What's Better? Hot, Pretty, or Cute?

A couple weeks ago I was involved in a very deep, mind boggling, intense conversation mulling over the following:

Is it better to be hot, pretty, or cute?

You can probably imagine the surroundings for such a philosophical debate- a bar, Wednesday night, 4 to 2 ratio of men vs women, and possibly a round of shots had been consumed. Let me tell you flat out, it's definitely nice to be called any of the above. A friend of mine told a gentlemen once that I thought he was "adequate looking" which when verbalized in no way sounds complimentary. I believe his mouth opened in shock.

But seriously.

If you're called hot, as a woman, doesn't that sound kinda like someone is saying you're good enough to sleep with, but that's just about it? I don't know. I'm pretty sure I can't qualify for that description based on my less than flashy dressing habits, crazy hair, and inability to keep makeup on my face- thus maybe I'm biased. So, I guess if I had to choose a way to be thought of/complimented by the public, "hot" wouldn't be it. Probably not by choice. I mean really. It doesn't make sense to not want to be called hot.

Then there's pretty. That sounds nice. But that's the problem- it just sounds nice. Daisies are pretty. Sunsets are pretty. Stationary is pretty. One of those dudes from Twilight is pretty. Has pretty become a mediocre statement? If by being called "pretty" are you merely "fine" or "pleasant" and the common compliment subject? Maybe if you put pretty in front of hot and called someone "pretty hot" you'd be on to something! Take hot down a notch with a little innocence. Hmm....

And of course cute. The problem with cute is if you get called cute as a standard, you're never taken seriously. You're always the cute one. Like the guy who is always the friend. Cute implies you lack sexuality. But cute can be great when used to describe an action- like, "Girl Twentiesh is so cute when she hangs up the phone, slams it twice, and says f-u to it." Saying an action causes cuteness is a great compliment because it implies behavior leads to attract ability. Therefore in the correct context, cute is good.

So the ultimate best? To be "pretty hot who looks/is so cute when..."

This was all decided until one of the men said honestly, "When I really am in to a girl, I think she's beautiful." Moan. That's a tough standard to ever hit. But- case was quickly settled by all- being called beautiful is definitely the best.

Sucker for The Season (Cramping My Style)

I find myself falling into the holiday trap. Sentiment for no good reason wrapping me up like a tangled mess of Christmas lights. Tendency to listen to holiday music. Determined to bake all of my mother's classic cookie recipes no matter how many Sunday afternoons I must spend with the mess of flour. Wishing for snow even though it means scraping my car and hours added on to the commute. A warm, loving glow wanting to hug everyone up around me (well, only the people I actually love, I'm not a hugs-for-all type of girl). Sucked into romance. The urge to watch "The Holiday" and "Love Actually"- which summed up all together this has a dangerous impact on my sarcastic nature. How can one be sarcastic when listening to "Dreaming of a White Christmas" and thinking about fires and tradition and the Christmas Eve an ex bought my dad a case of wine and I got so plastered I passed out on the bathroom floor where no one could find me?

Oh wait, that brings it back down to earth for me. Whew, thank goodness I'm still in here somewhere.

Me. Version 2.0

I have a distinct and clear understanding of a personal metamorphosis. I half expect to look in the mirror in the morning and see an extra appendage or new face or something (hopefully not Kafka's vermin). An odd day-to-day feeling most definitely. Never before can I remember being so in the moment of understanding. Most of the time I'm too in awe of what the hell is going on around me to be self aware. Who has time to notice themselves when there are Tiger Woods fire hydrant accidents and John Mayer's dating life and that guy at the club with ridiculous triceps and Black Box wine? Much too much to notice. In theory of self actualization as we age we look back and see in retrospect points of change, evolution, maturity. Hopefully learn from bad fashion mistakes. Hopefully growth in relationships. Hopefully the ability to understand where you've gone wrong. But I feel it all today. And I've been feeling it in the moment for awhile. As if I've shed a skin or something and am exposing the new stuff to the elements of life. I don't know what this means, besides it's very different. Could this be a one third life crisis? I have been thinking about getting a dog....if I start buying plants somebody should intervene.

