10 Things Not To Get Me For Christmas

10. A fur coat. (It's not so much an animal rights thing as it is a I've never seen anyone wear one and not look like they are trying to be an German Countess thing)

9. A personalized license plate. (If you have to ask why-- then you probably don't know me well enough to buy me a present in the first place)

8. Wonder Woman Underoos (Any member of my family would be thrilled to explain this one to you as it's almost a Christmas tradition in our household. First we have the hershey kiss countdown and then we have the telling of the time Sarah cried)

7. Cabbage Patch Kid Bunk Beds (I know you wouldn't want to duplicate something I already have! Of course, I never got to use them as my parents broke them on Christmas Day only to never get them fixed, but the ensuing 18 years or so have clearly erased the bitterness from my mind)

6. A Nose Flute (Sadly, I already have one of these as well. What can I say? Even "santa" gets a little desperate every now and then)

5. "A.L.F." on DVD

4. Any movie or books about fiesty old people. (I don't know who decided that making up stories involving cranky people past their prime was a great method for entertaning the masses, but you owe me 2 hours of my life back for "Driving Miss Daisy"-- and even though I never saw "Grumpy Old Men" or the classic, "Grumpier Old Men" I feel you owe me something for them as well....mostly just for the fact that they exist.)

3. No theme purses. (The rare person other than me can pull it off. However, I am not one of those people-- nor do I have any interest in being one of those people)

2. An ice cream scoop (OK, this one isn't really true. At this stage in my life, it would be great to get a new ice cream scoop. But I mostly just brought it up to point out that someone gave me an Ice Cream Scoop for my HIGH SCHOOL GRADUATION. What kind of thought process went into this? "OK, let's see.....she's 18, she's going off to college, what can we get her that will really send her on her way towards success?" Unless of course the goal was to send me on to success in gaining the "freshman 15" -- then I will have to say: Job well done, sir!)

1. Dating/Relationship Manuals of any kind. (I don't care if it's "Sole-Searching: The Art of Judging Men by Their Shoes" or "Almost Three Decades Alone! Do You Feel Like a Failure Yet?" or even "He's Just Not That Into You-- Yeah You. Hey! You! I Really Do Mean YOU!", do us all a favor and leave it on the shelf)

drabbles

I have a million different notebooks with a million different scribbles in them. I'm always finding old ones whose existence I've completely forgotten about shoved under my bed, stuffed into a drawer or crammed in between two books on my book shelf. And just for good measure, there are usually loose pages scattered in the mix as well.

I love finding these notebooks-- because it almost always means I'm going to find a "ramble" that I've completely forgotten that I'd written. It has occurred to me more than once in the past that if I died in the near future (and my preoccupation since childhood with planning my funeral is another topic for another day), whoever cleans out my room is going to get an eyeful-- especially if they don't know that not everything they read is fact. Rants about frustrations lay side by side with abandoned stories. It's the muddle of my brain.

For example, here's something I found on a scrap of paper in my desk today:


When I was 10, I couldn't wait to be a grown up. Being a grown up meant wearing clicky shoes whenever you wanted, wearing your Sunday dress all day because you were old enough not to mess it up. It meant my brother and sister not bossing me around anymore. At least that's what I thought it would be about. The funny thing is, now when I wear clicky shoes at work I wish they wouldn't make so much noise in the hall. I can't wait to get my "Sunday" clothes off when I get home, and my brother and sister still occasionally boss me around.

It's funny how we don't even know what the right things to look forward to are.


I don't remember what even prompted those thoughts....or why they are on a random slip of paper. Chances are I scribbled them while waiting for Bobby at IHOP one night or sitting in the courtyard during my lunch hour when Susan and Jessie weren't there.

They are the random thoughts that anyone has a million of as the day goes by. Don't ask me why I feel the need to record the snapshots of opinion that appear in my brain. But I'm sure I've written about it somewhere.

All I Want For Christmas

Ah, Christmas.

There are many, many glamorous aspects to the Christmas season if you are a career gal like myself. I've been really into lists lately, so inspired by a truly fabulous episode of The Office and a personal office that is perhaps unparalleled in holiday cheer-- I've decided to make a list of my favorite things about work during Christmas

*First on my list has got to be seasonal clothing of any kind.
Now, there are some amateurs out there who may think they are being festive with their red sweaters and green slacks. But to those people I pose these questions: Where is your battery operated sweatshirt? Where are your jingle bell socks? Did you honestly think that winter boots would suffice when there are Santa slippers out there to be had? And what are those gold bead earrings in your ears? A true aficionado would know where to find her Christmas light earrings that play "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas". Who do you think you are fooling? Until your office literally has a seasonal clothing swap meet, I defy you to prove your holiday dressing credentials.

