Uncrushed Basketcase

("Two Shots Up", "Killer", and Me at a party on Sunday)

I've been a basket-case all week. I think I've cried about 4 times, including through half of my acting class today (which was so uncomfortable... for everyone).

And I don't even really know why. I think it's just that everything started building up. I cried reading a play. I cried talking to my roommates. I cried through half of my acting class today for no apparent reason. I think it's all out of my system now, but I've been wearing my emotions for the last 72 hours.

I've been debating how much of my school existence to put on here. On the one hand, I really don't want anyone from school to find this blog and stumble upon things that I don't want them to know (they all know I'm a blogger, but I directed them towards my other blog, so that they won't come looking for this one. So far, so good... On the other hand, I really want to be able to blog about this stuff, as that's the way I deal with most of my problems...

Anyway, I guess this post is my test run, to see how comfortable (or not) I am with this sort of stuff. Wish me luck.


I think I'm a pretty smart cookie, but it's getting me into trouble. I monopolized a class discussion on Oedipus on Tuesday (but honestly, I was frustrated, fired up, and speaking in an intelligent manner the entire time... I think my professor appreciated it, but I don't know it my classmates were okay with it or not). I challenged a couple of my classmates' opinions in voice class (which we were encouraged to do by the professor) and they seemed offended (especially when I was right). And I'm worried that I might get a reputation for being intellectually prickly, which is the last thing I want.

Also, I think I offended a professor this week. Actually, potentially two professors. Why? Because I don't much like dogs and was pretty vocal about it... and they both happen to have dogs that they treat like their children. And the one professor told the other professor about it. And the whole 2nd-year class is mad at me because now the one professor isn't going to bring in her dog to class this year like she did last year as a result of it. Gah! I don't think I should have to be sorry for not wanting a dog in my voice class while I'm doing relaxation exercises. She asked if dogs make anyone uncomfortable, and I didn't think I should have to lie and act like I love them.

Whatever.

It's just been a long week.

And on top of that drama, AND all the school work I'm doing, there is the social aspect of things. And that, as one would expect, is complicated.

I went to a party on Sunday that was held at the house of two people who are donors for the program that I'm at. They had an open bar and a hot tub, so I think we all knew that there were going to be weird situations that arose by the end of the night. Let's just say that I have a lot of pictures that didn't make it to Facebook.

Two of my classmates looked like they were about 5 seconds away from making out THE ENTIRE NIGHT. He seemed to have forgotten that he has a SERIOUS girlfriend (who is moving down here for him in a few months). It was making me hideously uncomfortable.

Another of my classmates with a girlfriend was acting single, in what I'm sure was an alcohol-induced string of bad decisions. He tried to seduce my roommate. He leaned down and kissed my breast mid-conversation (COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE!!!). I'm pretty sure I saw him kiss a 2nd-year. And by the end of the night, he'd gotten into a fist-fight with a 3rd-year in a hot tub. (That was actually when I decided it was time for me to leave...)

As you may recall, all the males in my class are out-of-bounds for one reason or another. One is married, four are in serious relationships, one is gay, and one only dates "big booty hoes who like to freak" (which does not describe any of the females in this program).

One of the guys in my class is really awesome, and I really want to become good friends with him. He and I have similar tastes and a lot in common. I wrote on his facebook wall back in the summer that I had decided that he and I would be best friends once we got down here. But I haven't gotten that many opportunities to hang out with him. I finally did at this party, where he was appropriately intoxicated.

I talked with him a bunch, and he's just as cool as I thought he would be. In fact, I think I actually prefer him with booze in his system. The Drunk version is even funnier, cooler, and more adorable than the Regular version (I said the entirety of that sentence to someone else about him while standing directly next to him at one point). It was like Jim Carrey in The Mask. Regular him, but to the nth degree (I said that to him). Loved it.

For the record, I do not want to jump him. I think he's fascinating and awesome, but I think that in an "oh my God, we need to be best friends" kind of way, not an "I want his balls" kind of way. A completely non-sexual sort of crush. Also, I should reiterate that he has a girlfriend whom he seems very serious about. Therefore, I haven't been concerned about him crossing out of "As Good As Gay" territory.

Moving on (I swear there was a point to all of that)...

Okay, so in class on Tuesday, we had this exercise where you had to ambush your partner with a question as the class watched. First, you were supposed to clear your mind, then make a silent connection with the partner, and then ask a question based off of what you received from the partner.

One of the ambush scenarios between my classmates went something like this...
ONE: Do you want to be here?
TWO: No. This is just school. It's not interesting.
ONE: Then why are you here?
TWO: Because it's free.

I'll allow you to imagine how upset I was by that. I'm offended that there is someone in my class who is not grateful to be in this program. He takes it for granted. I don't think he even much likes it. This, I maintain, is the problem with people going to grad school straight out of undergrad: they don't appreciate it as much. It just seems like more of the same.

ETA: I realize that this does not apply to ALL people who go to grad school straight out of undergrad. I was still bitter when I wrote those words.

Anyway. I had to ambush the cool guy from my class directly after that. I had to work hard to clear my mind. If I hadn't, I'm sure I would've asked him "Are you resentful that someone in our class doesn't want to be here?", because that's what was really on my mind.

But I looked at him. And I thought about him performing magic tricks. And his ability to throw cards like weapons. And how he tells these crazy stories at parties. He's kind of a natural entertainer... And suddenly I wondered if he knew that those were the things that I associated with him. So I decided to ask, but it didn't come out the way I intended.

And so, sitting a couple of feet away from him, locking eyes with him, with the entire class watching, I asked, "How do you think I feel about you?"

He stared at me with a look of disbelief and started to blush. He didn't answer for about 5 seconds, which seemed way longer than it was. And in those 5 seconds, I knew what was going through his head. And I couldn't help but wonder if my classmates saw the same thing...

He totally thinks I have a crush on him.

Frak.

And the way the question came out of my mouth (as I replayed it over and over in my head) sounded somewhat flirtatious.

Double frak.

He stumbled over his words for a second. He ended up saying something about how he thought that I thought we had a lot in common, and that I looked to him as someone who could be my buddy... but his eyes told me that he was censoring himself. My professor saw it, too, (based on the way he was choosing his words so carefully as he answered) and called him out on it.

Some of my classmates complimented the question, as it clearly ambushed him in exactly the way we were supposed to. He was shocked by the question and couldn't answer it without becoming intrinsically focused, at least momentarily. It was probably one of the most successful questions of the entire exercise (and we spent at least 90 minutes on this).

The professor, unsatisfied with his self-censoring, made me ambush him again. And then again after that.

Finally, he ambushed me.

HIM: Do you find security in your hair?
ME: ... Sometimes.
HIM: Is that why you're afraid to cut it?
ME: ... Maybe. Partially.

The professor moved on from there. I didn't say what I wanted to say. I censored myself. I just didn't get caught.

What I should've said?

No. I'm afraid to cut my hair because I'm worried I won't be beautiful if I do. I'm afraid that men won't find me attractive. That's the real reason that I'm not going to cut it.

To go deeper... It probably has something to do with the men from my past. Pretty much all of them have had a thing for my hair. For example, if I cut my hair off and Brian stopped thinking I was beautiful... I don't think I could handle it.

