"I"m a damsel, I'm in distress...I can handle it!"

The Beatles sang "When I was younger, so much younger than today/ I never needed anybody's help in any way/ but now those days have gone and I'm not so self-assured/ Now I find I've changed my mind, I've opened up the doors...Help! I need somebody"

These lyrics do not apply to me. As I get older, I am become more and more independent. If it's out of a sense of self-assurance or sheer necessity, who's to say? But my need for 'somebody' is decreasing while my knack for being my own problem-solver is increasing.

This morning as I was putting away laundry, my problematic closet door came off it's track and the wheel came off. Then the other door came off it's track. If you're good at math, that is 100% of my closet doors not on their track. And I have to admit my first instinct was to lay down on my bedroom floor and cry. Which I did. I cried because my closet was broken. I cried because I couldn't fix it. I cried because I didn't have 'someone' around who could. I cried because I was tired. I cried because in that moment I felt like I wanted someone to help me and I shouldn't want someone to help me because I'm an 'independent woman who don't need no man'. Then I put on my big girl panties and assessed the situation.

It was frustrating. I had to get the wheels back on the first door and get it back on it's track, and in the process, the wheels came off the second door, and then the first door was actually in the way of getting it back on the track. Trying to hold the door up on my own was very tricky, it wasn't heavy, but it was awkward. There was the looming possibility that I would drop it and the mirror would break, cursing me with more bad luck than I need (as if I could tell the difference). I would have loved to have called for back-up. There were definitely some choice words uttered. But I fixed it.

The point is, there are instances where I don't need anybody. I can fix a closet door by myself. I can take my car in for it's scheduled maintenance on my own, and when a weird light comes on, I can look it up. I've gotten pretty brave when it comes to killing bugs and spiders. I may not need any one, but it might be nice to have someone around once in a while. It's nice to know I can do these things, but it'd be okay if there was someone else around to do them too.

I'm a damsel. I'm in distress. I can handle it....but I don't always want to...

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.

Table for one

With some new found time on my hands I have actually been cooking my own meals lately. Not just reheating leftovers from restaurants, or nuking Lean Cuisines, but real life cooking. Yes, most nights I still just forage around my kitchen for food components that can be put together to comprise something resembling a meal, but that is because the reality is cooking for one is HARD.
Yes, it takes the same amount of energy, makes the same mess, uses the same amount of utensils and takes the same time as cooking for more than just myself, but what comes at the end of cooking for one? Eating alone. And that can take a lot of mental energy!
I have just slaved away cooking this fabulous meal, and I have no one to enjoy it with. No one to shower me with compliments over how delicious it is. No one to make me a back up dinner if it sucks. Just me. And sometimes, I have tons of leftovers.
Yes there are pros to being single. I dictate my own life. No one moves my keys, I get to decide what's for dinner, and I live in a very girly apartment. (There are pink pillows on the sofa and a picture of Pointe shoes on the wall). I can decide where I go and when I go and what goes on the grocery list.
But it's mostly lonely. And no one seems to talk about that. All you hear about is how empowering being single can be. But most of my friends are in relationships.

So this is my call to action, for all people who are married or in relationships, if you have single people in your life. Invite them out with you, call them up, don't forget about us. We're not all out living some fabulous unattached #nostrings life. Mostly we're trying to figure out what to do with our leftovers, or measuring out a single serving of pasta.

This is real life. Most people want to be with other people. Not all of us are lucky enough to be in romantic relationships, but shutting out those who haven't found 'the one' just because you have, isn't fair.

Don't feel sorry for me because I'm single, but acknowledge that I need to be around people, and sometimes I need to cook for someone other than just myself...

And this fajita pasta was really good!

#thestruggleisreal

It has been over two years since my last post, and I wish I could say that so much has changed...but not really.

I have a new job...but I still feel 'stuck'
I have a new address...but I still don't have a 'home'

I still whine about the same things, I still run away to Disneyland, and I still live too far away from Broadway shows.

So why am I writing now? Well, if my life were a sitcom, today's episode would be called 'A Hardware's Night' or 'Hardware Times Come Again No More' or some other cutesy play on words that would accompany the events that led to the minor freak out I had at the hardware store today.