*Dirty Santa.
I'm not sure which memory I prefer. The gangland-like enforcement of the $15 spending rule, or the middle school peer pressure involved in helping people trade out of presents they don't want. I mean, on the one hand you have an astonishing ability to track down "secret" gift givers and demand receipts to prove that they stayed within the limits of "enough to impress people but not enough to make them jealous and petty". But on the other hand, you have the beautiful subtlety involved in middle aged women attempting to engage in reverse psychology and/or emotional manipulation in order to keep the crystal special-edition Hallmark ornament they just opened, or to try and rid themselves of the stigma of having opened the weird candle someone (who shall remain nameless and can be a little scatterbrained occasionally but is still highly lovable) brought.

*Office Party Entertainment
Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy famous people's siblings who may or may not be able to sing as much as the next gal, but when they tell us funny stories about their unwed, pregnant, teenage daughter and find a way to use it as a transition into Oh Holy Night.....well, you just have to admire craftsmanship. But if pitchy, never famous country singers aren't your bag of tea-- there are always insane musicians who can not only play the piano while clearly possessed-- but also chuck food at audience members. If that doesn't get your holiday going, I'm not sure what will.

Hm........

Seer


The ULTIMATE personality test
brought to you by Quizilla

Little Things That I Love (in other words, a post that interests no one but me)

*Tukey Bacon

*Josie's questions

*Previews

*Club Crackers

*Eli's explanations

*When the road is so wet that it takes on the exact color of the sky

*DVR

*Anna singing along to the radio

*The yarn aisle at Hobby Lobby

*Green Apple Extra Gum

*Meredith's Pentacostal leanings

*Scarfs

*The Office

*TWOP recaps

*Full Moons that remind me of Sara Bo

*Flip Flops

To The Attention of Those Who Know And/or Love Me; Some Reminders You Apparently Need:

*I do not want my wedding to look like something out of a renaissance Fair.

*I don't automatically like a piece of clothing just because it's flowy and/or sheer.

*I don't have every detail of the life of an actor who shall remain nameless memorized.

*I don't think that Will Ferrell is "hot".

*I'm not a wimpy girlie girl. Don't underestimate a girl just because she would rather read than throw a softball (ahem)

*Just because I call the football officials "umpires" sometimes, it doesn't mean I don't understand how the game is played.

*I'm not a picky eater. Some things just aren't worth eating.

*Just because someone spent 6 years studying literature does not mean she is a good speller.

fascists in the attic

So I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately....the phases it goes through, why the ones you think will last rarely do, and how often our friendships are more about ourselves than our friends.

Uneven friendships have always annoyed me. I remember getting into one of my first real arguments with a friend when I was little because I realized that I had her over to stay the night all the time-- while she had never asked me once. Until she yelled the words at me, the thought never occurred to me that she might be embarrassed to have me over to her trailer when I lived in a big house. All I saw was the fear that I cared more than she did.

You'd think we'd outgrow the tit for tat friendship trap once we mature....but it just morphs into different forms of measuring. You have a friend you love, and you want to know how they are doing. But you don't call them. Why? Because last month you called them three times and they only left you a message once and that was after you had called them. So you forego the conversation with someone you've known for 10 years because of a phone tally.

No one likes being in a relationship that is all about one person. At what point do we decide that our own needs are more important than the needs of everyone else? If someone is constantly talking about themselves and their life it's irritating. After all-- what's more annoying than a self-absorbed person who is clueless about the fact that everything is always about them? I get so caught up in being annoyed that I forget that there is always a reason for people's words and actions. The thought that they don't care about me or my feelings hurts me. And then I'm right back to where I was when I was little and the fear that I care more than they do.

So why do we get to the point where we never ask why? How do you maintain any sort of relationship with someone you are afraid to talk to-- afraid to tell how you feel-- afraid to show your emotions to? Why do so many people exist in emotional stalemates they pretend are friendships?

So You Wanna Understand Men. That's Cute. Really.

You'll Thank Me For This Some Day: Part Deux

So if the following post means absolutely nothing to you, please see below:

Part One


So I promised this would be continued, and it just so happens that we've recently stumbled onto a few new issues that have been indentified by our specialists. (Plus I keep getting in trouble for not updating.....so Amy & Susan-- this is for you)


Social Amnesia
While this disorder used to be rare, it has become more and more common throughout the early 21st Century. Men with this condition seem unable to recall what their plans are when asked. The result of this disease is an inability to firmly commit to any plans-- big or small. Men who are afflicted with Social Amnesia simply can not be expected to be timely or to make or keep plans. If they do attempt to settle a plan, friends and family should remember that the subject simply cannot be trusted to know his own mind.



Apology Reflux
A chronic condition that occurs when men are forced to repeatedly apologize to the women in their lives. Common symptoms include a sour taste in the mouth, a burning sensation in the stomach, and redness on the temples from repeated brow beating. Studies have shown that small levels of "sincerity" can go a long way to reducing these symptoms.



