Over the years, I have had quite a few roomates. Not counting my family, but counting boyfriends, I have lived with 8 people. (not counting the ones that were in temporary one or two month living situations while I was in Americorps*NCCC.)
One of my longest lasting roomates was Jamie who occupied the second room of my apartment in Santee for 3 years. When she decided to move out, she gave a month, was gone in a week, and she left all her stuff. (she paid a month's rent ahead). I found a new roomate and he and I moved her stuff into my garage and we cleaned her room. (which is another story for another day). It took her 4 months to get her stuff. Even she admitted that it was nice of me to store it and that it would have been excusable if I had left on the lawn.
She works at my main place of employment and I see her every so often. Sometimes I stop for a chat, sometimes I just wave or nod and move along. We were never close, she and I, and if not for the fact that we run into each other at work, I doubt I would have ever seen her again after we parted ways. It's always strange and akward to see her, because I don't really know what to say. I don't dislike her, she's a really neat lady. I guess knowing someone for 7 years, and living with them for 3 of them doesn't make the two of you friends. You just can't force something in common.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Weekend Update
I wore my very cute little white dress with little red flowers on it to the wedding I attended on Saturday. It was an outdoor affair. It rained. Thankfully, there was an indoors to escape to and C (it was a mutual friend) had a rain coat in his car. I'm sure pictures are forthcoming.
Sunday was The Punk Rock Craft Fair. It was also an outdoor affair, it was also raining. thankfully I am a master procrastinator and I still had tarps in my car from Yellowstone. My soap did not get wet. I sold more than I have sold all year, which is still less than I had hoped (I set my expectations high at sell-out) but I am still happy. I'm looking forward to going home and taking inventory and all that.
Meanwhile, Biker Bob cleaned out his closet and presented me with a whole monkeyload of old jeans, one of which will become a new pair of cutoffs, the rest of which will be crafted into other things. I'll have to think of something extra interesting to do with the courds his ex left behind...
Sunday was The Punk Rock Craft Fair. It was also an outdoor affair, it was also raining. thankfully I am a master procrastinator and I still had tarps in my car from Yellowstone. My soap did not get wet. I sold more than I have sold all year, which is still less than I had hoped (I set my expectations high at sell-out) but I am still happy. I'm looking forward to going home and taking inventory and all that.
Meanwhile, Biker Bob cleaned out his closet and presented me with a whole monkeyload of old jeans, one of which will become a new pair of cutoffs, the rest of which will be crafted into other things. I'll have to think of something extra interesting to do with the courds his ex left behind...
Friday, July 28, 2006
Passive Agressive? I hope not.
So yesterday, I was feeling unusually domestic and I got it in my head to cook a nice dinner for Biker Bob and I. I was dissapointed to discover that he had A LOT of work to do, but we worked it out so that he could work at my house.
After a few phone calls, (one of which I may have gotten a little be bitchy about ending because he was telling me all about the wonders of motorcycle racing and I am not a chat on the phone for the sake of chatting kind of gal) we decided that he was going to stop by work and then come over.
So I went home and started cooking because the cookbook said it would take 30 minutes to cook the main dish. I even made a pudding pie. I make biscuits twice because I burned them the first time. Stay tuned for a list of reasons why I hate my stove. I rocked out to Guns 'n Roses and took out the trash and cleaned the kitchen. I got progressively cranky because it had been an hour and a half and he wasn't there.
I finally spoke to him on the phone, he had gotten sidtracked by his boss at work, which really is a good excuse, but I was already cranky. Then he started telling bad jokes to waylay my crankiness, and I may have gotten a little snappy before I got off the phone. In my defense, see above statement about the phone.
Dinner, was actually pretty good. Edible at least, except the meat was cold. I mentioned more than once that perhaps it would have been better warm. I wasn't saying it to be bitchy, I really think it would have been better warm. or hot. I even mentioned that it may have been cold despite being kept in the microwave until BB got there (the stove was busy rebaking biscuits, remember?) because the recipe called to cook the meat AND THEN the sauce. But I still wonder if I was being unconciously passive agressive.
Maybe I should accept that maybe I am not cut out for a life of domesticity.
Reasons Why I Hate My Stove:
Things take extra long to bake. which means I tend to forget they are in there. and then I have burned biscuits and cookies. How am I supposed to claim to be good at baking when my stuff gets burned all the time??
It's not level. REALLY not level. so everything I cook is tilted. Which means sauces don't get cooked evenly because they are deep in some places and shallow in others. Which means that my veggies sometimes sit in thier own steam water because while it was even when I filled it, it isn't when I set it down.
After a few phone calls, (one of which I may have gotten a little be bitchy about ending because he was telling me all about the wonders of motorcycle racing and I am not a chat on the phone for the sake of chatting kind of gal) we decided that he was going to stop by work and then come over.
So I went home and started cooking because the cookbook said it would take 30 minutes to cook the main dish. I even made a pudding pie. I make biscuits twice because I burned them the first time. Stay tuned for a list of reasons why I hate my stove. I rocked out to Guns 'n Roses and took out the trash and cleaned the kitchen. I got progressively cranky because it had been an hour and a half and he wasn't there.
I finally spoke to him on the phone, he had gotten sidtracked by his boss at work, which really is a good excuse, but I was already cranky. Then he started telling bad jokes to waylay my crankiness, and I may have gotten a little snappy before I got off the phone. In my defense, see above statement about the phone.
Dinner, was actually pretty good. Edible at least, except the meat was cold. I mentioned more than once that perhaps it would have been better warm. I wasn't saying it to be bitchy, I really think it would have been better warm. or hot. I even mentioned that it may have been cold despite being kept in the microwave until BB got there (the stove was busy rebaking biscuits, remember?) because the recipe called to cook the meat AND THEN the sauce. But I still wonder if I was being unconciously passive agressive.
Maybe I should accept that maybe I am not cut out for a life of domesticity.
Reasons Why I Hate My Stove:
Things take extra long to bake. which means I tend to forget they are in there. and then I have burned biscuits and cookies. How am I supposed to claim to be good at baking when my stuff gets burned all the time??
It's not level. REALLY not level. so everything I cook is tilted. Which means sauces don't get cooked evenly because they are deep in some places and shallow in others. Which means that my veggies sometimes sit in thier own steam water because while it was even when I filled it, it isn't when I set it down.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Family fun
I went to my mom's last night for dinner. Was two hours late (a rarity for me) but since dinner wasn't ready yet, it was totally ok. Spent some good time with my family, and got to see little sis a bit. We played scrabble after dinner (she won. I gave up when I couldn't figure out what to do with Z and Q and no vowels) and a little bit of stringy cats cradle fun. I have retrained myself how to accomplish Jacobs Ladder. Some life skills are important. Brother was busy writing a research paper, my mom, went to bed early. she was tired. I think she works too much and after the whole hospital scare last December, I worry that she will collapse again. (http://ginamonster.blogspot.com/2005/12/where-did-i-go.html)
And, it's time to go. love to you all. until tomorrow.