How pathetic is that?

Obviously, I felt weird saying any of that in front of my class. Especially to this new pseudo-friend of mine, in light of the other ambush question that I had just asked him. Which is dumb. Particularly because I know that he prefers short hair on girls, so me saying that might have actually made him feel less like I wanted to jump him.

Oh well.

I actually went and apologized to my professor after class for not being open on that exercise. But I felt so weird about the earlier ambush question... And so vulnerable from the second.

Anyway. I still feel weird about the whole first-ambush thing. I don't know how much the rest of the class picked up on. I don't know how much they know about me telling him repeatedly that we're destined to be friends. I don't know if they know how many pictures I took of me and him at that party. I don't know if he even remembers that I called him cute and funny at the party (which I did NOT mean as flirting... I meant it sort of in a brother/sister way). I don't know if anyone else thought that I was flirting with him when I asked that question. I don't know if they noticed him blushing and pieced together why. I DON'T KNOW.

I feel awkward. Way awkward.

Maybe it was all in my head. Maybe he knows that I only think of him as a friend, and I'm completely over-reacting. I have, after all, been known to over-think things from time to time.

But in that moment? Horrible.



So there's one more thing I should mention about that party on Sunday...

I believe I mentioned that there's a guy who works for the theatre whom I thought might be flirting with me. Well, apparently he confessed to his roommate that he has a crush on a different girl in my class. I'm not sure how I felt about that when I first found out... Not really relieved, not really jealous, not really offended... But not apathetic, either. I felt something about it... Just nothing identifiable.

Anyway. Since I had learned that he was interested in someone else, I was able to mentally file him under "As Good As Gay". And I ended up having a long conversation with him at the party. And, unless I'm mistaken, I think he was kind of flirty... And I may have been flirty back... By the end of the night, he'd offered to cook me dinner and said he wanted to take me camping (both of those subjects arose organically and didn't sound like skeezy pick-up lines, I swear). As the conversation continued, he made both sound more like "group gatherings", but I couldn't help but wonder if there was something else implied. He wasn't asking me on a date, was he?

So Tuesday after class, I heard his roommate (one of my classmates) talking to the classmate of mine that he is rumored to have a crush on. He invited her to dinner at his place, saying "[roommate] has been itching to cook dinner for someone other than just me." So maybe I'm completely over-thinking the dinner and it really was just a friend thing. Or did he get his roommate to ask this particular girl because he has a thing for her?...

So, yeah. I feel weird about the classmate who thinks I might have a crush on him. And I also feel weird about this guy who may or may not be flirting with me. I actually feel more uncomfortable about two of the guys here who are really nice to me and I genuinely like than I feel about the guy who kissed my breast or the guy who thinks I'm trying to rape him with my hugs. That's some bizarre psychology, isn't it?

See, this is why I can't get involved with anyone here. I'm not even CLOSE to being involved with anyone, and it's already awkward and uncomfortable. Blergh.

It's so much better to just stay uncrushed.


May your non-sexual crushes not get complicated.

~A~

One Week In

("The Pro" -- one of my non-sexual crushes -- and "Disco")

One week done.

I've already learned stuff. And I'm already pretty darn tired.

I have favorites within my classmates. Which I wish I didn't, as we're supposed to be an ensemble... But I'm human. I like all of them, but I have non-sexual crushes on like 5 of them. They're such cool people.

Don't worry, I'm not in any danger of breaking the resolutions I made about not getting involved with people from my class. There are 7 males. 1 is married, 4 are in relationships, 1 is gay, and the last one is NOT my type at all. So making them all "As Good As Gay" hasn't been as difficult as I worried it might be.

("D-Train" -- another of my non-sexual crushes)

As one of my eagle-eyed readers pointed out (way to go, bFlat), there were only 11 people in my class picture, and I said my class is 12. Well, my class WILL BE 12. One of my classmates started school here two years ago and left because of some family problems. She is coming back to the program and will be joining my class, but she already had grades for her first semester, so she won't be getting down here until November or December. So my class is temporarily one member short.

My class is filled with intelligent, interesting people. I'm grateful for that. And I like each and every one of them as an individual. I really mean that.

But man, classes with all of them are going to be a challenge.

As is to be expected with any group of creative persons, we have a lot of large personalities. We are going to butt heads a lot. And we have a couple of people in the class who often pick up the role of devil's advocate. Things get tense sometimes.

As for me? I'm doing alright. Tuesday was a good day (but the first day of school always is). Wednesday was a bad day (I felt stupid the whole day). Thursday was a very, very good day (I kicked butt at everything, despite the day lasting 12 hours and being completely exhausted at the end of it). Friday was a very bad day (although it started off quite well... just ended abysmally).

Yesterday went bad during our last class of the day when there was a major schism in our class regarding our course of study. The professor (nicest man ever) was so flustered and upset by it that he actually ended class 15 minutes early. Yeah. Bad.

I came home and discussed the entire situation with my roommates. Being able to talk it out with them reminded me how fortunate I am to be living with students who understand the program, but who are in different classes than I am. They told me that I was looking at everything from a mature perspective and handling it well. It made me feel a bit better about the whole thing.

Luckily, my day did improve from there.

My grad school program works in conjunction with an "Adopt-A-Student" donor program. Depending on the level of contribution, some students have 1 donor, and some have 8. They're the reason we don't have to pay tuition. When I was originally looking at the program, I wasn't really sure what to make of it... But after speaking with the students, I lost all reservations. Basically, your donors become like a second family for you in Florida.

I met my donors last night, and they are WONDERFUL. I have two donors, who are a married couple. They're probably around 70, they never had children, and they're "low-profile" philanthropists. They're incredibly intelligent, down to earth, funny, and caring. They wanted to know everything about what I'm learning, and were so proud to be connected to my education. They love the arts. They want to know every time I'm involved in any production down here, even if I'm on tech crew, because they want to know what I'm up to and be able to discuss it with me later. How sweet are they?

I feel so blessed to have sponsors that I really connected with. I now have one more reason to succeed here: I want to make them proud.

I have a real weekend this weekend. It's the first time I've had a real weekend since... April, I think. Before I was in TnT. I've been completely lazy all day, and it has been glorious. I've spent more time singing showtunes at my roommate than being productive.

We're having a musical theatre workshop with a big impressive Broadway man at the end of the semester, so I'm trying to pick a song to sing for that. So far, here are my front-runner options (in case anyone cares):

- "I Get a Kick out of You", Anything Goes
*- "Stranger to the Rain", Children of Eden
*- "Here I Am", Dirty Rotten Scoundrels
- "As We Stumble Along", The Drowsy Chaperone
- "Life with Harold", The Full Monty
- "Always a Bridesmaid", I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change!
- "Mama Will Provide", Once on This Island
- "Happily Ever After", Once upon a Mattress
- "Hold On", The Secret Garden
- "Unexpected Song", Song & Dance
*- "Let Me Come Home", The Wedding Singer
*- "Old Fashioned Love Story", The Wild Party (Lippa)
- "One Hundred Easy Ways", Wonderful Town

(* = leading candidates... and yes, I'm a belter)

I think my roommate might end up singing "Stars & the Moon" from Songs for a New World, which I massively love. I've heard that songs from last year included "I'm Not Afraid of Anything" (Songs from a New World), "See, I'm Smiling" (The Last 5 Years), "There's a Fine, Fine Line" (Avenue Q), and "Old Man River" (Show Boat).

