Scattered Thoughts

I am sitting in my office, scattered with pictures and show posters, cards from my students; looking around and feeling a bit pensive. The school year is finally over. It was a stressful year, and an even tougher semester, for me. I prayed many a day and counted the classes until it would come to an end. Well it's over now and the things that were bringing me down and stressing me out have finally faded away. All that remains is a feeling of relief, mixed with sadness, add a touch of confusion and uncertainty, a dab of worry and a splash of fear.

I have given up the teaching life. Well, as a career anyway. I know things are never certain, but at this point in my life I just don't see any opportunities to make a career of it without moving half way across the country. So, it looks like I will be going back to school to get a degree in computer graphic design. Why? It pays well, there's a market for it, and there is a much greater chance I will find a job close to home. That is my priority right now in my life. Being close to my family. And to think, just a few weeks ago I was in the throws of sending out application after application. Yep, things have shifted for me considerably and it's confusing and scary.

As I have mentioned in a post quite awhile back, I feel like I live my life in a constant state of transition. When will it end?

All I have ever wanted in my life is to be a mother and a wife. I fear, every day, that these are things I will never have. Is it wrong to want that over teaching? Why, in this day and age, do we pressure our kids to establish themselves in their careers? To really make a name for themselves? I long to establish myself, I do, but I want to establish myself as a happy mother and wife.

Speaking of mothers. Yesterday was Mother's Day and I didn't give my mother a card. I had been camping so I didn't get the opportunity to pick up a card for her. I was just telling myself I would pick one up today but I can't stop thinking, what would I write in it? I just recently told her about my change of heart regarding my career. I fear I have let her down terribly and even though I know she would never let me know that, it kills me to think that I have. All I can think of putting in the card is "Thank you for loving me even though I have let you down." Seems silly, I know, but it is how I feel. My mother loves me no matter what, I know that. But you still can't help the way you feel.

I feel afraid that I will never find what I really want and then I will have to deal with whether or not it was all worth it; letting go of teaching and putting my focus on settling down and starting a family.

I had my first class today for Summer session. They seem like a great group. All women. That should be interesting. I feel happy and excited about teaching them. But there is still that hollow feeling in my heart. I imagined myself, for one moment, married with beautiful children and a cozy home, working with computers from 9-5 AND teaching that class. That would really make me feel happy and excited.

Umm...socks.

I added some new pictures of my cats. Note the one of Posey with the sock. She has always loved my socks. Only mine. She carries them in her mouth, throws them up in the air attempting to catch them, rolls unto her back with the sock in her front paws kicking at it with her back paws. The fat cat just lies there watching. She isn't into socks. She loves her string. I have never seen or heard of a cat obsessed with socks before.

The other day I came home and there were 5 on the floor upstairs and 3 downstairs. Friday I came home and there were 6 upstairs and 2 downstairs. Last night there was only 1 upstairs and 2 downstairs. In case you are wondering where they are all coming from; I have yet to fold the socks sitting in my laundry basket and put them away. This is how she is getting her little paws on them. I picked them up and put them back in the basket each day, but this didn't stop her. She just really really loves socks. Last night I was thinking about how long those socks have been sitting in that basket and how lazy I am with getting laundry put away and how I really should take care of them. But why take her fun away, right?

The Crazy Thoughts of Single Women

My students are in the process of working on an audio project where they provide the character voices for an animated film. I really wanted this to be high-tech project with professional looking results. So, I contacted the media department and, to my delight, they said they were not only willing to let us use their recording studios, but do all the recording for us as well. Yesterday was our first "take" (notice how I am using the lingo now) and my students did a fantastic job. I had wondered to myself whether or not the graduate student who would be doing the recording would be cute. I do this all the time. I go to a meeting, the gas station, or even into Walgreen's thinking maybe there will be someone cute there and he will sweep me off my feet. Did you ever hear someone say: "I met my husband at the gas station. It was very romantic! (sigh)" There never is, of course. So I headed into the studio yesterday with my coffee stained pants (see previous post), my hair in a ponytail, and no make up on. And yep, you guessed it! He was rather attractive. Very cute, really nice, sharp and stylish dresser, good sense of humor, smart and, most importantly, wearing a Tigers hat! I instantly felt myself blush and looked down at my jeans to see how apparent the coffee stain was in the studio lighting. Difficult to see it, thank goodness. We sat down and started recording.