I am a girl. I am single girl. I am a single girl that sheds like a golden retriever. My hair gets everywhere, and all of the sudden my shedding has caused my bathroom sink to drain v e r y  s l o w l y...

There was a product that my dad used to use in my bathroom sink when I lived at home, since this product unclogged the sink I shared with my equally shedding sister, I figured it was strong enough to fix my clog as well! But this industrial strength hair-dissolver, sink-unclogger stuff isn't something a person can just buy at Target, I had to go to a hardware store.

I feel I'm decently equipped when it comes to minor household fixes. Just yesterday, I helped my dad with a light fixture at my parents' house, but walking into that hardware store made me feel like a stupid little girl.

I didn't know where to look, what to look for, who to ask or what to ask for. I just felt so helpless and idiotic. Part of me was angry because I'm a feminist and I should know these things just as well as any man, but part of me was upset because I'm single and I don't have a husband to take care of this stuff for me.

This has been the identity crisis I've been struggling with for years...I need to know this stuff, but I don't want to need to know this stuff. Any of it. Unclogging sinks, fixing lights, getting my oil changed or my tires rotated...I don't want to be helpless, I just want to be helped out!

When Will I Be Loved?

The other day I made one of my frequent, off-hand comments about being single. There was probably an eHarmony commercial on or something. I hate those commercials, mostly because I seriously doubt that guys my age are signing up for internet dating...and even if they were, I'm fairly plain looking, and I can hardly justify paying monthly dues for what I can experience for free in real life. I don't need to spend money to be looked over, even if I had the money to spend. Anyway, my mother chided me about being so cynical. She mentioned that I may meet "someone" at my friend's wedding in March, a comment which caused me to scoff. Psh, as if anyone would want to "meet" me. It's been the same thing at every friend's wedding I've been to for the last 5 years. Each one is becoming exceedingly more and more like Noah's Ark...everyone is already two by two, and I'm like the last lone unicorn. 

And why wouldn't I scoff? Why should I be anything but cynical regarding the topic of dating? I don't have any positive experiences to link to the idea of romantic love. As Linda Ronstadt sings "I've been made blue, I've been lied to, when will I be loved?" For the most part, my 'relationships' have been more about rejection and loneliness. My last actual relationship was eight years ago. EIGHT. And I'm expected to remain optimistic about this matter? How can I? 

Generally speaking, I am a fairly positive and optimistic person; but generally speaking, I have had positive experiences in most areas of my life: school, work, friends, etc. This is one area of my life where the bad experiences are far more vast than the one positive experience.

Maybe I sound like I've given up, and maybe I have given up. It's just too exhausting to remain idealistic about it...

Picture Day

So I started this little project as a way to document adventure...but it really has turned into a sounding board for all the embarrassing, awkward, and slightly pathetic things that happen to me. These are my stories (dundun). Here is a pathetic little gem to make you chuckle, I have to laugh at it too...
Every few years our church puts out a new photo directory, pictures of the families, contact information, etc. As I was signing up to have my picture taken for our directory I had the following conversation with one of the older women who were manning the sign up table
Woman: "Are you going to be taking your photo all by yourself?"
Me: "Yes"
Woman: "Do you have a pet, like a dog or a kitty or something you want to have in the photo with you?"
Me: "Nope, it's just me"
Woman: "Well, it won't always be, dear."

Really?

Seriously?

Someday My Prince Will Come...right?

The way I see things, there are basically two kinds of guys: Davids and Linuses. As in David and Linus Larrabee. Let me break it down for those of you who are not familiar with the 1954 Audrey Hepburn classic Sabrina.

Linus Larrabee, Sabrina Fairchild & David Larrabee

(Humphrey Bogart, Audrey Hepburn & William Holden)

~*~

Sabrina Fairchild is the daughter of a chauffeur. The Larrabees' chauffeur, to be exact. The Larrabees have two sons. Linus (Humphrey Bogart) and David (William Holden). Sabrina has always had a crush on David, because he's handsome and charming, but he never really noticed her until she went to Paris, learned to cook and got a make-over...then he's all over her, even though he is engaged (as part of a business deal). But David, being the cad that he is, asks his brother Linus to "keep an eye on Sabrina" so he can keep up the charade of his engagement...I don't want to spoil the ending, but you get the gist.