I'm going to try to convince my schoolmates to go out to karaoke with me tomorrow night. Hopefully, I'll get a few bites... I just really want to go out to a bar, not drink, but still have fun. And karaoke usually hits the spot for me... We'll see.

All in all, not a bad first week. I'm still thrilled to be here. I'm a little bit terrified, but I know that everything is going to work out in the end.


May the end be even better than the beginning.

~A~

Michigan Loves Me

This blog is starting to feel like my last blog used to... less about my ideas, and more about my experiences. I haven't decided if that's a good or bad thing yet, so I'm just going to let words flow through my fingers and hope that people keep reading until I settle on a style. Or don't.

I should also warn you... I have a feeling that this is going to turn into an extremely long post. (Oh, wait... that sounds like every other post). There are a lot of things that I think I should mention, and now seems as good a time as any to do so.

Why is this going to be long? Because before the end of it I have to tell you the story of how someone fell in love with me.

(That ought to keep you reading, right?)

First order of business: my NaNoWriMo Novel. As promised, I will be posting a chapter every week in a new blog.

IMPORTANT: This blog will be PRIVATE, and you can only see it if invited. So if you'd like me to invite you, kindly post your e-mail address in the comments section. You won't be able to view it in a reader, since it's private. Because of that, I'm going to do my best to update it on a regular, weekly basis (every Sunday, is my goal. Just like PostSecret), so you won't have to erratically check and speculate.

Second order of business: I promised I'd recap my New Year's trip to Michigan for you, so I shall.

On December 30th, I drove from Connecticut to New York La Guardia (where they paged Chelsea Clinton on the loud speaker), got on a turbulent plane to Cincinnati, nearly missed my connecting flight (due to some inept staff telling me my flight would be delayed... and then it wasn't), and ended up in Michigan around 10:30pm. In other words, the perfect time to head to Meijer.

My friend Megan, who picked me up from the airport, is in many ways my non-sexual soul mate (Random Note: it really bugs me that, according to Microsoft Word, soul mate is two words and not a compound word. Anyone else bothered by that? No? Just me?). We go for long periods of time without seeing each other, but we're consistently able to pick up where we left off without a hitch.

Megan calls me Aiea, which is a nickname that roughly half the people in my life use for me. If I at any time refer to Aiea, now you know that it's self-referential. Thought I should mention that.

We met the first day of our freshman year of high school, when we sat next to each other in a useless science class with an unbearable teacher (although I just described every science class I had from 8th-12th grade). She was new to the district, and I was awkward and friendless. We bonded instantly. We walked together at graduation, at which we flipped each others tassels and I promptly exclaimed, "My little Megan is growing up!" (I think she said something along the lines of "Mah-nah Mah-nah!" or "It comes from Boston Market and it tastes like chicken!" as a response... I miss the days when I was a part of private jokes). I thought that made nice bookends to my high school experience.

Before even heading back to her house, we took an obligatory trip to Meijer. If you're not familiar, Meijer is a store with toys, furniture, groceries, clothing, shoes, cleaning products, hardware, electronics, pets (yes, pets... hamsters, gerbils, fish, and such), greeting cards, bouquets, photo-processing, a pharmacy, helium balloons, and a sundry of other departments and items that I can't even come up with in order to list.

Megan and I have a tradition (which also applies to Target, Kroger, Rite-Aid, and the like as well) of filling a cart with tons of things that we intend to buy, and then settling on the floor in a random unfrequented aisle (usually near the pantyhose) and trying to talk each other out of each and every potential purchase. Why? Because we're both extremely impulsive and if we didn't, we'd probably each go broke every time we went.

My friend Brian met up with us (clearly not knowing what he was in for) when we were giggling in the make-up section (our favorite) and briefly reverting to our teenage selves. We had a blast. I got piggy-back rides from Brian. We made each other try on ridiculous things. We got in trouble for taking pictures in the store. We danced through the aisles (okay fine, that was mostly me). We said strange things loudly in order to get reactions from other shoppers. And after going through the mechanics of scouting the entire store, we settled down on a couch in the furniture section and talked each other down to just a few small purchases each (Brian jumped into the game and successfully convinced Megan not to buy a fake engagement ring that she planned to wear to the bar on New Year's Eve to try to discourage creepy drunks from hitting on her). I think I walked out with moisturizer, hair-ties, and blue nail polish.

The next stage involves reverting to childhood (one of the little adventures I so adore) and getting upon the penny-rides at the front of the store (a dark purple dinosaur that we lovingly call "VibraDino", and a brown horse, which has replaced the pink pony that formerly occupied the position). We once went in with a sock full of pennies and "raced" for an embarrassingly long period of time with other friends in tow. Brian was hesitant at first, but we convinced him to join in on the fun in the end. We were laughing and taking pictures (no one yelled at us that time... they were probably frightened by us. Or amused. It was, after all, around 1:00am at that point). We rode until we had all run out of pennies.

After spending more money on the "Mystery Mix" in the stickers vending machine than we should have (and me ending up with a lovely "I Heart Geeks" sticker that Brian tried to acquire through trade), we left.


Megan and I somehow managed to stay up until well past 5:00am. How? I don't know. We were being losers. At one point, we were playing online Scrabble (well, Scrabulous on Facebook, technically) against each other on separate (I spelled it right on my first try!) laptops in the same room. Later, we took an online quiz to determine if we were geeks, dorks, or nerds. Then we decided it would be funny to sign up for the ultimate in online pathetic-ness: SecondLife accounts (God only knows why... that's the sort of thing that's funny when you're sleep-deprived). My character is named Eulalie Jiminy (pronounced yoo-LAY-lee, and yes, it's a legit name, albeit an underused one ), which I think is a hard-to-beat combination (you're limited in your last name choices, by the by).

The next morning I awoke to a great pain in the bottom of my foot, which turned out to be because I had somehow unknowingly gotten a piece of glass lodged inside of it. How did I know? Because I've done it before (last March... it was horrible). Must've happened three days before, when I broke a glass in Connecticut while standing barefoot in my parents kitchen. And no, I don't know how I didn't feel it for three days (and one of those days I was walking all around NYC). Remedying this involving soaking my foot in a bathtub while Megan gave herself a pedicure, and me using a needle in a sort of self-imposed mini-surgery. Never saw the glass, but my foot no longer hurts, so I assume that I removed it.

My friend Ian came over and helped us get ready. Or, really, just hit on us while we were getting ready (which I actually enjoyed. I needed the ego-boost that night). At one point, as I was checking the stats for my blog while all dolled up for NYE, Ian referred to me as, "the hottest thing [he'd] ever seen." (Maybe I should've mentioned that Ian runs a technology firm of some sort... And that you should always play to your audience...) Gosh, I love Ian. We've only been close since about June, but he's one the most fascinating people I've ever known.

We had already warned Brian well in advance that we'd be late (as Megan and I have a habit of making large quantities of time disappear, which once caused my mother to call the police in panic). We arrived at his house at 10:15 (he had told us to come at 9:00... whoops), carrying my box of Apples-to-Apples, and saw two of his friends that we hadn't seen since high school.