Overall, we didn't say much. Mainly we talked about the recording, when/if we should do a do-over, and how it was going. There isn't anything very interesting to note about our conversation. As per usual, he didn't show much interest in me. I was very nervous. The thoughts that were running through my head and the things I imagined! I kept wondering if he could smell the stale coffee or see the stain on my jeans. I wondered if he had a girlfriend, how old he was, what his "type" was. At one point, I noted his Tigers hat, asking if he was a fan. He said yes and I shared that I was one as well. A few moments later I imagined him turning to me and saying: I know this probably isn't the best time to ask, but would you like to go to a game with me sometime? How ridiculous is that? I am sure that was the farthest thing from his mind. I was chewing on my fingers out of nervousness and kept wondering whether or not he noticed and did he think it a disgusting habit. He smiled at me a couple of times but, overall, didn't show much interest.

When were finished and getting ready to leave, I told him if he had any questions he could just email me. He said he wouldn't need to pretty quickly. So I left thinking that he somehow must have heard all those crazy thoughts in my head. I will see him again on Monday and, naturally, I don't want to show up in a ponytail with no make-up again. But I also don't want him to think I am interested and spend the whole session hoping I don't hit on him. But then again, as he is only a graduate student he is probably way too young for me anyway. So none of this even matters. Ah, the joys of being single as I often say.

Oops

Last week at rehearsal I spilled coffee all over the front of my jeans. I had to sit with my pants cold and sticking to my legs and reeking of coffee, for the remainder of rehearsal. I got home and changed into my pajamas later that evening. Apparently I got up the next morning and as I was tidying up I picked up the jeans, forgetting about the "coffee catastrophe" from the night before, folded them up, and put them away neatly in my drawer.

This morning as I was choosing something to wear I went to my jeans drawer, out of habit, pulled them out, and put them on. It took me until about half way through the day (after I had smelled something a bit stale but couldn't place it). I looked down and saw a giant stain covering both legs and, yes you guessed it, my crotchal region. Oh joy. One can only hope no one noticed. That's what I get from trying to better about keeping my bedroom picked up.

bye bye blues

It's nice to know that although it can be tough to shake things off at times, if you keep on shaking you'll get there. Regardless of all the negative thoughts that kept threatening to take over my birthday, in the end, it turned out to be a pretty good day.

The cast of the show I am directing surprised me with a little singing and a lot of ice cream cake. Yes, I know, the "Blue's Clues" theme may seem a bit juvenile but it's a long story. I have to admit, it was nice to get a surprise like that, and to feel special on one's birthday. I mean, who doesn't want that, right?

The evening ended with some Tomb Raider action at my friend Melissa's house. As she put it, we made some real nice progress. The game playing, mixed with the traditional green olives, triscuits, and assortment of cheese spread (yes, we take our game playing very seriously folks), some rum and diet colke (hee hee...sorry, inside joke), and fantastic company, made for a really nice birthday celebration.

And just like that...poof! Yesterday's dark mood disappears in a puff of smoke.

A Birthday Wish

Well, today is the day. A few Happy Birthdays from some very good friends have already been sent my way. And I just received a birthday card from my mother and father. It goes something like this:

Today is your day, Daughter.
It's a day to look back and celebrate
all the ways you've grown and changed
and blessed the lives of those around you.
It's a day to look forward
to the many exciting moments ahead-
moments just waiting for you to live them
in your own unique way,
with laughter and beauty and grace.
And it's a day to remind you
of two important things:
You are a beautiful gift to this world.
And you are always, always loved.

My mother has always done that. She is one of those people who stands in the card aisle for hours, looking for the perfect card; the card that says exactly how she feels and just what that person needs to hear.

Interesting. It is just a Birthday card but it made me sit and think. It's a day to look forward to the many exciting moments ahead- moments just waiting for you to live them... I am not sure why I find this so difficult.

I can remember when I was 17. I had met this boy and was hoping he would ask me to the Homecoming dance. I was a Senior and I had never been asked to Homecoming, let alone Prom. I had confessed this secret wish to my mother and expressed my fears that it would never happen. My mother asked me to close my eyes. She told me to really see myself there, at the Homecoming dance with this boy. To picture my dress, his suit, the smile on my face. To see us dancing, with our arms around one another. I did as she asked and then I opened my eyes. She told me that if I could see it and believe it could happen, then it would happen. He asked me to the dance. He was my first boyfriend and my "first love", as the saying goes. She was right. It worked.

