Tomorrow Is Another Day...

Oh! I Forgot To Tell You!

So!  In the midst of all of the drama that's unfolded over the past couple of days and my post of self reflection and optimism (always a portent of evil things to come in my world--I should really be negative more often) I completely forgot to talk about the weekend of Riverfest in downtown Little Rock!

If you've ever heard of the Beale Street Music Festival, Riverfest is a lot like that--lots of fairly well known bands (Train, Switchfoot, Live, etc), overpriced food and beer, arts and crafts, and all for a pretty decent price with the convenience of being about 15 minutes from my apartment.  Of course, given that convenience and the fact that it's in my hometown I spent hardly any time there at all.  Go figure.  However, Saturday we did go, and I'll always look back on that fateful Saturday as my very own comedy of errors.

I think it's been fairly well established that if something bad can happen or something can go wrong in my life, it generally will.  Sure, I have a pretty good life OVERALL, but oftentimes I think that if I were a shirt in the Disney Store I would definitely be the pink Eeyore shirt.  From a distance bright and cheery, up close--oh God, don't even ask.  So, it's safe to say that pretty much everything that could go wrong did on Saturday night.  I'll present this in an easy to read timeline format, please, enjoy my misery!

4:30 pm  Decide to take a nap as it's been an exceptionally tiring day of feeding the dogs and watching Absolutely Fabulous while camped out on my couch.

4:45 pm  Phone rings.  Contemplate not answering, but decide that I've been enough of a hermit, I might as well see what's going on in the world.

4:46 pm Talk talk talk talk talk...

5:00 pm  Want to go to Riverfest?  Sure, okay... talk talk talk... hang up

6:00 pm  All dressed and pretty!  Woo, goin' out!

6:30 pm  Halfway downtown... oh crap, I forgot cash... and my ATM card... and my drivers license.  Make conscious effort to stop speeding through the residential area.

6:31 pm  Turn around

6:32 pm  Call friends sheepishly and tell them to go on in, don't mind me, I'm an idiot, I'll be there eventually!

7:00 pm  Finally, am downtown, and barely behind schedule... now just need to find a place to park...

7:05 pm  Still looking for parking...

7:10 pm  Damn out of towners taking up all of the good parking spots...

7:15 pm  There's a spot!  Oh... no... tiny motorcycle type vehicle there

7:20 pm  Holy crap, how did I end up on the interstate??

7:25 pm  Maybe the other side of the river...

7:30 pm  YES!  I WILL GIVE YOU MY FIRST BORN IF YOU JUST TELL ME THAT THERE'S A SPOT OPEN IN YOUR LOT!!  Oh, it's just five dollars?  Well, okay, or that then...

7:31 pm  Should be able to take shuttle across the river from right here... Dear me, is this the line?  And they can only fit 30 people on the shuttle at a time??  Hm, okay.  Well, I'm in good shape, I'll just walk!

7:35 pm  Walking...

7:45 pm  Walking.....

7:50 pm  My God, why in the HELL did I wear heels?  And how big is this damn river??

7:55 pm  SHIT.  I left my paid in advance, half priced ticket in the car.

7:56 pm  Debate going back to retrieve ticket and laugh maniacally at the prospect.  Forge ahead, seriously considering just going back home.

8:00 pm  Walking...

8:10 pm  Finally locate gate, shell out another $15 to get in and can't get friends to answer their cell phones.  Sit, disgruntled, across from the Navy tent and stare at their butts.

8:15 pm  Friends call!  We triangulate our locations and find one another!!

8:20 pm  Really, really want to drink, feet hurt like hell, is h-o-t.  Hate.

8:25 pm  Ready to go see the band--woo!  Live!  Lightening Crashes!  Yeah!

8:26 pm  Stage is where?  On the other side of the river??  Where I just... walked... from...  Like hell I'm walking back over there, we will wait for the shuttle.  Line is satisfyingly short.

8:27 pm  Shuttles are shut down.  Waiting for an ambulance.

8:28 pm  Trolley comes.  Hesitate, not wanting to lose our place in the shuttle line, but decide to risk it.

8:30 pm  Oops, sorry girls, you'll have to wait for the next trolley!

8:31 pm  Apologetic looks from friends... sigh in defeat, take off shoes and cheerfully suggest just walking back across the river.

8:32 pm  Repeat of 7:31-7:50 pm activities, this time Britney Spears style--sans shoes.  Asphalt kind of hurts like a bitch too, but it's better than the damn heels.  Nobody told me I'd be running a marathon tonight.

9:00 pm  Make it to stage, have I mentioned that I still really want to drink?  And also cry?  Concentrate on how this will make a great blog entry.  Try to find Zen place in my mind to relax.

9:05 pm  Meet up with more friends--oooooh, hot guy!!  Alright, here we go!

9:10 pm  Hot guy's friend, Not So Hot Guy hits on me.  Go back to Zen place and smile and nod a lot.

9:15 pm  Band plays... La la la... small children in front of us smoke weed... move aside, panicky about possible drug testing at work next week.

9:30 pm  Band still playing... hm, yeah, really smoky out here... La la la... Feet reeeeaaaally hurt...

9:45 pm  Are you ready to go?  Yeah... kinda... you?  Yeah... pretty much... We are such boring people.

9:46 pm  Walk back to car, again shoeless.

9:50 pm  Going home, yay!

9:55 pm  Can't figure out how to get home... roads shut down... GAAAAAH!!!!!

Anyway, I eventually made it home, but OH MY GOD, I walked around like a cripple for the next two days and ended up spending about 25 bucks to see 30 minutes of a band playing.  Seriously, there are some nights you should just not answer your phone.  Although, I guess on the good news side of the coin, I didn't die--so not EVERYTHING that could have gone wrong did...

(Oh, but I did take myself to Barnes and Noble for a rather ridiculous shopping spree on Monday to make myself feel better.  Seriously, that place is like a drug for me--but I got some AWESOME stuff to read!)

(Like I don't have at least 50 unread books already at home sitting sadly on a bookshelf awaiting their turn on my bedside table.)

Oooookay.

I can't think of another reason to put this off again, so I guess I'll just go ahead and finally talk about my most recent boy issues.  And when I say "issues" I mean not only the current situations I've had lately with the not so fair sex, but also my own bizarre baggage left over from previous relationships.

You know how there are those internet surveys that you get in emails, or get tagged with as meme's, or show up as bulletins or blogs on MySpace?  And how there's always the question--"What is your biggest fear?"  I've always made up kind of silly exagerrated answers to this--dying alone and my dogs eating my face off, falling into a pit of cockroaches without a can of Raid--that kind of thing.  But I've been doing a lot (A LOT) of thinking lately, and I think I can safely say what my two biggest fears are--I can't narrow this down to just one. 

