damned if ya do, and damned if ya don't

So one of the guys I have been talking to on MySpace finally gave me his number (since I wouldn't give him mine) and said that girls never call guys. While this may be true in his world, I told him that if I say I will call, I will call. (I did not tell him I would call)
After recieving his number, I decided that I was not going to call. That I didn't see a future between us, and I wanted to be up front and honest. (I don't want to waste his time and possibly his money going out when I am not really interested) I sent him a message telling him this as kindly as I cold, because, why keep beating around the bush?
Apparently, I proved his point about girls calling and also about something else which he said he would discuss later.
People keep telling me that all they want is for men/women to be honest with them. But when I am honest, I am the bad guy. I don't think men should have to read my mind, so I really want to be honest when I am not interested, right away, so things don't get misconstrued. I don't want to string anyone along, but I'm mean if I cut them loose?
I don't get it.

Sad News

HR got "Trapped".

Another one bites the dust.


Later...

I'm more upset by this than I thought I would be. On one hand, it always bothers me when a man gets trapped. Children should be a joint decision, not a way to keep someone in your life if you don't think they want to be there. On the other hand, HR is the kind of man who will "do the right thing" which means getting to know him on a more than friendly level likely will not happen. I mean, I would still like to get to know him on a friendly level, but, you know, I looked at him as a possibility. I guess that's what I get for not being bolder. But I cannot change who I am.

Out of control

My sister called me last night while I was a Barnes and Noble trying to find Art Nouveau clip art for my catalog. Here's what she had to say:

"I was thinking just the other day about how when we were little, you used to stuff your mouth so full or spaghetti noodles that your cheeks would bulge out and you could hardly chew. And I thought, next time I talk to Gina, I will have to ask her about it"

I had to reply with the truth.

I still do it. I don't know why. The thing is, I have no noodle control. They fall off the fork then there is just a few, and sometimes they all stick together so that you CAN'T just have one or two at a time. And what might be one mouthful for most people is two or three for me because I have a small mouth. So I end up overstuffing because I just can't help myself.

You might feel the need to leave me a message telling me to cut my noodles up, but I wasn't taught that way and I just can't bear to do it. In my mind there is something terribly wrong with short noodle pieces. I never knew anyone noticed that until Seester mentioned it last night. We both had a good laugh about it, and I'm sure it will be a lifelong issue. Perhaps that is my superhero weakness. I can be beaten by noodles.

Another day in paradise

Had a good weekend. Busy, but good.

Went to dinner with bug guy and his new girl on Friday, AND I got to take home ALL the leftovers.
Went to dinner and a movie with my friend Dustin. Except that I forgot my wallet and he ended up paying, and I'm still very embarassed.
Went to a Franchise Business opportunity trade show to check out the options, and although I found one that would suppliment the soap very well, I have decided to file it for now and build my existing business instead.
My rib has finally retuned to where it belongs.
Bought more plants for my garden. I have not killed any of my garden plants. Hooray!
Went to the pet store twice and did not buy any new pets. I'm researching Hermit Crabs, but I cannot have one (or three) until I get my finances in order. And get a passport. I don't have one, and I could be travelling if I did. Well, if I had a passport and money. hmm.

Conversations with communications

My friend in the communication department just called me. The conversation went something like this. I'm funny.

W: (no, not the president. also not the W I dated long ago.) Is Grace gone for the day?

Me: No...

W: Maybe you can help me. are the consultants still on property?

Me: I don't know. Try asking Rob

W: who is Rob do you have his number?

Me: He's in charge of that project. I don't have his number, his last name is ******* (we can look up anyone on our phones, even if they are staying in the hotel, which has been cool for me because sometimes I find my dad in there)

W: oh, and what is his number?

Me: W, do you really think that be asking me that question in a different way that you would get a different answer? I've had way too much coffee today for that.

W: it's been a long day...

Postalicious

First, a poem:

Handsome Richard, Hi
Do not run away from me!
Do I smell Funny?

Mom says you like me
I want to get to know you
I can't, when you leave!

Had a great evening with my brother who I told I would not be trying to play mother for, since he needs a big sister more than another parent. Fly, my birdie, fly.