Perhaps I should mention that none of us were really friends in high school. I mean, Megan and I were two peas in a sticky pod. And Brian and his friends were an established group, I think. But I only had one semester of Chemistry with Brian in high school (another of those science classes with an instructor I didn't care for... Megan was in that class as well, actually), and we only reconnected over the summer thanks to the magic of Facebook. He's one of my best friends now, thanks to seeing him a couple of times in summer and keeping in constant communication. It's a very similar story with Ian, whom I hadn't seen since high school until seeing him in a bar with Megan in June, and he's on my speed dial now as well. But in high school, my mother claims that Ian once tried to sell me drugs (by the way, as näive as I am now, you should have seen me in high school... I didn't watch R-rated movies, so I wasn't a great target for a drug deal). As for Brian's buddies, we all knew them, but we weren't friends. It was a strange mix of people. (And one of Brian's friends is married and brought his wife).

But Apples-to-Apples is a great unifier, and the evening went swimmingly (Demanding? Rosa Parks! <-- my favorite play of the night). Megan, Ian, and I had intended to go to a bar for the actual ball-drop, but the blizzard in conjunction with not hearing back from a friend we were supposed to meet made staying at Brian's place the preferable option.

With the exception of the married couple, there was no kissing at midnight, for which I was rather grateful. Ian, on the other hand, ducked out shortly after midnight to find a desperate (spelled it right!) girl at a bar to make out with him... and hopefully "start the new year with a bang" (his words, not mine... and yes, I think he meant it like that). Megan left shortly after Ian, but I hung around, watching YouTube videos and a Fresh Prince of Bel-Air marathon with Brian and his friend Aaron. All in all, a good New Year celebration.

Sadly, we all forgot to take pictures. This is especially disappointing to Megan and I, as we looked great. I'd even straightened my hair for the occasion (actually, Megan straightened my hair. And Ian helped). And it means that there is STILL no picture of Ian and I in existence, which is tragic.

By the time Brian drove me back to Megan's place, it was around 6:15am and a foot of snow had fallen. Ah, Michigan. How I love you. Connecticut was virtually snow-less while I was there, and in Chicago we see more of the treacherous ice than the pretty snow. But Michigan is a picture-perfect, hard-to-drive-in, Hallmark-copyrighted Winter Wonderland. Just gorgeous.

I woke up a few hours later, with my throat on fire. Throat pain so bad that I could feel it in my ears. I watched that Rose Bowl parade with Megan's parents (she wasn't up yet, and I had nothing better to do), before heading out to meet my dear friend Phil for coffee.

Megan is my soul mate, but Phil always seemed more like my best friend. He and I had epic phone conversations every night in high school (causing astronomical phone bills that our parents were less than pleased about), and I always had a feeling that he understood more about me than anyone else ever could. Unfortunately for me (and all of woman-kind), Phil is gayer than time spent with the Flintstones (ba-dum-ching!), and therefore I'm no more likely to marry him than Megan. Ah well. We had a lovely time, gossiping about mutual friends and sharing the emotional train-wrecks we were dealing with personally.

For dinner, Megan and I went to Mongolian Barbecue with our good friend Amy, whom I hadn't seen since I'd moved to Chicago and she to Buffalo (although I know she reads my blog *waves to Amy*, so she still knows what I'm up to). Megan's still in college (she's a double-major with a minor earning a teaching certificate, and so she has one semester left of classes, and then one of student-teaching), and Amy's in graduate school. As Megan pointed out, we spend most of our time in three different states, which is beyond bizarre to think about. We don't speak to each other as often as we probably should, but every time we're in the same place, it still seems like we're close friends. Or maybe it just feels like we should be.

Brian picked me up from the restaurant and drove me to the train station in the snow.

Maybe now is a good time to mention that Brian's in love with me.

(Makes you want to go check out those pictures of him a little more closely, doesn't it?)

I've hesitated to bring that up in previous posts, as I know he reads this blog on occasion. But I've decided that I don't know what the harm in mentioning it could be. It just is. He says he's "in love with" me, which has sort of warped our friendship.

Brian lives in Nebraska, so I've thrown out the possibility of any sort of relationship. He was As-Good-As-Gay from the beginning.

But maybe I should back up to where it began.

We became friends on Facebook, after not having seen each other since that chemistry class our junior year of high school (he graduated early). Then I had a dream that he took me to prom, and wrote about it on his Facebook wall (because it was completely random and sorta funny... I thought he'd get a kick out of it). He told me he was going to be in Chicago briefly in July, so we arranged to meet up for dinner (with another guy we knew from high school). I was in a relationship, and Brian was going on a date with some girl the next day (see how early we established the A.G.A.G. thing?). We had a lovely talk, mostly consisting of me telling him all the high school gossip that I'd heard (which is a favorite pastime of mine). I figured the next time I'd see him would be at our first high school reunion (which I think will be our ten-year... only 4 years to go... weird).

In August, I got a text message from him saying he was in Michigan, and I happened to be as well (in fact, that weekend was the last time I was ever in my house before my parents moved). We met up at Steak & Shake around 11:50, and ten minutes later I sang Happy Birthday to him as he turned 24. We discovered a common adoration of Natalie Imbruglia, and when we got kicked out of Steak & Shake a little before 2:00am (for some reason it's no longer 24 hours), we headed back to my car and started playing CDs for each other. And there we stayed, until past 5:00am when the ill-aimed sprinklers came on, showering the parking lot.

The next day, I spent a lot of time with Megan. My brother's birthday was a couple of days before Brian's, so my family was having a sort of celebration for him that night. I decided to call up Brian and invite him over (because I'd had so much fun with him the night before... and at least partially because I thought maybe I could set him up with Megan... What? I had a boyfriend at the time, remember? Brian was of no use to me in a romantic light, but I thought he was neat, and I think Megan's neat, and I thought it might be neat if they got together). When we sang happy birthday to my brother, we sang it to Brian as well.

The three of us had an incredibly fun night. We watched The Office on my laptop long after the rest of my family had gone to bed. I taught Brian what a "stage kiss" is. We took a million pictures of ourselves with my computer's built-in camera (one of which, me and Brian in my kitchen, I posted in my last entry). At the end of the night (*ahem* 6:15am), Brian told me he thought I was "the coolest girl [he'd] ever met." That's when I started to get the idea that I might not be able to set him up with Megan.

After that, Brian quickly earned a place on my speed dial, and I started talking to him on a regular basis. He leaped onto what I like to call "my new favorite people" list. I had a sort of non-sexual crush on him, which led to our emotional affair. There were days that he read my mind, and other days he analyzed me to a point that hurt (even making me cry all night when he said the reason I can't accept compliments is because I don't love myself enough... and also that I wall myself up and don't allow anyone in).

The night I broke up with Ex-Boyfriend #2, Brian asked me on a date (which never came to fruition, as he's in Nebraska and I'm in Illinois... there's a whole Iowa between us, so there was no good way to arrange a date. I'm pretty sure I said no, mostly because of that). And not long after that, I wrote Flipping the Switch. Mostly because I was trying to decode myself a little bit. And because I thought I'd sorted things out with him. I thought we started the path back to friendship without complications.

