The Critic

“You’re your own biggest critic.” Over the years, I’ve found this quote to be true and if I could change one thing about it, I would also carry on with: “…so, just tell yourself to shut the eff up.” As most of you already know, I tend to over-analyse things to the point of self-destruction.  Because of my over-ridden neuroses, I tend to end things before they even begin.  He doesn’t like me because he didn’t do this; I am going to fail my essay because I can’t find this book; I am hypocritical because of this and that makes me a bad person; I won’t get the job because I didn’t write this on my resume; If I had communicated my feelings more openly, maybe he would’ve understood…

I’m tired of living in the dreamscape of “what-if’s” and “should have been’s”.   I want to live in the now, without any regrets whatsoever, knowing that I did what I had to do – what I wanted to do – and that it was the right choice for me and to just shut the eff up about it, already!

In My Life

I have never really experienced much loss in my life.  I wasn’t born when my paternal grandmother passed away and was too young to really remember how painful it was when my paternal grandfather followed.  With the two real boyfriends in my life, I broke up with the both of them.  I made the choice to gradually move away from different circle of friends.

However, for some unknown reason, I feel as though I lost something in this whole bracelet debacle (and I’m not talking about the bracelet itself).  I know that it may come off as incredibly silly, but I had built up this person so much in my head; he was nice, smart, funny, friendly, stylish, gentlemanly…he was, in my mind, what I considered at the time to be perfect.  And, unlike others before, he was attainable and fully interested in me.  For the first month we were “together”, he fit the role entirely; he treated me well, was incredibly understanding and not at all shy with the public displays of affection.  Then, I started to see the flaws.

I think that the sole reason I’m so crushed is because I miss the man I thought he was.  With him finally returning the bracelet tomorrow, that “perfect man” I believed he had the potential of being will walk out of my life forever.  I’m not even entirely sure why it affects me so much, but it does.  A lot.  I’m tired of being a hopeless romantic.

Lately, I’ve been surrounding myself with family and good friends to get over – I don’t even know what to call it, really.  When I was with my ex, I never really considered what wonderful people I had in my life and ended up becoming a complete hermit.  But, now that I’m single, I have the time to just sit back, have a few drinks and talk.  I have never had so much fun just talking before and I think that I’ve fallen back in love with how great friendship truly is.

My Brain

There’s so much on my mind lately that I can literally feel myself thinking.  That’s probably not a good sign.

I feel as though I’m walking along a lone corridor in a cheesy haunted house at some abandoned amusement park.  The floor is rickety, the house is shaking, and there’s some old homeless guy in the corner of the room cheerfully singing Christmas carols and sporadically whistling through the gaping hole where his front tooth used to be.  Yes, my life is that classy.  You know you’re jealous.  Where was I?  Oh yes, the feeling of being trapped in a decrepit, rat-infested house with no exit sign in sight.  I’m hoping that I’ll get out before the ceiling caves in and crushes me into a pulp.

In regards to romance (surprise, surprise!) I think I have screwed myself over (in a hypothetical sense, of course); lately, I’ve been thinking strange thoughts about a certain someone who I shouldn’t be thinking about.  Not the ex, obviously.  Additionally, I’m going on, well, I guess you’d call it a “date” tonight, which I’m sort of worried about.  I get the nagging feeling that going on a date while you’re still slightly interested in someone else is probably not a great idea.  If any of you remember a ways back when I was playing the role of Creeper McCreeperson, I had a massive infatuation with this guy from school who turned out to be Dinner Guy.  I’m not sure how it happened, but this crazy infatuation turned into mere interest and now I’m not even sure I’m interested enough to go on this “date”.  So much has happened lately, that I’m just incredibly weary of all males I interact with.

