
This is what I saw today that really bugged me:
I was watching "Judge Judy" on TV (what can I say? JJ is my hero!) and one of the cases was a well-dressed young man - backed up by his mum - that was suing his disabled father who promised to buy him a car when he started college, and didn't.
That just blew my mind.
Why, in God's name, would you SUE your father, who lives on $1000 per month (minus $300 per month for child insurance) FOR A CAR? Seriously, kid, you're 22 and in college. Do you not see how ridiculous that is? "He promised he'd get me a car, and so I want my car!" It made me so incredibly angry. Righteously angry. And made me want to shake not only the kid, but his mum for letting him do it!
Douche.
Luckily, Judge Judy is a smart woman and ended the case with "get a part-time job and get your own car"
Seriously, why are we teaching our kids that material goods are a right, instead of a privilege? Are they blinded by shiny objects so much that they cannot see common sense anymore? What is happening?
Sadly, there are FAR too many factors to be able to blame this on someone/thing: poor parenting, consumer media, capitalist values, lack of general accountability in society, loose cultural morals. The list goes on and on. But the sad fact remains: kids are growing up with an unhealthy sense of entitlement.
Regardless of how it started, we need to start thinking about how to end it before it becomes an epidemic. Or rather, a worse epidemic than it already is. We need some serious damage control.
Rant over. For now...
This is what I saw today that really bugged me:
I was watching "Judge Judy" on TV (what can I say? JJ is my hero!) and one of the cases was a well-dressed young man - backed up by his mum - that was suing his disabled father who promised to buy him a car when he started college, and didn't.
That just blew my mind.
Why, in God's name, would you SUE your father, who lives on $1000 per month (minus $300 per month for child insurance) FOR A CAR? Seriously, kid, you're 22 and in college. Do you not see how ridiculous that is? "He promised he'd get me a car, and so I want my car!" It made me so incredibly angry. Righteously angry. And made me want to shake not only the kid, but his mum for letting him do it!
Douche.
Luckily, Judge Judy is a smart woman and ended the case with "get a part-time job and get your own car"
Seriously, why are we teaching our kids that material goods are a right, instead of a privilege? Are they blinded by shiny objects so much that they cannot see common sense anymore? What is happening?
Sadly, there are FAR too many factors to be able to blame this on someone/thing: poor parenting, consumer media, capitalist values, lack of general accountability in society, loose cultural morals. The list goes on and on. But the sad fact remains: kids are growing up with an unhealthy sense of entitlement.
Regardless of how it started, we need to start thinking about how to end it before it becomes an epidemic. Or rather, a worse epidemic than it already is. We need some serious damage control.
Rant over. For now...
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
On Luck
I've been really, really lucky lately.
For one, I got a well-paying new job, which is going to open up whole new avenues for me. I can buy clothes that actually fit me from shops like "Tall Girl" I can finish making my apartment what I want it to be (I'm a couple cans of paint and a few items of furniture shy of my ideal), I can look into getting my full driver's license, I can pay off my student loan and a couple of other small debts, I can visit my friends in Europe more often...The possibilities are endless!
And you know what? I'm feeling satisfied. I don't have said material goods yet, but I don't NEED them. I'm happy with the possibility of them; the fact that I have the means to acquire them if I so choose.
And now that I'm feeling satisfied, I'm starting to feel like I don't need my luck anymore, or at least, not so much of it. I fell that it would be better spent elsewhere. I feel like concentrating all my good luck into someone else. Or a few someone elses.
I've always sent my good vibes to friends in need, but I suddenly want to do more. I want to really pray for them. I'm not Christian, but "pray" is the best word for what I'm thinking. I want to do more than "good vibes." I want to give a bit of my own good fortune to someone I love.
I don't know if that's how the universe works, but dammit, I'm going to try!!!
For one, I got a well-paying new job, which is going to open up whole new avenues for me. I can buy clothes that actually fit me from shops like "Tall Girl" I can finish making my apartment what I want it to be (I'm a couple cans of paint and a few items of furniture shy of my ideal), I can look into getting my full driver's license, I can pay off my student loan and a couple of other small debts, I can visit my friends in Europe more often...The possibilities are endless!
And you know what? I'm feeling satisfied. I don't have said material goods yet, but I don't NEED them. I'm happy with the possibility of them; the fact that I have the means to acquire them if I so choose.
And now that I'm feeling satisfied, I'm starting to feel like I don't need my luck anymore, or at least, not so much of it. I fell that it would be better spent elsewhere. I feel like concentrating all my good luck into someone else. Or a few someone elses.
I've always sent my good vibes to friends in need, but I suddenly want to do more. I want to really pray for them. I'm not Christian, but "pray" is the best word for what I'm thinking. I want to do more than "good vibes." I want to give a bit of my own good fortune to someone I love.
I don't know if that's how the universe works, but dammit, I'm going to try!!!
Monday, January 16, 2012
On Hearing Yourself Sing
I must be feeling especially brave today. I recorded -badly- a YouTube duet. Someone else had posted one side of a duet, and I recorded the other.