Figuring it Out

What Do Your Texts Say About You?

I wish I didn't have to bring this up. No secret to readers of this blog- I have a curious admiration/hate relationship with the text message. A wonderful tool when running late, struck with a funny story that must be shared immediately, or just a nice thought once and awhile. Pictures can be fun. A little gift of technology. Evil hand when abused. The accessibility is like a constant temptress to over-sharing, under-relying, and dehumanizing relationships. Everybody is at reach and on call at all times for better or for worse. Now if you happen to fall dead (excuse me for being blunt here) rather than worrying about people going through your papers...ever wonder what your text messages say about you? Could our living legacy be left to a train of text message conversations?

If a stranger were to read your chain of texts, what would they see? You think I'm going to tell you what mine say? Think again. Get your mind out of the gutter- mine are fine. I'm a good girl. As long as the phone is away from me during an Ambien episode I stick to the basics, sarcasm, and the occasional surprise. But other people- whoa- I'm pretty sure there is some incriminating and eyebrow raising activity.

Certainly something to think about though, isn't it?

If I Were in Charge of the World

At some point in my early educational years I was given the assignment to write a poem titled "If I Were in Charge of the World". I had actually been highly anticipating this assignment for years- as my older sister crafted hers years ahead of me I couldn't wait until I got my assignment. Who doesn't want to be in charge of the world? I really felt akin to the idea.

When I finally got my chance to prove to the world the rules I could craft to make living much more enjoyable, I had things like "If I were in charge of the world, there'd be no fat grams, no puking, and everyone would feel loved." Ah, the things the mind of a pre-adolescent comes up with. Although I still agree to those basics. How great would it be if nobody puked? And if we didn't have to worry about fat grams? And of course, everyone should feel loved.

As an adult, I'd probably add a couple things. Like having success in life be part karma system- you can't be truly successful unless you do good things and are a good person. And everybody gets to pick one thing to be really talented at (I don't think it's fair that some people have all the talent). And that we all eventually figure it out before it's too late. And everybody everywhere gets 4 weeks vacation and 4 roundtrip tickets to anywhere (doesn't make any sense to have a giant world and no money or time to see it). And for every bad thing that happens to you the equivalent good thing happens to balance it all out. And boys are no longer stupid. And you get shocked if you use more than 3 exclamation points in one email (punctuation abuse is a crime).

Who Is In Charge Here?

Rifling through old things yesterday I happened upon an old notebook from college. Never a diary keeper (way too dangerous to have all those real thoughts written somewhere) I had the habit of an idea notebook. The non-assuming Apple logo cover made it look like some computer manual, but inside hid instantaneous thoughts I felt the need to record should they have the promise of an idea.

On one page I wrote simply:

I think I am disillusioned.

Yet under it, who knows how long the above thought held real estate, I wrote:

I realized I am not disillusioned. The disillusion is who is in charge of your life.

What did this mean anyway? Why was I thinking this? What had brought me so disenchanted, so down to earth in thought? But then it appears I was corrected. That something caused my eyes to open in understanding where charge of life came from- which- I've come to accept- is me. Scary, but true. The illusion is always other factors take hold of your life- your job, your lack of job, your boyfriend, your husband, your lack of either, the children, the dog, your parents, your debt, America, the weather, Katie Couric, the sales at Victoria Secret, the television show Lost. Whatever. We blame it all on controlling what essentially we only control.

Interesting how we forget these simple things. Time to step back and suck it up.

Lessons Learned Over A Weekend

1) Different is good

2) Being wrong sometimes makes everything right

3) There are cheesy people everywhere. Thank goodness, as it gives us something to laugh at

4) I am stubborn

5) You know you're getting old when you wake up before 7am on a weekend

Dating Dealbreakers- That I Cause

Because it's always good to think about both sides of the story, I began to think about dealbreakers I cause. What are the things that I do that cause a man to wave their hand and say, "Next please!"