My first is the fear of regret.  So far in my life there are very few things that I look back on and truly regret relationship-wise, or really in regard to anything.  I mean, I look back on things and realize I could have handled them differently, probably even better, but I don't feel as though I've made any huge life changing mistakes that I would give anything to go back and redo.  However, I also think this fear is the reason that I've stayed in relationships when they're far past their expiration dates.  I don't ever want to give up on a person for fear that in 10 years I'll look back and say, what if I'd given them that one more chance?  Which is why I'll probably always be the dumpee rather than the dumper, because I'm not willing to give up on people I've loved.

My second huge fear is the fear of never being enough.  I've been in two serious relationships, both of which ended when my exes chose another girl over me.  It's a hard pill to swallow that no matter how hard you try, sometimes you just aren't enough--that a person can and probably will still stray.  It's a fear that I'm facing head-on with SJB right now, before things have even started with us.  He's been seeing another girl casually for months now, and going into this with him I'm accepting the possibility that once again I'll not measure up, I'll not be good enough, I'll have to watch as he picks her over me. 

I finished The Dogs of Babel this weekend, and there was a quote that touched me deep down inside.  I had to sit and read it over and over again to fully absorb and then sit and stare into space just thinking about it.  I wrote it down on a scrap of paper and keep it with me to remind me that I'm not the only person that feels this way.  "Hope and fear are two sides of the same coin."  This is so incredibly true and profound to me, and it's the thought that I've been trying to wrap my head around for the past two and a half months of turmoil with SJB.  I feel such a strong hope because there's so much wrapped up in it--my attraction to him since the first time we met 6 years ago that I never thought could be reciprocated, our friendship that has always been there but has blossomed since we've gotten back in touch, the promise of something potentially great waiting just around the corner if I only just give it that chance.  The fear that if I just walk away to spare myself the possibility of hurt I'll regret it for the rest of my life, the fear that he's just feeding me lines and I'm falling for them one by one, the fear that we won't be able to find that friendship again if things don't work out.  There are so many hopes and so many fears, and there are so many highs and so many lows.

I've had to choose which fear I'm willing to face with him.  Do I just throw my hands up in defeat and say there are plenty of other fish in the sea and then wonder the rest of my life if I made the wrong choice?  Or do I face my fear of not being enough and hope that he can see me and appreciate me for who I am and what I have to offer, and finally be able to let go of that fear of not measuring up?  Last night I chose the latter.  I chose honesty and openness and I chose to give him that one "last chance".  I'll find out today if he can follow through, and if he can't I'll have to walk away and hope that I never look back on this and regret my decisions.

Hope and fear may be two sides of the same coin, but today I choose hope.

I Have Cute Dogs and Also Am A Putter Offer Type Person

I'd like to introduce you to the Psychotic Puppy, Ellie, who has taken up residence in my home recently.  She spends rather a lot of time racing around the apartment like a whirling dervish, chewing on things she shouldn't, yapping at Jack while he eats his food, and pooping on the balcony.  And yet, despite all of this, I love the little squirmy bastard.  And it does appear to be true what they say about the second "child" syndrome, as much as I love her and adore her, I've had her for 3 months now, and she's yet to make an appearance on the site.  Whereas with Jack I had to physically restrain myself from posting more and yet more photos of him when he first arrived in my life for fear of chasing off all of my readers.

So, anyway, without further ado, here she is, the devil spawn herself, Ellie the Caramel Colored Baby:

Believe me, this calm angelic demeanor is nowhere NEAR her natural state...

Witness the glowing devil eyes burning into your soul and tempting you to follow in their demonic ways.

And from the first time they laid eyes on each other, it was clear that the two would be fast friends... or that they would chew each other to bits without a moment's hesitation.

And then when there are cookies in question, they are suddenly the best behaved puppies in the known universe--and possibly even the unknown.

Noooooobody knows the trouble I've seen, noooooobody knows my sorrow.  Huh!  She's a bass!  This is where she spends the majority of her time "thinking about what she's done" while I finish tearing out my hair and/or comforting Jack after she's bitten the crap out of him.

So, yes, that's been rather fun, and she certainly provides a distraction when things are going crap in my life, which they kind of have been lately.  I know I keep saying I'm going to give the update on the boy situation, but honestly I just can't bring myself to go into details right now.  I'm fairly confident that I'll be bored as hell at work on Tuesday and then I will spill all of the sordid details.  And at the rate things have been going I will then sell myself on Ebay for a passel of camels and just be done with this whole stupid dating thing.

Look At All The Pretty Things!!

(Also, editing to say that more shall come this weekend, because OH MY GOD with the boys, and also I owe Shelley pictures of the Forgotten Second Dog and she's been oh so patient!  But today... just... no, not today...)

You'll never guess what appeared on my doorstep yesterday!  

Have your guess all ready to go?  Need a few more minutes?  Okay, I can't keep it in anymore--FIFTH ROW TICKETS TO WICKED ON BROADWAY!!!!  WOOOOOOOOOO!!!!  It's really hard to be depressed when I think about that.  Well, except for when I think about the fact that my sister and I paid double the face value ticket price to get them, but STILL, we shall not be picky!  Beggars can't be choosers!  Beggars also probably couldn't afford the tickets... but you know, whatever...

I was going to talk about boys a little bit too, but quite frankly I'm tired of thinking about it right now.  So, I won't.

The Relationship Classification System

Okay, this could possibly be amusing to those of you who are Facebook/MySpace addicts (much like yours truly) and will require little to no explanation.  In fact, I imagine you nodding your head in understanding with a knowing chuckle and thinking of your own real life examples.  For the rest of you, who are lucky enough not to be Facebook/MySpace junkies and have NO idea what I'm talking about, let me explain.

Both websites claim to be "networking" websites, where you can post a profile, pictures, and comment on each others sites.  Facebook is a little more organized--you have to have a school or work email address to register and your profile is a little more strictly regulated as far as who is allowed to see it and what kind of information about yourself you provide.  It's a little bit more of a free classmates.com if you can imagine that. 

MySpace is kind of the wild teenage step-daughter with spiky, purple hair and a penchant for piercings.  You can individualize your website, you can use whatever name you choose, pretty much anyone's profile is publicly accessible, so I'm typically a little bit more careful about what sort of information I put out there than on my Facebook profile.  What the two sites have in common is the intricacies of the "relationship status" portion.

I'd never really thought about it before, because when setting up both sites I'd been in a relationship for a pretty dang long time, so I just put "in a relationship" and didn't waste anymore of those special "thinking spots" in my brain on it.  Then, when the relationship ended, I just went in and changed my status to single--I canceled that bitch!  Again, didn't think much of it.  I was in a relationship, now I am not.  Little did I know how complicated the relationship status area of the profile would prove to be.