I've never really heard a recording of myself singing, and I was warned that I would hate it...But really, other than a slightly imperfect counterpoint, and a lack of proper rehearsal/warm-up, I was really quite happy with it! I mean, the recording is horrible; it was made using a webcam with a built-in mic, and a free video editing program.
SO without further ado, and a natural amount of nervous wincing, here's my first attempt at recording. I'm the voice singing with the lyrics on screen (the higher harmony and counterpoint):
I've never really heard a recording of myself singing, and I was warned that I would hate it...But really, other than a slightly imperfect counterpoint, and a lack of proper rehearsal/warm-up, I was really quite happy with it! I mean, the recording is horrible; it was made using a webcam with a built-in mic, and a free video editing program.
SO without further ado, and a natural amount of nervous wincing, here's my first attempt at recording. I'm the voice singing with the lyrics on screen (the higher harmony and counterpoint):
Sunday, January 8, 2012
On Destiny
Some people believe that the universe (God, fate, destiny, Karma, etc.) send you signs of some kind to guide you in the right direction or to let you know you're on the right track or somesuch.
And to be quite frank, I'm worried.
Now, what I'm about to write will seem awfully silly to those reading, but it's been something that's been on my mind for awhile now.
I wonder sometimes, if the universe isn't trying to warn me, to prepare me even, for the fact that I'm never going to have children of my own.
The first hint is the obvious one: my inability to develop meaningful relationships in my adulthood. A little bit of a dramatic a statement, maybe, but I'm at the age when many of my peers are getting married or at least in long-term relationships. Not to mention that my younger sister is already married.
The next hint is that I have a cat that, at times, acts an awful lot like a child. Mostly when she snuggles up to me. Don't worry, I'm not one of those crazy broads that thinks that my pet is my child, ha ha ha. But every now and then, the way Pandora snuggles up against me and wraps a paw around my fingers or arm, or curls up in the crook of my arm, is just the way a little infant would. Maybe it's the closest I'll ever get; a poor facsimile of the real thing.
The last is my natural penchant for teaching. They say that those who can't, teach. Even though I started late, I took to teaching like a fish to water. Maybe I'm destined to spend my life teaching children because I'll never have one of my own to teach. Who knows?
I'm not saying that I truly believe any of this, but it kinda bothers me. It's a thought that I keep turning back to, and I something tells me that it will keep bothering me until something happens that will prove otherwise.
So do we have a destiny? Or is our destiny one that we shape for ourselves? Am I doomed to be a spinster because all signs point to yes? Or am I creating the signs that are pointing to spinsterhood?
Oy.
And to be quite frank, I'm worried.
Now, what I'm about to write will seem awfully silly to those reading, but it's been something that's been on my mind for awhile now.
I wonder sometimes, if the universe isn't trying to warn me, to prepare me even, for the fact that I'm never going to have children of my own.
The first hint is the obvious one: my inability to develop meaningful relationships in my adulthood. A little bit of a dramatic a statement, maybe, but I'm at the age when many of my peers are getting married or at least in long-term relationships. Not to mention that my younger sister is already married.
The next hint is that I have a cat that, at times, acts an awful lot like a child. Mostly when she snuggles up to me. Don't worry, I'm not one of those crazy broads that thinks that my pet is my child, ha ha ha. But every now and then, the way Pandora snuggles up against me and wraps a paw around my fingers or arm, or curls up in the crook of my arm, is just the way a little infant would. Maybe it's the closest I'll ever get; a poor facsimile of the real thing.
The last is my natural penchant for teaching. They say that those who can't, teach. Even though I started late, I took to teaching like a fish to water. Maybe I'm destined to spend my life teaching children because I'll never have one of my own to teach. Who knows?
I'm not saying that I truly believe any of this, but it kinda bothers me. It's a thought that I keep turning back to, and I something tells me that it will keep bothering me until something happens that will prove otherwise.
So do we have a destiny? Or is our destiny one that we shape for ourselves? Am I doomed to be a spinster because all signs point to yes? Or am I creating the signs that are pointing to spinsterhood?
Oy.
A Strange Dream
You unconscious mind has some pretty interesting things to say about the people around you. I know this because I'm frequently hearing these things when I dream.
Last night highlighted a few of my friends in a way that kind of surprised me.
In the dream, I was sitting with a small group of people; some of which I knew, some of which were creations of my mind. As the dream went on, the group got bigger and bigger. We started playing circle games, tossing beanbags across and such.
When the group had about two dozen people in it, I noticed that many of them were gathering around a friend of mine (from real life) and he was speaking out loud, orating. People were hanging off his every word. I thought to myself, "He kind of sounds like one of those charismatic cult leaders".
Slowly, the group turned into a discussion. My charismatic friend started making proclamations to the group at large, back up by a small following of people. I was a little worried.
Then, one of my other friends, who is known to be very opinionated, started speaking against him. Just stating her own opinion, which just happened to oppose his. I knew that if she continued that something bad would happen, judging from the threatening looks she was getting from some of my other friend's burlier followers.