A List of Things I Do to Break the Dating Deal

1) She does not maintain well manicured toes and fingernails. I don't. I don't get how people have time for this.

2) She's got an ugly competitive side in card games. I'm not proud of this. I think it's genetic. I get actual anxiety when someone is playing who doesn't understand how.

3) She makes me feel guilty for eating fast food. Sometimes I may not say anything, but you can always see it in my eyes.

4) Sometimes when she talks it doesn't make any sense.

5) She's horrible with direction. Men really can't stand this. I think it's a brain defect- I was premature.

6) She also knows nothing about basic car mechanics and refuses to learn. True.

7) It's like she remembers every little detail long-term but nothing short-term.

8) She isn't bubbly. Or the life of the party. I got a Bachelor of Science for heaven's sake- I'm supposed to be standing in the corner.

9) She won't use a dishwasher and leaves the room if I unload it- which is very weird. (I loathe the sound of filmy glass against skin)

10) She can't do anything straight- park, cut paper, hang a frame. I blame it on being ambidextrous. I'm in constant confusion.

11) She refuses to wear a sports jersey. Call me no fun, but it does not fit into my personal style guide.

12) She points out bad television or filmmaking while I watch it. I have gotten MUCH better at this- now I just remove myself from the situation. Don't make me watch it, as I can't hide my feelings.

And, and I think that's enough pointing out of my own flaws for one evening.

Dating Dealbreakers

Recently on NBC's comedy "30 Rock" television show writer Liz Lemon publishes a book revolving around dealbreakers in dating. These are the behaviors that men or women exhibit essentially putting a halt to any continued involvement. A dealbreaker is that final stop sign in what could have led you down an extremely steep and rocky road. You throw up the red octagon and back away from the perpetrator (otherwise known as the man/woman you were seeing). An example in the show:

"If your man disappears and then shows up after 7 months of no contact....That's a dealbreaker ladies!"

Pretty obvious standard. Got me to thinking...what are my personal dealbreakers? I should be able to collect some from, oh, the last 15 years of my life (had my first steady boyfriend for the 4th-7th grade). I'm not going to suggest all of these are necessarily fair for the entire dating public, but as Socrates suggests- know thyself. And I know my dating self pretty darn well by now.

An Incomplete List of Dating Dealbreakers (continually evolving with experience)

1) Threatens to leave me because of my hair (5th grade, true story)

2) Suggests a threesome with one of my friends

3) Wears more jewelry than I, and/or any of it is 18k gold or from a trip to Cancun

4) Spends more hours per day on television, non-work related Internet, or video games than on any other activity

5) Eats like a slob. Can't handle it.

6) My 5 year old niece has greater spelling and sentence structure capabilities

7) Isn't nice to the elderly

8) Suspiciously elevated levels of aggression/jealousy/anger

9) Thinks women have life too easy

10) Text messaging is his primary form of relationship contact

11) Quotes movie lines for the majority of his thoughts

12) Shows zero signs of ever reading a book

13) Uses bathroom humor around me

14) His life plan/goal is to win the lottery

15) Has never loved anyone

16) Doesn't have a car (unless he lives in NYC or Paris, sorry, dealbreaker)

17) Intoxicated more often than sober

18) Absence of common courtesies

19) He does something my mom wouldn't forgive

20) Isn't sure if he has children or not

Wow, that's a really good start!

If You Continually Make the Girl Next to You Leave..You're Doing Something Wrong

Last night while at happy hour I endured an all too typical scene. Myself and my fair-eyed beauty friend sat on our favorite bar stools enjoying rewarding cocktails and deep conversation. Well, some fluffy conversation as well. We're sociable girls. Open to public engagement and talking with strangers. We are not by any means the girls shooting daggers to anyone looking at them or attempting innocent converse. We're also not the girls begging for attention with hair flips or what have you. I'm in public because I want to be. I want the experience of my surroundings, whatever they may bring.