My aunt sent me the meme about suing one word to describe the person who sent you the email. I sent her "cheerful" she sent me "Brave"

The answer to this is the following. "really? I don't feel brave, I feel like a big chicken that would like to hide, but has to cross the road in order to pay the rent." Somehow, I think I have found the meaning of life. (Again I find it every few years. Then it changes. The original definition remains the same, but with new ones added on. You know, because life is always changing)

Replies and lessons learned

thnx gina.....your right....i am fucking up.....i just dont know how to get out of the "i dont really care" mood. i know everyone cares and is rescuing me, but sometimes i wish that you all would let me fall on my face, then i could learn and pull myself up... oh, and i did leave the computer on while i was at school, i was a good kid and went like you told me to. : D




Eric,You know I love you. Even when you fuck up. It just breaks my heart to see it. I was ready to storm over there tonight, take away your computer and babysit you until Momi gets home. But I was reminded that I'm not your parent and you are going to do whatever you want with or without my intervention. (i may still come by to use the dryer) I was told to butt out, and I'm going to.Please start to care before you fall, or at least know that when you are ready to pick yourself up you have support. Struggling isn't fun, believe me. Except, that's not really what you want, is it? you want to learn it for yourself. It must be difficult to have every adult in your life playing parent and telling you what to do all the time. I had the opposite problem. I didn't really have a whole lot of supervision when I was your age.thanks for going to school. Please go again tomorrow. i might see you tonight.I've learned a lesson today. Thanks.

Letters to Brother

My mom's in Hawaii and my brother is at home. He's nearly 18 and hasn't been bothering to go to school like he should. I spoke to the attendance lady at his school today and she says he's been missing a lot of school.

I called him at home, woke him up and told him to get his butt to school, even though he was already late. A few minutes ago, I was looking at MySpace and saw that he is online. The following is the message I sent to him.

You had better have left your computer on while you are at school.
Do you know what is the most frustrating part for me? Knowing that you're smart enough to know better but you just don't care. And that there is nothing I can do or say to you to make you understand that it's not ok for you to behave like this. and that you'll get away with it because your parents don't want to look like failures if you fail. But this is on you. You have to be responsible for yourself. No one is going to help you or support you if you don't try. I don't want to see you fail, and I don't want to see you travelling down the road I am seeing you go. But Honestly? If it were up to me? I'd let you go there just to show you the consequences of your actions. Because I love you and if you fail, it's your fault and none of us can save you. You have to do it for yourself. And obviously, you're not going to learn how to swim for yourself if we keep rescuing you. I want you to learn that it's YOUR life you're fucking up. And Eric, Honey, you're fucking up.

I told the truth. Am I a bitch?

the following letter appeared in my Friendster mailbox:


himanshu wrote:> Hi,
I am writing to inquire about possible romance/friends/activity partner/dating opportunities with you. I am extremely interested in pursuing a career in Love and I believe that I have the experience, skills, commitment, and knowledge needed for success in this industry. In addition to this, I have a proven ability to meet deadlines and produce quality results.
Currently I am pursuing MS in LOVE at San Diego State University and I have a 3.46 overall GPA. The last five years of my schooling have prepared me to propose a person like you. I have taken classes that have given me excellent knowledge of love languages such as Love at first sight, Proposing first time, First Kiss, Shopping for girls etc and have learned the fundamentals of sex, party, love, kiss, etc. All of which are extremely useful skills in this industry.
Currently, I am 24, very much male and single and i am responsible to find a partner for myself. In my previous jobs at San Diego State University I worked as Graduate Assistant to Prof. XYZ for Love & Love Communication where I helped his students to discover love. I also learned the value of good eye communication while working for Dr. ZZZ as graduate assistant for Importance of eye Communication.
I would really like it if I could have the opportunity to speak or correspond with you through phone or e-mail as soon as possible; my cell phone number is xxxxxxxx I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sincerely,> Jai (* PS: If you are already dating/seeing someone else then either update ur profile or break ur relation so that you can date me)


To which I replied:

Dear Jai,
Thank you for submitting your resume. While I found it rather impressive in the areas of section E (English Skills) and Section C (Creativity) of my hiring code, I found insufficient items in Section I (Interests and hobbies) and Section A (Attraction). However, given your proficiancy in Section H (Humor) combined with your aforementioned experience in Section C, I would like to invite you to continue to do business as a consultant under Section F (Friend)