Of course it isn't that easy with everything. But this morning, on my 36th birthday, when I am having trouble not focusing on all the things I don't have, that I thought I would; I am realizing it is about hope. I am afraid to hope. I guess so much time has gone by I have somehow allowed hope to fizzle out of my life. So today, I will take a moment to close my eyes and really see myself exactly where I want to be. To picture myself in a wedding dress. To see the baby in my arms with him, whoever he may be, at my side. To picture my family outside in the backyard on a sunny day. And, one day at a time, I will do all I can to hold on to the hope that it will happen.

Happy Birthday to Me

I am turning 36 tomorrow. No, I am not too excited about this. Maybe 36 doesn't seem old to you, but I tell ya, it does to me. I feel very old. I feel this way mainly because I wanted to have so much more accomplished in my life by the age of 36. I never imagined, in my wildest dreams, that I would be living in my parents basement, very soon to be jobless, with not even a glimmer of hope for a relationship, and motherhood simply being a constant ache in my chest and lump in my throat. But, alas, I feel there isn't too much to gain from going on and on, wallowing in the negative. So, I have decided I would put down 36 things that make me happy. They are as follows:

1. spending time with my family
2. hanging out with my friends
3. playing with my neices and nephews
4. all the babies and little kids in my life
5. the time I have left with my friend before she moves away
6. the little bit of sun that has been in and out today
7. my cats
8. cheese, beer, and pizza
9. the swimming pool
10. movies
11. my cute clothes and my flip flops that I get to wear soon
12. my master's degree
13. singing
14. music
15. the trees and the sky
16. toenail polish
17. my make up
18. the casino
19. video games like the tomb raider I am playing right now
20. the sun that is on it's way
21. my car
22. my new windshield wipers
23. card games
24. microwave popcorn
25. going to the movies
26. the popcorn at the movies
27. homemade choclate chip cookies (you know who you are)
28. my mom's cooking
29. lying in the sun
30. my hoop earrings
31. sleeping
32. driving with the windows down when it's sunny and warm out
33. holidays
34. camping
35. fishing
36. and me, i guess

Check, please!

It is difficult being 35 years old and being single. As one would probably guess, all of my friends are married and half of them have kids. So, needlesss to say, I am the only one on a mission to find my other half. This is a frustrating mission because of where I am in my life. The chances of finding that person at a bar, like we did when we were in our 20's, are pretty slim and the whole online thing? I've tried it time and time again. In the end it gives me nothing but a head ache. So what's left, right? Not much. But, as I always say, who am I going to meet staying inside watching movies and drinking beer by myself? Am I going to fall madly in love with the mailman? Or the meter-reader dude? I have to do something. So, I like to try and go out for drinks and something to eat a couple of times a week to at least "put myself out there" as the saying goes. And, as all of my friends are not on a mission like I am, they aren't always up for it.

Yesterday the mission was in full force. I looked online a bit, thinking to myself all the while "Why do I do this to myself? Isn't this the definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results?". I gave it my best shot for a good hour or two but gave up in the end as the task was proving fruitless yet again. I decided I would go out for dinner and drinks, by myself, and see where that lead me. In retrospect, if I were to do it over again, I would have stuck with my alternate plan...going home, doing my laundry and talking to my cats.

I got to the bar and the scene was pretty lame, as to be expected. There were only a few scattered people. A couple of families and a slew of older men. The majority of these men were regulars who are married and in their 50's. I searched for a spot and chose one of the only empty stools at the bar. My plan? Order some pizza, have a couple of beers, and see what happens. I had been sitting there only a couple of minutes when I sensed someone looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I glanced quickly and saw a short, stocky man, with greying hair, easily in his mid 60's, fairly drunk, and apparently headed my way. I looked back to the television, so as not to stare, and felt him standing there, taking a real good look at me. He sat down next to me, where his beer had been sitting, and immediately began talking to me. And talking to me and talking to me and talking to me What was he talking about? He was talking about cell phones and whether or not we could get a signal in the bar and if not it was probably because of some metal plates placed in the ceilings and how he was supposed to meet his uncle but he wasn't here and blah blah blah. I was very polite. This is something I used to be awful at. I would go so far as to say I used to be rude. Not that I was trying to be rude, by any means, it just made me feel uncomfortable. Over time, I learned that the majority of these men are fairly harmless and so I smiled, answered his questions, and was pretty polite. He then said he was going to go outside to make a phone call. This is where it gets interesting. He came back in and realized there were, in fact, 2 stools next to me, the one he was sitting in and the one next to that. So he stares for a moment and finally asks me, with slurred speech: "Which one was I sitting in?" I smiled and said: "Oh, I don't know. I think that one.", pointing to the one next to me. He first sits in the one next to me but doesn't say much. Then he says, out of the blue: "Would you rather I sit in that other one?" I answered a bit confused: "Oh it doesn't matter to me, whichever one you'd like to sit in is fine with me. I'm not too worried about it." He stands there for a moment, looking at me, and then answers, a bit "put off": "Oh good answer, gooooooood answer." He moved to the other stool, sat down, and stared at me for a bit with a look of drunkened irritation. I sat there for a moment, sort of just staring at the TV in disbelief, and then turned to the bartender and said: "Can I have that pizza to go, please?"