Antonym Response Syndrome
This speech disorder is more commonly referred to as "Opposite Day Loop". This is because men who are afflicted become unable to say what they mean. The more they try to convey their thoughts and feelings, the more they get stuck in the loop. If they are jealous, they find themselves saying they are amused. If their feelings are hurt, they will complain of physical pain from kicking the nearest wall. If they don't want to see you anymore, they will offer to call you tomorrow night. This syndrome often begins in early childhood, but the good news is that if it is caught early by a diligent mother, the effects can be reversed.




It should be pointed out that it is only because of my great love of men that I feel that I can mock them so. As anyone who knows me will tell you-- I probably wouldn't bother otherwise. I have been thinking, though, that it seems unfair to just pick on the men. There are a lot of female disorders out there as well--and the only fair thing to do might be to have our experts weigh in on those as well. I might get kicked out of the girl club for that, though, so I will have to ponder that one.

Hollywood is Draining

So I'm sitting here watching the Emmy awards for who knows what reason (I would blame my roommate who turned it on in the first place-- but she has long since been driven out of the room by my yelling at the television. Unfortunately, I still have it on.)....anyway, I'm sitting here watching a parade of smug, pretty people who think they know what's best for the world if only the rest of us would listen. I don't suppose it would be any better if they were smug, ugly people.

But the fact remains that they have been given a forum because they are "entertaining". So why they must take that forum and use it to tell me what they think about world events is beyond me. The man in the Arby's drive-thru doesn't tell me what he thinks should happen in Iraq before handing me my roast beef. The lady at the library doesn't insist that she give me her plan for social security before allowing me to check out an audio book. So I don't see why these people who are paid to make unreality real think we want to hear it from them-- especially on a night when they get all prettied up to pat themselves on the back for being oh so great.

If I want news, I'll turn on CNN....not E! Entertainment Television (though lately the line between the two is admittedly starting to blur more and more)

And before you say it, yes I know it's my fault for watching in the first place.

Sit Right Back and You'll Hear a Tale (Kinda)

So I think we have a neighbor that wanted to be Noah but lost his nerve. For quite some time now I've noticed the inexplicable stock piling of wood they have going on..... it's in the front yard, in the back yard, in the garage, in the driveway.....no amount of fence building could ever explain the amount of wood this family has. And yet a few days ago a sign mysteriously appeared in their yard: Wood For Sale

And now I am left with a burning curiosity-- what on earth could Not-Quite-Noah have been building? And who talked him out of it? Now you might be thinking: Sarah, what if he just wanted to start a side business? What if he thought, Sarah, that selling random pieces of wood in highly unusable sizes and shapes would be a great way to supplement his income? I would say two things in response-- One, don't use my name more than once like that. It creeps me out. And two, if he wanted to start a wood farm, he shouldn't live in a subdivision.

I suppose I could pretend to be in deep need of a good piece of wood to do some whittling with and ask the man....but I think we all know how I feel about talking to people I don't know (unless it's over the phone and dealing with my computer, but that's another story for another day).

10 Reasons Why I Love Dorky Men

1. They crack themselves up even if no one else finds them funny.

2. I can say things like "He's about as lost as Frodo without Gandalf!" and not only will they know what I mean, but more importantly, they'll appreciate the analogy. (and let's be honest, they will likely take it another step or two)

3. They are almost always willing to play Trivial Pursuit with me.

4. They never ever go tanning.

5. They have never owned a pair of Oakleys.

6. They don't say things like "Good'ay Mate!" when I tell them I am going to Austria.

7. The highlight of their literary life isn't Sports Illustrated.

8. They don't use more hair products than I do.

9. Their hair just never quite looks right (see #8).

10. By nature of their own dorkiness, they can't take themselves too seriously.

And Now Everyone Will Think It's Them......

So I was looking for my long lost spare car key the other morning when I stumbled onto some old letters from someone who was a good friend. To say that I was shocked to find these letters would be an understatement considering I had forgotten that a) they existed and b) I still had copies of them. To put it mildly, it was, well...... weird.

Changes in people and relationships happen so gradually usually, that sometimes it's hard to see them sneaking up on you. And even when you do notice that a friendship is morphing (for the good or the bad) it's not something that's particularly easy to point out. People grow and change and you can't always condemn them for that. (Unless they evolve into a sucky kind of person, that should be condemned whole heartedly.) But it's strange to be confronted with the past in such a literally black and white way.

They say that hindsight is 20/20, but in situations like this all it does for me is make things murkier. How can relationships that were once so meaningful mean so little now? It makes you wonder if you were always completely wrong about a person-- or at the very least your meaning to that person. Falling out of friendship is a lot like falling out of love in that way, I suppose. Is the absence of caring today proof that it never existed? Obviously not, but when you enter the time warp that letters from the past provide, it really starts to feel that way. I look at words that meant so much at the time and wonder what happened to the person that wrote them. And then I wonder what happened to the person they were written to.