Guys like David are quite a catch, at least on the surface. They are captivating, handsome, and just all around dreamy. It is really hard to see a David for what he really is unless you're on the outside looking in. You're just so entranced by this charming fellow you've set your sights on. But underneath that enchanting exterior is a heart-breaker. Confidence turns into cockiness...charm turns to smarm...and even if you once held his interest, his attentions are now elsewhere. Davids are NOT nice guys.

Then there are the Linuses. In the movie, Linus was portrayed as a bit of a grump. Supposedly not as handsome as his brother (but let's face it...he was still Bogey!) Linus was more serious, and therefore, not as obvious of a choice. Linus is a nice, genuine guy. He doesn't use a phony facade. He doesn't really need to. His appeal is in his 'nice-guy-ness'. His real, not-for-show nice-guy-ness.

David might be charming, but Linus is the prince!

Almost every guy I have ever had a crush on has been a David. Davids are the reason I am bitter and cynical and sad. 'Evan' turned out to be a David (although, I kinda saw that one coming) 'Jon' was a David (The worst kind of David, too...the David that tries to make you think he's a Linus). The only Linuses that come to mind are my ex-boyfriend and the guy I think I might kind of like now.

But for reasons that I won't discuss over the internets, things obviously didn't work out with my ex...or he wouldn't be my ex

And things aren't really working out with this new guy...because I'm not a Sabrina. Or at least not a post-Paris/make-over Sabrina. I don't stand out as 'that girl'. In fact, I've actually been told that I'm 'just one of the guys' (after complaining that I wasn't being treated like a lady...but I'm gonna chalk that one up to the fact that my guy friends are mostly a bunch of Davids).

Matchmaker, matchmaker...

I can no longer be trusted to pick out my own guys. I keep choosing the wrong ones. I have had a crush on different versions of the same guy since I was probably in 8th grade. I definitely have a 'type'; both in physical appearance and personality. Tall, athletically-built, fairly good-looking, charming but snarky, teasing, and ultimately kind of a jerk. They are all exactly the same, as is the pattern of stages I go through with each one. There's the 'butterflies in my stomach stage'; the 'he's not that far out of my league' stage; the 'I'm pretty sure he could like me back' stage; the 'now he's just leading me on' stage; the 'I need to just get over him' stage; and it always ends with the 'how could I let him break my heart?' stage...and this is why I refuse to go on picking my own guys. I will no longer acknowledge that fluttery feeling I get in my tummy because I know exactly where it will lead. So I either need someone to choose crushes for me, or I need to teach whatever part of me that controls the butterflies to find a new 'type' and train myself to set my sights on a higher caliber of guy...

Half full, half empty or too big

I have this giant mug I got at Disneyland, commemorating the 55th anniversary of the theme park. And by giant...I mean giant!!!

So, naturally...I can't fill it all the way to the top. Whichever hot liquid I chose to put in this cup (coffee or tea) would surly be cold by the time I was half way through. So I don't fill the mug to the top, I fill it to the middle.

Some would say the cup is half full. Some would say it's half empty. Some would say it's too big. Okay, that was literal.

I try so hard to view the proverbial 'mug of life' as half full, and lately it's been taking a lot of effort to see things that way. I'm not flipping over to the 'half empty' side of things, but maybe just the 'too big'. I feel like I have a lot on my plate right now. Work is crazy, my parents are on my case for not 'getting out enough', and I am finally facing the facts that I am too poor to care about any of that. Being optimistic just takes too much work, and I quit. And I'm over it. And I'm tired.

I heard that you were feeling ill...