Working from home

So, really, and mostly my own fault, I'm broke. I knowI could manage my finances better, and really I'm working on that, but this does not help the fact that right now, at this moment, I don't have as much money as I would like to have.
So yesterday, when I recieved my weekly pennysaver, I thought I would check the help wanted section to see if anything caught my fancy.
The first option was from a sincere couple looking to pay at least $40,000 for a surrogate mother. Hmm. but do I really trust a couple who would advertise in the pennysaver for an incubator? I mean, I was looking, so other people like me probably look, but something just sounded odd about it. Plus, I'm not so sure I want to spend 9 months pregnant with a child I will probably never see again. For my sisters, I would do it. for a stranger, I'm not so sure. Although the temptation is occationally there to sell my eggs because, hey, I'm not using them! and hey! people actually pay for those, and Hey! men sell their sperm, right? (except that men have an unlimited army as I do not)
So I looked at work at home opportunities, which all sound great except that I have been bitten twice by that and I don't really want to be bitten again. The first time was through a friend of my mother who assembled jewelry at home. I sent my money and application, and never heard from them again. I sent letters, but eventually had to kiss that $150 goodbye. The reason I was trying to work from home is because I needed money, not because I had it to spare.
The second time, I signed up to stuff envelopes at home, but found out that the envelopes I would be stuffing were envelopes advertising how you can stuff envelopes at home and so on. There was a money back guarantee, but I missed the deadline. I can't remember what happened with that. Likely another waste of funds.
This time, I went to the websites advertised. And saw that yes, it is possible to make $15 processing rebates or money entering data, but the data they showed looked more like spam to me, and the rebate comany didn't really say what the rebates were for. Both companies wanted $100 to sign up.
Yes, I am willing to work at a store or something for extra cash. But wouldn't it be nice if I could work from home at my leisure? (Remember, I have a start up business to run) I guess the moral of the story is, there are no free rides and nothing takes the place of hard work. Thank goodness I learned that lesson when I was younger. I hope no one is getting hoodwinked by these companies.

applause from the men's section

It occurred to me today that for men, sex is never free. You can pay for it with a prostitute, or you can find yourself a girlfriend, but either way, you're paying for it. T pointed out that even if you aren't getting any, you are still paying to update your car, wardrobe, etc. in order to make yourself more attractive to the opposite sex so that perhaps you can be "the one".
I would like to pretend that I am outside of the norm when it comes to women and this situation, but truly I am not. Did I not dye my hair in order to be more attractive and then spend countless dollars trying to return it to normal? (it's over $200 in hair products and services now, and I'm still not back to normal) do I not wear makeup and have fake nails? Sure, I tell myself that I do these things for me, but truly, deep down, I really am looking for a mate. And I know that it's my looks that will attract him first. That's biology.
Has dating always been so expensive? T says that lions have manes, women need money. I think I need to examine my priorities and consider what I really want in a man and whether money is really all that important to me. I was brought up not to expect things from people. But I think that in raising the bar for myself, I have forgotten, maybe what is truly important. I don't want time with me to be a financial burden...

Things that are difficult to say

Talking with T today, I discussed with him for the first time J (the obnoxious coworker) and I mentioned that every time I stop dating someone, I raise my standards a bit. He wanted to know how it was that he raised my standards. I replyed with the following:

"You will be difficult to replace. I cannot think of anything you brought to our relationship that I took issue with. subsequent men will have to meet or exceed the expectations that you set. I guess you made me pickier by setting a higher standard."

To which he replied that he has lowered his standards but he doesn't want to talk about it.

This was one of the most difficult things I have said. But it is true. And sadly,it doesn't make an ounce of difference.

So I waited...

I waited a full year to hear the following words, and Saturday brought that wait to a close. Yes indeed, as I cleaned the kitchen, from the living room I heard a man's timbre:

"No Soup for you."

That bird will never cease to amaze and delight me. I am not a fan of Seinfield, but I do appriciate that many people find the show very amusing. I, myself am amused my the idea of the Soup Nazi and have been telling people that Baby says that, but I have never heard her. Now I have. My day was complete.

quiet weekend

I managed to stay home all weekend long (except for dance class) which is a minor miracle for me. Staying home means that I knitted and cleaned and made soap and...and learned embroidery, or at least started to. This does not sound very exciting but you really have to look at it this way:

I'm so broke it's not funny. so staying at home means I didn't use any extra gas. it also means that I didn't spend any money. Do you know how hard it was for me to make do with whatever crafty stuff I had laying around? I really wanted to go buy needles or yarn or anything but I didn't. I made myself stay home and use what I have bought in the past because shopping is the number one reason why I am broke in the first place. So hooray for me!

Confuzzled

(Confuzzled is a word I have borrowed from my young cousin Sierra. She's a really neat kid. I wish I knew her better)

There have only been three times in my life that I can recall someone telling me that they don't want to be my friend anymore. Sure, friends have come and gone for various reason over the years, and it has always been a bit sad when I have realized that a person I was previously close to will no longer be a part of my regularly scheduled program. I have come to accept that this is how life is, and that it is a part of growing. The first time, I was in 3rd grade and a girl, Natalia, had a new friend who wanted something I had. When I refused to give up my prize, she announced that if I didn't, she wouldn't be my friend anymore. That was the end of Natalia. The second, I have discussed with you as happening a year ago with C, with whom I am back on friendly terms.

