This is now the Summit Ave Cafe, after a few weeks/months of disasterous roommate issues. I don't know if anyone reads my blog who knows me, but if they do they might be scandalized to read the horrible truths of the situation. All I want to do is crush every bit of dignity and smug self-confidence sneering pride out of those two women I used to live with, but I MUST hold back and not respond with hatred and venom. Otherwise, I am a victim of their twisted thinking and I want to come out of this situation whole. I am a nice person. I am free of their psychotic alternate universe.
FREE!
I now live with two guys who stay in their own rooms and literally never come out, so it's basically living alone. My best friend #1 lives 2 blocks away and it's glorious; we get to see each other all the time!
(Sidenote: Why do I think my life is boring? If there's no major earth-shattering life change occurring, I think I am a boring person. I am NOT boring!!! I perhaps just need to reflect on this concept instead of trusting my gut feeling, which says that I definitely am boring. Hm.)
Anywaaaaay.
Oh, so much has happened on the Guy Front. And by "Front" I mean the lines of battle where males meet females, and proceed to either fraternize with the enemy or destroy each other's hearts and lives. I have camped out just behind the Ridge of Unrequited Love and prefer only to use my weapons of Risk-Free Flirting with Occupied Men. It has a terrible kickback, though, and I keep getting bruised. I wish I could be stationed at Impending Romance Island, but it seems like only the top %1 of soldiers get sent there, and I bet they cashed in a favor or something. I have no friends in high places.
First, there's this guy at work. My main job, by the way, not the part-time one. Let's call him... Hoss. That's right. Hoss Cartwright, as in some character from Dallas or Bonanza or whatever show I never watched but which has a character my mother hopes that I find and marry in real life somehow. He's smart and funny and awesome and we hit it off really well and I have been asked by at least 5 people now whether or not I have a crush on him. He is not being asked, of course, because he ahs a girlfriend and should be off-limits.
I was even called a Home-wrecker by the office Angela. I guess Hoss would be Pam if this were the Office, and I would be Jim. Damn it. I always have to be a guy. I will never get to be Pam. We hang out all the time and I feel real physical pain every time he mentions something sweet he's done for his girlfriend. Arg. I need to chill about this guy. He's gonna marry his girlfriend, I need to give it up.
(Scene from the Office, "Booze Cruise":
Jim: She's engaged.
Michael: BFD. Engaged ain't married. Never give up. Never, ever, ever give up.)
Yeah, right. This is not a television show. Unless the title of the show is How to Die Single.
Anyway, we just have fun and I try not to wish he'd break up with his girlfriend, because I am NOT A HOME-WRECKER!!!
Secondly, there's this guy at work; the cafe, not the full-time job. Ben, we'll say. He's MARRIED and yet I can't seem to stop thinking about him. He's so wonderful, I almost can't believe it. However, I did have a breakthrough on Monday when I went to Bingo at the VFW with him and a girl we work with who is awesome and his wife, and it was fun seeing the two of them together because they do really love each other and I feel okay backing off after seeing that. So, good.
Thirdly, there's another guy at work: Paul, I'll call him. Recently divorced? I think so. Bad idea? Obviously. Way older than me? Sure. Inadvisable in every possible way? Definitely. And yet... he's so frickin hot. I can't even stand it. Praise the Lord that he shaved his beard into a very cheesy and unseemly handlebar moustache. Otherwise I would probably start melting whenever he walks by and Cartwright already makes fun of me about him anyway.
I have PROBLEMS. That's clear. How can I be so distinctly attracted to so many guys at once who are all so different. Cartwright is the only one I could see myself marrying, as he is a Christian and pretty much awesome in every way and also helped me through the whole psycho roommate situation so I came out more dignified and sane than I ever would have alone. He actually HELPED me. I feel like I NEED him. F. FFFFF. That's my new favorite pseudo-curse, by the way.
I think I will just lust after Shawn Spencer of the television show "Psych," who cannot reject me because he is not real.
Also have not heard back from any grad schools, which is driving me insane.
I have gained 15 lbs in the last 6 months working here, which raises me to new heights of disgustingness and is an obvious contributor to my singlehood, though there's no shortage of inappropriately-aged and -lifestyled men chasing after me in several capacities, which is annoying but good for my self-esteem. I am trying to join a study at the U where I get paid to exercise 5 times/wk for 4 months and a free gym membership, which would be beyond awesome. I keep telling myself, tomorrow I'll start really losing weight. And then I eat an entire bag of goldfish and half aToblerone. I suck. I will never lose weight... unless perhaps someone pays me. Ha ha, everyone wins!