However, there are boundaries.

As I chatted innocently with some gentlemen beside me on similar business matters, my poor friend was left to fend for herself on what appeared to be an uncomfortable and forced conversation. I eventually noticed she was desperately trying to part with her conversation. I did all the telltale signs a friend does to bail another out of this situation.

Step 1: In a clear and pointed voice to all around, "Well, we should go. Let's get the bill."

Step 2: Getting the bill quickly and attempting to leave our seats as he continued to talk to her.

Step 3: Leaving the bar as he tried to talk her into staying.

Giant clues here. If you actually make a woman/man leave the bar because you overwhelmed them with uncomfortable or unwanted communication- you're doing something wrong. Even more giant clue is if it happens to you more than once in an evening. And eyewitnesses have assured me this particular fella I speak about continued his detrimental pattern throughout the night.

Social cues are so useful. Can't we just all get along and drink in a bar in harmony?

If You Want to Know the Truth- Say it Out Loud

Sometimes it just takes saying it out loud to see the facts.

Those instances you mull over in your head, deciphering with your own filters of excuse to try and reach a conclusion of why or how- guess what? If you take out any excuse words, face a friend, and actually let the 5-8 word sentence of pure fact vocalize out of your mouth you'll be amazed at the simple truth you arrive at. It's scary. But as I discovered last night, effective. Saying it out loud quite clearly defines the truth. Like it or not.

The Unabashed Hope I Imagine in Couples Walking

Along the path of my 4 mile runs I encounter multiple sets of couples walking the trail. So interesting, these couples. In the brief moment I have to mentally snapshot their interactions, their facial expressions and their behavior, I draw my own conclusions of their fate. Most often my conclusions fall in the hopeful, "Diamonds are Forever" commercial type spirit.

In these couples walking I imagine that surely he tells her "goodnight" every night. That she gladly makes him breakfast on-the-go each morning- not because she has to- but because she wants to. This couple walking ahead have unspoken mutual respect, a bond tied by passion and truly taking the time to know one another through the passage of time. They would never hurt one another, they will always challenge the other to grow and prosper, and as they wake up to face another day they each understand the blessing in he/she who lays across the bed. What a beautiful life this couple has! And they have taken it upon themselves to proclaim their perfect life together by walking together as I run solo past them.

Of course this is mostly hope.

Hope that the strangers surrounding me have what I imagine to be perfect. But in my perfectly imaginative stories of couples who walk together, I am able to hope that such a thing even exists. As I never will be one to walk along a path - I always run- walking is so dull. But perhaps I someday will be one half of the couple running who has all that I think that can be.

Doesn't Anyone See How Weird Celebrity Perfume Is?

Somebody needs to speak out on this issue. My heart broke when a seemingly credible actress, Reese Witherspoon, was recently spotted with her own perfume ad in one of my beloved magazines. I do not understand the allure of celebrity endorsed perfume!

What a celebrity endorsed perfume says to me is:

1) With this perfume I'm trying to convince you that you will have a life like mine (the celebrity)

2) This is how I, the celebrity, smell and now you can smell like me

And why would I want to smell like another person? Why do I want to look at Beyonce, wonder what she smells like, and purchase her bottled up bath water? I want to smell like a beachy sunrise or a rose petal or crushed vanilla bean- not a human being!

This is so utterly disturbing to me.

I Don't Even Believe Compliments. That's an Issue.

Being complimented is like having a golden halo beam down on you while angels sing. Who doesn't love to be complimented? It feels absolutely fantastic. I think. I don't know, because I'm having a hard time believing them. It's like a softball hitting my glove and bouncing into a puddle. I've built up an immunity to compliment receiving.

