What's the Big Ideal?

I am Introverted, iNtuitive, Feeling and Perceiving...aka INFP...aka an Idealist.

The perks of being an idealist is that I always see things for how they could be.

The downside of being an idealist is that I always see things for how they could be.

I sometimes can use my sense of idealism to look at a situation and find ways to improve it. I can use my sense of 'could' for good! But too often, my sense of idealism gets in my way. I see things the way they could be, they way I would like them to be, and then when things don't turn out that way, I end up strongly disappointed.

My idealism coupled with my over-active imagination often leaves me wistful. In fact, I think I have lost track of how things are 'supposed' to be, even though I deal with so much reality. However, I am still so caught up with how I feel things 'could' be, I have a hard time accepting the fact that this might be as good as it gets.
My hope has been dashed so many times, and yet it is still so strong. It could get better. I could have it all. I could be fulfilled in my work. I could meet the love of my life. I could become a wife and and a mother. Could.

But could I?

Because realistically, I am working in job in which there is no room for advancement. A job I had 6 years and less education ago.

I have been off and on several online dating sites for the past 2 years and have had 3 total dates. All were first dates. No second dates. Why? Because it's weird dating strangers. These guys were okay, I guess. Nice enough guys, to be sure. But there was nothing there.
Maybe my idealism is getting in the way. Maybe it's my sense of entitlement. But my hope for a guy I actually like is just too high. Then again, I might be hoping and could-ing so long that I'm looking for something that simply does not exist. I could be living a life that is constantly setting myself up for disappointment and loneliness. But I'm used to that by now.

I'd rather settle for disappointment than settle.

You can't have your pie and eat it too...

I like to bake. Baking relieves my stress, and stimulates my creativity. Mostly just cookies, because they're fairly easy and the ingredients are usually just around. But lately, I really like to bake pies. I also like to eat pies...and homemade pies are the best to eat (so I've been told). However, my father has a ridiculous sweet-tooth, and now that I'm back living with my dearest, darlingest Mumsy and Popsicle it has become increasingly more difficult to keep baked goods around. About a month ago, I made a peach and blackberry pie. Y'know...just 'cause

It was not only the best and most prettiest pie I'd ever made, but it was probably one of the tastiest pies I'd ever eaten. But I only got to eat about two slices. I made this pie on a Monday afternoon; it was gone by Tuesday evening.

Last Saturday, my parents had a friend over for a BBQ...so my mom 'commissioned' a pie. I decided to make an apple pie with a layer of pecans and brown sugar under the crust.

I won't lie...it was a really yummy pie. According to dad, it was the best pie he'd ever had. Which apparently was cause for him to eat the half that was left over the next day. Just for once I want to make a delicious pie and have it last longer than a couple of days. I would like to bake a pie and get to eat a slice for dessert every night for a week without my dad devouring the pie I'd worked so hard to make.

Something to add to the list of things to do if I ever move out of my parents' house

Just another story caught up in another photograph I found

During crazy Christmas family extravaganza of 2010, the grown-ups decided to pull out a box of old pictures...which was so much fun.
Aside from a bunch of pictures of some really stern looking German people, (which my mom has been able to trace back to the mid 1800's), there were baby pictures of my mom and my uncles, photos that gave me insight to what my mom's life was like as a teenager (there were lots of sheep), and some precious shots of us cousins with the g'parents from way back in the diaper days!
I love sorting through old pictures, and I'm afraid that my generation has gotten so digital that my grandkids aren't going to have anything to sort through. 50 years from now when I have my own crazy family Christmas gatherings, they're just going to sit in front of my computer and click through thousands pictures. Plus, I'm not really sure that I want my grandkids to see all my pictures...
I love my digital camera and its convenience. No film + immediate results means I can take several versions of the same picture until I get the exact one I want, it's great!! But I think that there is something to be said of using an old 35mm (or whatever). Film definitely limits the amount of pictures you can take, but I think it also allows you to be more selective in your photography. For instance, do I really need to take 20 pictures of Sleeping Beauty's castle EVERY TIME I GO TO DISNEYLAND?? Probably not...
I'm sure with film cameras, there were quite a few moments missed, but there were also some significant moments captured.
I had my mom make some copies for me of a few pictures of my grandparents, and they are just so classic

This my grandparents leaving for their honeymoon, something about this picture reminds me of a couple of old fashioned movie stars being caught my the paparazzi!