And, it's time to go. love to you all. until tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Sigh
I get myself into some really interesting situations. Really, Really interesting. Yes, I know I am being vague again, and no, I'm not going to tell you what is going on at the moment, I need to work some things out first. I just needed to vent a moment. I'll talk to you all tomorrow.
Roller Derby Diaries
I love my new wheels. I lubed up my bearings while I had them out and what do you know? they spin now. I have decided that my Team captain intimidates me even though I REALLY try hard not to be. Part of that stems from the fact that I feel totally inept on my skates. I remind myself that the only thing those other girls have over me is time (thank my belly dancing teacher for those wise words) and maybe a sense of balance.
It's taking me a long time to get the hang of certain basic moves, although I have to say that my T stop improved exponetially when I put the indoor wheels on. My snow plow, backwards skate, and the whole turning around thing still needs work. But I am willing to work at it. It's hard for me. On one hand, praise makes me fuck up. On the other, some encouragement that maybe perhaps I might have enough ability to make the team someday would be nice. I get that from the other girls, but honestly, it's the captain's choice who makes the team, and since I am still not in thier Yahoo Group...I'm not really feeling in the "in" crowd. Thankfully I have a couple of friends now who are in the gorup who have promised to keep me updated. It would be nice to hear her say that she sees that I am trying and maybe even improving a little bit instead of things like, "You DO know how to stop, right?" or "Work on it, it's basic". Except for the unexpected gift last week, she pretty much ignores me or, if I try to participate in discussion, she makes me feel as though my comments are not valid because I won't be there that long. Which is actually kind of good because it makes me want to stay so I can prove her wrong.
As I write this, I can understand why there were girls that did not feel welcome so they went and formed thier own league, which has caused drama, not so much, surprisingly between the two teams, but rather between the owners of the skating rinks involved. sigh. If I didn't think it was GREAT exercize, I would consider wandering off just to avoid the upset. I have enough drama. more than enough. Feeling like the girl who isn't good enough but no one has the heart to tell her not to bother is tough. Every team has at least one that wouldn't make the cut if there was a cut, I fear that I am she.
From the sound of things at the meeting last night, it's looking to get a lot more difficult to be a part of the team. Try outs, subs, skating lessons. I know it's a sport, but I always saw it a bit more tounge in cheek than serious. Be out there having a good time, kicking some butt, be a good, or even great skater. I guess I was a bit discouraged by the prospect of having to try out when I signed up during "come one, come all, we'll teach you how". The reasoning of trying to keep out the women who just want to check it out only flys with me for so long. I understand that she doesn't want to have to keep teaching the basics, but maybe someone should be our coach, instead of her trying to do it all.
I am willing to go to Derby Boot Camp. I will continue to push my limits every practice. But I think I might be done cutting her slack for treating me sideways. While I may not be doing everything right, I certainly have not done anything wrong.
It's taking me a long time to get the hang of certain basic moves, although I have to say that my T stop improved exponetially when I put the indoor wheels on. My snow plow, backwards skate, and the whole turning around thing still needs work. But I am willing to work at it. It's hard for me. On one hand, praise makes me fuck up. On the other, some encouragement that maybe perhaps I might have enough ability to make the team someday would be nice. I get that from the other girls, but honestly, it's the captain's choice who makes the team, and since I am still not in thier Yahoo Group...I'm not really feeling in the "in" crowd. Thankfully I have a couple of friends now who are in the gorup who have promised to keep me updated. It would be nice to hear her say that she sees that I am trying and maybe even improving a little bit instead of things like, "You DO know how to stop, right?" or "Work on it, it's basic". Except for the unexpected gift last week, she pretty much ignores me or, if I try to participate in discussion, she makes me feel as though my comments are not valid because I won't be there that long. Which is actually kind of good because it makes me want to stay so I can prove her wrong.
As I write this, I can understand why there were girls that did not feel welcome so they went and formed thier own league, which has caused drama, not so much, surprisingly between the two teams, but rather between the owners of the skating rinks involved. sigh. If I didn't think it was GREAT exercize, I would consider wandering off just to avoid the upset. I have enough drama. more than enough. Feeling like the girl who isn't good enough but no one has the heart to tell her not to bother is tough. Every team has at least one that wouldn't make the cut if there was a cut, I fear that I am she.
From the sound of things at the meeting last night, it's looking to get a lot more difficult to be a part of the team. Try outs, subs, skating lessons. I know it's a sport, but I always saw it a bit more tounge in cheek than serious. Be out there having a good time, kicking some butt, be a good, or even great skater. I guess I was a bit discouraged by the prospect of having to try out when I signed up during "come one, come all, we'll teach you how". The reasoning of trying to keep out the women who just want to check it out only flys with me for so long. I understand that she doesn't want to have to keep teaching the basics, but maybe someone should be our coach, instead of her trying to do it all.
I am willing to go to Derby Boot Camp. I will continue to push my limits every practice. But I think I might be done cutting her slack for treating me sideways. While I may not be doing everything right, I certainly have not done anything wrong.
Monday, July 24, 2006
George
George walked into my store on Saturday with one of those smiley face Wal Mart stickers on his shirt. He was an older man accompanied by a younger man (closer to my age) who was talking on the phone. I rang the younger man for a drink and a bagel, and then George ordered a bagel too.
I asked if he wanted a knife. (to cut his bagel and smear his cheese)
Shocked, he replied, "NO!" and then, "We are not Terrorists!"
I looked at him, puzzled, and replied, as I held up a plastic knife, "Well, if you were, I doubt you could do very much damage with this!"
He accepted the knife, explaining that he thought I was asking if he had a knife. He thought that since he was of middle eastern decent, that I assumed the worst about him. He also asked if people didn't come in with knives.
Now I don't know about that, and it's none of my business if they do. Heck, I carry scissors and a leatherman in with my knitting, which is on my person most of the time. I explained that it is not my business if he carries a pocket knife.
He looked confused and asked my name.
"Gina", I replied, smiling and holding out my hand, "What's yours?"
He shook my hand, replied George, and asked after lemonade. Then he was surprised that I remembered his name a minute or two later.
I thought it was sad that the assumption is sometimes automatically made that anyone from the middle east is a terrorist. In the days following 9-11, my friend Martin was called "terrorist" many times over. His family escaped religious persecution in Iraq (I think it was Iraq). Martin, was born here.