The problem is I don't believe 'em unless they come from my toddler niece and nephews. Lately I've been lucky enough to have a real adult throw around some pretty heavy compliments and I can only laugh as if it's a joke in irony. Therefore not only am I not getting the compliment high, I'm awkwardly unable to respond in an appropriate manner. Instead I'm looking around for the hidden camera, for Ashton Kutcher to jump out of the bushes announcing, "You've been punked! No way are those compliments real!" And then the viewers at home laugh with Coke Zero shooting out of their noses for the humor in the girl who believed the compliments. As if!

Is this a product of age? How did I become compliment jaded? Who can I blame for this?

Dear October 2009: You Have 4 Days To Redeem Yourself

Oct 2009 has not been my month. Paradoxically it has been my month in some ways. Let me explain...

Well, there isn't much to explain.

October 2009 will forever go down as October Evil 09' in the history of my life. Look for t-shirts at your local Hot Topic. This after that after this and I'm starting to believe October has something against me. After all, this month has sucked for me for the last 5 years, so I'm not being dramatic here (I will spare you the rundown of how each individual October has pitched me with a devil fork). I think next October I'll take a month vacation in attempt to break the hex. Then I could at least blame Amsterdam and loose laws.

The odd part is that some really cool, good, widely appealing things have also happened this month. Some fantastic things. Maybe these "things" seem much more wonderful when compared to the bad, but heck, I'll take it. I'm living a teeter-totter of bad versus good experiences and I can't decide which is winning. I am determined to make these last lingering days count.

For humor and reflection, I'll list some sound bites/impressions/commentaries directed my way this month which still hang in my mind:

1. You are the galaxy's trashcan

2. I've been sick and I blame you (from the janitor cleaning my office)

3. Um yeah, I think you could use some highlights

4. You sound pathetic

5. If you die, don't sue me (which would be hard considering I'd be dead)

I'd Love to Blog But...

For the ultimate in excuse list building,

I've been enjoying:

1. The H1N1. Super fun. Sexy too. People stare be down in public like they're going to stake me.

2. Endless work in real life

3. Unexpected family emergencies

4. Traffic

5. Wine and vodka withdrawal

A Rear View Mirror for My Personal Blind spot?

How does one get rid of their personal blind spot? The things that everybody else sees but you don't? With driving it's easy. If you miscalculate something in your blind spot, well, often you hit it. Hopefully you can avoid collision by a passenger warning you or dutiful checking of all mirrors from all angles. There are tried and true ways of getting around the driving blind spot- because we all know it's there.

In life though, it's not as easy. Something may be happening to you that you are completely blind to. Everyone else can see it- they may even try to tell you- but there's no handy mirror to shine the truth in your face. They could be screaming in your face, warning you of the danger, and still you are incapable of seeing what they see. And in many cases, you have no chance to see it until CRASH you've been hit. Damage done. Insurance premiums up. Rehabilitation time helps, acting as the hands putting together the puzzle of truth. But again, this happens in recovery. I'm looking for preventative measures. A personal rear view mirror alerting me to sneaky dangers I best swerve away from.

Just a thought.

Thanks H1N1 for Ruining My Weekend

2 boxes of Sudafed and 3 bags of throat lozenges later, I believe I'm ready to admit this may not be a cold. This "thing" has really put a damper on my life. As in making me unable to do anything. 5 days of unproductive weakness wishing I could just go into a coma until it's all over. How about that modern medicine? Why not a temporary coma shot when the flu attacks us? That, would be useful.

Facebook is Meaner Than High School

Have you ever thought about how mean Facebook is? It's the ultimate clique! When people send me a friend request and I question 1) Who are they? 2) Why do they want to be my friend?-I'm enveloped by a huge sense of guilt if I don't accept their friendship. It's easier to just avoid someone in person without the big denial of "ignore this friend request." Maybe they won't notice, but then again, maybe they have a voodoo doll of me to punish my denial. I do have a pretty bad earache and fever today...suspect....very suspect. H1N1? Nope, Facebook retaliation.