And here's my grandpa!
When we were going through pictures and I commented about how handsome my grandpa was...my gramma's reply was "yeah he was"...oh, Gramma

I'm tired

...but not sleepy.
This has been a re-occuring problem for some time now. Part of it is work stress, I'm sure. I can't seem to stop thinking at night. I lie in my bed, listen to my fan and think. I think about things that I can't control, especially not at 1 o'clock in the morning. If I could take my brain out at night, that might help. Other than that, I don't know how to fix this problem. Two nights ago, I was in this same position. In my comfortable bed in my comfortable pajamas with my white noise at a very comfortable level and my comfortably dark, cool room. The conditions couldn't have been more conducive to a good night's sleep. But I couldn't get sleepy. So I decided to get up (at 2 am) make myself a cup of chamomile tea and watch Glee on DVD...I fell asleep on the couch. Maybe I should try sleeping on the couch every night, I mean, any sleep is better than none at all, even if couch sleep is pretty poor quality.
It's almost as if I'm becoming nocturnal, I get so sleepy during the days that I am tempted to take a nap on the sofa in my office, and some days I take a nap when I get home from work. Which just makes sleeping at night just that much harder. Which, in turn, makes getting up in the morning that much harder, which makes me so sleepy during the day that I need to take a nap when I get home...and the vicious cycle continues. I don't know what to do. I can't even talk to my mom about it, because she worries enough about me as it is. I don't need her to lose sleep over my loss of sleep. Her not sleeping isn't going to make it any easier for me, and I don't want to give her any more reasons to stress out about me, since I'm the more gray-hair inducing of my parents' children, they don't need to add my insomnia to the long list of reasons why I can't take care of myself.

I'm just so tired of being tired. I just want to sleep.
I've tried tea and tylenol PMs and if Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep and doesn't know where to find them, it's because I've counted them all, and Mary's Little Lamb, and every other sheep for that matter. So much fleece...

'Oh hey, Mom'

My mom called me yesterday evening, and we had the following conversation:
"Hey Mom"
"Hey Lauren, I jut wanted to call and make sure you're doing okay" (look up 'worrier' in the dictionary, there's a picture of my mother there)
"I'm fine"
"So what are you up to?"
"Just reupholstering some chairs"
We talked about other stuff too, none of which is relevant to what I'm writing about today, and is a tad too personal to display on the interwebs.
I feel like I should start blogging about the random stuff my neighbors leave by the dumpsters. Fisher Price play-kitchens, books, mattresses, a blender, folding chairs that are missing the seat part, shoes...you name it, my neighbors are trying to get rid of it. But nothing actually goes IN the dumpster. Just BY it. I feel like this is a passive way of getting rid of things (granted, the kitchen and the mattress wouldn't exactly fit). I have no way of knowing whether these events were perpetrated by a repeat offender, or if each of my neighbors are throwing things out in turn (if it's the latter, am I expected to leave a random piece of junk by the dumpster too?)
What boggles me is that a lot of these things, while not in prime condition, could be cleaned up a bit and donated to Goodwill. For instance there is a couch and a love seat out there now that, with a little TLC, could make a poor college student's living room very happy.
I found a couple of chairs out there the other day. They were ugly and dirty, but weren't missing any pieces or anything. So yeah, I grabbed 'em. They weren't IN the dumpster, so I wasn't digging through garbage.
I took them home, scrubbed the heck out of them, removed the seats, applied a couple coats of Kraylon high gloss black spray paint. I bought some leopard print outdoor canvas at the fabric store and a couple of foam pads, and I've watched enough HDTV to figure out the re-covering process...and I think my chairs are pretty classy.

I guess it's true what they say...one person's trash is another person's treasure. (Or at least another person's patio furniture)