The third happened a couple of days agoo when I was reading one of my regular blog reads and I came accross an entry that discussed how the person's blog to blog friendship with me was now over, as we had disagreed. This came as a surprise to me as I hadn't realized that I had ended the friendship. Silly you, he said, I don't want to be your friend anymore. (those were not his exact words, but close enough) He recieved my answer which was, I'm sorry to hear that, best of life to you, you won't hear from me again.

People, as a rule, disagree. We can't all have the same opinion about everything, debate teachers would be out of a job. I regret losing this friend, although his comments had become a bit disturbing and angry, but if it is his desision to end our blog relationship, so be it. I find it sad that one disagreement with his rather firm belief should cause such an extreme response, however, it would be unfair of me to disregard his feelings on the matter as important to him. So goodbye to that person, by his choice, I have removed him from my sidebar and will delete him from my favorites on monday. Sometimes, I guess we can't all just get along.

on a side note, I know that there are many of you who I have not added to my sidebar even though I read your blogs every day. I will try to get those put on there Monday. I am not promising anything because I do have a lot of work to do. but I will try. be well and have a great weekend.

Blanket

When I was a wee lass, all blonde and curly and smiley, rumor has it that I wandered around all the time with an object I only faintly remember, fondly known as my lovey, but more recognizable as an old diaper. This was in the days when disposables were new and expensive and tended to chafe a baby's bottom quite badly, so those of us who were born during this predisposable time lived in a world of cloth diapers, diaper pins, and rubber pants. (the phrase rubber pants is going to get me some weirdo hits, watch.) Diaper pins are a thing of the past, and cloth diapers, while still available, have been renamed Burping cloths for the use of the disposable diaper generation. And believe me, they're way too expensive now to use a few times then turn into dusting cloths which, all cloth diapers became when baby was potty trained.
I don't remember carrying my lovey, but I do remember once it was gone, returning to the hall closet where it lived for a little while as a dust cloth to rub my cheek against it. I also don't remember why I got in trouble once and had to wear it, but I'm pretty sure that my step dad was trying to make a point that I was acting like a baby at the tender age of six. And if I was going to act like a baby, I should wear a diaper for a bit. There's not a whole lot more to that memory, I had forgotten it was in there until just now. Come to think of it,I think my lovee disappeared altogether after that. But I do believe that I will always be fond of the smell of freshly bleached cotton and enjoy the feeling of it next to my skin, and what do you know, thanks to this post, I understand why!
But really, my lovey is not what this post is all about. I also remember a blanket that I aquired when I was about 4. At least that's when I was told I got it. I really don't remember a time before I had it. I do remember that it smelled good. That it was a quilt. That I liked to look at all the crazy patterns on it when I couldn't sleep at night and I would stay up playing on my bed. Was? I mean is. I stopped sleeping with it a few years ago, along with the little pillow my mom snuggled when she was pregnant with me because she wanted to hold me so badly. My quilt and pillow are packed away now, along with all my other blankets.
I don't know how this item has lasted through the years. I remember the day my step dad sold my Benji sleeping bag at a garage sale because he insisted that it was my security blanket and had to go. I didn't know then what a security blanket was, but I knew my sleeping bag kept me warm. Somehow, the quilt and pillow stayed with me, escaping his scrutiny.
As I have grown, (I retain a great fondness for quilts) I have come to understand that not only do most people have a favored blanket from thier younger years, but that many of them still have it. be it quilted or crochet, it has remained through the years as a reminder of the child that was and the comforts given. The other day, as I presented my boss with a quilt I created to be given to his new granddaughter. He smiled and told me about the quilt that he's had since he was a young man that he still wraps up in when he's feeling sick. I started remembering all my friends who have told me over the years that they still have that special blanket. I watch the young children in my life as they drag theirs around. I am proud to have made some of them for them. I realized that when I give a child a blanket, it's not only something to keep them warm and snuggly when they are young, it's a lifetime of hugs they might just treasure forever.
I realized that rather than be ashamed of my blanket, and believe me there have been many times when I have hidden it away so that a new boyfriend wouldn't see, I should take it out and treasure it like the old friend that it is. It may be tattered and torn, and way too tired for a bed mate, but it certainly isn't something I should be ashamed of. It certainly deserves better than to be stuck in an old bag in my closet. it should be out, visible, caressable, smellable, loveable. Treasure that it is. My blanket. Not for security, it never was, but for memories of the child that I was and the woman I have become.