Spooky

I direct plays. And as many of you know, even you non-theatre goers, every play has a theme. I would presume it is only normal that I would chose to direct a play I like, that has a theme I can relate to. Is it normal, however, that every play that I direct has a theme that completely reflects the ongoing "theme" in my own life at this present moment? I think not. The last play I directed focused around faith, learning to have faith in one's life, to give up control and let what is meant to be, be. One rehearsal after the next I would leave thinking "wait a minute here, this is my life!" I would sit in rehearsal, coaching the actors, and hear myself say: "you're frustrated because you know what you want but you aren't getting it and you want to be able to control the situation, you want to make it happen, you don't know how to just relax and let things happen the way they were meant to". This was something I was struggling with in my own life. I would hear the thoughts echoing in my head, thoughts I had been saying to myself on a daily basis. It was just so weird.

So I moved on to the next play. Theme? The struggle to find one's purpose in life. Um...if you have read any of my past blogs, you can imagine how much that relates to exactly where I am in my life right now. And it's not like I FORCE this theme. It's not like I am directing Hamlet and I tell my actors "this play is about not knowing if you will get a job".

I mean come on, this is weird right?

Where did I go?

Yes, I know, I haven't posted in a million years. And for two reasons. I have been extremely busy and I tend to think of things that might be interesting to post just as quickly as I toss them out in case they are, in retrospect, uninteresting. I would like to bring your attention to my last post which was titled: "Impatiently Waiting". Hmm...maybe that is another reaon why I haven't posted in so long. Things haven't changed much. That title sums up my current state of being quite accurately. I have, at this present moment in time, applied to approximately 20 positions. And I am waiting and waiting to see what will come of all of this.

I have acquired phone interviews with three of them. The phone interviews went well, I would say. And one University in particular has gone as far as to call my references. Two of the Universities left me with the dreaded comment "We will be in touch with you in a week". This is where the trouble comes in. One would think that would be a fantastic thing to hear, wouldn't one? For me, however, it is a very dangerous thing to say, indeed. I would do much better with something more cold and vague like: "Thanks. Bye." But to tell me they would be in touch with me in a week? What were they thinking? Didn't they know what they were doing to me? Why would this affect me in this way, you may ask? Well, because I can tell you that exactly ONE minute ago was officially "one week" that I last spoke with the aforementionedcheckedmyreferences University. So, naturally, I am sitting here thinking "Well, it's been a week. I haven't heard from them. Why haven't they called me? What does it mean? Did I not interview well? Did they not like what my references said?"

There is no point to any of this, I know that. They could call in 20 minutes or tomorrow or Monday or who knows when. It really doesn't mean anything. But still. People should learn to not say such specific things to such a literal person like me. It's sheer torture.

Impatiently Waiting

As of last Thursday, I have successfully applied to ten new positions in, I think, ten different states. The thing is, I didn't think I would do it. I know that might sound a bit harsh to say about oneself. But, I have never been a very patient person and I fear the unknown. So, naturally, the thought of taking the time to apply for a new job half-way across the United States doesn't appeal to me. I will have to wait to hear from them and it could take weeks, even a month or two before I hear anything. And there is no way of knowing if I will get hired anywhere or not, let alone get an interview. But I did it.

I was, and still am, just so tired of doing something over and over again, day after day, that I don't love. Granted, there is a great deal about my job that I DO love, so that is what makes it tough. But the main focus of my work is not where my passion lives. So each and every time I walk in that door, my heart isn't really in it. It is a BIT, of course, but it isn't really in it. So I decided I would give it all up and face the great unknown.