On MySpace it's a little easier as your options are more limited--you're in a relationship, you're single, you're divorced, you're married.  That's pretty much it.  And there's no way to link to the person with whom you are actually "in a relationship", "engaged", or "married".  Facebook on the other hand is a whole different kettle of fish--scary, scary fish with bitey teeth and scratchy scales that make you bleed profusely and cry piteously into your hands.  It's all very easy when you are in a well-established relationship, or are married to your significant other--then there is no question.  You proclaim your adoration to one another publicly and it's a very clear "Step Off, I'm Taken" signal to any other interested parties.  (Well, not all interested parties--for some people it makes no difference if you're in a relationship or not as to whether or not they're going to move in for the kill but I DIGRESS--and am also VERY BITTER!)

But if you aren't in one of these well-established relationships, then all of this middle ground/grey area crops up.  Facebook give you the options of "single", "it's complicated", and "dating", which sure, that sounds simple enough, right?  But it's not really!  It's added a whole new dynamic to the dating scene--the question of when you've gone public enough to claim each other on the site.  And the thing is, it's never an actual spoken discussion.  It's just another one of those aspects of a relationship that's an uncomfortable silent dance around the topic until one or the other of you just bites the bullet and goes ahead and slaps a "dating" up there on your profile.  But then!  Are you "dating" so seriously that you actually want to link to the person that you're dating?  Or are you dating a few people and need to keep that section a little vague?  And when do you get to move up from "dating" to "in a relationship"?  And more importantly, who actually uses that "it's complicated" classification?  I mean, seriously, if it's complicated I'm really not going to go around broadcasting that to the world.  I'd rather just keep it to myself until I've decided if this is "dating" worthy, or if I'm just going to be single.

The other option is to play it the way that I've decided to on Facebook.  I don't claim a relationship status at all.  I've found that there are a couple of motivations for this decision, some a little more pure than others.  My reasoning is that when I had "single" listed, I kept getting contacted ("poked" for you Facebookies out there) by random guys that I'd never met and had no real desire to meet.  I decided to just go ahead and take down that "single" moniker and let people figure it out for themselves whether I was in a relationship or not.  Other people (mainly guys I've noticed) will often leave that section of their profile blank if they're seeing someone but don't want all the hot Facebook girls to know that about them.  I suppose these are the Facebook playas.  Yes, and if you're wondering, SJB falls into that last category.

Which leads me to my last point--the marking of the territory.  This is usually something that's done by the ladies, but I've also noticed plenty of guys that do the same thing.  What this means is that in a lot of cases, these guys that don't have a relationship status chosen will have one girl that comments repeatedly on their site with little "inside joke" kind of comments.  It's their way of saying, yeah, I may not be publicly claimed, but I AM HERE, and you'd better watch your step with my man/woman! 

The other use of this tool is to nauseatingly declare their love and adoration to one another in a public setting.  It's a form of internet PDA I guess.  You know you've run across one of these people, if somewhere in their "about me" section, it says something along the lines of "and I'm so lucky to have my AMAZING girlfriend Lulu Bell in my life, I feel so blessed by the good Lord that she tumbled from the stars into my arms where I hope she will reside forever".  Or, you know, something along those lines.  And then of course they pepper each other's comments with syrupy sweet, "I love yous", "I miss yous", and "I can't believe it's only been 15 minutes since I was in your arms, come to me my love and I will once again be whole".

Which, you know, okay, that's fine, but it's kind of specific, don't you think?

The Posterchild for Eternal Hope... Or Maybe Just an Idiot

Well, I think that I successfully bitched the local guy out of the picture...  When I say "bitched" I don't mean that I yelled at him a lot and gave him what for, no, I just acted like a passive aggressive bitch and when he went to kiss me at the end of the night I kind of turned my head just enough that we did this weird nose hitting thing.  I declare, I am just such a smooth one.  I know that this isn't the best way to handle things, but it's the way I always have gotten rid of guys that I'm not interested anymore.  And sure it's cowardly and manipulative, but isn't it better than a sickly sweet conversation about how "it's not you it's me, and you're really a great guy but I just don't think you're right for me..." ugh, I hate that with a passion.  Anyway, I say that he took the hint because after sending him a message thanking him for dinner he responded along the lines of, "Yeah, the food was good"--ouch!

So, exit stage left local boy, reenter stage right Stupid Jerk Boy (henceforth known as SJB).  Which is where the eternal hope comes in.  I'm kind of stupid when it comes to boys, and it's becoming a bit of a pattern.  I blame that eternal hope for being the reason I spent over three years of my life with a guy that never had any intentions of proposing, but literally every holiday that rolled around, I was sure that this time would be the time he'd pop that question.  Of course, he never did, and looking back now, with hindsight being 20/20, all of the signs were there pretty much from day one.  But I figured if I just stuck around long enough and was patient enough and loved him enough, he'd come around eventually.  See?  Eternal hope?  Idiot?  Same difference?

Which leads us up to the reentrance of SJB.  Remember how I said I yelled at him and was pretty sure I'd slammed that door and locked it behind me?  Well, he popped his little head back in the door last night, and I can't figure out if I want to slam it in his face again or not.  I'm not really looking for advice (PLEASE GOD NO ADVICE!!), because I know I'll figure this out on my own, for good or for bad.  It's hard because there's obviously some kind of attraction there and I can't help but hope that something could come of this, I just don't want to waste another chunk of my life on someone who's just looking to see what he can get out of me without giving anything of himself.  I'm still playing it cool with him, but I suppose a dialog has been established, and we'll see just how willing he is to try to make this work.  Because for now?  I'm done with the chasing and the trying--it's his turn.

"And I Feel Like I'm Naked In Front of A Crowd, 'Cause These Words Are My Diary Screaming Out Loud"

(Subtitle: Dude, You All Are Kind of Whorish About The Whole Hot Neighbor Question Thing--He's Totally Overweight and MARRIED.  Also Old.)

I've been extremely conflicted lately about how much I can let myself write here.  It's one thing to write about me, because I'm me, and whatever, obviously I approve the things that I decide to put out here in this public forum and I'm not going to stumble upon this site randomly on my couch while eating chocolate covered pretzels and watching reruns of Family Guy and become horrified by what I wrote when I recognize myself in certain entries.  There are certain people in my life who don't know about this site, and who might not be so thrilled to know that I'm talking about them to a whole bunch of strangers, and honestly in a lot of cases, there's a reason that they don't know the things that I would write in here about them.  The reason being I DON'T WANT THEM TO KNOW.  So, I guess what I'm saying is that this entry is pretty personal to me, and it's possible that at a later date I'll delete this whole dang post and replace it with a picture of a piguin... or I don't know, I might grow a pair and leave it up (and also keep a very close eye on my site meter to check on who's reading).

Okay, enough with the stalling and disclaimers.