Then there is the whole relationship status issue. This just goes way too far. Nobody needs to know if I'm in a relationship, single, dating three people, a hermit, a polygamist, etc. And nobody needs to know how often this changes. If you are in a committed relationship and don't "declare" on Facebook, then your significant other thinks you're hiding something! It's a lose lose situation. But when it doesn't work out because he started an emotional affair with one of your other Facebook friends via your wall- your whole network gets to witness you breaking up.

Of course there is the option of not using Facebook at all. Why complain about something I can change? But not using Facebook is like not having a phone. Society will shun me and I'll no longer have any friends at all. I just want everyone to get along, be nice, and not be personally humiliated. And, not be tagged in unflattering photos.

Single Girls Do Not Want to Steal Your Boyfriend

It's come to my attention recently that single girls raise the security level up to red in mixed social situations. And I feel discriminated against.

Contrary to what you may believe, I have zero interest in stealing your boyfriend. Because of my single status, I do not believe I should be quarantined away from all males just so you can feel safe. I act no differently to friendly males when in or out of a relationship. In fact, I suck at flirting even with men I like, so my being within 30 ft of your boyfriend is not going to cause some sort of outbreak of crazy single girl hormones poisoning the men around her.

Another reason I'm not going to steal your boyfriend? He's your boyfriend. Used goods are not appealing. Nor is being the flavor of the day. Nor are weak men. There is not one attractive reason to burglarizing a boyfriend. I'll pay full in cash, thank you. And I don't buy fakes. Just because I am not in a Facebook announced committed relationship does not mean I don't have my own things going on anyway. Please. Being jealous over harmless, goofy girls is so 1998.

I Am Ok Today

Sometimes it's an amazing moment to really realize that I'm okay. I really am. And yesterday I felt an epiphany on how very happy I am. Stresses and mishaps and disappointments can muddle everything up to convince me life is cloudy. Yet yesterday in the solitude of crisp air and a serene 4 mile run I realized how content I am. Life is not bad when the clouds clear. Not bad at all. Call it fall sentimentality, but I am very blessed to have a ridiculously large and loving family. Nephews and a niece that squeal with excitement to see me. Grandparents I completely admire. Friends who bring laughter and years of understanding me. Random sprinklings of people that come through to make life interesting. Red wine. Pretty good hair. And when I hear the news of an old high school friend dying tragically in a car crash...I can't help but cherish all that I have today. What I have is so much more than what I don't.

Today, I am ok.

When a Stranger Says Something and You Pretend You Don't Hear

I'm a horrible person.

The other day after a rather harrowing trip to Target in search for classy but appropriate appetizer ideas and nice fall colored napkins for a small party, I was in no mood to talk. Kept changing my mind on the appetizers and the napkins looked like a first grader designed them. After more than an hour in that store, I walked out to find darkness, rain and cold. Of course I could only remember the general direction of my car, not the specific area. So I made my mad dash in hopes of miraculously landing in front of my car when a guy behind me exclaimed loudly,

"Wow! If it was any colder it'd be snowing!"

Was he talking to me? Because he said it like he was waiting for a response. Only clearly I did not look like a conversational person running beeline through a packed parking lot cursing that my car couldn't locate me rather than the other way around. There didn't seem to be anyone around me he could have been talking to. And he was kinda close behind me. I glanced in my peripheral and found no one to take the blame for the very awkward and heavy silence following his non-returned comment.

Alas, I found my car. As I opened the door I took a sneak peak at the stranger still quite close behind, and yup, sure enough he was talking to me. He huddled up in his coat and soaking beard and ignored me right back. And now I'm that mean person who is too self absorbed to take a moment to chat with a stranger.

But come on...talking about the weather? How cliche.

Couldn't Have Said it Better Myself

I had to post this little bit of genius found in the New York Times yesterday.

Writer Benedict Carey, in the opening paragraph of his October 5th article "How Nonsense Sharpens the Intellect", wrote the following:

"In addition to assorted bad breaks and pleasant surprises, opportunities and insults, life serves up the occasional pink unicorn."