Saving bits of the past is something I can't help but do-- but it's dangerous because it almost always leads to second guessing the past. And that is unquestionably a bad idea for a hobby.

I Tell You This At Great Personal Risk

I just found the most hilarious, sad, and disturbing thing I've seen in quite some time:

http://www.romanceclass.com/miscr/sorry/sorry.asp

You can rate people's apologies.

(Yes, I do have a perfectly good reason for being at www.romanceclass.com. No it wasn't so I could pick up tips, thank you very much. But just for that, I don't think I am going to tell you what I was doing there)


OH! And I took a "What Romance Movie Best Represents Your Love Life? quiz". Here are the (edited) results, but unless they know something I don't, the answer is not based in reality:


Your kind of movie is When Harry Met
Sally. It seems that you're falling for a buddy
or have already fallen for them. Uh-oh. You're
probably caught between the possibility of
having a great relationship and wrecking the
one you have now. You know what they say, it's
better to regret something you did than
something you didn't do.


What Romance Movie Best Represents Your Love Life?
brought to you by Quizilla


Now all of you quit laughing at me and go and take the quiz. If you do, put your results in the comments. Now I'm all curious (and slightly paranoid-- be careful! Apparently I am secretly in love with one of you.....)

Welcome to the world Delaney Anne Baker!!!!!!!!!


I know you've only been with us about 6 hours now, and I haven't met you--- but I already love you. That's just the way it is, kiddo.

Here are some of my wishes/prayers/hopes for you (and I know I'll have to read this to you later, but that's OK) :

*That you always know God and love him as He loves you

*That you are always always true to yourself....and if you're not sure who you are, then that you are willing to take the time to find out.

*That you know what an awesome Mommy and Daddy you have....even if your Mommy does always make you let her say goodbye first.

*That you inherit your Mother's love for reading (yes, even Lori Wick books will be acceptable)....because your cool almost-aunt Sarah is going to be giving you lots of books.

*That you inherit your Dad's grin.

*That you like cameras cause you're gonna see a lot of them.

*That you are odd enough to be interesting but not weird enough to distress your Mother.

You'll Thank Me For This Some Day: Part 1

If there has been one phrase that I have heard on a consistent basis since I was 12 years old, it would be some variation on one of these:

"What is WRONG with him?" or "What was he THINKING?" or "Why did he DO that?" or my personal favorite "On what planet would any male think that was acceptable behavior?"

In short-- for all of the complaining that men do about women and how complex, evil, mean, (fill in the blank with your favorite complaint here) we are....the fact of the matter is that there is almost always logic to what we do. It might be mean logic, or self-absorbed logic, or clueless logic, or manipulative logic-- but chances are there's a method to our madness. Men, however, have been known to exhibit quite bizarre behavior for no real reason that is discernible to the female eye (and trust me, if there is a angle to be analyzed, we WILL cover it).

But I've been thinking about it, and I've decided that there must be a way to decode that behavior. And even if there isn't a way to decode it, there has to at least be a way to classify it. And so in the name of all of my dear, sweet estrogen-filled friends who have been driven crazy by the opposite sex, I now present.....

The Hardly Begins to Scratch the Surface of It Guide to Men's Emotional Diseases: A Guide for Single and Married Woman Alike.


~F.A.D.D.~ (Female attention Deficit Disorder)

This condition is closely related to the more commonly known condition of Attention Deficit Disorder. It manifests itself in men as an inability to focus on one female for more than 2-3 weeks at a time. For a short time, their attention is intense and focused on the subject, but before long they are bouncing to the next female in line. Some woman are tempted to take this personally, feeling that an interest in what they have to say one day should indicate an interest in what they are going to have to say tomorrow as well. However, it is important to remember that men afflicted with F.A.D.D. cannot be held responsible for this (what could be termed as jerkiness under normal circumstances) behavior. Inconstancy is their curse. Large doses of vitamins and dramatic scenes of attention-demanding have been known to improve this condition in the short term. However, the only long term cure for F.A.D.D. is a large injection of a new drug called Emotional Maturity. Due to the time and effort involved in making this product, however, it is still relatively difficult to find in the market place.

~Emotaphobia~

An extreme fear of expressing and receiving genuine emotion. While much has been made of the condition of "Commitmentaphobia" of the years, little has been known about Emotaphobia which is often the true root condition. Not much is known about the origins of this disorder, but it is estimated that 1 in 3 males have at the very least a mild version of this condition. Common warning signs include inappropriate joking during break ups, a punch on the shoulder instead of a hug when parting for long periods, and long winded explanations of obscure video games when you mention the word "relationship". Scientists have found that immersion therapy works best for mild versions of this disorder, including long walks in the park and repeated viewing of "Beaches".