So, last night was the date, and, I don't know, I'm just very "meh" about the whole situation.  He's a really good looking guy, he's extremely sweet and polite, he's got an adorable southern accent and he comes from a good family.  (Oh my God, did I just say he comes from a good family??  How antebellum AM I??)  On top of that, he's seen Gone with the Wind, and he likes it--I mean, I should be totally in love, right?  So, then why is it that when he was chewing on a straw last night it was literally all I could do to keep from jumping out of my chair in the middle of the movie and screaming at him to STOP IT for the love of GOD!!!  And before we'd even gotten home he'd already asked me out for tonight, and I had to give him a maybe because of another situation which I'll get into in a minute.  He walked me to the door after the movie and I got the little awkward peck and hug, and really didn't feel a whole lot of fireworks... or even handheld sparklers... or the static shock you feel from rubbing your feet on the carpet and then touching a doorknob.  But I'm really trying to give this a chance and see where it goes.

As for the other guy... the one who's been in the picture for a couple of months now in a purely conversational way... y'all I don't know what his deal is.  Or for that matter, what my deal is?  Why is it that he can put so little effort into this and I want him so much more than the nice, sweet, local guy who treats me well and seems so honored to be in my presence?  I mean, is it some kind of psychological thing where I only want an unavailable guy because then I don't have to deal with the horrors of actually being in another relationship that could go down in flames?  I don't know, maybe I'm analyzing it too much.  Maybe I'm just one of those stupid girls who likes assholes. 

Anyway, this weekend was the third weekend that we've had plans to meet up, and this weekend was the third weekend that it fell through, and I completely lost it with him last night.  I told him I was checking out of this because I'm tired of his disappearing acts and the fact that something else more important than me always comes up at the last minute.  That I've kept this very light and un-serious (is that even a word?) but I can only put forth so much effort without getting any return on my investment.  It's supposed to be fun at this point, but instead I feel like I'm on some kind of royally screwed up rollercoaster where I'm so high one day and so very, very low the next day, and I just keep expecting to go careening off the track at any point.  He came on so strong at first, and for the past month and a half I feel like he's just been tossing crumbs to keep stringing me along.  Honestly, I just can't accept crumbs anymore.  Look, the guy lives 3 hours away and we've been talking for 2 1/2 months and known each other for 6 years--there's really no reason it should be that hard for us to meet up at some point.  I know I deserve more than he's been giving me, and I'm tired of wondering what's wrong with ME, when obviously the issues are all his.  (Okay, well, not ALL the issues, but definitely lots of them.)  Anyway, not too surprisingly, I didn't get a response back from him, so I don't really know where we stand, but I think it's safe to say that whatever weird dynamic we had is pretty much over now.  And, uh, Shani, I suppose you can change my RSVP for the wedding to one now... hee!  Love me!

So, that's the update.  I guess I'll hang out with local guy at some point this weekend and focus on trying to figure out my feelings toward him rather than being hung up on stupid jerk boy.  HA!!  That's my revenge, I call him Stupid Jerk Boy on the internet.  Watch out world, I'm tough as nails!  So tough that if I ever catch wind that he or anyone else that knows him is reading this site I will fall off the Internet SO FAST your computer monitor will spin.

If I'm Not Careful You're Totally Going to Want to Steal My Life

Because it is JUST THAT AWESOME!!

I'm not sure if that's sarcasm or not... lately it's been kind of either really awesome or totally craptastic.  Not a whole awful lot of middle ground.  But yesterday I did get everything done that I was supposed to, except for the washing of the bathroom.  I have an excuse though.  The time allocated to cleansing of tile surfaces was instead taken over by what we'll call "Jack and Ellie's Big Adventure!"

Sigh.

So, apparently Jack is really crazy smart about things that he WANTS to be smart about, and the fact that he just glances at me lazily with eyes glazed over when I say silly things like "Sit", "Come", and "Stay", doesn't actually reflect much on his intelligence.  Dude knows how to open the door.  I shit you not.  And yesterday he decided to try out this new little trick and took his little sister on the aforementioned Big Adventure.  The best part?  He'd pulled off Ellie's collar before they went racing off into the wild blue yonder, so when I went tearing after them with their leashes, it did me No Good.

You know what's even cuter?  How they can just sense with their evil little puppy brains that I really want them to just come the frick back inside and so when I crouch down by the door with cookies and make sweet, cooing come hither noises they actually LAUGH at me and then run away.  Like, fuck your cookies you stupid human, there's poop out here to eat!!

So, I ran after them out to the woods behind my apartment--praying that the stupid teenagers with their stupid fast cars wouldn't come flying around the corner at just that moment--and sweet little Ellie, who shall henceforth be known as The Good One That I Love Most, came running over to me as she determined that cookies actually are tastier than poop.  Jack, on the other hand, had business to take care of, and coming anywhere near me was not included in his schedule of events.  He refused to even look in my direction--kind of an "If I can't see you, then you're not really there" approach I suppose.  So, I'm crouching precariously on a rocky hill, clutching one squirmy, leashless/collarless dog to my chest and still trying to appear loving and suggesting to Jack that he come to me, when I hear the voice of my across-the-hall-neighbor ringing out from his balcony, "You want some help with that?"  FOR THE LOVE OF POPPY SEED CRACKERS, YES!!!

Neighbor made his way across to the wooded area, doing a nifty little whistling thing that I definitely need to learn and that Jack thought was totally cool, and the little black spawn of Satan came hurtling through the trees, not giving a flip about me or my cookies, but absolutely enamored of that Big Whistling Man.  I hate that dog.  We made it back into my apartment, me trying not to dissolve into a quivering puddle of Jello while thanking neighbor effusively.  Once I got safely inside I thought momentarily about killing the little furballs, but instead started crying and squeezed them to me in utter relief that they weren't doggie flapjacks out on the road.  Of course, they'd already forgotten about the whole thing and were all "get off me you nutjob and give me my dinner!"  And so I did.

Then, to top it all off, I took Ellie out later that night to do her biznass, and her FREAKING COLLAR BROKE!!  Luckily she had to poop, and is less than speedy while pooping, so I was able to catch her without much racing around the apartment complex, but still, it's the whole principal of the thing.  One should really not have to deal with the near loss of their little caramel colored baby twice in the span of a few hours.  It's really far too much strain on my already put-upon heart.

In other news however, I have a second date Thursday night with the guy that I was hoping would stay in the picture.  And going along with the theme of maintaining some semblance of a personal life, that's all I'm saying.  And yet, YAY!

Uh... Insert Creative Title Here

I am so incredibly, ridiculously unmotivated this week.  Seriously, I don't know what my deal is, but I don't think I've done anything remotely productive in the past 48 hours.