How fitting of a life descriptive! Isn't that what this living thing is all about? Bad breaks, surprises, happiness and doldrums- and those very odd moments that really make you wonder if living kind is one big joke. Or a TV show ala "The Truman Show" some other species watches to mock us and our ridiculousness.

And, if you read the rest of the article, I like the suggestion that my accumulation of oddities and unexplainables makes me smarter.

Link to New York Times Article

Signs You're Going Through a Breakup

You know you're going through a breakup when....

1. You find yourself listening to Jordin Sparks "Love is a Battlefield" and imagining yourself as the main character in the music video. I'm getting my armor Jordin. I'm getting it.

2. You make fast friends with a 60 year old who is going through his second divorce. Kindred spirits.

3. You no longer eat meals, because you remember it was your ex who reminded you to eat.

4. You're making plans with the neighbor boys for "winter activities"- including sledding, shooting a music video, Balderdash, and bowling.

5. You'll probably actually read a book this weekend. Yup. Read a book this weekend. Paint a giant L on my forehead if you'd like, but I like reading and am standing up for it now.

6. You like work. Really like work. Because he was never at your work, so you can't miss him there.

Thank You Crazy Man At The Bar

Dear Crazy Man At The Bar,

I want to thank you crazy man. While others may fear you, run away, scoff at your ludicrous stories- I, however, feel blessed by your presence. Yesterday when I took that bar stool at 4:30 in the afternoon , I could not know you would sit next to me. When you told stories and lied about everything you were (37 rich and retired from a "secret" job you weren't at liberty to reveal) it brought great joy to a day that brought me great pain. While you, crazy man, showed me your giant gold cross and explained your Italian Roman Catholic beliefs (although you appeared of middle eastern dissent) and I made fun of your lies straight to your face, you did not falter. And that, crazy man at the bar, was really funny. And when you showed me your hospital logo embroidered pull over as "evidence" of your secret medical job and I wondered if wearing Hudson jeans made the world think I was the designer, you barely even noticed my mocking. Crazy man, when you left to find good wholesome farm girls in St. Paul bars, please know that you made me laugh when I did not know I could laugh. You crazy man at the bar, you of all people, made me feel better when my heart was breaking. At a bar in the early cold evening of a Sunday.

Sincerely,

Girl Twentiesh

The First Step to Navigating the Bar Scene Single Again

Very recently I've become 2-1 = me. Which to the greater society lends me the heavy label Girl Single. A silent tattoo for the world to judge. I can get into that another time. Religious readers may be confused. For now I'm focusing on my baby steps back into the world as a loner: the bar scene.

Uh.

I love to go out. But we all know what happens when you go out. Single or not- you're "in the scene" and out there for people to size you up. I prefer the warm and cozy protection of knowing I'm taken. How easy is it to turn someone down when the first thing you say is, "I have a boyfriend." But now I have to navigate alone, shield less. Of course I can come up with my own ammunition, like an old one I used to use, "I really hate small talk." But, unless I want to be single forever, I have to actually talk to people. I'm just so terribly bad at the entire game! And it doesn't help when the first guy to make his move strikes, surely I'll imagine my ex doing the exact same thing to some girl in another bar. Ouch (of course she won't be nearly as cute). I know some girls dream of going out at flirting with single guys- those girls are married. Flirting for one day is an experiment, flirting for 2 years is a chore.

But, tonight is the night. It can't be delayed much longer. As soon as I enter that bar I will be officially coming out as Girl Single. I may only last an hour. Or I may drink 4 glasses of wine in 20 minutes. One can only guess at my coping strategy. I will try to stay strong. Baby steps. This will take awhile to navigate again- and God knows- I'm horrible with directions.

In Case You're Wondering, MSN Solves Breakup Blues By Zodiac

Thank goodness for MSN and their trusty relationship advice! While reading the often disappointing msn.com homepage this morning for something to catapult my day into production, I was so very relieved to find out that I can learn how to survive a breakup by my zodiac sign! So, not only can "What's your sign?" be the conduit into a relationship, but your pathway out.