Maybe the unknown isn't such a scary place afterall. This has been a recent discovery of mine. I tend to look at things in black and white. It has always been either this or that, no in between. Take that and add a little, no, A LOT of impatience and you get: "Either I will stay in Michigan or I will get a new job half way across the world and live there for the rest of my life and never get to see my family". That thought right there is what has been bothering me the most. I can't imagine spending the rest of my life living that far away from my family. Then the other day, out of the clear blue sky, it finally HIT me. Who said it had to be the rest of my life?! I could take the job, move there, live there for the next two or three years, and then take yet another job much closer to home. In my line of work it isn't unusual at all to not stay in the same place for twenty years. Usually one does eventually, later on in their life. But this technically isn't, no matter how old I FEEL, "later on in my life". So what am I waiting for?

Now I find myself in an even worse position. I am excited. I could move anywhere! There is nothing holding me back! I am not married or dating anyone. I don't own a home. Hell, I don't even have an apartment. Now is the time to do it. Go out and explore, meet new people, make new friends. I need that in my life right now. Unfortunately, this is a much scarier place to be in. What if I don't get hired? What if I get my hopes up, apply to all these places, and I don't get hired anywhere? There is no way to know the answer to that question, I know. I will just have to be patient. Or should I say learn to be patient? Who knows where the tide will take me. All I can do is just ride the wave and do my best to find the joy in it. A few years ago I wouldn't have done it. I wouldn't have said "No, I will not take this life just because it is easy and safe, thank you very much. I am going to take my chances on THIS one over here." So at least I have that.

Viva Las Vegas or get out the crackers cause there's plenty of cheese in this post

Viva Las Vegas my ass. I just found out today that one of my best friends is moving to Las Vegas. And, being the selfish person I am, I said on the phone to her: "I don't think I can handle this!" This situation and all its frustrations and complicatons does not need guilt added to the mix. Hopefully she knows just how very proud I am of her. She amazes me. All of my friends do in so many ways. With my sister it is motherhood. She has 3 boys ages 4, 4, and 3. And not only can she handle it with flying colors, they are the sweetest, cutest, most well-behaved and loving little boys I have ever met. How does she DO it, I often ask. And my friend Melissa. She is so smart. In my eyes, there isn't anything she doesn't know. I often get frustrated with her when I ask her a question about one of my classes that I teach that she knows nothing about and she says she doesn't know. What do you mean you don't know, I ask. That's just not possible. Not to mention she is the most non-judgemental person I have ever met. And my friend Rachel. She can get along with anybody. It is impossible, in her presense, to not feel abosolutely wonderful about who you are. I once read that having grace means making everyone around you feel comfortable. This is Rachel. With Melanie it is her loyalty. Ever since we were young she and I vowed we would never let a boy come between us. This still holds true today. We have a list of things we wanted to do when we grew up and I think we are juuuuust about done with it. She is so committed and dedicated to everything she does and she deserves the Teacher of the Year award, in my opinion. And with Karen it is her strength and her ability to believe in herself. She worked so hard throughout this application process and I was constantly amazed by how she persevered. She never gave up. She wasn't afraid to reach for her dreams. I envy that quality in her just as I envy all the wonderful traits my friends possess. Naturally they possess much more than what I have listed here. There simply isn't enough room to explain just how wonderful they all are. Looking back at this post I think, my GOD, could I be more of a sap? Sheesh! But then again...each and every one of my friends always knows just how much I love them and how important they are to me. Is that such a bad thing? So Vegas here she comes. I can't imagine her and her husband and my peanut not being a part of my day to day life. But I also can't even put into words just how proud and happy I am for her either. That's life for you. Give and take.

Random Thoughts

I have been feeling a bit soft around the middle lately. I have always been slim or thin or small-framed, but I have NOT always been soft around the middle. I entered my thirties and everything seemed to fall apart. I crave afternoon naps, my joints hurt, wild night outs are few and far between and when they DO happen, midnight hits and I am ready for bed, and the list goes on and on. I didn't know it happened all at once. Isn't it supposed to happen gradually? Never-the-less a simple workout routine would do the trick, I am sure, but I just have never been able to get into it. Why go to the gym when I can sit and relax and watch some tv? And plus, beer is just way too good.