Things I Should Have At Least Attempted To Get Done Yesterday:

* Go for a run focusing on speed/light weight lifting/ab work--lose 5 pounds immediately

* Vacuum up the 3rd dog that has taken up residence all over my carpet and keeps sticking to my socks

* Clean the bathroom--particularly the bathtub, because ewwww... I fear very little bodily cleansing is being done in that area based on the current Grime Threat Condition

* Practice "sit" and "stay" with the dogs, encouraging them to obey commands even when I'm not offering then Snausages, and instead teach them to listen to me out of the goodness of their hearts and strong desire to please their master (HA!)  (I'm sorry, did I emphasize that HA enough?  Because HAAA!)

* Gone through the pile of magazines dating back to January that probably now reaches hip level and deciding which ones I actually still plan on reading.  Realize that I'm kind of old and boring upon deciding to dispose of the Cosmopolitans and Glamours and hang on to the Good Housekeeping

* Take my bridesmaid dress for a fitting... am hesitating to do this because after everyone saying how it's so huge and it will fall off me, am very afraid that it will fit perfectly

Things That Actually Got Done Yesterday:

* Short nap on the couch during a rerun of 7th Heaven, which I still watch even though I refuse to let my TiVo record it and insist with 3 thumbs down that I despise

* Reheated 3 pieces of Margherita pizza from NYPD Pizza and polished it off along with a delicious Greek salad

* Emptied dishwasher (yay!), ran out of steam before managing to load dirty dishes into newly emptied appliance (boo!)

* Sobbed through two hours of Grey's Anatomy, popped bag of Boy Scout popcorn 45 minutes in to the show for energy.  Sobbing is exhausting

But tonight!  Tonight will be different!  I will go for a fantastically grueling run, which is very much required due to my less than stellar lunch of Lean Cuisine pizza, V-8, Oreos, and Milky Way bar!  I'll vacuum during American Idol commercials and clean the bathroom during House commercials!  I have a plan!  I can do this!  I will require many more exclamation points than this to stay motivated!

And maybe, just maybe, after I lose those 5 pounds from my workout tonight, I'll bring the dress in to get altered tomorrow.  But for now, let's try not to overwhelm me with too much optimism--I figure I'm doing pretty damn good if I remember to pay my rent on time these days.

So, Apparently I Kind of Have a Life Now... Huh...

My typical weekend looks something like this:

Friday night:  Watch Ghost Whisperer, fall asleep sometime around nine and eventually move back to the bed where I snore peacefully all night long.

Saturday:  Lay out/go for a run/take dogs out to play/watch Netflix movies/catch up on TiVo recordings/order extremely fatty take out and pig out on the couch.  Fall asleep some time between 10:30 and 12:00 depending on how good SNL is that night.

Sunday: Repeat Saturday, possibly now with more naps.

And I'm good with that--really, I LOVE to be lazy.  My weeks are long, I hate work, so to revel in absolute nothingness is kind of heaven to me.  But I've realized that it's time to start making a little more of an effort to actually "get back out there" instead of just talking about it all of the time.  So this weekend I decided to get together with some friends and head out on the town.

Friday night we hit the Rivertop Party at the Peabody Hotel and I met a great group of new people.  There was flirting, drinking, unwise decisions under the influence of alcohol--it was fabulous!  After the Peabody we headed to a bar downtown, but everything was bizarrely dead.  I'm not sure what was going on--or I guess more appropriately, not going on--but there were maybe a total of 50 people at the bar so we headed out early, a little after one.  I stayed at a friend's house since none of us were in any condition to drive, so the next morning, due to the logistics of the night before, we had to spend about 2 hours trying to track down my keys so I could go home.  Suffice it to say, after trying to break down a door at the Best Western we finally had to sweet talk a maid into letting us in so that we could awaken the guy who had my keys in his car.  Seriously, the Apocalypse easily could have come that morning, and he would have slept through it, no problem.

I finally made it back home early Saturday afternoon and was greeted by reproachful stares from the dogs who threatened to turn me in to Child Protective Services.  However, I won them over with cookies, and as never fails, reminded them that if not for me they'd probably be dead, so shut it and give me kisses.  I spent the rest of that day sprawled on the couch alternately sleeping and--you guessed it!--eating junk food.  And despite the fact that SNL was indeed pretty decent, I was asleep by around 11.

But THEN!  Then Sunday came.  The Sunday on which I had somehow managed to rack up two separate dates.  Which is kind of crazy, because they're the only two dates I've been on since Colby and I broke up, but hey, whatever, I'll take what I can get!  I had to be up at 9:00 in the morning to be out to the airport to meet up with the first guy who was taking me flying.  And of course.  I got lost.  Twenty minutes after I was supposed to be there and after about 5 miserable and apologetic phone calls the poor guy just told me to pull in to a gas station and he'd come find me.  Off to a great start there, Ang!  It was pretty fun though once I finally got where I was supposed to be, and I didn't even throw up--yay! 

Later that night I had a dinner date with one of the guys I had met on Friday, and I think we really hit it off well.  I'm refusing to jinx it by getting excited about it, so that's all I'm saying.  And I'm proud to say that I managed to avoid talking about the ex most of the night!  That's always been my nightmare... being that psycho girl who just won't shut the frick up about her ex.  We kind of did the, "oh, so do you know so and so?" thing that has to be done with every military person you meet, and it turns out that he did know who Colby was when they were in pilot training, but that's really the only time he came up all night.  Go me!  Anyway, I'm kind of thinking there might be a repeat performance of that one at some point.

So, I get home last night and I caught up on Desperate Housewives and Grey's Anatomy (which OH MY GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT??????  NOOOOOOOO!!!) and I got to talking to the guy I knew at school that I've been talking to for a couple of months now about possibly meeting up with in Little Rock.  I'd pretty much given up on that happening since he seemed pretty good at talking the talk, but definitely wasn't walking the walk.  Well, he tells me that he was talking to his friend who lives up here and he's thinking he'll probably be coming up this weekend.  So.  Yeah.  I guess we'll see.  Again with the not getting excited about it because I don't want to just end up disappointed again.

All in all though, it was a pretty great weekend, but I am honestly utterly exhausted today since I missed out on my 60 hours of sleep over the last 3 days.  I think it was for a pretty good reason though, and now my biggest concern is that the President keep his remarks tonight to a minimum because if that cuts into Grey's Anatomy I will seriously vote Democrat next time.

Smallish, Underage People Are Scary

Sometimes I go through stages where I'm almost overwhelmed with maternal instincts.  In the past I've quelled these instincts by getting a dog, but I feel that I've reached my limit with two volatile and completely insane furry animals in an 800 square foot area.  The Puppies are indeed getting better about listening to me--when I have a treat in my hand, or at least within reach--but they still are definitely masters of their own domain.  Which I'm fine with, as long as their domain is limited to outside and I don't have to chase after Ellie who has found another sock to bait me with.  And I think that my goal is not so much to bend them to my will so much as it is to slowly but surely whittle their domain down to nothing so that eventually when they're masters of their own domain it really doesn't mean jack.  Ha!  Fooled them!