About a week after that (beginning of November), we sort of had a fight (which started because he stopped calling me, and continued because I snapped at him for not calling me), and I removed him from my speed dial (that'll show him!), and started playing the song "Hey Boy (Why You Didn't Call Me?)" by The Blow on repeat. We made up, but our communication became less frequent. I missed him. And I recorded him a video on facebook. And that seemingly innocuous video changed everything. Brian says that watching that video made him realize that he was in love with me.

If you saw the video, you wouldn't understand where that was coming from. I was goofy. I danced a little. I nagged him a little for not calling me. I did absolutely nothing that any normal person would find in any way, shape, or form to be attractive. Nothing. Needless to say, I was unprepared for his response. And being on the phone with someone who is professing their love for you (seemingly out of nowhere) is one of the most confusing, uncomfortable experiences that you can possibly imagine. And, on the Brian front, I've been sort of a mess ever since.

By that point, I had already told him that I was going to try to be in Michigan for New Year's Eve, and suddenly I wasn't sure if it was still a good idea. When a huge roadblock came, making going to Michigan more challenging, I sort of took it as a sign that I shouldn't go. But not long after, I became resentful of the fact that I couldn't go. I realized I wanted to be in Michigan for a lot of reasons that weren't Brian, and that I shouldn't let the possible effect of complicating things with him further prevent me from that. I really wanted to go there. And where there's a will, there's a way. So I made some very complicated last minute changes to my schedule, and I found my way there.

I had a great time in Michigan. Probably the most fun I've had... *laughs*... since the last time I was in Michigan. Wait, no... that can't be right. There was my birthday. And the NaNoWriMo 29-hour Write-In. And the night of the NaNoWriMo "Thank God It's Over" party. And my office holiday party.

Huh. I just realized that all the events I just mentioned involved me having extraordinarily long conversations with people. And they all involved out-of-the-ordinary situations. And I'm fairly certain that the majority of them involved me entering "Story-Mode" at some point. I need more of all the aforementioned commonalities in my life, I think.

Anyway.

(Picture taken in August)

That's my situation.

While I was in Michigan, Brian gave me perhaps the longest hug of my life. It felt like it lasted for years. And I felt a little guilty for loving it.

My brother thinks I'm a tease. I don't think I am. I hope I'm not. I'm just... indecisive? I don't know.

Brian is no longer on my A.G.A.G. list, but he really should be. I don't know if he realizes all the reasons that this won't work. He's in the military, and he's probably going to be overseas for the better part of next year. And he's going to be in the military for another four years or so. Even when he's in the states, he's not anywhere near Chicago. I'm not doing long-distance (since that worked out so poorly with Ex-Boyfriend #1, who was only 90 minutes away), ESPECIALLY since I'm not even sure about this to begin with.

I adore Brian. He's one of the niftiest people I know. He's probably my best friend at the moment. And as I mentioned once in a tearful breakdown to him (which Brian reminds me of on occasion), I sometimes feel as though he's the only person who really, really tries to know me. Not the me that other people see. The one who lives inside. The one who can't get out. The one that even I don't know all that well.

Brian, if you read this, I hope you're not upset. Maybe I shouldn't have written all of this, but I had to get it out. I had to tell someone who wasn't Megan or Anna. It just felt like something that needed to be written. After all, this blog is my cheap therapy.

To anyone else who made it through this post, thanks for sticking around (8.5 pages in Microsoft Word... I think we have a new record).

May you be reminded of what it's like to feel missed, wanted, and loved.

~A~

P.S. If you want to read my novel, don't forget to post your e-mail address in the comments section. This is clutch. Cool? Good.

P.P.S.

Almost-Perfect Strangers

In attempting to recuperate from the accident, I ended up just laying around for most of Sunday. This gave me an excuse to finally read the book Sloppy Firsts. My friend Kate recommended it, saying that the main character reminded her of me. So I bought it back before NaNoWriMo began, and it's been sitting on my kitchen table (a.k.a. desk) waiting for me to crack the spine. So I did. And I loved it.

The main character is a high-schooler with a great affinity for playing with language, a cavalcade of hopeless Mr. Maybes on the fringes of her life, and a lot of confusion on how to handle most forms of socialization. I wonder why Kate compared me to her...

If you're wondering what accident I was just talking about, then please go back and read my previous entry, Autobiographical Autopsy.

Seriously, stop reading this and go read that. Now. I command you. (Please?)

Have you read it? Okay, good.

I ended up with delayed reaction injuries. Even though I spent the day taking it easy, I was more sore on Monday than I had been on Sunday (how is that even possible?). First my knee hurt. Next my neck hurt. Then my all-of-me hurt. I had to stop dancing as I type at work because it's too painful. Most unfortunate.

When I got to work on Monday, I sat down and started doing tasks. I was in pain, but I saw no reason to call in sick. As one of my ex-boyfriends used to say, "playing hurt is heroic; playing injured is stupid." I'm paraphrasing, but it was something like that. I think he meant that if you were hurt but you kept doing what you had to do, that was brave and noble. But if you were seriously injured and ignoring it (particularly if you were putting yourself and/or others in a bad situation because of it), then you had no business doing what you were doing. Well, no one at my job is going to be affected by me typing without being able to turn my head. And I didn't think that sitting all day was going to exacerbate and of my physical problems. So I played hurt. (Saying that last sentence aloud makes it sound like I was "faking sick" or something, but I assure you, my pain is real.)

I told my boss a couple hours into work about the accident (I was a little late, so I explained that I had been moving slower in my morning routine and walking more cautiously than usual over the ice. And I showed her the police report so she wouldn't think I was just making up excuses... people assume that you lie a lot when they know you're an actor). She then told a coworker, who then approached me about it in front of another coworker... It didn't take long for everyone in my department to find out.

As it turns out, that's a really great story to tell (that which doesn't kill us makes us stronger... or makes a damn fine story). And I do love going into Story-Mode. Even though the work version is sort of a mild form, it still makes me feel like a proper entertainer. I do love having the floor.

At lunch, I told the story to a fellow, Ben, who works in another department. I've actually mentioned Ben a couple of times in this blog, although not by name. He was the "friendly chap" at the L in Pantslessness & Delayed Goodbyes (mentioned briefly at the end of paragraph 5) and the guy from #38 in Happenstance? Fire? Skidoo!.

Ben seemed very sympathetic asked if there was anything he could do (to help distract me from pain or something, I guess). I told him that he could dance at his desk and help fill the company's dancing quotient, as I would be unable to.

Instead, he showed up at my desk about an hour later with a gift, saying, "I thought of something I could do... Sick people eat pudding, right?"

In case you can't read it, he affixed the words "Colonel Ben's" over where the "Hunts" label normally is. And that's a picture of him in his Halloween costume on the right, with a speech bubble saying "I KNOW pudding." It might be the funniest gift I've ever gotten (well, either this, or that time that my friend Phil and I bought each other copies of Britney Spears "Oops! I Did It Again!" album so that we could tell everyone that we got them as gag gifts, when the truth was that we were just too embarrassed to buy them for ourselves). Amazing. And totally cheered me up back into my normal self (as I've said before, my nickname around the office is "Sunshine").