In regards to work, I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach.  I felt this strange sensation of being lost.  People I know have made their way to work this morning, bright and early at 8AM, inspring children to change the future.  And here I am, in my ratty pyjamas, waking up at a-quarter-to-noon, feeling useless…and kind of smelly.  So, I did what I could do.  I rolled over and began to research other means of education to give myself a slight leverage the next time I apply for a Teacher On Call position.  Then, after I got some information on costs, contacts and applications, I did the next best thing: I opened up my wordpress and decided to bitch about the entire situation, subjecting what little audience I have to feel just as hopeless as I do.  And, yes, if you’re wondering, I am still in bed and still wearing my ratty-ass pyjamas as I type this.  True story.

I wish there were a way to shut my mind off, if only for 5 minutes, to give myself some clarity.  As of right now, my brain is The Little Brain That Could and it’s going to run out of steam.  And like everything else in life, I find that any situation can be fixed by a quote from yet another television show I religiously watch.

Barney: Your brain screws you up, Ted. It gets in the way. It happened with Robin, it happened with half-boob and it’s gonna keep on happening until you power down that bucket of neuroses, inebriation-style.
Ted: So what, you – uh – you want me to do a shot?
Barney: Oh, no.  I want you to do five shots. [pushes tray of other four shots to Ted]
Marshall: Ooh, more interesting.
Ted: Barney, I think you’ve officially…
Barney: No, don’t think. Do!
Marshall: Ted, he’s right. You over-think. Maybe, you should over-drink.
Marshall and Barney: Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!

“The Pineapple Incident” S01E10 – How I Met Your Mother

Just A Thought

When life hands you lemons, don’t make lemonade.  That shit always ends up too sour.  And how does lemonade fix everything, anyway?  I’ll still be in that effing rut!  I say take those lemons and huck them back at life as hard as you can.  That’ll teach it to treat you like crap.

The Chandler Syndrome

“Well, this was great!  I’ll give you a call.  We should do it again sometime!” – Chandler Bing (The One With the Dollhouse 3.20; Chandler tries to let Joanna down lightly, but ends up chickening out and saying that he’ll call her when he never intends to.)

So, I think I was hit with The Chandler the other day.  In early August, someone from school – who shall now be referred to as “Dinner Guy” (D.G.) – brought up having dinner together after I came back from visiting my niece on the east coast.  When I returned, I asked D.G. if he was interested in meeting up with both myself and some mutual friends for drinks.  Unfortunately, he was working; so, understandably, he amicably declined my offer with a “Next time though“.  I didn’t think much of it until a week had passed, and then another, and then another.  In the end, I came to the conclusion that he obviously wasn’t too interested and that I didn’t want to waste any time on someone who was only semi-interested in me.  I just don’t have the patience for that.

Then, completely out of the blue, D.G. sends me a message yesterday saying: “I hope you don’t hate me.”  To which I feigned ignorance and asked him why.  He brings up the fact that he never called me for dinner or drinks and refrained from giving any sort of valid explanation, which irks me, so I tell him not to worry about it. Truthfully, I did have a lot of fun.  He goes on to ask me about school and work and blah, blah, blah, then tells me that he’s off to the gym and abruptly leaves the conversation.

Five minutes later, he reappears and asks me what my plans are for the day.  Since I’m the Maid of Honour at an upcoming wedding, I am fully booked with dance rehearsals and other random things.  I then ask: “Weren’t you headed to the gym?” which he ignores and says that we should grab a drink together sometime soon.  I say that I’ll think about it and that it would only work if he actually called, which he laughs about, affirms that he will indeed call and apologizes again for the last time (again, no valid excuse).  Then, D.G. says that he is off, that he’ll talk to me later and goes offline before we can actually set a date this time.  Could he BE anymore ridiculous?

…Ok, I know that I have no reason to be upset at all about the fact that he never called.  In all honesty, I’m not.  After all, he is newly single and, like me, probably isn’t looking to jump into any serious commitment right now.  That’s reasonable.  I am painfully aware that this is an innocent conversation, but I can’t help but think that I just got hit – AGAIN – with The Chandler.  I know that dudes have a hard time committing in any sense, but – come on – seriously?  Commit to a freaking date and time, at least.  Don’t leave a girl hanging!

