Dear secretary...

Dear Secretary,

We all need to vent now and then about work, especially when it is busy and stressful. The problem is that this month you complain every day about basic things that are your job. No one likes work. That is why it is called work. You are not a victim. Actually, we pay you, praise you constantly, and let you go home at 5:00pm every day.

Get over it.

Love,
The Bitch Down the Hall

nothing

My life right now is a haze of nothingness brought on by the shiny new sinus infection. The GREAT thing about a sinus infection is that an entire day can go by without any real thinking or other imprinting on my life story. I can easily sit and watch the fishbowl screen saver for hours.

The BETTER thing about a sinus infection is that I've actually had time to sleep as much as my body wants, which is a lot. Dreams have been awesome. Sex dreams, relationship dreams with friends from the 3rd grade, tornado dreams, scenerios in which I get to tell off an ex-boyfriend, and all other vivid awesomeness that comes from drug-enhanced sick sleep.

In the last couple of months, I have probably had more sex dreams than I've had in the last five years combined. That is really sad when I am only talking about 4-5 dreams total.

I can easily go months without thinking about sex more or less dreaming about it. My sabbatical from men and paralyzing fear of another UTI means that my nether regions are completely neglected. Though it is not a concern in my waking hours, apparently my body is working it out in my sleep. I have no hot and steamy dream memories to report on...sorry. Simply remembering that I had a sex dream is a big, big deal. I wonder if the swimming and green shakes has something to do with it. Or just a nice sinus infection.

Who cares why?? I will enjoy my happy dreams (with or without sex) for as long as possible! Soon life will take a turn and my dreamland will either turn stressful or disappear altogether. Maybe tonight I can outrun a tornado WITH that cute kid from the 3rd grade....

It evened out

Yes, I am back to being a happily single independent woman who does not think about men until October. (mostly) This weekend, I participated in my third wedding. It made me cry, but for the right reasons. You know... the beauty of commitment, my love for the people getting married, and all of that shit. Tears of joy helped me reach a micro-breakthrough in the journey as a single woman.

When I am in the mood to date, I look for a man. This is "a" man as compared to "the" man. Dating is a wonderful way to meet new people, learn new things, go out to new places, and have good stories to tell at dinner parties. Most of the time, dating is a tool for me to being truly living my life.

The problem with dating as a tool is that you have a much higher chance of dating a tool himself. Lower standards and an adventurous attitude means that I have little emotional commitment and little hope of finding a truly great partner in life. Such adventure led me straight to burn-out. It is time to grow up and be a woman in her 30's...to date like someone who wants a husband and children.

At least, this is what I'm thinking for now. It is a lot easier to start thinking about things like life-long commitments when I have the security of another 4 months of guaranteed singlehood. I am safe now....no men coming into my life to see the balance on my credit card or making me keep my bathroom clean. We will see how I feel in October.

Another breakthrough in my life:

I allowed myself to be a neglectful bitch to the ex-boyfriend. We are doing that "still friends" thing but he is way more into it than me. Last Friday, he had an elective surgery on his nose. He mentioned needing a ride and I said, "Let me know what time- I might be able to get you home." Well, on Thursday he called to say that surgery was at 6am. We need to leave at 4:30am. I said "NO." He tried guilt. I still said "NO."

You see, a girlfriend gets up at 4:30am to take the man she loves to the hospital. She is in love and willing to make the sacrifice of sleep even though she will not sleep again for two days (lock-in at the church). I am not in love. The man has a father who lives with him. He simply didn't want his father to take him. He wanted me. I said "no" and left him in a perceived (dad was still there) pinch the night before his surgery. We haven't spoken since (yay!).

Sabbatical Day 44

I am 1 1/2 months into my 6 month break from men and feeling my first signs of wavering.

The good news is that I finally found a birth control that works! Thank you, Jesus, for the Nuva Ring! (p.s. please send an off-brand version to help my wallet) Three weeks of perfect spot-free days and then when it is time, I experience the reliable hormonal mess of a week that is promised in the packaging.

This is my hormonal week. I am going to attribute my loneliness and desire for a man to the nifty Nuva Ring and NOT to my own emotional needs.

Yes, it is the Nuva Ring that caused me to tear up and long for a man to dance with at a never-ending wedding reception this afternoon. The Nuva Ring also made me hug my dog a little longer simply because she was sitting on the couch.

I am wavering a bit. I've longed for romance, first dates, and someone to think about. Happily, there is no man behind my feelings. That gives me hope that when the Nuva Ring mojo evens out, I will go back to my happy single woman self who feels empowered by this season of solitude.

Say "no" to sun!

Dear 30-something friends,

Am I allowed to say something if you become one of those 40 year-olds who is too tanned, too blonde, and so fake that you are ugly?

Today I was looking through pictures of women on Facebook. There is something that happens between 37 and 40 that causes women to cling desperately to an image of their 18 year old selves.