The Peace Corps loved me, of course. So if I don't get into grad school I will at least have a plan. And if I have a few months before I leave for my assignment I can move back to Colorado and be with my mom and sissies before I go ex-pat and that would be wonderful! Within the space of 1 week last month:
-I moved due to psycho roommates who made life hell
-my little sis dropped out of college
-my older sis got fired
Yikes, hard week for the Three Musketeers. I want to fly back and see them really badly, but remember that whole poverty thing? Right, credit card debt is not part of my 5-year life plan.
But eating home-made pad thai with my bff IS part of my plan, a very large part, in fact. So I must go. But it was nice writing and I will try to remember to write more later.
I could explain in detail: the drama of my small group Bible study; my best friend's impending wedding and my Maid of Honor status; my joining of a band (???); my cooking endeavors; my failed craigslist dating attempt #2. See? See? I'm not a boring ugly fat person! I'm, well, we shall see...
Friday, February 15, 2008
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
If only I were British
It has been too long since I've written, so here I am checking in from work. That's right, I'm blogging on work time! I feel simultaneously guilty and thrilled by this. I had an appointment with a client who has not shown up (just remembered annother appointment I never put on my calendar... just a sec, ok back) so I am free, footloose, and completely distracted.
Where is that girl? I can't write about ber because of client confidentiality issues, but I am allowed to be annoyed that she's not here. Annoyed and relieved. I like alone time.
While this job is amazing for the chance to work with so many people from different countries and backgrounds, and to affect change in so many lives, I do not think I would want to do it for the rest of my life. I don't know what kind of person I actually am, but I'm trying to figure it out and this job is certainly helping.
I am an Employment Specialist Assistant and AmeriCorps member, which basically means I get paid a pittance for work that others do on salary,barely paying my rent and food and student loan bills which have not been deferred yet despite all promises to the contrary. (Damien Rice, The Blower's Daughter) I am in the process of applying for food assistance from the county and will not feel bad about it at all. Pretty much every AmeriCorps volunteer goes on assistance because we are absurdly poorly paid, meaning not paid at all, only given a living allowance. Allowance? What sort of living am I exactly allowed to do?
Stop it!
This is giving you the wrong impression: I do not really care about money, and I love living without having to lump myself in a category with all the other well-off middle classers who can't figure out what shade of Ugg boots to ask for for Christmas. I do not need lots of money to survive. I do not want lots of money to survive. I would love to pay off my student loans, and sure, it would be great to be able to visit my family or friends in far-off states whenever I wanted to, but I'm making a sacrifice.
Why exactly? More on that later.
The previous few paragraphs seem exceedingly boring to me and, I'm sure, to anyone who has held out hope long enough to read this far. I apologize; I am not usually so boring. Or maybe I am and no one will tell me.
I SHARED THE GOSPEL WITH SOMEONE LAST SUNDAY!!!!! It was SO amazing! He was so interested and searching but asking all these really deep and totally understandable questions and I answered what I could but it's between him and God even though I fell blessed to have even been a little part of what God is doing in his life (the guy shall be called Paul, as in -On-The-Road-To-Damascus, which is my hope for him) although I am really hoping and praying that eventually he takes the plunge and throws in his lot with Christ. This is not Aladdin, the guy down the street. Different guy. Paul is someone I work with at the cafe, and we ended up talking to about nine hours straight!!! It was so amazing. I gave him four books:
1. Pascal's Pensees, told him to read "The Wager." Got me through a lot of doubting.
2. CS Lewis' The Weight of Glory, told him to read the title essay and anything else he wants.
3. Lee Strobel, the Case for Christ. He needs the Case for Faith, although he's reading Mere Christianity which should help a lot.
4. Till We Have Faces. If this guy is brought up on the spiritual milk of CS Lewis he will have a happy and healthyinfant Christian growth indeed! I don't know what will happen with him but it is NOT IN MY HANDS! I just need to be there for him and I AM!
Oh God, oh God, bring him to You!
I will keep you updated on his spiritual journey; maybe I'm just one small part of it and he needs another 15 years of struggling... I'll just keep praying!
Love bunches!
Where is that girl? I can't write about ber because of client confidentiality issues, but I am allowed to be annoyed that she's not here. Annoyed and relieved. I like alone time.
While this job is amazing for the chance to work with so many people from different countries and backgrounds, and to affect change in so many lives, I do not think I would want to do it for the rest of my life. I don't know what kind of person I actually am, but I'm trying to figure it out and this job is certainly helping.