I pondered this subject a couple of weeks ago but other stuff kept coming up. When I really thought about the current American attitude towards those from the Middle East, I realized that every generation (blames the one before...) has it's "enemy". Right now, anyone from the war torn countries over there are potential terrorists. In the 80's, anyone from Russia must have been a member of the KGB. China, at one point, was considered so evil that did not appear on American maps. (or so I have been told. If this is a myth, let me know) What I do know for sure is that during WW2, thousands of Japanese-American citizens were rounded up and placed in concentration camps. Many, lost everything. They were let out with an "oops, we were wrong" In fact, during the McCarthy era, your next door neighbor could have been a communist.
I was actually comforted by the thought of, "this too shall pass." I wonder who will be considered "evil" next?
I asked if he wanted a knife. (to cut his bagel and smear his cheese)
Shocked, he replied, "NO!" and then, "We are not Terrorists!"
I looked at him, puzzled, and replied, as I held up a plastic knife, "Well, if you were, I doubt you could do very much damage with this!"
He accepted the knife, explaining that he thought I was asking if he had a knife. He thought that since he was of middle eastern decent, that I assumed the worst about him. He also asked if people didn't come in with knives.
Now I don't know about that, and it's none of my business if they do. Heck, I carry scissors and a leatherman in with my knitting, which is on my person most of the time. I explained that it is not my business if he carries a pocket knife.
He looked confused and asked my name.
"Gina", I replied, smiling and holding out my hand, "What's yours?"
He shook my hand, replied George, and asked after lemonade. Then he was surprised that I remembered his name a minute or two later.
I thought it was sad that the assumption is sometimes automatically made that anyone from the middle east is a terrorist. In the days following 9-11, my friend Martin was called "terrorist" many times over. His family escaped religious persecution in Iraq (I think it was Iraq). Martin, was born here.
I pondered this subject a couple of weeks ago but other stuff kept coming up. When I really thought about the current American attitude towards those from the Middle East, I realized that every generation (blames the one before...) has it's "enemy". Right now, anyone from the war torn countries over there are potential terrorists. In the 80's, anyone from Russia must have been a member of the KGB. China, at one point, was considered so evil that did not appear on American maps. (or so I have been told. If this is a myth, let me know) What I do know for sure is that during WW2, thousands of Japanese-American citizens were rounded up and placed in concentration camps. Many, lost everything. They were let out with an "oops, we were wrong" In fact, during the McCarthy era, your next door neighbor could have been a communist.
I was actually comforted by the thought of, "this too shall pass." I wonder who will be considered "evil" next?
Friday, July 21, 2006
Wheeee!
or should I say Wheeeel!!!
My Derby Team captain must have decided she likes me at least a little because she presented me with a new set of wheels last night to try out. I tried not to jump up and down for joy. Have I mentioned that I don't want to put my pretty new wheels on my crappy old skates? with their slow bearings and ill fitting boots that my feet slip around in despite tying them as tight as they can go, thick socks, and inserts? They might look like Sketchers but I really bought them at Wal Mart when quads came back into style. Picture me (upon your knee, just tea for two and two for tea...) roller skating through wal mart trying them out...
I try not to tell the other Derby Dolls that. I just say that they are cheap and I don't like them and that I am saving for a new pair. I can't wait for the next bout because the roller skate dealer is usually there and I can try on different ones and see if I like how they fit. In the meantime, I'm gonna keep on savin!
My Derby Team captain must have decided she likes me at least a little because she presented me with a new set of wheels last night to try out. I tried not to jump up and down for joy. Have I mentioned that I don't want to put my pretty new wheels on my crappy old skates? with their slow bearings and ill fitting boots that my feet slip around in despite tying them as tight as they can go, thick socks, and inserts? They might look like Sketchers but I really bought them at Wal Mart when quads came back into style. Picture me (upon your knee, just tea for two and two for tea...) roller skating through wal mart trying them out...
I try not to tell the other Derby Dolls that. I just say that they are cheap and I don't like them and that I am saving for a new pair. I can't wait for the next bout because the roller skate dealer is usually there and I can try on different ones and see if I like how they fit. In the meantime, I'm gonna keep on savin!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Crankypants
I do pretty good attitudewise.
Most days, bug guy and I share lunch many days because we are both trying to cut down on our intake and around here, half a meal is a weeks worth of food in (insert name of poor starving country. France also works because they eat small portions).
When Bug Guy orders, he makes sure he gets me LOTS of french fries because I like them. I have been telling him for weeks not to get them anymore because I will eat them if they are there and I have been gaining weight again. This weekend, my scale hit 160. again. yes, muscle weighs more than fat. but that excuse only flies so far.
today, we shared a quesadilla. melted cheeze in a tortilla (with chicken). plenty of fat happening. Bug Guy requested fries with that.
I pulled him aside and told him that I absolutely DO NOT want french fries anymore. that I need him not to order them because if they are there, I will eat them. I have a problem that way. He tried to make a joke of it, but I had to tell him firmly. I don't like having to tell anyone anything firmly. And yes, it is my responsibility to control myself. On the days when Bug Guy and I don't share, I get a small bowl of something or salad and half a sandwich.
Apparently, I do not come across as a serious individual. Maybe our society does not recognize non yelling communication. I hate getting cranky with people. It makes me feel like a bitch. But I don't think I should have to yell at someone in order to drive a point home. I don't think I should have to get angry for people to believe I am serious. Maybe I just need to start being better at saying no...
Most days, bug guy and I share lunch many days because we are both trying to cut down on our intake and around here, half a meal is a weeks worth of food in (insert name of poor starving country. France also works because they eat small portions).
When Bug Guy orders, he makes sure he gets me LOTS of french fries because I like them. I have been telling him for weeks not to get them anymore because I will eat them if they are there and I have been gaining weight again. This weekend, my scale hit 160. again. yes, muscle weighs more than fat. but that excuse only flies so far.
today, we shared a quesadilla. melted cheeze in a tortilla (with chicken). plenty of fat happening. Bug Guy requested fries with that.
I pulled him aside and told him that I absolutely DO NOT want french fries anymore. that I need him not to order them because if they are there, I will eat them. I have a problem that way. He tried to make a joke of it, but I had to tell him firmly. I don't like having to tell anyone anything firmly. And yes, it is my responsibility to control myself. On the days when Bug Guy and I don't share, I get a small bowl of something or salad and half a sandwich.
Apparently, I do not come across as a serious individual. Maybe our society does not recognize non yelling communication. I hate getting cranky with people. It makes me feel like a bitch. But I don't think I should have to yell at someone in order to drive a point home. I don't think I should have to get angry for people to believe I am serious. Maybe I just need to start being better at saying no...
I can think of a worse pie to be compared to...
| You Are Mud Pie |
 |
What Kind of Pie Are You?
In the mean time, I scalded myself on hot milk last night and one of my coworkers signed me up to work the Gay Pride Parade, which is funny, except that I am busy that day. Last weekend's bachelorette is getting married. Speaking of the b party in vegas, I forgot to buy her a gift and I feel like a heel.