~Social Bi-Polar Disorder~

A disorder that is characterized by alternating periods of manic attention and extreme disinterest in a specific member of the opposite sex. The two most common street names of this condition are "M&M" (the Mr. Maybe Syndrome) and the Yo-Yo Factor. The names are apt, as victims of this disease suffer from an imbalance that makes them physically incapable of making up their minds as to whether or not they want to date someone. Unfortunately, there is no known cure for this disorder. However, ear plugs for the women have been found to be effective in some situations.

~D.D.I.D. ~ (Dissociative Dating Identity Disorder)

A dissociative mental disorder related to dating in which two or more distinct personalities exist within the same individual. This condition often manifests when a male moves from "friend" mode to "date" mode. A subject suffering from this disorder can be considered a kind, thoughtful, and attentive friend and yet turn into the opposite when dating. Diagnosis and treatment are difficult as men are quite often completely unaware when the conflicting personality takes over. Various solutions have been tried over the years with little to no success. Some women cling to the old wive's tale that claims a good smack upside the head can "knock the jerkiness out", but recent studies have proven this assertion to be dubious in nature.



To Be Continued......

The Purple Rock

Someone asked me today what my "type" of guy is. I've been thinking about it--- because while I gave them a perfectly valid answer for how I felt at 11:45 this morning, chances are you could ask me again tomorrow at 1:30 and I'll have a slightly different opinion.

Some days (ok, bill paying days) I want someone organized and accountant-like. Other days I want someone laid back and easy going about all things. Sometimes structure seems like a good idea and other times it seems like the most boring thing in the world. (Can you want someone who will change your world and protect it at the same time? And is now the time to mention I once wrote a pros and cons list for marrying a South American dictator? Probably not.)

Of course there are always non-negotiables like loving and serving God, liking children, not being rude to waiters, the need to be truthful with himself and others, and a willingness to watch Orlando Bloom movies without making fun of them.

But there are always other things that are negotiable, but that never really waiver. I don't care if you can shoot a basketball, pitch a baseball, or catch a football (although kicking a soccer ball does have a certain oddly European charm)-- but trounce me at Trivial Pursuit and you'll have my attention. I'd also prefer your history not be filled with the shootings of woodland creatures for the fun of it (though a notable exception can be made here for birds. I don't care what you do with those rats with wings.)

The more I think about it, though, the more it seems like the whole notion of "types" does more harm than good. Sure it's important to have standards and dreams, but beyond all the black and white issues there are a million personal preferences that in the end just create limitations on the future that God has in store for us.

"I'm a sexy man of God and I know it."

I have a weird love of bad movie lines. They bring a movie to a screeching halt, cause confusion in the audience, and generally make me think Why am I not working in Hollywood if they paid someone to write that?

Now I know that everyone can't be Cameron Crowe (and no, I am NOT going to take this moment to remind everyone that he is the jointly owned BFF of a couple of lucky LUCKY ladies I just might know). But still-- take a moment to look at the title above and then tell me your not torn between your desire to smack the person who originally typed that and taking a moment to pat their head.

"We all have our little faults. Mine's in California."

If you have ever wondered why some women like super hero movies so much, you need look no further than the closest male in her life. You see, super hero movies just reinforce the notion that maybe just maybe there really IS a good reason that man in your life always flakes out on you. He really truly doesn't want to let you down time after time, but he has to save the world you see. And it isn't that they don't know what they want. ... it's that the fate of the planet prevents them from having it.

We really like believing that the only reason you would ever stand us up is to save a bus of school children from a meteorite that is speeding to earth. It's not that you got a better offer from one of your friends. It's not that you decided to stay home and have some quality time with your playstation. And of course, you only give us these sad excuses because you can't tell us what you are really doing. That would be giving up your secret identity.


Who wouldn’t rather believe that that it’s Batman disappointing them rather than Apathyman?

I'm a Gotham City DA, Let Me Pass!

So it's an interesting phenomenon when the people you love think that your affection for them gives them permission to be rude.

Some people use the excuse of humor. Some people use the excuse of concern. Some people use the excuse of love. And the rare, honest ones don't use an excuse at all.

I've always preferred honesty. But not everyone does.

My Dad says I like to shock people with blunt words. I think that might be true, but not for the reasons he thinks. It's not the cheap thrill of a shocked expression that I like (though it can be occasionally fun). I'm more intrigued that people are often shocked by truth. Not cruel truths or even brutal ones...but simple, calm, every day truths can make people squirm like the Inquisition. And that fascinates and saddens me all at the same time.

I don't like it when people hide their frustration with pointed jokes and innuendo. I don't like it when people hide their sadness with bright and brittle cheerfulness. I don't like it when people sacrifice themselves to the clamoring masses in order to hide their loneliness. I don't like it when people are crude in order to hide their own confusion and dismay.

I like myself least when I go for the cheap laugh at the expense of someone I love. When I see the smile on their face but the hurt in their eye-- that's when I know I just sold a little of myself away for something that won't last. I do it all the time. It's not premeditated. More often than not, it's completely thoughtless. And that's what makes it worse. Something you do without thinking is more a part of you than a thousand planned insults could ever be.