I am an Employment Specialist Assistant and AmeriCorps member, which basically means I get paid a pittance for work that others do on salary,barely paying my rent and food and student loan bills which have not been deferred yet despite all promises to the contrary. (Damien Rice, The Blower's Daughter) I am in the process of applying for food assistance from the county and will not feel bad about it at all. Pretty much every AmeriCorps volunteer goes on assistance because we are absurdly poorly paid, meaning not paid at all, only given a living allowance. Allowance? What sort of living am I exactly allowed to do?
Stop it!
This is giving you the wrong impression: I do not really care about money, and I love living without having to lump myself in a category with all the other well-off middle classers who can't figure out what shade of Ugg boots to ask for for Christmas. I do not need lots of money to survive. I do not want lots of money to survive. I would love to pay off my student loans, and sure, it would be great to be able to visit my family or friends in far-off states whenever I wanted to, but I'm making a sacrifice.
Why exactly? More on that later.
The previous few paragraphs seem exceedingly boring to me and, I'm sure, to anyone who has held out hope long enough to read this far. I apologize; I am not usually so boring. Or maybe I am and no one will tell me.
I SHARED THE GOSPEL WITH SOMEONE LAST SUNDAY!!!!! It was SO amazing! He was so interested and searching but asking all these really deep and totally understandable questions and I answered what I could but it's between him and God even though I fell blessed to have even been a little part of what God is doing in his life (the guy shall be called Paul, as in -On-The-Road-To-Damascus, which is my hope for him) although I am really hoping and praying that eventually he takes the plunge and throws in his lot with Christ. This is not Aladdin, the guy down the street. Different guy. Paul is someone I work with at the cafe, and we ended up talking to about nine hours straight!!! It was so amazing. I gave him four books:
1. Pascal's Pensees, told him to read "The Wager." Got me through a lot of doubting.
2. CS Lewis' The Weight of Glory, told him to read the title essay and anything else he wants.
3. Lee Strobel, the Case for Christ. He needs the Case for Faith, although he's reading Mere Christianity which should help a lot.
4. Till We Have Faces. If this guy is brought up on the spiritual milk of CS Lewis he will have a happy and healthyinfant Christian growth indeed! I don't know what will happen with him but it is NOT IN MY HANDS! I just need to be there for him and I AM!
Oh God, oh God, bring him to You!
I will keep you updated on his spiritual journey; maybe I'm just one small part of it and he needs another 15 years of struggling... I'll just keep praying!
Love bunches!
Friday, November 9, 2007
i, l, k, j, and o while I still can
Some things cannot be put into words. For everything else, there's this blog.
Let's try that again. (1)
Some things cannot be adequately described in words; to understand any of this, you'd probably need to know at least a little about me--enough to recognize a Strongbad quote, forgive me for using the occasional "damn," or realize why a turkey curry buffet is so damn funny. But who am I to say whether any of this could mean anything to anyone but me and the few, the proud, the friends? I miss my friends. (2)
Rundown: SWF, brown hair, Christian, far more intelligent than is necessary to lead a normal life, far less motivated than is necessary to lead a normal life, watching too much television as of late and as a consequence I can feel my brain rotting inside of my head, generally too attracted to men in general, an impossible combination of cynical and optimist/idealist which is adding headache to brain rot.
I am a romantic who is, as though plotting her own Julia Roberts movie, determined to not believe in love anymore--or at least as long as it takes for Prince Charming to waltz in and move the plot forward. Except not Julia Roberts... I would definitely be Bridget Jones.
Oh where, oh where has my Mark Darcy gone? Oh where, oh where can he be? (3)
You will, of course, be kept up on all that boy nonsense that spices up my life. But there will be other tales, oh yes... tales of glory and sacrifice, of honor and betrayal, of hair dyes and stilettos. Ok, not very many stilettos. I'm eclectic, not insane. (4) I will be honest about my idiocy, vulnerable, snarky, all the things you love about me. I hope I'll write more about love than anything... hope. Can't promise anything.
The keys on my laptop intermittently blank out because I spilled a glass of water on it two weeks ago. So far, I've lost and found: i, l, k, j, and o. I only use my pointer and middle fingers of my right hand when I type, which I've been mocked for before (you know who you are, Faith), but it's because of a fateful program malfunction in 6th grade typing class which gave me a D+ in the class and crippled my style forever. I mean, distinguished my style.