As Stephanie Tanner would say: “How rude!”

…And I just realized I have a lot of pop culture references in here.  My apologies for being so awesome!

Great Pick-Up Lines: Parte Siete

Me: (stumbling out of the pub toward the street to get a taxi)

Random Dude: (grabs me around the waist, pulls me against his chest, where I can feel his stiff member against my back) “You excite me. Come back to my apartment.”

Me: (rip myself from his arms accompanied by blank stare) “Um, what?!  No.”

Double-U, Tee, Eff.  I don’t think I can say any more than that.

Growing Pains

I never thought that I’d get to an age where others deem me too old to be living the life that I’m living.  I mean, yes, if I were a 45-year-old woman in a club wearing a micro-mini-skirt with 4 inch heels and couging for impressionable youngins, then, by all means, please lecture me on how inappropriate I am acting.  But I hardly think that being 25-years-old constitutes as being “too old” to party it up in a club and date people who may or may not be long-term material.

Since July, I have been bombarded with “quarter-of-a-century” jokes and ridiculous lectures about how I should be looking for someone I can settle down with.  You’re not young anymore, you can’t just date anyone.  You can’t keep up this clubbing lifestyle; your age is going to catch up to you.  You want someone you can be with, so find someone who is marriage material. Well, what if I don’t want to settle down with any half-decent, Joe-blow who just happens to cross my path?  In fact, I believe that if I don’t give myself the opportunity to see other people, I may never know what I really want over what I’m willing to put up with.  To be disgustingly cliché and quote a romantic chick-flick: “I’m still looking for something more extraordinary than that.”

I had always figured that I would get married when I was in the right mindset to do so and, truthfully, I’m nowhere near that. Reasons being: a) I still live at home, b) I don’t have a job, c) I am broke as fuck and d) I’m single.  I’m not going to obsessively search around for some financial banker or wall-street stockbroker who is willing to take care of me for the rest of my life.  I want to be self-sustaining, independant and successful.  That is something I’ve always wanted and I refuse to settle for anything short of that.  Getting married isn’t exactly my main and only goal in life; if it’s yours, well, all the more to you!  Personally, I want to see what else is out there, not just in terms of romance, but also in travel, in career opportunities, and how that can help mold me into a better person.

All this nonsense about being a grown-up really irks me.  I can honestly say that I am growing up, but I haven’t quite gotten there yet.  I want to enjoy my life and my singledom without any restrictions or limitations and I trust that I’ll make sound decisions.

This is the perfect opportunity to get to know myself better and I’m going to take it, whether or not people think I’m too old to do so.

Great Pick-Up Lines: Parte Seis

I am certain that last night had to be “Cheesy Pick-Up Line Night” because this random slutty cowboy was laying it on so thick that I was about ready to lay a smack down on him.  And not in a good way.  I’m not one to lie; he was pretty attractive with his blue eyes, blond hair and charming smile.  However, the attractive ones are the ones you have to keep an eye out for.  They’re the worst!

Slutty Cowboy (S.C.): (after minutes of chatting with him, R. & M. slyly leave me with S.C., who slides into the seat beside me) “So, how long have you been single for?”

Me: “Four months, maybe?”

S.C.: (randomly proceeds to give me a back massage in the club, followed by a random kiss on the shoulder) “So, I bet your missing these, huh?”

Me: “…?”

S.C.: “So, I’m from Calgary and I need a place to stay.  Since you live here, can you recommend a hotel?”

Me: “Not sure…um, The Ramada?”

S.C.: (smiles and laughs) “Ok, well, only if you’ll like the room.”

Me: “…??”

Me: (tipsy and sitting with R. & M. by the balcony. We can distinguish S.C. by his hat, grinding up against a random tart, leaving her to mosey over to where we had been mere minutes earlier and scanning the crowd for us.  Later, I bump into S.C. on the stairs on the way to the bathroom) “So, you’re dancing with other chicks, huh? Slutty…”

S.C.: (pulls a shocked face) “…um…”

Me: (walk away and take my seat with R. & M.)