I hurried over to my opinionated friend and urged her to leave, and take my other friends with her. She wanted to stay and speak her piece. I begged her to go, telling her that situation was dangerous, and that I was going to stay to keep and eye on things.
She left, taking my other real life friends with her. And I felt really relieved. But once they had left, things turned really strange, and turned into a full-fledged cult commune. I was concerned for my charismatic friend, though, so I stayed to observe what was going on.
At one point, I saw him passing by with an body-guard-like entourage. I called out to him, saying I wanted to talk to him, but he ignored me. That was the last straw. I followed the group and when he sat down, I approached him. I was stopped by a muscular bodyguard who must have been 6'5". I stared right up at him and slapped him imperiously on the cheek, he was so shocked that be backed away. My friend didn't look at me when I walked up, but he knew I was there. I made to slap him, too, but he raised his arm and blocked me, all without even turning in my direction.
Enraged, I gabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him backwards off the stool and when he was on the floor, I slapped him smartly across the face. (I guess my dream self felt like face-slapping was a some kind of statement of defiance)
Once I slapped him, I felt like I'd made my point clear and I decided to leave. Quickly. I had the sneaking suspicion that he'd send someone to kill me. I left the building, and walked by men digging what looked suspiciously like graves in the side yard. I walked as fast as I could away from that place, all the time terrified that assassins had been sent against me.
SO yeah. That was my dream last night. It was really intense, and kinda scary, because now I wonder if that's how I truly see these friends. The one in particular.
Last night highlighted a few of my friends in a way that kind of surprised me.
In the dream, I was sitting with a small group of people; some of which I knew, some of which were creations of my mind. As the dream went on, the group got bigger and bigger. We started playing circle games, tossing beanbags across and such.
When the group had about two dozen people in it, I noticed that many of them were gathering around a friend of mine (from real life) and he was speaking out loud, orating. People were hanging off his every word. I thought to myself, "He kind of sounds like one of those charismatic cult leaders".
Slowly, the group turned into a discussion. My charismatic friend started making proclamations to the group at large, back up by a small following of people. I was a little worried.
Then, one of my other friends, who is known to be very opinionated, started speaking against him. Just stating her own opinion, which just happened to oppose his. I knew that if she continued that something bad would happen, judging from the threatening looks she was getting from some of my other friend's burlier followers.
I hurried over to my opinionated friend and urged her to leave, and take my other friends with her. She wanted to stay and speak her piece. I begged her to go, telling her that situation was dangerous, and that I was going to stay to keep and eye on things.
She left, taking my other real life friends with her. And I felt really relieved. But once they had left, things turned really strange, and turned into a full-fledged cult commune. I was concerned for my charismatic friend, though, so I stayed to observe what was going on.
At one point, I saw him passing by with an body-guard-like entourage. I called out to him, saying I wanted to talk to him, but he ignored me. That was the last straw. I followed the group and when he sat down, I approached him. I was stopped by a muscular bodyguard who must have been 6'5". I stared right up at him and slapped him imperiously on the cheek, he was so shocked that be backed away. My friend didn't look at me when I walked up, but he knew I was there. I made to slap him, too, but he raised his arm and blocked me, all without even turning in my direction.
Enraged, I gabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him backwards off the stool and when he was on the floor, I slapped him smartly across the face. (I guess my dream self felt like face-slapping was a some kind of statement of defiance)
Once I slapped him, I felt like I'd made my point clear and I decided to leave. Quickly. I had the sneaking suspicion that he'd send someone to kill me. I left the building, and walked by men digging what looked suspiciously like graves in the side yard. I walked as fast as I could away from that place, all the time terrified that assassins had been sent against me.
SO yeah. That was my dream last night. It was really intense, and kinda scary, because now I wonder if that's how I truly see these friends. The one in particular.
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Ode Lost C-Cups
Oh C-cups...
Two perfectly lovely, roundy handfuls;
Personal distraction devices;
And more fun to play with than women let on...
Many have been the nights,
The fleeting moments passing by the mirror,
When I just couldn't help but stare.
Never have I known satisfaction in my own size or shape,
Until you.
But alas,
All good thing must end
We must be prepared to say farewell.
I'm on an rigorous road of reps,
And you will simply melt away.
I will not mourn the loss of other lumps and bumps;
Jiggles and wiggles;
Pounds, puckers, or any other pesky pinchables.
But I will miss you.
B's just don't compare to you,
Oh C-Cups.
Two perfectly lovely, roundy handfuls;
Personal distraction devices;
And more fun to play with than women let on...
Many have been the nights,
The fleeting moments passing by the mirror,
When I just couldn't help but stare.
Never have I known satisfaction in my own size or shape,
Until you.
But alas,
All good thing must end
We must be prepared to say farewell.
I'm on an rigorous road of reps,
And you will simply melt away.
I will not mourn the loss of other lumps and bumps;
Jiggles and wiggles;
Pounds, puckers, or any other pesky pinchables.
But I will miss you.
B's just don't compare to you,
Oh C-Cups.
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