Anyway, a coworker recently gave birth in quite possible the most insanely easy pregnancy I've ever heard of in my entire life.  She was never nauseous, no insane cravings to speak of, a touch of insomnia, but really the only way you'd know she was pregnant was the fact that it looked like she had a beachball stuck up her BDU blouse.  She never had any complaints and didn't ever seem to be in the least bit stressed about the pregnancy.  When she went in for her 8 month appointment a couple of weeks ago she was 50% effaced and her doctor said he didn't expect she'd make it to her next appointment (this is her first child, mind you!).  Luckily we had her shower planned for that weekend, so that was taken in care of in time, but Monday was her next appointment and she did indeed make it to the appointment, she just didn't make it home.  Her doctor informed her that she was having contractions two minutes apart AND SHE DIDN'T EVEN KNOW IT.  She didn't feel a dadburn thing!  So she headed over to the hospital and calmly called everyone to let us know that she wouldn't be at work the next morning.  Um, yes, I think that's acceptable dear.  She then proceeded to have a 5 hour labor in which she never felt a single contraction and had an epidural so that she wouldn't have to feel the 8 pound girl child bursting forth from a pea sized hole.  When we went to see her the next day she looked tired, but wasn't sore at all and proudly showed off her beautiful baby girl.  I think if all pregnancies and births worked like that there would be about 75% more people populating the earth.

So we admired little Raegan, smelled her head, curled her hand around our fingers, watched her squawk and turn all red and angry when we unswaddled her to see the whole package--it was great, and I definitely felt those maternal instincts kicking in full force, but mainly because I knew at the end of the visit I'd be able to hand over that tiny little person and go back to my own life where my biggest responsibility is remembering to take Ellie outside every 30 minutes since her bladder apparently has the ability to hold no more than a sip of water.  And I know that when I've had enough of Jack's antics and misbehaving I can just toss him outside and let him stick his head between the slats of the balcony and watch the world go by while I catch up on Gilmore Girls reruns.

So, as mushy gushy as infants make me feel, I have a feeling that it will be a GOOD LONG TIME before I'm ready to introduce one of them into the world.  Because I'm not sure, but I think throwing babies into kennels and locking them in there while you go out shoe shopping is probably frowned upon, in our society at least.

Black Wednesday

Yesterday wasn't an overly happy day for lieutenants in the Air Force.  After the threat of Force Shaping looming over our heads for about 8 months, The List finally came out on Wednesday.  I've been lucky enough to be an observer throughout the process since I graduated in 2004 and for this cycle those under the gun were 2002 and 2003 graduates.  I've been treating these past months as a tutorial for what I may have to go through in October--trying to figure out what my best option is for "playing the game".

Yesterday three of my friends found out that they were, in essence, being laid off by the military.  Simply by virtue of there being too many of us.  Not because they were bad officers.  Not because there had been disciplinary issues.  For no other reason than the fact that the Air Force got a little crazy with the recruiting there for a while and recently realized they couldn't afford to pay us and fight a war at the same time.  All three of these officers were prior enlisted which means that even though they only commissioned two or three years ago, they've accumulated over a decade of military service each that is now for nothing.  A resume booster.  It's kind of a dark atmosphere around here and I honestly don't know what to say to them.

"Hey, sorry you lost your job... want to go to lunch?"

I suppose they could try to come back in as guard or reserves, but with further cuts coming to active duty and guard/enlisted troops, they'd just be back in the line of fire in another few months.  I don't think a person can deal with that kind of rejection again that soon.

As for me, I just try to keep my head down and my mouth shut for now.  I'm very careful of what I say to who and try to avoid the subject all together with any supervisors or commanders.  It's kind of a crazy time to be in the Air Force right now for a number of different reasons.  A really crazy time.

And then, on top of all that, Chris got voted off of American Idol.  I'm not sure I want to live in a world that can choose Elliott and Taylor over Chris and Katharine.

I Need Postage For "Back In Time" Please

It's currently 2:19 in the a.m.  I am not asleep.  This is not because I've been a huge lazy ass lately.  In fact, I've been awake waaaaaay too much in my opinion.  I have a lot of things weighing on my mind (as stated in the previous post), however the things that are currently on my mind are boy issues.  Very unfortunate boy issues.  As in, no boy is to be trusted, no seriously I mean it this time, oh my God, Angela, haven't you learned your lesson by now??

Anyway, so I haven't been sleeping very much lately, but I've decided that rather than wasting the rest of my night stalking people on MySpace or Facebook, I will do something productive and write a highly informative letter to myself full of wit and wisdom.  Sadly, I fear this letter will not be delivered because the post office said something about shredding the fabric of the space time continuum if they try to deliver letters to people 10 years ago.  Oh well, I soldier on regardless.  But I present to you, "A Letter to Myself Minus Tennish or So Years".

Dear Angela, Aged 13,

Hi there you crazy kid!  Let me just begin by saying, stop stressing about your boobs, they're never going to get any bigger, so just don't worry about it anymore.  (Also, that kleenex in your bra is totally obvious and also so very overdone, I'm cringing at how cliche you are... I was... whatever.)  On the positive side though, you're going to discover makeup soon, and after an unfortunate tarantula eye phase, I think you'll be quite pleased with the outcome!

First things first.  You know how you really hate wearing braces, and you realize that you're probably going to be wearing them for the rest of your adolescent life, but that's okay because at the end of it your teeth will be all gorgeous and straight?  Yeah, well, you're right about that, but let me give you a little hint.  Once you get them off?  Conveniently prior to prom and senior pictures and all that jazz?  Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, wear your retainer!  I'll leave the profanities out, because I know you have tender ears yet, but seriously, you're not the expert here.  How hard is it to put two harmless little pieces of plastic in your mouth every night?  It's not hard!  Trust me, it's much much harder to drop $1500 in one go to repair the damage of NOT wearing those tiny little plastic bits.  My credit card literally screamed in pain.  That is something that you NEVER want to hear.  Just think, you a little 13 year old child, are keeping me $5,000 away from owning my very own house!  I'm not pleased with you, or the 16 year old version of yourself who led you astray.

Secondly, let's talk about boys here, because I want you to be realistic over the next few years.  I know you love Ryan with the passion of a thousand suns, as do all of your closest friends.  Why?  I'm not sure... quite honestly, at that point he looked an awful lot like a Keebler Elf, but you know what, that's okay.  And I know you think that there's nothing worse than the agony of being "the best friend" to the guy that you have your little crush on, but oh my God, girl, it is going to get SO MUCH WORSE!!  Revel in this!  Enjoy this!  It's so innocent and beautiful, and it will eventually be up there among your top favorite memories of school.  But please, in a few years a very smooth talker is going to come along and try to sweep you off your feet, and I need you to just say no, mmkay?  I fear that experience led to an awful lot of baggage that I currently carry with me and at the rate I'm accumulating baggage I'm never gonna be able to fly on that airplane again.  (Another thing, Ryan really does turn out hot, but then when you go to high school he's going to leave you in the dust for the way more popular girls who totally put out.  Maybe look into that makeup thing a little earlier?)