So, there's this kitty. and she's sick. I think it's because of her flea collar. Those are toxic you know, and in my neighborhood? it likely came from the $.99 store, you know? He fur is falling out and she won't eat. she's a nice little kitty. I don't want a kitty, but I can't do nothing and the best care for her would be at my house since she seems to have been permenantly put out according to her neighbors...I will feel forever guilty if she dies, but I know this is how women become "the crazy cat lady"
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Things that make me go WHEEE!!!
I don't think I have mentioned the part where Tom, of Tom's Daily Rant, is sending me The Reluctant Dragon on DVD. I can't WAIT for it to arrive! and his blog is an interesting read too, when I have my computer back and I can do those things. I can't remember if I have put it over in my links, but I will if I have not. Maybe I will send him soap.
Bonanza Jellybean put me on her blog roll, which made me feel so loved and interesting, which, by the way, is how I feel any time people put me on thier blog roll because, I mean, they wouldn't put me there unless I was loved and interesting, right?
Meanwhile, in not so exciting news, I met my Dad's girlfriend yesterday. No, I don't trust her any more than I have trusted any of the other women he has dated and I have met. Funny thing was, I got the same vibe from her sons towards me. heh. smart boys. I'm normal though. well. sort of. I'm not drugged out or a gold digger at least. ANYWAY, everything in the storage is now mine per my dad (and, well, considering I had it transferred into my name, I guess it's mine anyway) and I am to do with it as I choose. I choose that my seester and I should take what we want and sell the rest. The proceeds will go into an account for my dad when he gets out, which, although DGF wants to get him into a program and out as soon as possible, I don't mind him languishing a bit so that I have plenty of time to take care of business.
Yes, I will make sure there is a bit of money on his books, because, well, that's the kind of gal I am. But only a bit. I don't want him to suffer, but I don't think he should be overly comfortable either. It's jail after all.
Apparently, they charged him for having 5 vailume (spelling??) without a precription. It was, in part, guilt by association. He was stopped outside a known drug house. I figure that a man of his age who is trying to get clean should know better than to frequent places where there are drugs. Even if he was down in the dumps that day. (week, whatever, he and DGF were having an argument and he went to his "friends" looking for comfort) I would like to know what happened to the motorcycle he was riding that day...
So DGF, has big fake boobs so when she hugged me, there was no soft squishyness, they were really firm. Like BOING!!! It kinda hurt. I'm glad mine are real. much nicer for hugging.
Last night, I sold out and skipped derby practice to work at Harbucks. I wanted to be there, I really did. But I want to pay off the credit card more. and for some reason, (yes, I know why) the balance has been going up not down. damnit.
I have saved $88 towards new skates. only like, $200 left to go...I might be exaggerating on that one. but only a little bit. I want GOOD skates. The kind that I don't have to work against. I think my skates are part of the reason I'm the slowest on the team. They just weren't built for speed! Plus, my feet go all crooked in them. Which is why I need whole skates not just trucks, wheels and bearings. I WILL be a Derby Doll!! I want to kick ass on the roller skates! hee.
Bonanza Jellybean put me on her blog roll, which made me feel so loved and interesting, which, by the way, is how I feel any time people put me on thier blog roll because, I mean, they wouldn't put me there unless I was loved and interesting, right?
Meanwhile, in not so exciting news, I met my Dad's girlfriend yesterday. No, I don't trust her any more than I have trusted any of the other women he has dated and I have met. Funny thing was, I got the same vibe from her sons towards me. heh. smart boys. I'm normal though. well. sort of. I'm not drugged out or a gold digger at least. ANYWAY, everything in the storage is now mine per my dad (and, well, considering I had it transferred into my name, I guess it's mine anyway) and I am to do with it as I choose. I choose that my seester and I should take what we want and sell the rest. The proceeds will go into an account for my dad when he gets out, which, although DGF wants to get him into a program and out as soon as possible, I don't mind him languishing a bit so that I have plenty of time to take care of business.
Yes, I will make sure there is a bit of money on his books, because, well, that's the kind of gal I am. But only a bit. I don't want him to suffer, but I don't think he should be overly comfortable either. It's jail after all.
Apparently, they charged him for having 5 vailume (spelling??) without a precription. It was, in part, guilt by association. He was stopped outside a known drug house. I figure that a man of his age who is trying to get clean should know better than to frequent places where there are drugs. Even if he was down in the dumps that day. (week, whatever, he and DGF were having an argument and he went to his "friends" looking for comfort) I would like to know what happened to the motorcycle he was riding that day...
So DGF, has big fake boobs so when she hugged me, there was no soft squishyness, they were really firm. Like BOING!!! It kinda hurt. I'm glad mine are real. much nicer for hugging.
Last night, I sold out and skipped derby practice to work at Harbucks. I wanted to be there, I really did. But I want to pay off the credit card more. and for some reason, (yes, I know why) the balance has been going up not down. damnit.
I have saved $88 towards new skates. only like, $200 left to go...I might be exaggerating on that one. but only a little bit. I want GOOD skates. The kind that I don't have to work against. I think my skates are part of the reason I'm the slowest on the team. They just weren't built for speed! Plus, my feet go all crooked in them. Which is why I need whole skates not just trucks, wheels and bearings. I WILL be a Derby Doll!! I want to kick ass on the roller skates! hee.
Monday, July 17, 2006
I could use another day
I left last Friday for a bachelorette party in Vegas. I must be an old lady because I was in bed by midnight both nights. I tried to tell the girls that it was a BAD idea to keep going back to the hotel to change or whatever, but they insisted that they didn't want to wander the strip in thier dancing shoes. Apparently, unlike me, they don't suffer from the stop and drop* ailment that plagues me and mine.
But I had a nice time and just enough adventure. But I am tired and wish that I could be at home playing crafty.
Speaking of tireds, Derby kicked my butt on Thurday. it was my hardest practice yet. I wondered if the sport was for me, and then I realized that every time something becomes physically demanding and I don't get it, I find a reason to quit. but not this time. This time, they're stuck with me until they tell me not to come back. I'm not going to tell myself that just because I can't turn around without falling that it's "not for me". This time, I'm going to keep falling until I get it.
But I had a nice time and just enough adventure. But I am tired and wish that I could be at home playing crafty.
Speaking of tireds, Derby kicked my butt on Thurday. it was my hardest practice yet. I wondered if the sport was for me, and then I realized that every time something becomes physically demanding and I don't get it, I find a reason to quit. but not this time. This time, they're stuck with me until they tell me not to come back. I'm not going to tell myself that just because I can't turn around without falling that it's "not for me". This time, I'm going to keep falling until I get it.