The result? Group pictures of women that are hard to make out because the blazing white teeth stand out too harshly against the over-tanned skin and platinum blonde hair. Without dark roots, it is impossible to frame their faces at all!

I am not above that late 30's panick. I can easily see myself getting a new tattoo and going red-headed in about 8 years. Does our panick also make us blind to reality? Are these women feeding off of each other's obsessions? Do none of them have a close enough friend to tell them, "Hey, you look like an over-bleached beach whore. Try going a little more natural."???

Maybe I can answer this question in 8 years. If my panicking and aging friends end up killing me in my sleep, I'll know that intervention is simply not an option.

This is not beauty. I can almost picture them tearing off their faces to reveal the lizard living under the fake skin. (does everyone else love "V" as much as I do?) Instead of looking younger, they look like drag queens.

I am NOT a workaholic

Last week was one of those busy, busy weeks. There were no interesting experiences or life-defining moments. I simply worked. A lot.

The only memories that I have of 9 days are of going to work and sleeping. Other things happened, but they must not have been important. My big life projects continued- I drank a few green shakes, swam a few times, and still didn't date any men.

Still, it is Tuesday and I feel robbed. Almost ten days of my life slipped away.

I am not a workaholic. It is a strong American value that anyone worth a shit should work hard and want to work harder. I live in a community where people work 12 hour days, go to church twice a week, volunteer, and raise their children. Oh, and the women all wake up 2 hours early to work out before their days begin. With all of their time out in the world being productive, they must look as hot as is possible!

I do not mind working hard. This month of crazy schedules and no "weekends" is not a problem. That is because I know it will end. This is a season, but it only lasts for a couple of months.

I value a different life than the one of the sainted workaholic (please note that I count volunteering and church going as part of "work" for all people, not just for pastors). It is important to work hard enough to be happy with yourself--and not to get fired. It is equally important to have time to breathe. That space to "breathe" is what happens when you go home at 5:00pm.

"Breathing" means that you are not at work physically, on the computer, or on the phone. I need a regular schedule that allows time for doing laundry, cleaning, cooking, working in the yard, swimming, watching TV, and building relationships. I actually need HOURS every day to interact with life.

The function of work is to provide us the money we need in order to live. I am not willing to sacrifice the living part of my life so that people will respect my desire to work.

What comes with this sacrifice? I am not on a fast-track to anything. I do not spend my evenings doing research or trying to be published. I say "no" and live with the judgement from others.

Judge on, world! I choose a full life over your expectations! Now I've got to get some sleep, it is going to be a long week...

Pants on Fire

There is a funny little ironic song that Christians sing to the tune of Frere Jacques or Here is Thumbkin. (if you grew up in a place that was SO uneducated that you had neither French songs, Barney, nor Silly Sing Along...it is a miracle that you can read. Congratulations on that.)

Rev-el-ation, Rev-el-ation

Twenty-one eight, Twenty-one eight.

Liars burn in hell, Liars burn in hell.

Burn, Burn, Burn.

Burn, Burn, Burn.

If you look up Revelation 21:8, it turns out that most of us will burn in hell. We just come across Liars in a light-hearted situation worthy of the song more often than, say, those who practice magic arts.

Today I spent quality time with a pathological liar. Happily, this was an easier time with her because I went into the day knowing that she lies. The first time I worked with her was confusing and draining. Here is a very short list of things I'm sure are lies from her:

1) the $$ she was saving by moving to a new place

2) the amount of stuff in her storage shed

3) what we needed to move and where

4) when and how she had a miscarriage

5) the story of a car crash (off a bridge and exploding in flames???)

6) a psychological disorder she doesn't have

7) the story of how and why she got married (a deathbed wedding- she was dying)

8) why she had to change her major/all things related to school

9) a major heart attack last week along with heart surgery.
10) a dramatic story of overcoming the court system through a public protest in the courthouse

I KNOW that she lied about the cost of her rent, reasons for moving, who she had permission from to use what trailers/trucks, who she had confirmed to help move, and all things related to today. Pathological liars are not very successful in small towns where everyone compares stories.

Is there a point to this blog other than to gossip and complain about someone? Um, not really. Gossips aren't listed in Revelation 21:8. I will say that today went fairly well for me. I prepared for days to work with a liar and went ready for the bullshit.

Some people come from families where lying was the norm and simply a flaw, like dandruff. It isn't pretty, but it is part of life. I came from a family where truth-telling was almost compulsive to the point of hurtful. Lies mess me up. When a man lies to me (in a significant way, not about my ass looking big in my jeans), the relationship is pretty much over. I try, but recovery after a big lie seems to be impossible.

Today's somewhat disabled pathological liar was okay. We are not close, so her lies are not hurtful. At least she is very pleasant and her stories are entertaining.