Isn't it delightful when people you don't know very well can have a positive effect on your day?

There's another of those, of course. A male stranger, almost-perfect in my mind, who occasionally leaps into my brain (although not into my life): the guy I keep casting in my novel (please see #58 in Camouflaged Delusional Insanity).

I think he may have read this blog... I shouldn't say this, in case he reads it again, but I'm going to anyway. I can look at IP addresses from one of my counter-site-thingies, and there was one that I had good reason to believe may have been him. And he (or whomever it was) stopped reading (either that, or he has a new IP address... which is possible. Mine seems to change about once a month, and then I have to go to the trouble of figuring out what it is and blocking it again so that my hits won't be tracked). Anyway, that's a little upsetting. I probably said something off-putting (or he made the connection that the person I mentioned may have been him, and he freaked out). Anyway. I don't know if it was him to begin with, but I liked the idea that it was. Made me all giddy when I saw that IP address show up. (Have I mentioned that I'm a delusional loser? A "deluser", perhaps?).

Daydreaming that the IP address was his is just another example of a mistake I make over and over again: seeing things as I want them to be instead of as they are. Particularly with people. A former friend of mine used to take advantage of my kindness a great deal. I eventually realized that about her, but whenever I see her, I find it happening again. I see her as the type of friend she should be, and not the type she is. And there was occasion in which I thought that a guy and I were in some sort of quasi-relationship, but I think in retrospect that I may have just wanted us to be.

And therein lies my addiction to finding almost-perfect strangers in my life. There's something wonderful about people existing on the edges of your universe. So experimental. So malleable. If you know a few things about them, you can fill in the rest however you like. And then you can begin to adore the character you've built up inside the shell of a person that you've met (ah, the joys of non-sexual crushes). I like filling in the blanks with my imagination. Reality is never as appealing.

Another angle of why I enjoy these figures so well only occurs when the crush is not entirely non-sexual: the thrill of the chase. It's such a sexy little game. Not that I'm really a game-playing type of girl, I just mean the act of circling the table, wondering who will pounce first... or if either of you ever will. That will-we/won't-we tension is beautiful. It's intriguing. It's fascinating. (It's the reason people watched the first two seasons of The Office.) And it's so much fun to be involved in. In fact, there's part of me that prefers it to an actual relationship. I love the stage of fancying. The special place in which you're interested, but not infatuated or crushed. Where you'll gladly flirt, but you won't be completely heart-broken if nothing ever moves forward.

Even when everything is purely platonic, it's nice to have a friend to idealize or idolize. Almost-perfect strangers are ideal for that (pudding is just a bonus).

Well, I've rambled enough for tonight.

May you appreciate the almost-perfect strangers in your life.

Much love,

~A~

Flipping the Switch

As I’ve mentioned before, I used to keep a card in my wallet that said “Never fall in love with your guy friends”. You only carry something like that with you if you have to.

My relationship pattern is cyclical. I’m about to open a window into myself. Are you ready?

(There’s a part of me that feels like I shouldn’t write this on such an open forum, but I feel the need to. It might help someone out there to understand me better. More likely, it might help someone out there to understand someone else who may behave the way I do. May this help someone, so that I’m not just throwing out extremely personal information for no reason.)

Here’s how I work:

Something jumps up and bites me. I know you’re not supposed to wait around for things in life, and I don’t, but I swear that they come more often when I’m not looking for them. Someone enters my life in a casual, quiet way. It’s usually person I’m just meeting, but occasionally it’s someone that I just haven’t seen in awhile or have a distant friendship with. I never notice at first. I take the encounter for what it is (which panders from “completely forgettable but generally pleasant” to “wonderfully fun”), and I leave it as a moment in time, not expecting it to be repeated. (I often found out several weeks later that the meeting was a bigger moment for the male in question than it was for me… hence how this progresses).

For one reason or another, this guy is usually placed into a category that I like to label “As Good As Gay”. This means that the guy might as well be gay in my eyes, because nothing could ever happen between us. I mentally take all possibility of a relationship off the table right from the get-go. Things that might get a guy the label “As Good As Gay” include:

1. He is dating someone.
2. I am dating someone.
3. He is interested in another female on a level somewhere between “significant crush” and “stalker-like obsession”.
4. One of my friends is interested in him.
5. One of my friends has dated him in the past.
6. He lives far away.
7. We’ve never actually met in real life.
8. I suspect that he might actually be a homosexual.

Most fellows get into this label and never leave it (such as my good friend Mike, who is like an adopted sibling to me… We’ve agreed that neither of us could ever make a move on the other, as it would be practically incestuous)… But with certain others, there’s a problem…

You see, by removing the possibility of a relationship from the table, at least in my own mind (although I have in the past gone so far as to tell the male that I plan on us being buddies, in the strictest sense of the word), I have removed the stress. I’m not trying too hard to please anyone. I’m not wondering if I should be going for cute, sexy, or flirty, and therefore I’m not attempting all three and failing miserably. I’m something much closer to myself (despite the fact that I don’t always have a good handle on who that is). And thus, I end up being quirky, charming, and occasionally exactly what this male wanted me to be in the first place.

We hang out more, with me thinking that we’re destined to be good friends. I become more attached. Familiar. Comfortable. We have an emotional affair. I develop a platonic love for the person (or, as I like to call it, a non-sexual crush). Everything is lovely and wonderful and just right as it is. Nothing needs to change. We are good friends. Kindred spirits, even.

Then, one of two things happens.

1. We float out of each others lives as easily as we floated in. This emotional affair was a brief fling. We remain good friends, and we brush back together from time to time, always wondering why we have such difficulty staying in touch.

OR

2. The switch gets flipped.

What switch, you ask? The “As Good As Gay” switch. Something happens that puts the possibility of a different sort of relationship back on the table.

Once, it was the guy telling me that he’d give up his obsessive crush on another girl if he thought he had a chance with me. Once it was the fellow dancing with me in a hallway shortly after learning that my friend was over him. Once it was me suddenly being single and running into the guy randomly. But there’s a distinct, key moment when it hits me like a semi-truck. (And it’s often at a horribly inopportune time.)

Something feels wrong. My life is off-balance. Something that was a fact before (that he and I could never possibly be anything other than friends) has now been called into question. Suddenly, the sun is spinning around the moon, the oceans have leapt into the sky, and my stomach is in my throat. I try to escape. I leave the room. Or I cut off contact for a few days. It’s just something I cannot possibly deal with. I need time to myself to sort out how I feel about the whole matter (and I usually end up e-mailing a dear friend who is far removed from the situation to help me decode everything without bias).

Overnight, I remember that this friend of mine is male. And fascinating. And compassionate. And attractive. And I can’t understand how I’ve let it escape my attention for so long.

Then the confusion sets in. Am I infatuated with him? Do I want things to change? Is he interested in me? Am I only questioning our friendship because I suspect that he’s interested in me? Maybe I’m not interested in him at all… Am I using him?

I worry. I go into all the worst-case-scenarios. I play “devil’s advocate” against myself for hours on end. I tell myself all the reasons why this is a bad idea, and I see if I can talk myself out of it (which I occasionally can… I’m very convincing).