Thursday, July 13, 2006
Update
They took my dad into custody according to the messages that were left on my various answering services. I need to call his girlfrind today and discuss things with her. I want to feel sorry for him, I really do. All I can really do is pray that the program he will be enrolled in will help this time. and that his girlfriend will be able to follow through on her hope to get him out of town when he is out so that maybe they can start a clean life together. Except, I know he's tried that before, and he just found the drugs again. every time. I will never stop hoping. It hurt me when I heard his voice break as he told me he loved me.
In other news, yesterday was the first day that I had no contact with Biker Bob. Ordinarily, in addition to emails, we speak to each other on the phone at least once or twice. I, of course, am jumping to all sorts of conclusions in my head because that is what I do. I keep trying to remind myself that sometimes people get busy and aren't able to talk. Then that stupid little voice, the one that feeds my insecurities so that it is amazing that I can function says, "he got tired of your antics" "He decided you weren't so cute" "You hurt his feelings the other night and he would rather not be around you"
I suppose I should explain how I may have hurt his feelings. It wasn't intentional, it was logic. But I think sometimes that he doesn't realize that I wouldn't hang out with him if I wasn't attracted to him. Wouldn't find ways to spend time with him if I didn't enjoy his company.
He appeared in an ad for a guitar company with a couple of his musical friends and bandmates. It's a great picture, and I have sent it to all my friends and close family so that they can take a look-see. Apparently, after the ad came out, he got lots of fan mail from women. In Thailand.
I've no doubt that these women were legitimately attracted to him, he's a good looking fellow. However, women in Thailand, and I'm not saying that they are all like this, but I do believe that you can mail order wives from Thailand. and having dated an asian man for many years, I know that it is an opportunistic culture without a lot of opportunity. That's why so many people from there want to be here. If I was a woman, looking to better my life, I would contact a young handsome American too. I should have pointed it out that way instead of the way that I did.
But I should also stop thinking I have to apologize for speaking my mind and being who I am.
I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill. I usually do.
Later...But not much:
All is well. Apparently, we're both a little insecure about things.
In other news, yesterday was the first day that I had no contact with Biker Bob. Ordinarily, in addition to emails, we speak to each other on the phone at least once or twice. I, of course, am jumping to all sorts of conclusions in my head because that is what I do. I keep trying to remind myself that sometimes people get busy and aren't able to talk. Then that stupid little voice, the one that feeds my insecurities so that it is amazing that I can function says, "he got tired of your antics" "He decided you weren't so cute" "You hurt his feelings the other night and he would rather not be around you"
I suppose I should explain how I may have hurt his feelings. It wasn't intentional, it was logic. But I think sometimes that he doesn't realize that I wouldn't hang out with him if I wasn't attracted to him. Wouldn't find ways to spend time with him if I didn't enjoy his company.
He appeared in an ad for a guitar company with a couple of his musical friends and bandmates. It's a great picture, and I have sent it to all my friends and close family so that they can take a look-see. Apparently, after the ad came out, he got lots of fan mail from women. In Thailand.
I've no doubt that these women were legitimately attracted to him, he's a good looking fellow. However, women in Thailand, and I'm not saying that they are all like this, but I do believe that you can mail order wives from Thailand. and having dated an asian man for many years, I know that it is an opportunistic culture without a lot of opportunity. That's why so many people from there want to be here. If I was a woman, looking to better my life, I would contact a young handsome American too. I should have pointed it out that way instead of the way that I did.
But I should also stop thinking I have to apologize for speaking my mind and being who I am.
I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill. I usually do.
Later...But not much:
All is well. Apparently, we're both a little insecure about things.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Danger ahead
So, I was at Wal Mart yesterday because, well, they have everything I need or don't need under one roof and I wanted a new movie (Bought Bridgette Jones, Edge of Reason, forgetting that the movie was so painful I didn't like it all that much) and to look at yarn maybe (I didn't buy any. good girl) and office supplies.
While in the movie section, I ran accross a title "Leroy and Stitch" which apparently is another sequal to Lilo and Stitch with, is one of my favorite movies. Leroy, apparently, is Stitch's evil twin. Leroy, is also the name of my father. You know, the MIA one. I called my sister, we had a giggle about it.
This morning, someone called the business line. at 6 am-ish. I, of course, did not answer, but I looked and they appear to have left a meesage. Guess I will know when I get home!
I arrived at work, and there was a mystery message on my phone. I thought I heard Daddy's voice in the distance.
Then, my mom forwarded me a message so that I could be prepared. Daddy is looking for me. I doubt he will actually make enough effort to actually get ahold of me. I wonder what he wants. Last time he tried calling he needed a ride somewhere, but I was in Yellowstone. The time before that? He needed me to convince my mom to lend him money. That was around Christmas for those of you who weren't around then. It had been two years, at that point since I had heard his voice.
I knew there was a reason I had been wearing my grandmother's ring lately.
It makes me sad that the first thing I think is, "I wonder what he wants" but I can't worry about him any more. It's a waste of my time.
***ADDED LATER***
So, my dad got a hold of me, and apparently, he was arrested again. (As Biker Bob reads this, I imagine he's considering running away.) He is supposed to get sentenced today. Without going into details, mostly because I don't have any, I don't know why he was arrested. He says he's clean but I don't believe him. He also says he is trying to get into a program.
Meanwhile, he is behind on the rent for the storage unit that holds everything he owns. Which means the Heirlooms, china, antiques, pictures, everything. (I don't care about his personal crap)
Yes, I paid the rent. and will continue to do so while he is in jail if he goes, but regardless, I want the heirlooms. The antiques, pictures, the rest of the china. (I took a bunch last time he was in jail. Sometimes he asked me to take it, when I did, he was mad.) so, ifn he doesn't put me on the account, then I will take care of it my way. I still have power of Attourny, and have never used it for personal gain. I don't know where I will put it all, I'm sure he will throw a fit. But I don't see as where I owe him anything at this point.
While in the movie section, I ran accross a title "Leroy and Stitch" which apparently is another sequal to Lilo and Stitch with, is one of my favorite movies. Leroy, apparently, is Stitch's evil twin. Leroy, is also the name of my father. You know, the MIA one. I called my sister, we had a giggle about it.
This morning, someone called the business line. at 6 am-ish. I, of course, did not answer, but I looked and they appear to have left a meesage. Guess I will know when I get home!
I arrived at work, and there was a mystery message on my phone. I thought I heard Daddy's voice in the distance.
Then, my mom forwarded me a message so that I could be prepared. Daddy is looking for me. I doubt he will actually make enough effort to actually get ahold of me. I wonder what he wants. Last time he tried calling he needed a ride somewhere, but I was in Yellowstone. The time before that? He needed me to convince my mom to lend him money. That was around Christmas for those of you who weren't around then. It had been two years, at that point since I had heard his voice.