I am sick. I have a 100 degree fever, chills, aches, headache, congestion, and it hurts to move. It's possible this is the result of the camp, extravaganza, camp nonsense that's been going on in my life lately, but it's really cramping my style. Also, I'm a baby when I'm sick. I am whiny, I don't like to do anything for myself, and I try not to get up from the couch if I don't have to. The hard this about this is that I am single. I live alone. And none of my friends live close enough to bring me mashed potatoes. I am really not enjoying this.

I've been eating bananas and applesauce all day and I just want some stinking mashed potatoes. And someone to take care of me.

10...9...8...7...6...5...

4...3...2...1.
As glad as I am that I am starting this year with clean clothes, I hope I have something better to do next New Years' Eve than my laundry...
I hate making New Year's Resolutions because I never keep them. I should work out more, stress out less, blah blah blah…
I did make some last year because it was part of a party game. I didn't want to go too personal with my resolutions because who wants to resolve to be 'less single' in front of a roomful of people, especially a room that included my ex-boyfriend and his wife (who, btw resolved to have a baby in 2010…awk)
I have kept all the resolutions I made last year, I went to Disneyland (4 times, actually); I found an apartment; and I made it to 2011.
This year I need to make more friends, try not to be so much of a homebody, and have someone to kiss when I ring in 2012 (or at least not to spend next NYE alone, blogging in my sweat pants watching Carson Daly's schpiel on NBC)

Here's to hoping 2011 is less lonely than 2010...

I need a hero

or maybe just a plumber.
I was taking a shower a few days ago (well I took one today too, but this thought struck me Wednesday) and my shower head was acting weird. I was going to blog about it that morning, but then I lost my blog...and then after rebuilding it, I lost my motivation. However, my shower this morning got me going again. When I moved in to my apartment I took baths for a few weeks because I didn't have a shower curtain, and then after limbo-ing through my first shower (and 5'8" is not that tall, mind you) I got one of those adjustable shower heads and I installed it myself (while this may sound impressive, putting in the tension rod was a lot more complicated and slapstick-ish.) Aaanyway...I was in the shower, and not only is there a delightful stream of hot water sprinkling out of shower head with the perfect level of water pressure, but there was also this waterfall-type dribble leaking out from the twisty thing where you pick what kind of stream you want from the shower head. The leak isn't coming from anywhere that the shower head connects to the water source, I righty tightied the heck out of that thing when I was putting it in. So I'm confused, and would really just like this problem to go away.
In other news that is in every way, shape and form unrelated to that ^ ^
but one of my former bosses (ahem, a camp director) has taken it upon herself to find "someone" for me. When I told my mother about this diabolical plot her response was "I want to meet this woman, I think we'd get along!" Not only is it weird that some one who used to employ me is trying to set me up, but I also find it odd that my parents haven't met my 'camp parents'...

So much confusion in my life right now!! Geez!

Today I decided...

to go back to school...
Okay, traffic school. For that ticket I got back in June.
I signed up for an online course, and it's a good thing there weren't any cops in my house cause I sped through that at approximately 82 miles an hour (the speed that got me the ticket in the first place). College really honed my skimming skills, and what my mom predicted would take all day took me all of 45 minutes...

Back when I got my little citation and traffic school was given as an option to erase this transgression from my permanent record, mom was keen to send me to an in-class traffic school..."maybe you'll meet someone" was her justification.
Which means I would have to plan a cute outfit, because as a friend of mine says (and my mother would agree) "you never know when you're going to meet your husband" which is a really lame way to go through life, but it seems as if that's everyone's concern for my life right now (especially my mother)
Wednesday I went to the store with my mom and we were talking about the Middle School Gathering I just got back from, and she actually asked if there were "any single, male youth directors there"...because I have time to check that out while I'm busy wrangling nine 6th-8th graders.
But seriously, this is her favorite question. My first summer at camp she was all "did you meet any nice boys?" Which, yeah-they guys at camp were nice...they were also like brothers after the summer, which y'know, is gross.
Last night we were talking about this hipster long-term sub at my dad's school (mostly because my sister and I think it's funny that hipsters exist in Tulare) and my mom was all "is he single?" (The answer, in case you were all wondering-is no. He has a girlfriend in Spain...because, as a hipster, he spent time there after college).

