Poor Whit, V-day, and old folk problems…

First, a little RIP shout out to the helluva voice Whitney Houston.  Regardless of what these toxicology results determine, the event itself is a tragedy.  The music industry has lost an amazingly talented and successful artist; a mom has lost her daughter; a young 18 year old has lost her mother in the prime of her life.  It’s so very sad.

I was discussing the heavy use of drugs and alcohol among celebrities with my madré over the weekend and my conclusion was this:

I believe that everyone, at one point or another, looks for feelings of euphoria, invincibility or numbness to satisfy or counteract personal struggles.  Every one of us has these struggles, but it is the degree of them that differs.  Some may seek the advise of a friend or counselor, others may turn to retail therapy, alcohol, food, gambling, mindless sex, or other high risk activities for a distraction or temporary fix.  It is not up to us to decide what someone else needs to deal with their own struggles.

When you are in a position of extreme fame or success, whether it be as an actor, singer, athlete or successful businessman, you are under constant pressure from everyone, including yourself, to continue that success.  What happens if you fail?  What happens if you do succeed, but you reach all the goals you’ve dreamed of since childhood?  What if you had always wanted to win a Grammy, and now had 8 of them.  What’s next?  What about that dream of playing professional baseball and winning a World Series?  Check.  How the heck do you deal with the pressure of following that up with something even better?  Anyone in one of those positions has been working toward these lofty goals for decades… and when they reach them, where do they go from there?

I’m not saying it’s right or excusable to turn to any of the aforementioned activities for a higher high.  I’m just saying that I get it.  When the pressure to be greater is that intense, I bet it would be easy to lose your way.  And for that, and for Whit, I feel sad.  And that’s that.

Oh, V-day, you obnoxious whore you… 

I’ve never had a real valentine… except for maybe last year when a boy I went on 2 dates with sent me chocolates to my workplace (when I didn’t even tell him the name of the place where I worked… there was no third date…)  Maybe except for my dad who always brings me some flowers.  He’s a sweet guy.  Not the One sent me a text on the V-day we were together… he went off with friends for the weekend and left me behind… and all he had to say was “happy v-card day!”  What does that even mean?  Clearly we had surpassed that event already… Anyway, at this point in life I’m pretty much over this lovey dovey holiday as I clearly think you don’t need a special day to tell people you care about them.  BUT… and this is a giant but… this year I am participating in an awesome little ditty from the lovely Ashalah which is a sort of bloggy Secret Santa, but instead of Santa, you get to play Cupid.  She hooks you up with a stranger (scandalous) and you send a fellow blogger or blog-follower a valentine in the mail!  How cute is that?  I am super excited about mine, even if I don’t know her… because I DO know that this is her first Valentine’s out of a 7 year relationship, and I’m pretty determined to make it her best one ever.  EVER.

Fabulous?  I think so…

And lastly, a little more sad news, just because it’s Monday and we all need a little pick me up… the super cute old folks I take care of during the weekend have to move into a nursing home!  Yes, I know at first they were more clients with bowel issues and crass comments, but I’ve grown to love them both!  Basically, they can’t afford 24/7 private care anymore and need to move into a county home… which SUCKS.  You have to move your entire life to a place you don’t want to go which is about as far away from home as possible, all because you’ve run out of money.  My heart is so sad for them… Fred just told me, “I’m so depressed about it…” and Dorthy was just trying not to cry… I, of course, left them all my contact info (which is probably against the home care rules), so they can call me when they get settled and I’ll go visit them.  I’ll make Fred cookies because he LOVES his desserts and I’ll paint Dorthy’s nails because she loves my little at home manicures.  Getting old sucks, and that’s all there is to it.

I hope you all have an enjoyable Monday… you know… enjoying your YOUTH while you have it available to ya!  Maybe you’ll be inspired to be a local elderly’s valentine tomorrow… you never know…

Time to breathe…

Well, I certainly took my sweet time getting back to this blogging business!  The  past month was so insanely busy that I never had the energy to type about it all.  The good news is that I finally have some time off from work, school is finished (for now) and almost all grad school applications are in!  But enough about that…

I went out last night for the first time in longer than I’m willing to admit.  An old boy/friend was home for the holidays and motivated me to get my buns out in public.  I met up with him and a few of his friends, and a friend of a friend… a nice girl that he was conveniently smothering with his drunken advances.  This is usually reserved for me, so I was a little bent out of shape when I didn’t get the attention I was expecting.