That's really all I have for now.  I wish I could give you some kind of wisdom and insight into your career decision, but quite frankly 10 years down the road you're going to be in pretty much the same boat as you are right now.  Only less homework and way more stress.  Maybe stick with that psychology thing... that actually could have been interesting, and probably a lot more worth your while than a literature degree.  Just know that despite what you may think, you're a pretty cool kid and the memories that you're making right now you'll carry with you for the rest of your life.  But mostly, just know that I really want to kick your ass about the retainer thing, and that's kind of my prevailing attitude toward you right now.

Hugs n' Kisses!

Angela, Aged 23

Is This What They Mean By "Quarter Life Crisis"

Lately I've noticed a lot of different posts from my friendternets (tm to Sarcomical!) that seem pretty questioning about who they are and how they define themselves as people and contributors to the world.  I have a feeling that it's an age thing and a sneaking suspicion that this is what that "quarter life crisis" is that I've been hearing about for years now.

My fear is that I have no definition, that I don't really know what my purpose is and that I'm not really doing the things with myself that I want to be doing.  And worse than that I don't even know what I want to define myself as or what the things are that I want to be doing.  From the time I was 18 years old I thought that marriage was right around the corner.  The previous ex was talking marriage from literally our second date so it never seemed like a question that we would probably be married by the time I was 20.  Obviously that didn't happen, and honestly, thank God it didn't.  Then with Colby it took a little longer to get to the place that we were talking about it, but I always imagined us married.  I'd had a crush on him from the first moment I met him 6 years ago, and after 3 years of dating it just seemed to be the way things were going.  I lost two definitions of myself in that moment that we split up--girlfriend and future wife.  I don't think I realized how much I defined myself by those two words, and I'm not ashamed of it, but I do know that I need to be more.

I'm an officer in the Air Force, but it's not a fulfilling definition and it's one that I know is only temporary and so I don't really think of myself as such.  I think of myself as a person who is currently serving in the military.  That's not all I am and it's not how I define myself or even want to be defined.  When I get into conversations with new people that's rarely one of the first few things I say about myself.

The definition that I most want to apply to me right now is "writer".  I want so much to be a "writer", but I almost feel like by saying that I'm asking for ridicule.  "Oh, so you write things?"  Yes.  "So are you published?"  No, but I won this award once in high school...  "Oh, so you're one of those writers.  Just like everyone who has a blog is a writer, right?"  Yeah... I guess so...

I feel like I'm floundering through life one day at a time with absolutely no clue where this is going.  As I've said before, for my entire life my future was mapped out, I knew exactly what my next step was going to be and how I was going to get there.  Now I feel like I just got tossed into the deep end of life without my floaties.  Before I had a plan, I was going to move to Washington, I was going to find some kind of office job, I was going to get married, a few years down the road I'd have kids and be a stay at home mom.  It was nothing hugely ambitious and probably not a very fulfilling prospect to most other women, but it was my life, and I was happy with it.  Now I'm planning to move back to my hometown, partially to be close to my family, but also because I really have no reason to go anywhere else.  I would love to get into some sort of promotion/marketing career field where I can use some of my creativity, but I know that's a shot in the dark since I have very little experience in the field and no formal training.  Sure, I'm writing and I feel like I've made a lot of progress there, but I can't help but be pessimistic about my chances of ever actually being published.

In short, I don't really know who I am, and I don't really know what I'm supposed to be or even what I want to be.  I've never felt so lost and left behind in life and I kind of feel like a missed a turn somewhere that would have made things different today.  Like everyone else got handed some kind of map to get from here to where they want to be but I was busy waiting in line at Coldstone Creamery and missed that meeting.  Sure, it's important to get your daily dose of sweet cream with Reese's cups, brownie chunks, and fudge, but I sure wish I'd gone to get that map instead.

I Have A Dream!

Right, so, you may have heard that Britney Spears is holding a press conference today, and all of the tabloids are atwitter trying to speculate what bit of good news she's going to bestow up us, her ADORING public.  Is she really barefoot and pregnant again?  Has her record label actually dumped her?  Is her marriage, please God, finally over?  WHAT COULD IT BE!!  Well, world, I hopped in my handy dandy little time machine and took a trip into the near future so that I could be the first to witness this historic event.  And here I present to you:  The Britney Spears Transcript of the Covenant.

Brit Brit's Handler:  Ladies and Gentlemen of the press, thank you for attending today.  Ms Spears has some very exciting news to share with you all today, so instead of issuing a statement like any normal paparazzi hating celeb would do, we've decided to parade our bloated former Teen Queen up here on stage for you all to see.  And heeeeeeere Britney!

Britney Spears:  God, mama, I don't know why they made me wear this stupid "I'm a Pop Princess, but this shirt is five years old" t-shirt.  I don't even get it.  And know I have to talk to these stupid news people and my idiot fans are gonna be sending me all kinds of freaking mail that I'm just gonna have to use to restock the bathroom tp roll with...

BBH:  Um, Britney, that mike is on...

BS:  Oh... HI Y'ALL!!  OH MY GAH, I'm SO EXCITED to be here, cause I have some really EXCITING news to share with you all.  I mean, really, I'm so tired of hearing about how I'm pregnant again and my Kevvie and I are splitting up and he's wasting all my money on shots of Jaeger and hookers.  I mean, it's just that we UNDERSTAND each other, and I know that he'll love me more if I give him the things he really wants.  And what man doesn't want Jaeger and hookers??  And I'm so not pregnant.  I mean, how can I be pregnant again so soon after having Sean.  I don't think all the pipes and stuff work that soon again after you have a baby, right?  I mean, this pooch is probably just here on my belly because of all the CHEETOS I've been eating...

Which, Y'ALL, brings me to my exciting news for you!  I have signed on as the FACE of CHEETOS!!  I signed a 4.7 thousand dollar deal and I will be promoting Cheetos and I really think you should all eat them because they are SO tasty!  Especially with Big Gulps... YUM!!  It was kinda weird because my mama just showed me this contract that she said she found on her printer and it said all I have to do is stay in the house and make sure Kevin is promoting Cheetos in Las Vegas, keep an eye on little Sean Preston, and wear shoes when I go out to the gas station and they'd give me almost FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS just to EAT CHEETOS!!  So, obviously I signed it, and mama said she'd make sure that it gets back to the Cheetos people.  Maybe I'll name my next baby Chester... you know... not that I'm pregnant or anything, but I mean when I have another baby.  Because Kevvie and I really love each other and would love to bring another little baby into this world for all of my nannies to take care of for me.