Lost in TransITION

This past Sunday I officially moved out of my apartment. This means there is no turning back. This is probably a good thing since all of my stuff is in my parent's basement now and the rest is in storage. I can't imagine how my family and friends, who helped with the move, would react if I suddenly said "Hey, you guys? Yeah, I was TOTALLY kidding, by the way! I didn't really want to move out! Isn't that funny?" So, yes, it is a good thing that there is, indeed, no turning back now. I am a procrastinator by nature. It is in my blood, I fear, to wait until the last possible moment to do anything. I was due to move out of my apartment, clean it thoroughly as to avoid any unwanted costs, and turn in the keys by December 3. So, naturally, I went about this task on December 3. I picked up my little sister, Kaylee, and she and I set off to pack up the few remaining items (notice I said few), clean the apartment, and drop off the keys. It is important to note here that I got to the apartment around 10:30 am (we would have gotten there sooner but Kaylee needed a pair of snow boots and so we had to go to Walmart first. I am telling you we had to) and that I needed to be done by 12:30 because I had to go see a play. If everything had run smoothly I do think I could have done it in the 2 hours I had alloted for myself. But as Murphy's Law states, what can go wrong will go wrong, or something like that. And thus it began. My sister gave me a vaccum sweeper when I moved in and it is incredibly old. I could not figure out how to open that thing up to change the bag. And the bag was not just fill it was spilling over and absolutely nothing was getting swept up. I beat it profously, I cried, I begged for mercy, and I wrestled with that thing for nearly 30 minutes. I tried to call my sister but she was not able to be reached. I called my brother-in-law but he seemed to be completely lost when it came to the ancient appliance. I thought it best if I simply set the vaccum aside and focus on something else before I completely lost it. I went on to cleaning out the refridgerator and as I was passing by the vaccum cleaner to begin to work on the bathroom, I thought I would try just oooonnnnnne last time. Turns out, all I had to do was SLIDE it to the left and wahlah! So naturally, all the tugging and upward pulling motions was never going to get me anywhere no matter how much force I exerted. I didn't have any extra bags though. I didn't realize this until after I had already gotten the old bag out. I looked at the time. It was almost noon. It didn't take me long to realize there was no way I was going to get this done before 12:30. So I had to come back after my shift at Buddies, after a trip to Meijer to get the vacuum bags. I got there around 11 pm. I worked in a frenzy and finished about 1:30 am. The few things I thought I had left? They turned into about 5 boxes, a broom, a mop, 2 baskets of random items, 2 shelves, an iron, an ironing board, and the vacuum sweeper. To this day I will never know how I got all that stuff in my car. It's amazing what you can accomplish when it's 1:00 am and you are on a mission. After I had packed the last item, I ran upstairs to grab my purse and turn out the lights. I was overcome by a feeling so intense, it really took me by surprise. I was going to miss it. I was going to miss it more than I thought I would. Yes, I was proud of making a difficult decision that not many people would. But it was my home. I thought back to the day I moved in. How excited I was and how good it felt to climb into bed that first night after unpacking and organizing. I thought about the day my friend Melissa came over and we spent a long time figuring out just where everything should go: "Hey, Lori? I think the cereal would be perfect here, in this cupboard!" and "Melissa, do you think this is a good drawer for the pot holders and towels?" I felt so indpendant and grown up. I thought about when I bought my Christmas tree and how much fun it was to decorate it and put up all the lights. I thought about the many meals I tried to cook on my own, not really knowing what I was doing. I thought about my cats sitting on the balcony and me laying out in the sun. I thought about Melissa and I playing our video games and she checking her email on the breaks. I thought about how, for as long as I could remember, I have been in transition. One transition to the next. I live my life in a state of transition and I wonder when the day will come when I feel I have reached that place of stability and consitency and groundedness that I so long for. I stood there looking at that bare and still apartment, doing what I could to hold back the tears. I took a deep breath and I shut the door. Making sure to do so quickly so as the cats wouldn't run out into the hallway, out of habit. By the time I got about half way home, to my new home, I felt much better. I turned up the Christmas music, breathed a sigh of relief, and thought: "Onwards and upwards, baby".

Moving Time

I spent the majority of last weekend cleaning my parent's basement in preparation for my arrival. If it is at all possible to be equally excited and mortified at the same time about my new living arrangements then that would best sum up my emotional state. It has nothing to do with my parents. I love my parents. We get along well, enjoy one another's company, and living with them ensures an increase in extended family time. So, naturally, I am excited. On the other hand, I am moving into a basement. Yes, this was my idea. I am 35 years old and I am moving into a basement. I have no husband, no job security, no savings, and I am moving into a basement. So, naturally, I am mortified.