But, like I said, she was really nice.  I actually hardly talked to him, but discussed more with her the holiday single dilemma.  She had just gotten out of a relationship of 4 years on and off where the d-bag was seeing someone on the side for some time.  More awkward is the fact that they work together and have to see each other on a regular basis.  She then told me the other girl with us had the same thing happen… a long-term relationship that was interrupted by some new bootay (all the way from Germany).  For some reason, in both these cases, these guys who slowly strung these girls along found NO issue committing to the new girls in their lives.  We discussed the ridiculousness of the “Facebook relationship” but how we secretly wished that those guys had made an attempt to publicly acknowledge our relationship… something that they had no issue with the new arm candy.

What makes certain girls “public” and others private?

Another interesting perspective was from the drunken genius I had originally met out.  While he’s a huge nerd at heart, he’s been a bit of a ladies man since college.  I learned this the hard way when I had a slight crush on him my freshman year (and by slight I mean head over heels, Prince Charming had arrived kind of crush).  DG (Drunken Genius) discussed with us his most recent “relationship” with a woman he worked with.  He explained how she was wonderful in every way, but she just wasn’t the girl for him.

Ladies, how many times have you heard this?

What makes you the right girl?  I flat out asked him if he was waiting for a halo to appear around the woman of his dreams and he said yes.  Of course he did.  For him, and so many other guys, it’s apparently all about the next best thing.

Now, does this go back to the idea of men having limited attention spans and their need for new stimulants?  Maybe… but if this is the case, then why does it seem that the girl after you is always the answer?  Maybe that just happens to me.

Obviously us as women are also looking for the right guy.  We have an idea about what we want, and our bodies have a great way of letting us know if we’re interested within a few minutes of getting to know a man.  We look for chemistry, stability, and comfort.  Sometimes that chemistry ends up being very strong with some of the most unstable of men.  And sometimes, we think we’ve hit the jackpot, only to realize weeks, months, or years later that we’ve been wrong all along.

This dating business is so damn tricky.  I just don’t understand why I keep hearing the same story from girls… “he left me for some broad… I wasn’t enough for him… one day it was great, the next day he was gone.”  Why is this becoming an epidemic?  Or maybe I’m just noticing it more?  Either way, why does it suddenly seem socially acceptable?

So, besides the fact that DG was doing his drunken sexy on this girl, I really related to her, especially when she told me what a sociopath her ex was.  So very familiar.

DG got wind of this and yelled at me for discussing my former relationship with her and told me I needed to get over it and find a boy toy.  Not a boyfriend, but a boy toy.  What DG doesn’t get is that most girls even have standards for boy toys.  He tried to set me up with several “winners” over the evening, one trying to seduce me with his Red Bull/vodka breath and talks of fraternity days and dropping X.  Winner winner, chicken dinner, clearly.  Thanks, DG.  Good try.

Conclusion?  Not much has changed since I locked myself to work and the books and neglected the social outings.  I’m just… perplexed.  Any wisdom from the bloggies out there?

Just breathe…

You know those weeks when everything just piles up and you somehow wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into?  Ah, yes… this was one of those weeks.  And I’m only saying this on Wednesday.  HA!

I’ve got some beef with the USPS, as 3 of my grad school applications were due yesterday and I only found out on MONDAY that all 3 of those schools were still missing one or more letters of recommendation.  In graduate school, they expect you to be mature and to have your shit together, so when you call them panicking about missing letters of recommendation, it probably makes you look a bit wacko and unprepared.  Being the organized OCD freak that I am, I triple checked each of those addresses, hand wrote them and put multiple stamps on the envelopes which I enclosed in a larger envelope to each of my references.  All they had to do was write the letter, seal it up and pop it in a mailbox.  Easy enough, right?  No.  Not at all.

I know my references well… and I knew they wouldn’t have screwed me and forgotten to do this, especially since I diligently checked with each of them every 3 weeks to make sure deadlines were met.  So… detective Eliza here figures that 1 of 2 entities are at fault: either the admissions offices at these schools (EVERY SINGLE ONE) misplaced the letters or the post office hates on mail that is labeled “IMPORTANT – DO  NOT BEND – CONFIDENTIAL.”  I’m leaning toward suspect 2.

Anyway… this meant that yesterday at work between plowing through emails from clients and answering phone calls wondering if we were still functioning from the snow storm (22 inches on Oct. 29 – the Apocalypse is coming, for sure),  I was blasting emails to admissions offices and my references in a momentary freak out that my applications would be trashed because they were missing one or more letters.  Luckily all of my awesome references were able to answer me ASAP to get temporary electronic copies to these schools so they wouldn’t stamp my apps with the dreaded “INCOMPLETE” from hell.  Talk about getting a girl worked up.  You spend all this time (years… YEARS people) taking prerequsite classes and volunteering and writing essays and getting people to commit to writing letters for you in the first place, and it can all get flushed down the toilet due to a post office mistake.