I would like to sing in a band. It's turning into the only thing I can think about. I sing in the car instead of listening to the radio, or I sing along with the radio. I sneak away from my desk at work and go sing in the bathroom when no one is there. I sing quietly at my desk and I'm sure I will eventually start belting loudly in a crucial slip of couth and tact. People should be worried about me at this point.
I just love to sing. I'm not even that great--but if you sing a lot your voice does improve and I'm not terrible. My band would never make it anywhere, but who the heck cares. I don't need fame or fortune. But my insides are bursting and I don't know how to relieve the pressure, if I can't sing. What else, what else can I possible do? Writing helps.
Anyway. A quick rundown of the Men in My Life (with the ever-popular Pseudonyms of Fun and Mystery!):
-Aladdin--friendly boy-next-door turned passionate love interest, a huge conflict because we are perfect for each other except for the tiny insignificantly essential fact that he is Muslim and I am a Christian, and I don't missionary-date. I definitely missionary-befriend, however. But I'm struggling with missionary-wanting-to-kiss-him, which is probably not a real missionary thing and should be avoided. Sigh.
-Fish Guy-this is a nickname from my previous blog (which I deleted in a frenzy of life renewal that did not, in fact, get my the guy, drop 20 lbs off my body, or get me into grad school. So much for my damn renewal plan.) and a young man I might call a Person of Interest. POI. Meaning he's interesting, and a good friend, and causing all sorts of internal conflicts for me. Goodness gracious, if men knew the effect they have on me with even a few words, they'd certainly abuse their power. So it's a good thing they don't! Also he's really hot.
-Jimmy--the ubiquitous Perfect Man to whom I feel no attraction whatsoever. Also he kept touching my leg and trying to snuggle, which, ichhhhh. Ok, not so perfect. But at least well-meaning, and an easy fall-back should I decide to play it safe instead of betting it all on the chance that someone magical will come along. Poor guy... I hate to call him that. I don't deserve him. But he's not The One, or even A One of the Ones. Because I'm all about the Ones. (6)
-Dad--this is an ironic one because he's only in my life in my head, not in real life. More on that later. Also not a pseudonym.
- Chuck--no pseudonym needed as he is not a real person. He is a character on the television show with his name, and he is wonderful. Except he needs to grow as a character... I would like to see him stop being a wuss and kick some ass. Otherwise, he is awesome.
-Jim--again, no pseudonym. From the Office. Enough said.
AAAAH. Most of the men in my life are fictional or only in my head! Ok, there are more:
-Bruce--guy from work who is nice but about two feet shorter than me. Also has a girlfriend. But at least he's male and under the age of 30.
I live a sad life. (7) Hey Mr. Love... what a good song.
More to come on the fantastic wonderful women in my life next time: Jamie, Elizabeth, Celeste, sisters one and two, Mom, Cari and Angie, Song, Leah, and many more! Right now I have to go to sleep so I can work at 7 tomorrow morning in my cafe. Which is wonderful. And it's on, hey you guessed it, Grand Ave. (8)
Good night. I love you, and I'll try to love you better.
Soundtrack:
1. "Girlfriend" Avril Lavigne
2. "Learn to Fly" Foo Fighters
3. "Breakout" Foo Fighters
4. "Grand Theft Autumn" Fall Out Boy
5. "Sugar We're Going Down" Fall Out Boy
6. "The New Cancer" Panic! at the Disco
7. "More Than Melody" Anna Nalick
8. "Dreaming With A Broken Heart" John Mayer
(the phrase: "She's, like, so, whatever..." -Avril Lavigne. Oh Avril, who knew what a poet you were?)
Let's try that again. (1)
Some things cannot be adequately described in words; to understand any of this, you'd probably need to know at least a little about me--enough to recognize a Strongbad quote, forgive me for using the occasional "damn," or realize why a turkey curry buffet is so damn funny. But who am I to say whether any of this could mean anything to anyone but me and the few, the proud, the friends? I miss my friends. (2)
Rundown: SWF, brown hair, Christian, far more intelligent than is necessary to lead a normal life, far less motivated than is necessary to lead a normal life, watching too much television as of late and as a consequence I can feel my brain rotting inside of my head, generally too attracted to men in general, an impossible combination of cynical and optimist/idealist which is adding headache to brain rot.
I am a romantic who is, as though plotting her own Julia Roberts movie, determined to not believe in love anymore--or at least as long as it takes for Prince Charming to waltz in and move the plot forward. Except not Julia Roberts... I would definitely be Bridget Jones.