I knew there was a reason I had been wearing my grandmother's ring lately.
It makes me sad that the first thing I think is, "I wonder what he wants" but I can't worry about him any more. It's a waste of my time.
***ADDED LATER***
So, my dad got a hold of me, and apparently, he was arrested again. (As Biker Bob reads this, I imagine he's considering running away.) He is supposed to get sentenced today. Without going into details, mostly because I don't have any, I don't know why he was arrested. He says he's clean but I don't believe him. He also says he is trying to get into a program.
Meanwhile, he is behind on the rent for the storage unit that holds everything he owns. Which means the Heirlooms, china, antiques, pictures, everything. (I don't care about his personal crap)
Yes, I paid the rent. and will continue to do so while he is in jail if he goes, but regardless, I want the heirlooms. The antiques, pictures, the rest of the china. (I took a bunch last time he was in jail. Sometimes he asked me to take it, when I did, he was mad.) so, ifn he doesn't put me on the account, then I will take care of it my way. I still have power of Attourny, and have never used it for personal gain. I don't know where I will put it all, I'm sure he will throw a fit. But I don't see as where I owe him anything at this point.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
I um, well, er...
got REALLY excited when I froogled kayaks and found this:
http://www.hammacher.com/publish/10343.asp?source=FROOGLE&cm_ven=Froogle&cm_ite=10343
not that I um want it or anything but um, it sure would be cool to have it if, you know, I had somewhere to put it.
And yes, I know that logic suggests that the hull would get all scratched up but, um, I still want it in that kayak crush sort of way. like a celebrity crush. I know it's not practical, it would likely be a pain in the ass, really expensive and not at all practical, but I still want it, you know?
EEK!! CAN I HAVE THIS ONE INSTEAD???? WHO WANTS TO BE MY SUGAR DADDY???**
http://www.sportsauthority.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2137734
**I'm only kidding about the sugar daddy. unless you're young, cute, and nice. in which case, I could definately be up for it so um, let's talk kayaks, shall we?
http://www.hammacher.com/publish/10343.asp?source=FROOGLE&cm_ven=Froogle&cm_ite=10343
not that I um want it or anything but um, it sure would be cool to have it if, you know, I had somewhere to put it.
And yes, I know that logic suggests that the hull would get all scratched up but, um, I still want it in that kayak crush sort of way. like a celebrity crush. I know it's not practical, it would likely be a pain in the ass, really expensive and not at all practical, but I still want it, you know?
EEK!! CAN I HAVE THIS ONE INSTEAD???? WHO WANTS TO BE MY SUGAR DADDY???**
http://www.sportsauthority.com/product/index.jsp?productId=2137734
**I'm only kidding about the sugar daddy. unless you're young, cute, and nice. in which case, I could definately be up for it so um, let's talk kayaks, shall we?
What the Fuck??
My blog was discovered using the following phrases.
slade ham (okaayyy...)
subcutaneous horn (this one is kind of regular. I actually wish I know more about the phenomenon so that there was knowlage to be gained from it)
i was raised on bread and baloney (blink, blink...)
how to tease him lick (um...I um...wow.)
bad party games (not so bad.)
masterbation using a hairbrush (EEK!!! What? No!!)
latex socks (another regular one. but a really weird regular one)
children, dicipline, counselling (I'm actually afraid to know about this one.)
Oy.
slade ham (okaayyy...)
subcutaneous horn (this one is kind of regular. I actually wish I know more about the phenomenon so that there was knowlage to be gained from it)
i was raised on bread and baloney (blink, blink...)
how to tease him lick (um...I um...wow.)
bad party games (not so bad.)
masterbation using a hairbrush (EEK!!! What? No!!)
latex socks (another regular one. but a really weird regular one)
children, dicipline, counselling (I'm actually afraid to know about this one.)
Oy.
I'm Sailing Away...
Set an open course for the virgin sea...
They called me Captain Zig Zag. Mostly because I don't steer well in a strait line. Ever, actually, but in the ocean, it's even more difficult! Yes, it's true. Sunday found me on a lovely schooner and since it was my first time sailing, Bart, the enthusiastic owner of the boat (standing behind me) set me at the helm. I couldn't see anything but the masts and the people sitting in front of me. and by the time someone told me about the whole compass thing, my leg was tired and I had to turn over the wheel (I was partially standing on a small piece of wood which put me off kilter and did funny things to my musculature)I had a wonderful time and was able to get a lot of relaxation in, as evidenced by this picture...
It was a lovely day off the California Coast, and I went further out to sea than I have ever been before. I did not jump into the ocean with my shipmates, since I didn't have a swim suit and I like to be able to see or at least feel the bottom. Instead I perfected my movie star look...
And listened in on the conversations of Brad, the Esoteric Scholar. I would have liked to have talked more with Brad, but I have that whole "shy" thing going and I was feeling a bit intimidated by his knowlage base. I am hoping that I have the opportunity to discuss the meaning of the universe with him one day, I think that I would find his insight useful and facinating.
I can thank C for bringing me along, and introducing me to so many interesting people. And also for taking such a great photo! There are lots more, but, well, you know, nothing like vacation photos to bore you to tears.
Other fun stuff ahead!
Friday, July 07, 2006
I thought I had something to say
but I don't. so in honor of my lack of writing, I leave you with this picture from Yellowstone. This little guy didn't make it thorough the winter. I thought it was a very cool shot. It's almost like he's lookin at cha.
***EDIT LATER***
Hi Guys. Rich said he didn't know what this is so I'll tell ya. It's a buffalo calf carcass. When we reached the Mud Volcano area on our first full day in Yellowstone, we happened to get there just as a Ranger was starting a guided tour. It was very cool and infomative, I wish we had indulged in more of them. So anyway, our last tour stop was off trail. Yes, we left the boardwalk and went off into the trees calling "Hey Bear!" all the way to scare off any well, bears! The Ranger warned us that there was a carcass ahead. I expected something gross and smelly, what we actually saw was this little guy. There was something morbidly beautiful about the sight of these bones laying in a field of green grass. Life and death all summed up in one still life photo op. Sadly, as always, what I see and what the camera catches are two different things. My view of this was so much more vivid. I would have liked to have gotten clser, but you have to be careful where you walk out there because you never know where you might discover a new mud pot or fall through the earth's crust into a geothermic feature. Zooming in just didn't have the same effect. But this is definately one of my favorite shots from the trip. Maybe I should only subject you to favorite shots.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Richer or poorer
I was over at Zube's place, and one of the comments that was made really bothered me. I started to rant right there in her comments, but decided that the real place for me to express myself is here.
A commenter said that she giggled while watching the news coverage of the Northridge Fires here in California. She giggled because those were million dollar homes burning and she felt as though they deserved it for being wealthy. Or, at least that is the feeling I got from her comment.