Life stays the same until it doesn't.

Mt. Rushmore

A friend asked me today why weird things always seem to happen when I'm around. I don't think I really have a good answer for that. I mean, I've heard the rumor that I, myself, am not the most normal apple in the bunch (wait-- apples don't come in bunches....should I have said barrel there? Cause I don't think that people really say "the most normal grape in the bunch".....of course they could and it would be just as valid. I like grapes.)

Anyway, I don't know that I think weird things happen to me more than anyone else. Ok, that's a lie. I don't know anyone else who has been forced by the state of Kansas to cut the windshield out of their car. I only know four other people that have ever gotten lost in a an underground labyrinth in Germany. But those are just the four people that were with me, so I'm not sure they count. And there is the letter I got from the lonely felon who saw my address in a church bulletin--- but I don't think my weirdness attractors could have worked through a piece of paper...right?

Now, I know what you're thinking. Yes, my car was stolen from below my bedroom window by a ring of Russian Car thieves. And it's true that when the police found my car we realized they took all of my CDs except for Natalie Merchant. But that's not weird so much as unfortunate. There is the incident of me accidentally telling my Irish soul mate that I have a boyfriend but that was more stupidity than weirdness (of course the fact that his friends were wearing plastic face masks of Irish politicians did add a certain odd flair to the talk....)

And you know, my first night in Europe when I was 17 did entail getting followed by a gang of drunken men down a Parisian street at midnight...but it also involved a very nice man in a suit with a baby who scared the drunkards off and found a nice Jamaican woman to walk me and my friend back to our hotel. And my teacher did get arrested (while I had all of his money and his passport) on our trip to Greece the next summer for jumping into a fountain, but that was him-- not me. I didn't get "arrested" until two years later-- and that was in Slovakia not Greece. And the only reason I was there in the first place was to get free refills at the Little Caesar's in Brataslava. They didn't have that in Vienna. What? It made perfect sense at the time.

And now that I've reread this, I'm impressed anyone is willing to go anywhere with me at all.

I sometimes wonder if anyone in the world is as happy as they seem to be. We spend years comparing our lives to the lives of the people around us without realizing that what we really might be doing is comparing performances.

Every now and then we get a peak at the mania or insecurity or desperation buried in each other, but instead of grasping the view for what it is, we turn away embarrassed. As if it's better to see paintings of someone's soul instead of windows into it.

Why are so many people afraid of living genuine lives? Why are so many of us afraid of telling people what we really think and feel and want? Is it because we are still figuring out a way to be honest about what we see in the mirror and hold in our hearts? I honestly don't know. But when you think about how many lives have been completely spent in the pursuit of a phantom happiness that never seems to materialize it can get a little overwhelming.

Gush vs Mush

There are millions of GUYS in the world.

Yes, Yes I know. I'm quite the one with original thoughts. But don't get blown away yet. There's more to come from this mind that is nothing short of a steel trap. (even if it does sometimes pretend to be a steel trap that sitting on the floor of a marshmallow forest, but that's another story for another day)

Anyway, while discussing romantic interests with a friend (who shall remain nameless but has access to this website which obviously severely narrows the pool) the other day, I had a sort of mini revelation. And I do stress MINI. This is not exactly on the level of Paul on the road to Damascus. For that matter, it's not even on par with the guy at Wonder Bread who said "Hey! I wonder if people would like this to be SLICED!" But I digress.....

I realized that though I have had many crushes in my life, they almost never really progress to anything of note. There are many possible reasons for this.

1. My apparent natural reaction to a crush as a teenager was to immediately begin to ignore the object of my affection lest that someone suspect that his unfortunate nerdiness had caught my eye. (and we'll just pretend that this has changed in my adulthood for now, OK? No need to get to REAL here)

2. As a child my parents had me innoculated against romance. Therefore, if any possible romantic situations approach, my immunities kick into gear-- producing stupid comments, lots of blushing, general confusion and even a little hostility on occasion.

3. My general beauty, intelligence, fierce wit and all around awesomeness just intimidates too many guys for me to ever have a chance at a lasting relationship.


While some of these may or may not be true, I've realized there is one important factor I'd never really thought about

4. Time after time I have gone after boys who will someday grown into a GUY instead of boys who will someday grown into a MAN. Or to use my new super fun "mini revelation" wording, I've had Guy Crushes = Gushes instead of Man Crushes= Mushes. And now that I am a super awesome adult, I feel that I am drowning in a world of Gushes-- not only my own but my friends' as well.

Do you think it's a coincidence that Mush and Maturity both start with an M?

I think not!

A Life with a View

We all get trapped in endless cycles of frustration that build over time....exploding then hardening like an active volcano, slowly growing into a mountain in your heart.