Oh where, oh where has my Mark Darcy gone? Oh where, oh where can he be? (3)
You will, of course, be kept up on all that boy nonsense that spices up my life. But there will be other tales, oh yes... tales of glory and sacrifice, of honor and betrayal, of hair dyes and stilettos. Ok, not very many stilettos. I'm eclectic, not insane. (4) I will be honest about my idiocy, vulnerable, snarky, all the things you love about me. I hope I'll write more about love than anything... hope. Can't promise anything.
The keys on my laptop intermittently blank out because I spilled a glass of water on it two weeks ago. So far, I've lost and found: i, l, k, j, and o. I only use my pointer and middle fingers of my right hand when I type, which I've been mocked for before (you know who you are, Faith), but it's because of a fateful program malfunction in 6th grade typing class which gave me a D+ in the class and crippled my style forever. I mean, distinguished my style.
I would like to sing in a band. It's turning into the only thing I can think about. I sing in the car instead of listening to the radio, or I sing along with the radio. I sneak away from my desk at work and go sing in the bathroom when no one is there. I sing quietly at my desk and I'm sure I will eventually start belting loudly in a crucial slip of couth and tact. People should be worried about me at this point.
I just love to sing. I'm not even that great--but if you sing a lot your voice does improve and I'm not terrible. My band would never make it anywhere, but who the heck cares. I don't need fame or fortune. But my insides are bursting and I don't know how to relieve the pressure, if I can't sing. What else, what else can I possible do? Writing helps.
Anyway. A quick rundown of the Men in My Life (with the ever-popular Pseudonyms of Fun and Mystery!):
-Aladdin--friendly boy-next-door turned passionate love interest, a huge conflict because we are perfect for each other except for the tiny insignificantly essential fact that he is Muslim and I am a Christian, and I don't missionary-date. I definitely missionary-befriend, however. But I'm struggling with missionary-wanting-to-kiss-him, which is probably not a real missionary thing and should be avoided. Sigh.
-Fish Guy-this is a nickname from my previous blog (which I deleted in a frenzy of life renewal that did not, in fact, get my the guy, drop 20 lbs off my body, or get me into grad school. So much for my damn renewal plan.) and a young man I might call a Person of Interest. POI. Meaning he's interesting, and a good friend, and causing all sorts of internal conflicts for me. Goodness gracious, if men knew the effect they have on me with even a few words, they'd certainly abuse their power. So it's a good thing they don't! Also he's really hot.
-Jimmy--the ubiquitous Perfect Man to whom I feel no attraction whatsoever. Also he kept touching my leg and trying to snuggle, which, ichhhhh. Ok, not so perfect. But at least well-meaning, and an easy fall-back should I decide to play it safe instead of betting it all on the chance that someone magical will come along. Poor guy... I hate to call him that. I don't deserve him. But he's not The One, or even A One of the Ones. Because I'm all about the Ones. (6)
-Dad--this is an ironic one because he's only in my life in my head, not in real life. More on that later. Also not a pseudonym.
- Chuck--no pseudonym needed as he is not a real person. He is a character on the television show with his name, and he is wonderful. Except he needs to grow as a character... I would like to see him stop being a wuss and kick some ass. Otherwise, he is awesome.
-Jim--again, no pseudonym. From the Office. Enough said.
AAAAH. Most of the men in my life are fictional or only in my head! Ok, there are more:
-Bruce--guy from work who is nice but about two feet shorter than me. Also has a girlfriend. But at least he's male and under the age of 30.
I live a sad life. (7) Hey Mr. Love... what a good song.
More to come on the fantastic wonderful women in my life next time: Jamie, Elizabeth, Celeste, sisters one and two, Mom, Cari and Angie, Song, Leah, and many more! Right now I have to go to sleep so I can work at 7 tomorrow morning in my cafe. Which is wonderful. And it's on, hey you guessed it, Grand Ave. (8)
Good night. I love you, and I'll try to love you better.
Soundtrack:
1. "Girlfriend" Avril Lavigne
2. "Learn to Fly" Foo Fighters
3. "Breakout" Foo Fighters
4. "Grand Theft Autumn" Fall Out Boy
5. "Sugar We're Going Down" Fall Out Boy
6. "The New Cancer" Panic! at the Disco
7. "More Than Melody" Anna Nalick
8. "Dreaming With A Broken Heart" John Mayer
(the phrase: "She's, like, so, whatever..." -Avril Lavigne. Oh Avril, who knew what a poet you were?)
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