The lesson from all this?  Don’t be afraid to badger the admissions offices to make sure every damn piece of your application has been received.  I will surely be doing this for the next 4 due in January.  And I’ll be making these phone calls momentarily… never too early, right?  Okay, maybe a little early… happy medium, Eliza, happy medium.

And about that snow storm?  Take a look at these totals:

Talk about an ass kicker.  Made me super thankful to have my 4wd since everyone, regardless of how long they’ve lived in New England, forgets how to drive in snow during that first storm.  I even got to play rescue hero and helped a few people that got stuck, which is more than I can say for the police officer that looked at me dumbfounded while I pushed a lady’s car up a hill… thanks for the help, buddy.

In other news… totally missed having dinner with Honey Bear last night.  BUT – was happy to be in bed before midnight on a Tuesday which has definitely not happened over the past month and a half.  They did reschedule my class from last week in which the speaker never showed up, so next week will be the official last professional development trip to the big city.  Sad face.

And this – because this post is already a smorgasbord, however this is relevant to the snow storm:  what are your favorite brands for ski/winter jackets?  I was spoiled 2 years ago and bought myself a $300 Marmot jacket that I found at TJ Maxx (yes, I am a Maxxinista) for $65.  However, this jacket is size XS.  It really fits like a small, and I would be more comfortable in a medium… so a Marmot small?  I digress… this XS I pulled out of my closet, still in impeccable shape, hardly zippers over the tub-o-tummy I’m sporting.  Which now has me thinking… how the hell is it possible  that my weight fluctuates so much?  When I bought that jacket I was having a skinny streak which was mostly due to jobless stress (shouldn’t have been buying a jacket) and lots of extracurricular sexy time (and by lots I mean in short, non-sweat breaking sac sessions because let me be quite honest, because it’s my blog and I can, Not The One was a minuteman).  Maybe lots of lost calories?  Maybe.  But after I broke my ankle back in March of this year, I’ve slowly been creeping up the scale… so much so that I realize I am now about 25lbs heavier than I was at my skinny streak.  OUCH.  Yes… clearly I am not getting any sexy time in, nor have I been hitting the gym due to my serious lack in time to do anything these days.  Perhaps this is also due to the fact that I sit at a desk all day?

Uggggh.  Getting frustrated here, people.  Friends will tell me that they hardly notice a difference, as I guess with my frame I somehow even out the weight I gain so it looks more like a 5lb increase instead of the 25lbs.  But, I’m also that girl that can stand on a scale one day and weight +/- 5lbs the next day.  Why is that???  They did not teach me about this in A+P.

So, new plan.  Help me.  I have no extra cash for a gym membership and it’s getting super cold outside… which my asthma hates.  I don’t eat much junk, at all really.  I will admit to my ice cream sweet tooth but I’ve really kept it under control as of late.  I know I need to cut the carbs, but this girl loves her pasta.  My doctor suggested the Paleo Diet to me months ago as an overall cleanse since I had been so stagnate in a cast.  I’m thinking it’s about time I tried it, however the very thought of life without pasta, cheese, or an occasional sugar burst terrifies me!  Have any of you tried this way of eating?  Is it even physically possible?  Also, any indoor, limited space, low budget exercises you can recommend?  I need some serious motivation that is not related to graduate school, pronto.

And yes… I attribute at least 5 of those lbs to my 2 trips to the North End.  See here and here.

Okay, kids.  I’ll shut up now.  :)

xoxo, E.

This, too, shall pass (maybe?)

He is my ghost.  Mine.  No matter how long since I’ve seen his face, I see him everywhere.  In cars of his same make.  In men with dark eyes and dark hair.  In strangers in cities far away.  In his unique name that pops up everywhere lately.

How do you get rid of a ghost?  How do you say, “enough is enough.”?  It’s not like he’s dead.  Just dead to me.  How do you lose the thoughts around someone you really loved?  Even if he never loved you?

I was his muse.  A hiccup, if you will, between serious relationships – though he would never admit that.  He treated me as an option… except for the times he didn’t.  But that’s the thing.  You never want to be an option.  Certainly not an obsession, but a serious consideration.

How can someone be so crazy about you one minute – then not want to be near you the next?  What makes it all or nothing?  What about me just wasn’t enough?  These are questions I ask myself… still… a year later.  But the most important question I want answered is – when can I forget?  When does someone else come along with his great qualities but none of the crazy?  When will someone really love me?  Really.  Because I’m not sure anyone ever has.

And what the hell is it about him that sticks like glue in my mind?  I don’t think about other relationships like this.  Maybe because no one ever hurt me as much as him.  And believe me – I’d been hurt before.  I remember telling him that he needed to tread lightly with me, as I was weary to trust due to past experiences.  He asked me why I dated such jerks. Turns out he was the biggest one of all.