Oh, and the other thing, have you seen Jessica Simpson lately?  MAN, what happened to HER?  Right?  RIGHT?  Hahahahaha!!!  Looks like there's lots of boots... on boys... made for walking now.  AWAY FROM HER!!!  Hahahahaha!!!  Woo, she's really letting herself go!  I mean, y'all, 6 years ago, who would have thought that out of all of us, MANDY MOORE would end up the hot one??  I mean, I DID NOT see that coming!  But you know what, I'm the one that's lucky enough to have a man that really loves me, and totally doesn't believe in divorce, and says that I'm way better at sex than his ex-girlfriend.  Isn't that the SWEETEST THING!!!  Could you write that down please?  Yeah... B-E-T-T-E-R-A-T-S-E-X... I'll wait for you to all get that down.  Yeah, I mean, other people will see this right?  I mean, just for example, like oh, who's a random person--Justin Timberlake?  You think he'll see this?  Yeah, or whoever.

So, OKAY Y'ALL!!  Thanks so much for coming out today!  And remember EAT CHEETOS because the are REALLY GOOD!!  And don't forget to buy Kevvie's really awesome cd--please!  Seriously!  Sean Preston needs a college savings account!!  BYEEEEE Y'ALL!!!

Making My Way The Only Way I Know How

Sometimes I seriously think I was born in the wrong decade... or century possibly.  I don't really know where I'd fit in better, and possibly it's a grass is greener kind of thing, but most of the time I really hate "this day and age".  I think I've decided that given the opportunity to live in another time, I'd stick with this century at least.  Maybe I'd like a day trip to Elizabethan England or Ancient Egypt, but I really like indoor plumbing to include flushing toilets and hot showers every morning.  I also really like pasta.  But then it comes to picking a decade that I identify with the most.

I've lived through three of them--the 80s, 90s, and 00s... or however you'd write that--and I've not been really wild about any of them.  The 80s were pretty garish, and I thank God (or deity of your choice) every day that I didn't have to be a teenager then and take my senior pictures with a poodle puff of hair and a dayglo t-shirt.  I don't think anyone particularly LOVES their senior pictures, but it seems like those from the 80s and early 90s are particularly heinous.  Unless you're just a naturally disgustingly beautiful person.  And then I hate you.

The 70s I think were a little bit too drug/hippie-esque for me.  Like, I love the concept of loving everyone, but as you can see from that last sentence in the former paragraph, I'm not very good at putting it into practice.  And the 60s might have been nice, I like the music anyway.  But then there was that whole Vietnam thing, and the president getting assassinated, so, no thanks.

So, we're kind of running out of decades because while I think that the 20s would be totally awesome, I don't ever want to live in a world where liquor is prohibited, and we're cutting it just a little too close to the 21st Amendment there.  And prior to that the clothes were all really adorable, but it's just getting too close to the horse and buggy time frame for my taste.

That leaves us with the 30s, 40s, and 50s, which actually sounds just about right for me.  I mean, aside from the whole World War II thing, but I guess we just can't have it all, can we?  The clothes?  I LOVE!  I love the classy full circle skirts, the tight little cigarette pants, the pencil skirts, the spectator pumps, t-straps, feathered and veiled hats!  Gah, I'm in heaven just thinking about it!  And then there's the way society was different.  Granted, most of my concept of that time is based on books and movies, but I love that ladies were still ladies, and there was almost a courtly love approach to relationships.  Women were wooed and courted and it just seems so much more romantic than our current society of barhopping and random hookups with strangers and Cosmopolitan endorsed casual sex.  I'm sure it happened then too, but it doesn't seem like it was so accepted, and even worse expected.

And then came baby...  I guess the problem with being a woman during those decades was the pressure to stay home with the family and not have a job outside the house.  And if you did have a job you were mainly restricted to "feminine" occupations like teaching, nursing, secretarial work, etc.  The thing is?  That is completely and utterly up and my alley!  I think it's great that women have other options now, but I almost feel the opposite pressure to be a high powered executive when my dream would be to stay home with the kids (someday).  So, I would have fit in just great as June Cleaver or even better, Lucy Ricardo--man, I could have all kinds of fun with that!

But the thing is, I just have to learn to make do with the world that we live in today.  It's a lot more hard-edged and gritty than the world that I often dream of living in, with the gauzy film stars and sock-hops, but I just do my best to live my life the way I want to without the pressure of how a girl in her early 20s in 2006 "should" live.  And I'll just rock those t-strap shoes like nobody's business!!

My New Month Resolution

I didn't make a New Year's resolution this year, mainly because I couldn't really think of anything worth resolving, but also because I find them pretty depressing.  Typically they involve losing an unrealistic amount of weight and last for a solid two months before you're back on the couch with your Reese's peanut butter cups and TiVo'd episodes of Gilmore Girls.  So, I just decided to forgo all of the pretense and start out the year with the Reese's and GG.  Amazingly I still somehow managed to lose weight and have kept up a fairly regular exercise regimen.

So, apparently, fair play to the no New Year's resolution concept!

However, the time has come to make a resolution to myself, and since it is conveniently the start of a new month, I have dubbed it my New Month resolution, just to give it that extra sense of ceremony.  It is also a pay day which is rather symbolic, I think, because you see, my resolution is to begin saving money.  We could call it Operation SAVE MONEY, but I probably won't because that's a little too militaristic for me.

With a possible career change looming in my future I've decided that the time has come to really buckle down and actually pay attention to that number in the little account I've preciously named "Saving For a Rainy Day" on my online banking site.  Let's just say that I'm really hoping it doesn't rain for quite some time...  Anyway, I'd like to have a certain amount in the bank, which I am keeping private in my own little head, before I separate from the Air Force--whether that be at the end of this year or two years from now.  There's also the little thing about apparently getting my bank account confused with Paris Hilton's last month and a rather staggering credit card bill looming over my head.

And of course, in deciding to save money I have also chosen this as a fantastic time to drop $5,000 on braces and to plan a two week long trip to Ireland at the end of the year.  Yes!  Financial responsibility at it's finest!  But really, I think even with these two admittedly large money pits, between my sizeable raise in June and a promise to myself to stop buying so many damn shoes--or just stop buying shoes full stop (oh my God, I can't believe I just said that...)--I'll be able to get to my monetary goal in due time.  And hopefully before retirement.

This would also be a fantastic time for someone to pipe up that they know a super well known literary agent or publisher who really wants to help me become a best seller and will promptly pay me lots and lots of money for my book.  Because, you know, that would be awesome for lots of different reasons, but mainly because I could really, really use millions of dollars in book sales right about now.  Heck, I'd even settle for thousands at this point.  And then if they want to turn it into a move starring Anne Hathaway, the Queen of the Book Turned Movie?  I'd be okay with that too!  Really, I would!  Mmkay, thanks!