As I was driving home after a weekend of clearing cobwebs, sweeping dust, and coughing and wheezing, my sister called. I had been expressing my aforementioned conflicted feelings to her and she felt she hadn't been a good listener so, burdened with guilt, she decided to call in order to make it up to me. She told me she was sorry I was feeling down, wished she could make it all go away, and within only a few moments we were both in tears. NOTE: My brother-in-law once told my sister that our family was the most emotionally-driven, guilt-ridden family he had ever met. I have no idea where he got that from.

My sister offered to "tidy the place a bit" in order to lift my spirits. Did I mention I am moving into a basement? I told her I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It is bad enough to have to move into a basement. I am quite certain it is much worse to move into a basement and then "tidy it up a bit". In the end, I decided some candles would be nice to cover up the musty smell, which is extremely faint, thank you very much. And I allowed my sister to talk me into some curtains as long as they were plain and merely functional in order to help mask the plastic covering to block the cold. Maybe once the holidays approach I can bring myself to put some Christmas lights up. As long as no one ever finds out and the purpose would be to simply supply more light, of course. Certainly not for decoration.

Paranoi-ya will destro-ya

I know I am not the only one out there who tends to think people are upset with them for some apparent reason or another. Or should I say for no apparent reason or another? Is it that I want people to be upset with me? What can I possibly gain from constantly worrying that others are angry with me? It doesn't happen everyday. "Constantly" is a bit of an exaggeration. But it happens often enough. Like today, for example. I was at a faculty meeting where I saw one of my colleagues. I waved, said good morning, the usual. His response was a bit aloof; which in my world can easily be transcribed as: " he didn't throw his arms around me declaring his unyielding love". Just the same, it triggered a thought process which still plagues me five hours later. It goes something like this:

Hmm...he seems a bit aloof. I wonder what is wrong? Is he upset with me? No, that's just silly. I haven't done anything to upset him. Well, maybe I have done something. But what could it be? Hmm...maybe he heard that I think so-in-so is negative all the time and he thinks I am being self-righteous for saying that. Or maybe I was supposed to be at that meeting yesterday and I didn't know it and so he thinks I am irresponsible? Or maybe I just look awful today, as usual, and he is thinking to himself that I am ridiculously dressed and that the dark circles under my eyes, hereditary or not, make me look 10 years older. Wait, did he just smile at me? No, he looks confused. I think he is just responding to what somebody else just said. No, that officially was not a smile. Why is he ignoring me like this? He must be upset with me. I wonder what I did...

And on and on it goes. Sadly, the concept of: "if I am unable to think of what I might have done I can logically presume I have, in fact, NOT done anything" never crosses my mind. I am not sure where this "paranoia" comes from. Nor do I enjoy it. Or have yet to find a way to conquer it. Have you ever heard the philosophy that only 10% of what we worry about actually happens? I am not sure I am getting that right. It might even be less than that. Sorry, I tend to get caught up with percentages and scales. Ask my friends. But, regardless, the idea of it is true. I would say 99% of the time the person I am currently thinking is upset or angry with me ends up not being upset or angry with me at all. (I am sure there were supposed to be some commas in that sentence) They are usually just having a bad day, or are tired, or maybe it's simply gas. Who knows? Nonetheless, it is tiring.

I am sure at least somebody out there suffers from this affliction as well. Well, maybe I shouldn't call it an affliction. That doesn't sound very nice and I wouldn't want to upset anybody. Wait, did I upset you? Are you mad at me?

The Biological Clock

I am feeling a bit tipsy as I am writing this so who knows how it will turn out. I decided I would "log" my moments of unhappiness in order to accurately calculate just how often I am unhappy. It turns out that, so far, today I have only had one moment where unhappiness crept into my mood. It's still early yet.

I was at Buddies, where I work a second job waiting tables, and I saw a couple come into the restaurant. The man was holding a little girl around the age of two, I would presume. She was fast asleep, safe and nestled in his neck. Instantly I felt the lump forming in my throat, the tightness in my chest, the burning in my eyes as they began to well up with tears. The waitress standing next to me, surprised, said: "What's the matter?" "I want one of those", I said. She seemed a bit confused. I am sure she was wondering what "one of those" meant, as to be expected. I get along incredibly well with all the servers, but at the same time don't relate to them. Give or take a couple, the majority of them are in their early twenties, with "acceptable-for-the-time-being" boyfriends. So she naturally hadn't a clue what I could possibly be talking about. It's ok, not many people do. It is called a biological clock. They say it ticks. I call it a very real, and often overwhelming, want and need. And I say it hurts. I don't know how to describe it any other way. A constant pain or pang in my heart that I fear will never be fullfilled.