My Aunt and Uncle lost their modest home in that fire. They lost everything. I imagine that their home was not shown on the news because they are just regular working folks. But wait. even wealthy people are working folks. they have to have gotten their money from somewhere and while I can't say I agree with the whole multimillion dollar cabin thing or the fancy schmancy houses driving up small town real estate, owning more house than you can possibly use, I would hate to see someone lose the things that they worked hard for. Even if it is a summer home.
This comment broadsided me in another way too. nearly three years ago, fires came through my neck of the woods. I wasn't sure if I would have a job. Many people died near where I work, many more lost their homes. I lost count of how many people I know who lost everything that week. On the news? Million dollar homes. In reality? I abandoned my apartment when I could see the flames and my electricity went out. My old neighborhood up the hill? two houses left. My friend Lisa has her housewarming scheduled for this month. Her entire collection of Nancy Drews, hardcover from when she was a kid (she's 50 now) that I borrowed when I was little, that her daughter would have read, gone. My mom sat on her roof and watched the fire come closer. My other friend Lisa's inlaws went back for the horses and lost the car they were escaping in.
I will forever have the smell of fire in my nose. I dislike it intensely.
It's a sore subject. I'm sure Zube's commenter didn't mean anything by it. but I couldn't help but get a little miffed. I feel better now. and I'm glad I ranted here instead of there.
A commenter said that she giggled while watching the news coverage of the Northridge Fires here in California. She giggled because those were million dollar homes burning and she felt as though they deserved it for being wealthy. Or, at least that is the feeling I got from her comment.
My Aunt and Uncle lost their modest home in that fire. They lost everything. I imagine that their home was not shown on the news because they are just regular working folks. But wait. even wealthy people are working folks. they have to have gotten their money from somewhere and while I can't say I agree with the whole multimillion dollar cabin thing or the fancy schmancy houses driving up small town real estate, owning more house than you can possibly use, I would hate to see someone lose the things that they worked hard for. Even if it is a summer home.
This comment broadsided me in another way too. nearly three years ago, fires came through my neck of the woods. I wasn't sure if I would have a job. Many people died near where I work, many more lost their homes. I lost count of how many people I know who lost everything that week. On the news? Million dollar homes. In reality? I abandoned my apartment when I could see the flames and my electricity went out. My old neighborhood up the hill? two houses left. My friend Lisa has her housewarming scheduled for this month. Her entire collection of Nancy Drews, hardcover from when she was a kid (she's 50 now) that I borrowed when I was little, that her daughter would have read, gone. My mom sat on her roof and watched the fire come closer. My other friend Lisa's inlaws went back for the horses and lost the car they were escaping in.
I will forever have the smell of fire in my nose. I dislike it intensely.
It's a sore subject. I'm sure Zube's commenter didn't mean anything by it. but I couldn't help but get a little miffed. I feel better now. and I'm glad I ranted here instead of there.
Please join me
in a collective sigh, and a shake of the head, and an unshed tear, and I will discuss it further when it's all resolved.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
July 4th fun
It was nice to sleep in. I woke up natrually at the late hour of, um, (fuck!) 7am. But I snoozed until 10 so I think it's ok.
Then I met the bride and groom and signed thier paperwork. so now they are really officially married. Since we were RIGHT THERE, I asked Biker Bob if we couldn't go visit the birdies at Bird Crazy. those nutty Cockatoos jumped me for snuggles. really if I could afford it I would get one, but it would hurt Baby's feelings something terrible and she would hate me forever. She's already jealous of Biker Bob.
Then we went to REI. he wanted to look at the bikes, I was drooling over kayaks (well, not the ones they sell there, but the concept of maybe someday having a kayak of my very own). We discussed the reasons the Derby girls wear skateboarding helmets instead of bike helmets. I don't see why there is a question. It makes sense to me. I'm sure there is a reason, but I don't feel the need to question it, I just want to protect my head from the very hard rink floor.
Then we went to a party with BB's friends and I did my best to be social. I was not uncomfortable, and although he teased me about it, Biker Bob stayed by my side. He just doesn't understand my social anxiety, and that's ok, because if i didn't experience it, I probably would not understand it either. I left the party early for work.
It was likely my worst night at Harbucks. I was mildly bitter for being there in the first place (not helped by learning that my manager could have closed shop at 6pm but she chose to stay open until 11:30, our normal closing time. mental note for the somedays...) and my consolation sparklers? couldn't find them. But Biker Bob came over and sat with me during my break, which was VERY nice.
I fear I might be painting Biker Bob as a bit of a brutish fellow. I hope that you know me well enough to be aware that such is not my type.
Then I met the bride and groom and signed thier paperwork. so now they are really officially married. Since we were RIGHT THERE, I asked Biker Bob if we couldn't go visit the birdies at Bird Crazy. those nutty Cockatoos jumped me for snuggles. really if I could afford it I would get one, but it would hurt Baby's feelings something terrible and she would hate me forever. She's already jealous of Biker Bob.
Then we went to REI. he wanted to look at the bikes, I was drooling over kayaks (well, not the ones they sell there, but the concept of maybe someday having a kayak of my very own). We discussed the reasons the Derby girls wear skateboarding helmets instead of bike helmets. I don't see why there is a question. It makes sense to me. I'm sure there is a reason, but I don't feel the need to question it, I just want to protect my head from the very hard rink floor.
Then we went to a party with BB's friends and I did my best to be social. I was not uncomfortable, and although he teased me about it, Biker Bob stayed by my side. He just doesn't understand my social anxiety, and that's ok, because if i didn't experience it, I probably would not understand it either. I left the party early for work.
It was likely my worst night at Harbucks. I was mildly bitter for being there in the first place (not helped by learning that my manager could have closed shop at 6pm but she chose to stay open until 11:30, our normal closing time. mental note for the somedays...) and my consolation sparklers? couldn't find them. But Biker Bob came over and sat with me during my break, which was VERY nice.
I fear I might be painting Biker Bob as a bit of a brutish fellow. I hope that you know me well enough to be aware that such is not my type.
Monday, July 03, 2006
Anxiety
Many people do not believe me when I tell them I am shy. I suppose that upon seeing me at work, where I am comfortable and in my element, or among my friends and family, one would assume that I am outgoing and comfortable in my own skin.
I wish this was the case. Truly, I suffer. I force myself to go out and I join groups (bunco, roller derby, bad girls of craft, bellydancing...) so that I am not crippled by my fear. So that I don't allow my fear to keep me in my house and away from doing the things I think I will enjoy. I force myself to go out and meet people or spend time with people who intimidate me a little because I know that my fears are unfounded.