There must be another way to grow.

Some people live their lives by the Big Bang and Evolution Theory. They wait for the cataclysmic event to just happen out of nowhere and give them sudden meaning. And from that explosion, they think that with very little forethought their lives will morph and change and grow into what it is supposed to be.

A world that is not created means a life that was not created. An accidental world begets generations of people living accidental lives.

I choose to see the meaning.

An Observation

Having someone tell you that you are smart for doing something painfully obvious is almost worse than being called stupid.

A Day With Susan: Entertaining to No One But Me....?

 -----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:46 PM
To:     Sarah
Subject:        smells
>
> The bathroom smells like bubble gum again....


----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:46 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> I think you have been hanging around me too much


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:47 PM
To:     Sarah
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> That could be true but not the cause of the bathroom smelling like bubble gum.  Did you go take a sniff?


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:48 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> Ok. You need to reread your email and do it now.
>
> Done?
>
> Ok, let's review......you  just asked me to go sniff the bathroom.


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:50 PM>
To:     Sarah
Subject:        RE: smells
>
>LOL.....seriously LOL!!
>
> What?  I'm just saying.  Still LOL!!!


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:51 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> Yes, I clearly get what your saying. I just wanted YOU to get what you were saying.
>
> Dork.


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:53 PM
To:     Sarah
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> I knew what I was saying!  It still smells like bubble gum.
>
> How is it that people don't think I want them to use my new box so they don't have to come back here!


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:54 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> They probably don't a) realize you have one or b) forget you do or c) love you more than you could ever realize


 -----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:57 PM
To:     Sarah
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> They a) know I have one b/c they ask if they should put it in the box or bring it in here b) refer to a and c) WHATEVER!
>


-----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 2:59 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: smells
>
> Well you need to remember that a) people have short attention spans and that b) your box probably doesn't feel homey enough and maybe you should make a little mini welcome mat for it and c) that's not the way to put off positive vibes about ourselves, now is it?


----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 3:01 PM
To:     Sarah
Subject:        This is fun!
>
> All semi-good points but a) that really isn't an excuse b) that would be hilarious if I did and c) I'm not really worried about the reactions to my "vibes" at work!

-----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 3:04 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: This is fun!
>
> Thank you for your affirmation, however a) sometimes reality likes to show you who's boss (and it ain't Tony Danza) and b) it would be like a little House Mouse could come and hang out at your mailbox not to mention that c) you are a big, svelte liar.


-----Original Message-----
From:   Susan
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 3:06 PM
To:     Sarah
Subject:        RE: This is fun!
>
> I'm out!  That is just too funny to compete with!!
>
> Still laughing!!!!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


-----Original Message-----
From:   Sarah
Sent:   Tuesday, March 22, 2005 3:55 PM
To:     Susan
Subject:        RE: LOL...LOL....LOL
>
>   Yeah, I for one am not the most in the loop person ever.
>
>  Of course when it involves 30 year olds trying to get their gossip straight, that doesn't really break my heart.

 -----Original Message-----
From:         Susan
Sent: Tuesday, March 22, 2005 3:56 PM
To:   Sarah
Subject:      RE: LOL...LOL....LOL
>
> I would totally agree with that!!
>
> Preach it, sister!!


 -----Original Message-----
From:         Sarah
Sent: Tuesday, March 22, 2005 4:01 PM
To:   Susan
Subject:      RE: LOL...LOL....LOL
>
> And 'lo on that day, when the sun comes rising over the hills.........and we are all together in the fields of love......the men shall rise up and say "I WILL be emotionally mature. I WILL think before I speak. I WILL be honest about what I'm feeling." And on that day, there will be a great rejoicing in the streets. And the women will weep tears of joy for the days to come......

 

Revelate

Everyone has reached that point when the absolutely know something in a crystal clear way they have never seen before. For some unfathomable reason, a cloud lifts.... the mist clears... and a light from above illuminates the old shadows that never wanted to leave.

It's like that moment when sitting with an old friend, you realize that they don't know you at all any more. Sometimes all it takes is one misguided sentence to reveal the gap of years gone by. You could never summarize or even recognize all the changes you have gone through or the growth in your spirit…but in the blink of someone else's eye, you see what they can't see about you. And in that instance, you know that the time of your friendship is over and nothing can ever return it to the way it was.

...with that deviant behavior

I love taking personality tests. I've determined that I am an idealist with a predisposition to psychic abilities. If I were a color I'd be a purple, and if I were a muppet, I'd be Kermit. I can tell you what kind of painting I would be (Monet's Waterlillies), and I also know that if I were a villain in a James Bond movie, I'd be killing people with flaming shishkabobs. Oh, and apparently my aura is gold.

I don't know what my obsession with personality tests suggests, but I'm sure I could find a quiz that would tell me.