So I decided that I'm going to make up an imaginary boyfriend to get my mother (and the rest of my family this Christmas) off my case. I think I'll call him 'Drew' and tell everyone I met him at that 'singles Bible study' my mom is always telling me to go to...I already know what I want my ideal guy to be like, so making up a personality shouldn't be difficult...that should keep them off my back for a while.

Single people use blenders, right?

Yes, we do...but we don't get to register for them. Just because I'm not in the "marriage" stage in my life doesn't mean I don't need things for my apartment. There is no such thing as an apartment-warming registry. Bed, Bath & Beyond hasn't quite jumped on that bandwagon yet. Four months ago I moved into my first apartment and I'm still working on filling it. I did get some hand-me downs: silverware from my parents, a coffee table from my friend who moved and a sofa from an old lady at my church who apparently had cataracts. I have some left over stuff from dorm-living: stolen plates from the caf, a nice collection of dollar tree spatulas and other things we collected over the years. I had a decent collection of 'starter' items. Some good, solid basics. Mom stepped up and sprung for a toaster, and the 'rents pitched in the extra microwave they had sitting in the garage to help my kitchen come together. Trying to make this apartment 'home' involved hanging a few pictures, getting some curtains, and a couple of throw pillows to try to spruce up the hideous sofa, and the whole thing has come together quite nicely for what I've had to work with. It's nice and I get by.
Except I need a blender.
Granted, I can get a no-frills blender at Target for around 20 bucks, so it's not a HUGE deal...it's just...the principal...when you think of bridal registry, blender is the first thing you think of, right? It's like the stereotypical wedding gift. There is something about buying yourself a blender that just seems so...sad.
I realize that almost everything I just said set feminism back about 50 years...I may as well vacuum in pearls and pumps and enjoy unblended drinks from now on...

The answer is NO!

NO, Aunt Liz...I DON'T have a boyfriend yet and no I WON'T buy 'a push-up bra and a v-neck sweater'
NO, Gramma...I HAVEN'T met anyone and I'm NOT going to go flirt with random guys at the baseball game. (Also, they were Dodger fans anyway...and I'm pretty sure rooting for the Giants is part of my DNA)
Sorry, women of my family, that being single is something you feel like you need to cure me from. Trust me, it's not something I'm proud of. I wish I could be one of those girls who is a 'proud, single woman', but that's not me. I'm not saying that I feel like a need a man in my life, just that it hasn't been a picnic watching from the background while all my friends start to pair off and get married. It's seriously like Noah's freaking Ark...
I'm not proud that I was all but set up with a groomsman at a good friend's wedding a few months ago, only to watch said groomsman hit on one of the waitresses all night instead. (We were seated next to each other and the only single people at our table...it was painfully obvious what was going on, though he seemed painfully oblivious)
I'm not proud that I am apparently invisible to members of the opposite sex.
I'm not proud that I am usually in my jammies by 9pm on the weekends because I have nowhere to go and nothing to do.
I'm not proud that I have to go to movies alone because my friends have already seen them with their boyfriends/fiances/husbands.
I'm not happy that I am missing out on opportunities to hang out with my friends because I'll be the third, fifth or sometimes even seventh wheel.
These are actually some of the things that I lose sleep over.
Sometimes I think...'but, hey, I'm only 24...I've got time'. Then there are the times that I am reminded of how many married friends I already have. And that my mom was 24 when she got married. And then I think 'crap, I'm already 24 and I haven't been on a date for nearly 5 years' And then I think about how the only boyfriend I have ever had-the only guy who has ever given me a second look-has already been married for over a year.

Now I'm thinking that I'm probably too young to be labeled a spinster, but it's not entirely inappropriate...

Which came first?

I am bitter and cynical. I have been for quite a while, and the thing is...you would never guess that about me. Because I'm also a happy person. I have a cheerful personality, I like Disney movies and musicals, and I love to laugh with my friends; but I don't think a person can be completely, utterly, chronically and irreversibly single for nearly 5 years without growing bitter and cynical.
But...am I bitter and cynical because I'm single? Or am I single because I'm bitter and cynical
Who knows?!