What if we lose what we have? What if this disappears? Will being interested ruin the friendship? Will not being interested ruin the friendship? Have I gone so far into over-thinking this that I have ruined the friendship already?

I try to figure out how to make him lose interest in me, as that seems like the simplest plan. I talk myself down a bit more than usual (although, let’s be honest, I’d do it anyway). I talk about other guys a little more. I hint that being anything other than friends would a bad idea (if only because I’m trying to convince myself of this).

But then I think that perhaps it would be horrible if he did, in fact, lose interest. After all, the male is splendid (that is why choose to interact with him, after all). Maybe I’m cheating myself out of something great. And maybe I really want this. If he were to talk about other girls, would I be jealous?

Oh no. I consider that maybe he only wants to be my friend because he’s interested in me. If I talk him out of being interested in me, will I also lose this person I’ve been bonding with?

And maybe I want it to change. Maybe I want this to be more/bigger/better than it is. Maybe I should throw myself forward.

It seems, somewhere along the line, I developed strong feelings for/about this person. And I haven’t sorted out exactly what they are yet. But something needs to be done… I know I need to make a choice, but I’m the least decisive person on the planet.

So I make awkward half-steps forward and backward for awhile, hoping that I won’t have to make that choice. Eventually, I imagine, what I’m supposed to do will become blatantly obvious. And in the meantime, I’m a bit of a mess.

There you have it. My pattern in a nutshell.

Honestly, I don’t even know what I want in a relationship. I know that my Savior Complex figures into things a great deal. Some people want to find someone they “need”. Some people want to find someone that “needs” them. Some people want a relationship where both people are completely autonomous but can draw support from each other while neither really “needing” the other person, nor being needed. And me? I want both. I want to need someone who needs me. I want to be hopelessly co-dependent.

I have had dreams about living in a cultish, hermit-like state with others in some sort of combine. It feels warm and cozy, like a giant slumber party. It feels like Saturday mornings watching television in my pajamas while my dad plays the piano. It feels like home. (Of course, I also have nightmares about being drugged by a man who wants to shave my head and sell my hair on the black market, so I guess I shouldn’t put TOO much stock in dreams.)

I want someone to have little adventures with. I don’t want the sit down dinners and the big romantic gestures. I don’t want roses and chocolates on Valentine’s Day. I want someone unpredictable, passionate, and silly. I want spontaneity and frenzy. I want child-like, carefree fun. I want to run around with my hair in my eyes and my shoelaces flopping untied on the pavement, and having someone there with me who finds it just as refreshing as I do.

Anyway. If I’m right, there are a handful of guys reading this who are “As-Good-As-Gay” in my eyes right now. I just wanted to let you know that if you’re interested, and if you think you can be "that guy" for me, please find a way to flip the switch (it’s not impossible… the two boyfriends I’ve had started out As-Good-As-Gay). There has recently been, of course, someone in my life who was in the “zone of confusion” (which is why I felt the need to write this), but I think I’ve sorted that out now. At least, I hope I have.

May you know your own patterns and how to break them if you need to.

Much love,

~A~

P.S. Starting at 12:01am, I will be working on NaNoWriMo. This means I will be blogging in a foreign format for the next month. I will elaborate tomorrow, and I hope you enjoy it.

An Introduction to My Mind

Before you know anything else about me, it is imperative that you know this: no matter what it is that you say or do to me, I will find a way to over-analyze it. I think too much in general, particularly with matters of little to no consequence. I'm just that type of cat. It's what I do.

I suppose it's also important to note that I'm a bit of an odd bird when it comes to my trains of thought, and the ways in which they leave the station. Some people think in circles. Most people think in chains, or straight lines. I think more in webs. Each thought I have connects to a few more thoughts, in different directions. Occasionally, I go leapfrogging in my conversations. And I'm certain I will do the same in my writing.

I think I love people too much. I carry on elaborate emotional affairs with everyone in my life. Both men and women. Occasionally I decide that these relationships stem from a sort of "non-sexual crush" (which my mother, of course, does not believe exists). I even have a non-sexual soulmate. She's a heterosexual, long-distance life-partner. Inexplicably, I don't even speak to her on any sort of regular basis. But on any occasion that we're in the same place at the same time, we are able to pick up where we left off without any sort of hitch. I find that I can do that with everyone in my life, actually. I can sort of pick of the pieces of the past and continue with them, ignoring the void-like interim in the relationship. Over the last couple of months, I've had strong reconnections with a few people whom I've barely seen since high school. Now, they've suddenly become part of my inner-circle. How does that happen?

I've fought hard to leave certain parts of my life behind. I wanted to distance myself from the awkward girl who endured mocking and social isolation throughout her formative years. I went to college in a different state; to a school that no one I knew was to be attending. After college I moved to a city where I knew fewer people than I could count on one foot (what? like no one else counts on their toes?). I treat it as though it's an experiment. Maybe I'm continually in search of myself. I have a feeling it's more a form of escapism. I'm always in need of some fresh start. I can be something better, something more desirable, if I can sandblast my slate. I can become the person I want to be. Nay, the person I was MEANT to be.

I wonder if I ever really change.

Every six months or so, I have a complete revamp of my soul. I go through a huge, world-altering metamorphosis, and I determine that this new being is the person I was meant to be. I think back to a few months before and naively think, "wow, I've really changed this time." I suppose I have, in some way, grown. But changed? Probably not. Otherwise, how would I be able to so freely pick up where I'd left off with those friends of mine?

My last major, life-altering time came a few months back (perhaps that means I'm due for an emotional tune-up soon. God, I hope not. They take a lot out of me). I was in a play (not a particularly good one, if you were curious). The play itself had nothing to do with my new mindset. Rather, it was the people I met while working on it. I started going to bars, and being social (which, previously, had always been awkward for me). Suddenly, I had found a crop of people who were all willing to buy me drinks and let me dance like a maniac around them. Before meeting them, I'd been drunk three times in my life. And then, in a matter of a couple of weeks, the number had been inflated to eight (I'm not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by that). They gave me a level of self-confidence that I had never known before (a boost that would be dangerous to a normal person, but not to self-conscious, self-loathing me). Suddenly, I wanted to be free to do as I pleased. And I broke up with the person I had been dating for over two years.

Ah, there's the real change. It wasn't the drinking, the dancing, and the partying. It was the break-up. I broke up with a fantastic fellow, whom I respect, adore, and admire. It became apparent that, despite all the wonderful attributes he had to his name, I was unhappy. I wanted to go wild. I wanted to flirt with the world (a skill that I'm still learning... somehow, I graduated college without ever properly cultivating it). I wanted to be able to acknowledge men hitting on me. Somewhere in the last couple of years, males had begun to find me attractive, and I had been doing my best to strategically ignore it. And so I, for lack of a better word, dumped my boyfriend.