The feeling subsided. It eventually does. But the thought is always there. It doesn't help that, in my life, I am surrounded by children. My sister has three boys, fraternal four year old twins and a three year old. I have two very close girl friends who have young children as well. One has a four year old boy and a girl who is almost two. And another friend who has a little girl who just turned one. It doesn't help that all of these children love me. People have always said that "children love me" and "I have a way with kids". It is true.

I also have a little sister from Big Brother Big Sister. She was supposed to be a little sister and I was supposed to spend about an hour or two a week with her. In reality, she is like a surrogate daughter and I usually spend anywhere between 5-12 hrs a week with her depending on whether or not she spends the night. I don't know how to do anything in moderation. I used to think that maybe God put so many wonderful and beautiful children in my life because he knew it wasn't in my plan to have my own. Over time, with the help of my friends and family, I have done what I can to let that thought go and opt for hope instead. Hope. It drifts in and out of my life. Today, it prevails. For a moment, just a moment, I could picture it. Maybe a stroll in the park. He and I are hand in hand, the birds are chirping under the clear blue sky, and she, our beautiful baby girl, is asleep in his arms, safe and nestled in his neck. Who knows where my attempt at hope will be tomorrow.

I Am Not A Chef

I made homemade soup last night. Well, if the corn comes from a can does it really count as homemade? It actually turned out really good and I was feeling pretty sassy about it. Hey, I can cook! I am GOOD at this! In retrospect, some things for me to think about before I label myself as one of those women who cook really well. 1. I ate a great deal of it while it was still in the pan and then had a bowl of it after it was finished and this, of course, ended with an upset stomach. 2. Being single, my tupperware selection is fairly limited and so I attempted to store the remaining soup in a ziplock bag. Just in case anyone is confused, it takes TWO people to accomplish this. One to hold the bag and one to pour. If you attempt to do it on your own it WILL spill out of that bag and all over the counter. And... 3. I think you are supposed to clean up the mess when you are finished cooking. Not the following morning.

Do you have to be a good cook to find a good man, I am wondering this morning? I ask this it being impossible, naturally, for me to not relate it to the neverending question that constantly races through my mind, "why am I single?" Good Lord, I hope not. Or I am in trouble.

Disclaimer

To begin with, let me get one thing clear: Borderline Happy Disorder is not a real disorder. I haven't been diagnosed with it nor, to be completely honest, have I ever even heard of it. I just finished reading "Girl, Interrupted" and the central character in the book is diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. When I was searching for a name for this blog it was the first thing that came to mind having just finished the book last night. I certainly couldn't diagnose myself with her condition (although if you were to take a look at the symptoms you might ask yourself the same question she did...haven't we all had it at some point in our lives?) This caused me to ponder what condition I do have as I am sure I have something. For some reason I find comfort in that. Don't ask me why. And Borderline Happy Disorder is what I came up with. What does it mean? Well, just what it says. I have a disorder where I am on the borderline of being happy. I am consistently, on a day to day basis, right on the verge of being happy. But, one way or another, I can't quite get there. This probably doesn't sound like a problem to many of you; but, believe me, it is. Ok, so now that we have gotten that squared up...

A little about me: I am a 35 (going on 42) yr old woman who is certain that I am in the middle of an early mid-life crisis. Life has passed me by. I will never find love or have a family and a home of my own. I love and hate my job at the same time and am in the process of applyling to other places hoping to find something that really fulfills me. (I know, the American Dream, right?) If it is at all possible to be a "crazy cat lady" when you only have two cats then I am that woman. I have a fantastic family whom I am very close to and wonderful friends. Important note: In both of the aforementioned groups, every woman is married and half of them already have children. So life hasn't passed me by? Are you sure? Ohhh...OK.

I think that is all for now. After looking this over I am now thinking...who is ever going to read this? But, for some reason or another, I felt compelled to put myself out there. That is something I am slowly beginning to learn in my later years. You have to put yourself out there. I am beginning to accomplish this is some areas of my life. And not so much in other areas. Ah, the joys of being single...