I don’t want to dig up specific stories about him, at least not right now… but his personal battle with bipolar disorder did a number on us.  However, I wonder what it was about her that made it so easy for him to leave the relationship with me that he couldn’t commit to – and fully commit to her?  Why was she better?  Why was he so careless with my feelings, yet sympathetic to hers?

I know I can’t take it out on me.  I can’t create a competition between her and I.  I don’t know her – I just know she’s younger and taller than me.  I don’t know what she’s like, or what they have together.  Maybe the answer is as simple as him and I not being right together – but they are?  To be honest, I have no idea if they are still together, or if they’re engaged, living together – who knows what.

All I know is that I did all I could to salvage our relationship.  I did so much that I compromised my needs and put his first.  He never did that for me.  And yet, I still waste so much time thinking about him.  Mostly about me not being the one for him – instead of him not being the one for me.

I’m not sure how to get over this never-ending hurdle.  I think it has much more to do with my self esteem than anything about him.  But where do I start with that?  I’ve seen a counselor – not much help on the improving me part.  How do I convince myself that I am worth the time, commitment, and love that a relationship requires?  And why should that take any convincing?  Why do I still think about a relationship that’s been over longer than it lasted?

I’m trying to focus on me: my work, school, future.  Truth is – there isn’t much time left for anything else.  And friends?  They don’t want to hear about my never-ending battle with self-loathing thoughts and my inability to get over my last relationship.  I wouldn’t want to hear it either.  I haven’t been going out much – at all.  I don’t want to run into him – or them – and if I must, I want to be in a large group of fun people or on the arm of a handsome, captivating man.  Neither of which is a readily available option at the moment.  My favorite pastime lately includes FNB – or Friday night beers with my best friend at her house, with her husband and three kids floating around.  It’s official – I’m getting old.  Ugh.  I need some changes, David Bowie.  (Yup.  Old.)

Not The One – the long and short of it…

So, I promised Brookem a doozie of a post today, and with only a few hours left in this day, I’d better get on it.  You see, reading all the relationship wows and woes of other bloggers was one of the things that helped me to move past my too damn long pity party over Not The One.  Maybe I should call him not the one, as I don’t think he’s even worthy of capitalization… but that’s a whole other post for a version of me with much more energy.

Anyway… I was doing really well with my moving past the whole woe is me I’ll never find someone else I care that much for, am so attracted to, etc. etc. blah blah blah.  I had even started moving past the bitter bitch phase into the “okay, I can finally start believing the things I’ve said about him not deserving me” stage.  Guess I should have expected one of those evil dreams nightmares staring him to pop up unexpectedly, but things like that never give much warning.  So here I am, thinking I’m making such progress when BAM! POW!  There it is.  As vivid and real as possible without seeing his face in… oh I dunno… 8 months?

I woke up in a cold sweat, almost in tears.  Awesome start to MY ONLY DAY OFF IN MONTHS.  Better yet?  A sighting.  From behind.  Approximately 45 minutes before the orientation of my new home care job.  I’m waiting for karma to be nice to me, seriously already…

So back to the nightmare.  It was along the lines of an email seeking me out to inform me that he dumped the girl he left me for, still loved me, still thought about me all the time, missed me times a million, begging for another chance, made huge mistakes, didn’t deserve me but hoped I still felt the same.  All a bunch of bullshit.  And my response?  That was the kicker.  I told him that I couldn’t do it to myself… put myself through it all again… but all those damn feelings came rushing back that I could somehow figure out how to forgive him and make it work.  WHAT!?  AM I STUPID!?!?!?  I have legitimately been trying to move on from this for over a year now, thought I had made a fair amount of progress, and then this decides to fuck with all of it.  And of course, seeing him from behind… because I knew that behind so well.  You know… the one that walked away from me.  WTF.

So, that’s that.  I didn’t have any part 2 dreams last night, so I’m hoping the same goes for tonight.  As much as I want to sit here and type out the whole story, I can’t muster the energy tonight.  I’m sorry for that.  But what I can tell you is this:  I loved him.  He not only broke my heart, but I sometimes feel like he killed a part of it, too.  You know when someone gets frostbite so bad that they need fingers and toes amputated?  That’s how part of my heart feels… not all of it, but just the edge… like he caused me so much heartache that he literally destroyed that part of my whole ability to love again.  I think that may be one of the worst things you can do to someone.

And I’m sorry this isn’t the doozie I wanted it to be, but all in due time.  I’ll try to be peppier tomorrow :)

Goodnight my little bloggies!