Here are some tidbits of the genius insight they have found:

ARIES: Your pride is hurt, you yell a lot. Basically you freak out. They suggest your friends just let you. Sure they'll stick around for support while you're going bat-shit.

TAURUS: Major trauma for you- you won't handle it well. You're supposed to try and be like an Aries. Don't be yourself and you'll be just fine.

GEMINI: You hate when things aren't "normal"- you're supposed to multitask. They suggest scrapbooking. Good idea, scrapbook all the photos of you and your boyfriend who dumped you. That'll make ya feel good.

CANCER: They suggest "showing your ex that life goes on!"- that's right - revenge! Get really drunk and flaunt yourself at every bar you know he frequents. You won't look stupid at all.

LEO: Proud Leo's need to celebrate with a bottle of wine. Drinking is a fantastic way to forget about the pain for a couple years.

VIRGO: They suggest to be logical- the person was deadweight. Act like nothing happened. Yeah Virgo! Continue to sequester your feelings like you've done your whole life and further alienate yourself from the world.

LIBRA: Apparently Libra's break-up a lot because of indecisiveness, so they suggest to just party and forget about it. Good advice- never making any decision and pushing it under the carpet as "habit" is a fantastic way to move on! How attractive for the next person.

SCORPIO: Apparently Scorpio's turn breakups into massive regrets and beat themselves to a pulp over it. They suggest you "pretend it never happened"- it'll surely be easy to forget your 3 year relationship with meth or something. It'll be like it never happened!

SAGITTARIUS: Apparently you lucky Sag need to actually feel the breakup because you'll be a better person. Be careful though, as they suggest you may become Bipolar.

CAPRICORN: You prefer in life to be part of a relationship- so once your heart is broken, they suggest you go to an event you'd usually go with an ex alone. Perfect. Then you can see your ex with his new girlfriend and you'll feel so much better. And he won't think you're stalking him either.

AQUARIUS: This is the best. You're supposed to "provide yourself a safe place" so no one can see you hysterical. Basically suggesting rehab or a mental institution- you might want to pre-book.

PISCES: You really are the lucky sign, as "your soul knows the truth." You're supposed to "do what you want to do- not what you think you want to do." Sounds super easy. Get a lobotomy, stop thinking, and let your soul lead the way.

If you're interested in reading the full article so you can get even more helpful breakup tips....

After a Breakup: Survival by the Zodiac

When the Daughter is a Lost Cause

Parents are the people we go to for unconditional pep talks. To assure us there is always hope, to be truthful but our greatest cheerleader, to help us wipe away the tears of life's unfairness and boost us back to functionality.

Only, I think mine have given up on me.

Which basically means I'm a lost cause.

Maybe there is a reality show for me.

(Granted, I only have half a set of parents. Mom in heaven is probably cheering me on, but it doesn't do me much good down here)

But I'm pretty sure my father is just wondering to himself why he couldn't have a normal daughter that either worked her way through law school or got married and had a kid or two. Like her sister. I see his head shaking, wondering where he went wrong? Could the Army have saved her? At least she'd have no problem finding a husband there. It's getting late for me to do anything normal with my life. He's lost the ability to sympathize with my whining and instead has resorted to agreeing with me. Which...doesn't really work the way I want it to. If I'm telling my dad life sucks- he's not supposed to tell me it does! He's not supposed to say, "Yeah, I wouldn't want my life that way." Now where can I go to with my woe is me act? I guess I could create an alter ego on facebook and get all inspirational friends from churches and born agains and weird people who are always ecstatic about life. Surely I could garner a little selfish support from them.

Or- I could auction myself off on ebay? Lost Cause for sale. Guess there are options.

Too Confused to Think

I can't write anything. I can't contribute my self-mocking prose to the blogosphere today. I'm afraid anything that comes out will be too shockingly true because I'm too confused to make fun of anything.

Hopefully tomorrow I'm cured.