This morning

This morning, I had lots of things to blog about. This afternoon, I got nothin.

I am now Gina with the light brown hair. I don't really consider it enough of an improvement, but I have gotten a few compliments on it and, I understand that she didn't want to fry my hair off. it's going to take a lot of time to get me back to normal. sigh. I'm calling my hair plaid because it had horizontal stripes and now it has vertical ones too. I'll post pictures as soon as I download them off of my camera, which I could do right now, but I have to pee instead.

cracking up

Someone found me by searching "porn starlets in lakeside" obviously, although this person lives in San Diego, they have never been to Lakside. I mean, I've learned to like it there, but as soon as you hit the county border, "dueling banjos" starts to play no matter what station your radio is tuned to. A woman with teeth is rare, and if she only has one illigitimate child, and she has teeth, well, that might be the porn starlet you're looking for. Sadly, in Lakeside, I'm something akin to a demigoddess. (all my teeth, no kids, never been married, not on crystalmeth, and I only hear voices on Tuesdays)

Bits and Pieces

You know, every time I say or think pieces, Ashlee Simpson starts singing in my head, which makes me very upset because, well, I'm not impressed with her. and that's me being nice. Except when I think about Reeces Pieces, in which case I think about how yummy they are, how much my mom likes them and ET.

Meanwhile, here's some stuff that I need to get offa my head.

Dear Self,
Your hand it not a hammer. Hammer hands is not your superpower, so stop trying to use your hand as a hammer. especially when there is a perfectly good real hammer 10 steps away. You only get two hands, and you have abused them enough over the years.

thank you,
me

Odd things overheard in my apartment Sunday:

Hey! quit eating my socks!
OW you bit my toe!
Hey! Quit eating the carpet. There will be no carpet munching! (I hope my neighbors thought that was funny too)

No, I didn't have a date, the bunny was out.

I was very proud of myself for covering my new plants with plastic last night to keep them warm. then I forgot to uncover them this morning. I'm worried about the Lemon Balm, she's not looking very healthy. But at keast they will be warm today!

I ran for 30 minutes on the treadmill last night. went 2 whole miles. Thus begins an earnest effort to be prepared for this years mud run. I also ate 5 full servings of fruit yesterday. I have another 5 just waiting to be eaten in my purse right now. I learned that if I eat fruit all morning I'm not so hungry for lunch. I also learned that fruit makes my purse heavy.

Went for ice cream with guy last night. I told him I wouldn't date him, am I leading him on by letting him buy me ice cream? I don't want to confuse him with hope...How do I get myself into these situations? Is everyone as confused by dating as I am??

Perfection

Nobody is pefect. You just can't exect that of someone. so I think that part of finding a partner in this big lonely world, is meeting someone who you are not only attracted to, and you like to do most of the same things, and you like talking to each other, but also that you can accept the things about them that may drive someone else nuts. D, for example, handled my clutter like some sort of saint (whereas I would get VERY upset if he rearranged the furniture). But it is entirely possible that after me, he cannot handle a woman who is crafty and has to leave a craft explosion everywhere she goes. I'm not sure. I've never asked.
I believe that while everyone has their deal breakers, everyone also has their things that they may not like, but they can handle for the sake of loveing someone. It could be a husband that leaves his underwear of the floor. Or a wife that sticks her loose hairs to the shower wall.(ahem. you know who you are). T didn't shower before bed, but I snuggled him anyway. D, on the other hand HATED that I came to bed with cold wet hair every night and consequently dripped it on him during pre sleep snuggles. He never asked me to change that. It never occured to me that I should. (or at least learn to use a hairdryer, which, by the way is not one of my many talents) I think that part of the reason D and I weren't right for each other is that I wasn't willing to change my wet night hair. But he would have lived with it for the rest of his life if I had asked him too.
I don't think it is fair to ask someone to change for you. When I think of this, I always hear Mark tell Bridget, "No. I like you. Just as you are". Then Martina McBride starts singing in my head about how her baby loves her just the way that she is. And I realize that perhaps, that's the way it's supposed to be. I think that sometimes, even though they may be willing to change for you, if they have to, right off the bat, then perhaps they are not a person who you should be with. And that they shouldn't change because you want them to, or because by changing, you might want to be with them, but because in the normal course of things, they have decided that it is time to change themselves. And then you support them in this.
I think that if a person is right for you, you accept those things without even considering if they should change them. Because no one is perfect. It the imperfections that make us interesting. Or annoying as the case may be. Perfect. It's such a constricting word.