Today, Biker Bob invited me to a jam session and housewarming party. The only people I would know there would be parts of the band and one spouse who may not be there. Biker Bob made it clear that he would be busy playing and not able to spend time with me, which I totally understand. After starting to compose a non committal response, I told him the truth. The very idea of attending this party, where I am sure the people are very nice, requires far more bravery than I posess today. The idea makes me want to curl up and cry. It is so far beyond my comfort zone that I'm having flashbacks.
Flashback: About a year after I left Sea World (I worked there for one summer and was not kept permenantly) D, who was working there again, invited me to a beach party with his work friends, many of whom I had worked with as well. Since I hadn't seen them in awhile, I was a bit apprehensive but I knew I would be ok. I wish I had been ok. D ran off with his friend who has been referred to as GRBF in previous posts, to go goof off. I can't even remember where they were, but it wasn't at the party. I was left alone in a group of strangers and former aquaintences, none of whom I was ever on a phone call basis, many of whom I had not seen in long enough that I may not have remembered their names. I was never part of the party group anyway. (which, I firmly believe, is part of the reason I was not kept at summer's end).
I was reduced to a teary mess, although I hid it. When D and Co. returned, I requested that we leave. As soon as possible. As we drove away, my cloud lifted and I felt better.
If you don't suffer from social anxiety, then it is hard to understand why a grown woman would be so worried that no one likes her. That the very concept of attending a party with strangers (or worse! mild aquaintences!! They have formed an opinion!!) would so strip you of your confidence and feeling of self worth that you know your very attitude at said party would be grounds for whispers. That your anxiety will perpetuate any imagined slights into complete mental agony. breakdown. humiliation.
It was difficult to explain this to Biker Bob. He did wonderfully at my mom's house on Saturday and played in the pool like he had known every one for years. He doesn't seem to suffer from this affliction. He said he had a nice time. When getting to know someone, you learn about thier baggage. I have a lot. I don't know if he can even guess the half of it. I do firmly believe everyone has issues, everyone has idiosyncracies. The problem is finding someone who's baggage you can handle.
In other news, I am Partner of the Month at Harbucks, which gives me endless pride and amusement. I've never been employee of the month anywhere!
Happy Anniversary to my Seester!
Biker Bob and I were siting on the couch watching a movie last night. I had my head on his belly which was gurgling something fierce. He moved across the room, worried about breezes wooshing past my head. (since apparently, his farts don't stink, which, to give him credit, I didn't smell anything) Once we had retired, I was teasing him about it. In true man fashion, he let one go. It vibrated the bed. (which actually grossed me out quite a bit, but, what can you do?) We had this conversation this morning:
Me: Meanwhile, you have now given me better blog fodder than my original idea of discussing that bed rattling fart from last night.
BB: your bed is kinda rattlely it really was really a little fart the bed just made it sound like a big powerful testosterone powered fart.
Me: Damn Ikea furniture.
Me (again!): you know I'm going to have to quote you, right???
BB:what did I say that you want to quote?
Me: the whole fart conversation. it's hilarious.are you glad now that dean renamed you?
BB: No, because now I sound like a fat biker who rides a Harly and has tattoos who farts loudly and is generally an east county barbarian. I am in good shape have no tattoos don't fart much.
And I really think that last sentence would make a PERFECT personal ad. heh.
I wish this was the case. Truly, I suffer. I force myself to go out and I join groups (bunco, roller derby, bad girls of craft, bellydancing...) so that I am not crippled by my fear. So that I don't allow my fear to keep me in my house and away from doing the things I think I will enjoy. I force myself to go out and meet people or spend time with people who intimidate me a little because I know that my fears are unfounded.
Today, Biker Bob invited me to a jam session and housewarming party. The only people I would know there would be parts of the band and one spouse who may not be there. Biker Bob made it clear that he would be busy playing and not able to spend time with me, which I totally understand. After starting to compose a non committal response, I told him the truth. The very idea of attending this party, where I am sure the people are very nice, requires far more bravery than I posess today. The idea makes me want to curl up and cry. It is so far beyond my comfort zone that I'm having flashbacks.
Flashback: About a year after I left Sea World (I worked there for one summer and was not kept permenantly) D, who was working there again, invited me to a beach party with his work friends, many of whom I had worked with as well. Since I hadn't seen them in awhile, I was a bit apprehensive but I knew I would be ok. I wish I had been ok. D ran off with his friend who has been referred to as GRBF in previous posts, to go goof off. I can't even remember where they were, but it wasn't at the party. I was left alone in a group of strangers and former aquaintences, none of whom I was ever on a phone call basis, many of whom I had not seen in long enough that I may not have remembered their names. I was never part of the party group anyway. (which, I firmly believe, is part of the reason I was not kept at summer's end).
I was reduced to a teary mess, although I hid it. When D and Co. returned, I requested that we leave. As soon as possible. As we drove away, my cloud lifted and I felt better.
If you don't suffer from social anxiety, then it is hard to understand why a grown woman would be so worried that no one likes her. That the very concept of attending a party with strangers (or worse! mild aquaintences!! They have formed an opinion!!) would so strip you of your confidence and feeling of self worth that you know your very attitude at said party would be grounds for whispers. That your anxiety will perpetuate any imagined slights into complete mental agony. breakdown. humiliation.
It was difficult to explain this to Biker Bob. He did wonderfully at my mom's house on Saturday and played in the pool like he had known every one for years. He doesn't seem to suffer from this affliction. He said he had a nice time. When getting to know someone, you learn about thier baggage. I have a lot. I don't know if he can even guess the half of it. I do firmly believe everyone has issues, everyone has idiosyncracies. The problem is finding someone who's baggage you can handle.
In other news, I am Partner of the Month at Harbucks, which gives me endless pride and amusement. I've never been employee of the month anywhere!
Happy Anniversary to my Seester!
Biker Bob and I were siting on the couch watching a movie last night. I had my head on his belly which was gurgling something fierce. He moved across the room, worried about breezes wooshing past my head. (since apparently, his farts don't stink, which, to give him credit, I didn't smell anything) Once we had retired, I was teasing him about it. In true man fashion, he let one go. It vibrated the bed. (which actually grossed me out quite a bit, but, what can you do?) We had this conversation this morning:
Me: Meanwhile, you have now given me better blog fodder than my original idea of discussing that bed rattling fart from last night.
BB: your bed is kinda rattlely it really was really a little fart the bed just made it sound like a big powerful testosterone powered fart.
Me: Damn Ikea furniture.
Me (again!): you know I'm going to have to quote you, right???
BB:what did I say that you want to quote?
Me: the whole fart conversation. it's hilarious.are you glad now that dean renamed you?
BB: No, because now I sound like a fat biker who rides a Harly and has tattoos who farts loudly and is generally an east county barbarian. I am in good shape have no tattoos don't fart much.
And I really think that last sentence would make a PERFECT personal ad. heh.
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