S.C.: (puts his arm around me from behind and whispers in my ear) “Are you really mad about that?  I gave you a back massage and a kiss, you mean more to me.”

Me: (swats arm away)

Additionally, S.C. made it his mission to find drunk chicks who would buy him drinks; he suggestively lifted up his empty bottle of beer to ask my friends to buy him a refill.  I’m not certain as to how things work in Calgary, but that definitely does not work in Vancouver, buddy.  Try elsewhere.

So, boys, if you’re going to learn anything from this blog, it’s this: If you’re going to go to a club and are flitting between two chicks, don’t wear some stupid gimmick like a cowboy hat.  You’re more distinguishable in the crowd and you’re more than likely going to screw yourself over by the end of the night, both hypothetically and literally.

Happiness in a Facebook Chat

Below is a conversation I had with one of the nicest, most thoughtful people I have ever met in my entire life.  At 42 years old, he comforts and advises me like a father, just like he does for his own children.  I am lucky to have met him.

12:21am A: …Why are you up so late?
12:21am J: Don’t know, can’t sleep. What about you?
12:23am A: Me too. Everyone’s asleep. My time to strum my mandolin (quietly) and chill.
12:24am J: Ahh, I love being up late at night, when it’s so quiet.  I can finally think.
12:27am A: I used to love staying up at night. Now it’s a treat. I’m thinking about life, the universe, and everything. What are you thinking about?
12:28am J: I’m thinking about how to get my life back on track and forgetting someone who’s been really volatile for me.
12:29am A: It’s life.  Are you in the process of dumping your guy?
12:30am J: Well, I started seeing someone about a few months ago and he’s just bad news.
12:36am A: I don’t know how to convey this over a chat window, but you are an amazing, talented, bright woman, and any man would be lucky to have you in his life. If this fool is unable to treat you the way you deserve to be treated, cut him off. There is no excuse for treating a woman with disrespect- especially an amazing one like you.
12:36am J: A, you have just made my day, week, and month, possibly my life.  That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.
12:40am A: I’m surprised to hear that. I mean it. I had such a good feeling from you in the few weeks we worked in the same school.  You are a bright light. Kind, smart – Seriously. Not to mention totally gorgeous. You can have your pick of any guy you want. Sorry if I’m being too forward.
12:42am J: No, you’re not, you’re being an awesome friend and are making me feel 10x more confident in myself, which is incredibly nice of you.  Sorry if I’m divulging way too much drama.
12:45am A: You deserve better, girl. Why would any red-blooded man not want to talk to you? Communication is the essence of a sound relationship. It sounds boring but it’s true.  A good man would let you know how lucky he is to have a woman like you.  It sounds like he’s playing a childish power game with you.   …Time for me to go to bed.  Thanks for brightening my evening. I think you’re amazing. Goodnight.
12:55am J: Niters, A. You’re pretty amazing yourself!

Karma

So, I gave in and finally contacted him after a month of silence (in all actuality, my friend did on my behalf).  I felt that I needed to get some kind of closure, whether or not it was bad closure.  We ended up meeting and having a good time for the most part.  Then, he became more aggressive and strange, so I immaturely did something in retaliation for not only all the pain and confusion that he had put me through, but also for his current behaviour.  It was a triumphant moment for me, getting under his skin like that.  Unfortunately, two days later, I realized that I had left something very important to me in his car and now want it back with incredible passion.

I cannot fully fathom what is going on in his mind.  I may just be assuming (although, it is highly likely), but I believe that he is either retaining said personal effect in an effort to get me back for what I did or just really doesn’t give a crap; both reasons are off-putting.  I have texted and called to no avail.  It seems as though that item is now lost for good.  I am: sad, irritated, enraged, confused, humoured and so on.  This is some effed-up wtf-ery right here.  He has obviously won this round.  Bastard.