I felt guilty (I broke my best friend's heart. You'd feel guilty, too. And if you wouldn't, well then, you have no soul)... but suddenly the doors in front of me sprung open, and the world went into a strange, unfamiliar Technicolor. Everything was lighter, brighter, newer, cleaner, stranger, and slightly more perverse. And I liked it. People hit on me. People asked me out. People grabbed at me in public places (alright, that part I didn't enjoy... but it was occasionally amusing. And that which doesn't kill us either makes us stronger or makes for a damn good story later on). And about five different guys asked me out. My juice was flowing and I had arrived on the scene. I hadn't realized it (apparently I had previously had some sort of "relationship blinders" on) that certain people had been attempting to lure me into their arms for months. And then, once the problems in my long-standing, long-distance, long-lacking relationship became apparent to them, they became vultures. They circled over my head, waiting for my relationship to die so that they could identify the perfect moment to swoop down and grab me.

I'm really rather dense when in comes to certain things, like flirting. I never know when people want me. When people are interested, they have to pull out a mariachi band and serenade me before I get the picture. How I'm that oblivious to romantic and sexual gestures is beyond me. I like to think of myself as a fairly perceptive person. I suppose this falls into the category of the "random things I'm bad at."

I have many skills and strengths, in varied areas. That's probably why I changed my major 118 times before graduating from college (in four years... the joys of a liberal arts school. I accidentally fulfilled all my general education requirements by bouncing around from one department to the next). Well, that and my indecisive nature, but that's neither here nor there. But the things I'm poor at are things that no one should have trouble with. They're either embarrassing or cute, depending on whom it is that you ask. I can't find things that are right in front of my nose. I have trouble reading analog clocks. I find it difficult to make things fit into envelopes. I'm always worried that I'm miscalculating tips. I occasionally have difficulty screwing lids back onto jars. I also have difficulty with the initial task of removing lids from jars, but I have a feeling that it's more common to struggle with that, particularly for people of my gender. Not that I think women can't be strong... we just have daintier hands (or, in my case, awkward, gangly, alien-like ones).

The weakness I have that seems to frustrate others the most is my inability to take compliments. I know it's ridiculous, but it's true. I can't even explain it to my own liking. When I am paid a compliment, I feel the need to argue against it. I have this feeling that the person is being insincere in order to butter me up for something. Or they're lying in an effort to mock me in some way (rough adolescence... you understand). It's especially difficult to accept if I don't agree with the compliment. How can I say "thank you" when this person is so obviously mistaken? Also problematic is when they compliment something that I have no control over. It's nice that someone thinks I have beautiful eyes, but they're really not of my making. Somehow it would be different if they were complimenting my dress. I picked out that dress, I paid for that dress, and I decided to wear that dress that day. That's the kind of compliment that I can handle, because, let's face it, I deserve it. I have astonishingly good taste in dresses. And anyone who says otherwise is obviously lying out of acute envy.

I've just made a mental note to start a list of things I'm bad at, for future reference. I make lists a great deal. I actually have a notebook reserved for these lists. I have a list of potential party themes, a list of famous people I've been compared to, and a list of things that make me smile. I have about ten lists dedicated to names in various fashions (I'm a little obsessed with names). And I have the requisite list of "Things I Want to Do Before I Die", which I know I will never achieve. I like having all of that information on paper as opposed to in my head, as trying to juggle all of that can make anyone's brainwaves a bit turbulent. I have to hide my book of lists most of the time, as there are some lists that I don't wish to become public knowledge. I don't trust anyone enough with the information contained by them.

There are a few lists that I am particularly protective over. I guard them so intently that I leave them vague enough that even I occasionally have trouble with recalling what they mean. As a good friend of mine once told me, "never in writing." I've had written statements haunt me in the past (particularly with a dreadful AIM conversation I had my first year of college. *shudder* Wow... I hadn't mentally revisited that one in awhile), and I refuse to allow them to harm me in the future. The first of these lists is titled "Soulmate Expectations" (which is a horrid name for it... but I started this book in high school, so I deserve forgiveness on that one). It's a list of certain things that I have to keep in mind with guys, and every item on the list is written as "The ______ Thing". One example of this being "The Hair Thing". That one's the silliest on the list, and the only one I feel comfortable putting out into cyberspace. The right man for me will be one who cares about his appearance, but doesn't spend hours grooming himself. If a gentleman is obsessed with his hair, it just isn't going to work out between us (take note, all potential suitors... I may have just saved you a lot of time and pain). I recently started a list of "Deal Breakers" (which is different from the expectations list... most things on that are what I want a fellow to be... this new list is things I want him NOT to be. A subtle but important distinction... I did mention that I think too much). And then there's the most secret (and, perhaps, most silly) of my lists: "Cues".

My "Cues" list is undoubtedly the dumbest thing I've ever come up with. Every once in awhile, I'll hear/see/experience something and think, "if a guy ever says/does/acts like this, I'll know." What I'll know, exactly, isn't really set in stone. I suppose if I'm dating someone who sets off one of these alarms, maybe that'll mean that I can take the next step with him. If I already knew he was a keeper, perhaps that'll mean he's the One (is there such a thing? Outside of "The Matrix", I mean? I'll save that inner-battle for another date). If it's someone that I meet casually, I'll know that I should pursue a relationship with him. It's ridiculous, I know. Some are things that happen in movies, some are lines from songs... You'd find me to be barking mad if you knew some of the things on that list. Actually, I'm not sure why I'm so protective of it. If someone can look at the words "The Nonsense Thing" or "The Cell Phone Commercial Thing" and know (or be able to figure out) how to sweep me off my feet, maybe he deserves whatever promotion he was applying for. I don't think I'm transparent enough for that type of decoding to come easily to anyone. (Allow me to take a moment to revel in my own sense of mystery... Ahhhh.)

I've actually had to remove a few things from my list of cues over the years, as people stumbled across them unknowingly. A good friend of mine answered a question I asked with one of the cues a few years back. For the next eight minutes, I was in love. Luckily, I realized that the cue was too easy of a wire to trip before I began making wedding arrangements (this is especially fortunate, as he had an unpronounceable surname, which I'm very grateful not to be saddled with... and then there's the part about "ruining the friendship"... but he and I ended up growing apart anyway, so he was obviously not the One). Another of my friends set off sirens when he hugged me in a specific way, just as I had seen somewhere before and made a mental note of (you understand why I have a book of lists... I make too many mental notes... a large portion of my brain has turned into a cobwebbed attic, and I can't find anything when I need it. I already mentioned that I'm horrible at finding things). Then I saw him greet two other friends in the same matter within a matter of seconds, and I rushed to cross that off the list as soon as I returned home. No, I am not going to fall that easily. I hope it has become apparent that I do not play hard to get; I genuinely AM hard to get. And I'm more than a little proud of that.

In any case, surely you can see why I feel the need to hide these things about myself. I don't want the nearest con artist to suddenly have a way into my heart. I like to keep myself heavily guarded, with plenty of walls and barricades (I imagine myself to be a human Hogwarts, if that means anything to you. If nothing else, I suppose it means that I'm a Harry Potter geek).

I've just come up with about eleven more things that I would like to delve into at some point, but I'm not going to do it now. I'm too easily distractible (I had a two hour phone conversation with a friend in the middle of writing this), and I need a break from myself. Train of thought writing only works if you stay on the train. Once you get off at a station to smoke, you end up running after the train as it takes off again, and by the time you run out of breath, you might as well wait until the next one. Well, I'm deciding to wait.

Much love, many blessings, and happy future reading (I assume you will be reading this again... after all, I'm delightful),

Angela