P.S. To the man I saw today with the bumper sticker that said "Pure Evil!" and the vanity plate that said "Evil 1"-- I would like to say that you have put Tammy Tightpants to shame. I've never been so scared in all my life. You and your scary Ford Truck are clearly meant to be feared.

(And yes Susan, that was meant in green font)

It's A Time Machine!

I just finished reading "The Time Traveller's Wife" and it made me think about my own childhood. And now I invite you to travel with me...back in time to visit my 10 year old, diary writing self. It is October, 1987..........



*****************
"Today started off great. But of course Steph ruined my life! Me and Kelly (the double crosser) said she had an idea. She said that we could teach Steph about not being wanted and interrupting. She said I could go home and she'd have Steph over and I would come over and she would be mean and rude to Steph. Turns out she decides to back out and is so nice to Steph it would make you sick and she so rude and mean to me it would make you sick. Then her and Steph say they want to go to Kmart! And they ask me if I want to come in a mean voice. I said sure if you don't mind walking! But they said OH NO we don't want to walk. I guess you can't come and walked off! And that's what I call rude. Kelly is just a two faced pig who can't even see through Steph. Her other friend Anne is OKAY but Steph is such a baby. She has to take a nap and she talks like a three year old. And she gets 20 dollars allowance. When Kelly gets back I'll give her a piece of my mind. Next she'll be saying "make room for buetiful princess Kelly." She should be saying making room for two faced hog nose Kelly! We got a new T.V. It's huge!"

*****************


I don't know what's more disturbing about that entry-- that I was so eager to go along with Kelly's plan to be mean to Steph (though I have to say that she was a rather wretched little girl-- at 27 I still remember that and feel the need to rationalize my poor behavior) or my ability to switch from calling my "best friend" a quite impressive name to talking about our new TV without batting an eye.


How about we journey forward and visit my teen self? It is now July, 1991


************
" Well, I haven't seen Point Break....yet. But tomorrow I'm going to see a different Keanu Reeves movie "Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey" It's the sequel to "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure". Well, next week I go to camp. And I can't say how much I'm looking forward to it! (NOT!) Today Kelly found one of the keys to my drawer. I guess I'll have to hide them better from her! She is soooooo nosey! Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that it's sooooo obnoxious! But hey, people say I'm nosey too......Well, the school year is fast approaching, and I'm not looking forward to it! I mean, I've never even been on a date......You know what I just thought of, if I die sometime soon Mom or Dad will probably read this. Depressing thought, huh!?!! Jeesh, I really hope I don't die before I'm old. But then again-- what if I'm an old maid, who never gets married!?!! Well, I still wouldn't want to die! Wait a minute- why am I even talking about death- How depressing!"
************


At least I decided that I wouldn't want to die if I was an Old Maid.....sort of........

Shock Me Shock Me Shock Me

Have you ever seen someone who just seemed utterly trapped in their life? You watch them sit in a dark room with no interest in what is on the TV in front of them. You watch them gaze out a window without the slightest appreciation for the view it holds. You watch them stare at themselves in the mirror and wonder what they see looking back at them.

People are dealt a million different hands in life but what do you do with someone who just lays down the cards without a second glance? You can't make someone care about the game. You can't make someone care about themselves....and you definately can't make them care about you.

Savory Does Not Apply To You OR Your Car

Here's a tip-- if the name of something you are buying starts with "Vanity" and ends with "Plate" then it's a pretty safe bet you probably should just leave it on the shelf at the DMV.

Maybe my memory is faulty, but it seems to me that when I was younger the personalized license plate wasn't all that common. Sure, you had your occasional spoiled housewife who felt the need to declare to the world that her new minivan was "DEBSTOY". And if you were in a small town, you were going to run into the occiasonal idiot that feels the need to let you know that "ILUVGUNS". But most sane people had their boring old car tags that made no sense.

Sadly there seems to be an unfortunate trend these days of anyone and everyone having a personalized car tag.

For example, you have Kenny Cashcow, proud new owner of a Hummer. Now, this is great news for Kenny who clearly has money to burn and a strong disdain for our natural resources. What better way to celebrate that than paying the government extra money for a little tin tag that says "MYHUMMR"? I mean, I realize the car says HUMMER about 50 times in different places on the body, but if you hadn't added that important vanity plate, I might never have realized that you-- the person sitting behind the wheel-- are in fact the proud owner. Well done, Kenny. Well done.

And then you have Tammy Tightpants who is so cool that she has to pay the DMV to tell you that she's a "WLDGRL" Good thing she put that on the back of her Chevy Cavalier, because otherwise I might never have noticed and given her the wide-eyed respect that she's so clearly due. She's a WIlDGIRL! Who am I to question the fact that she's smoking, talking on a cell phone and letting her five year old climb all over her front seat while she drives 80 down the freeway? Oh to be like Tammy. A girl can only dream.

The Truths of Boardwalk

Monopoly brings out the worst in people. I don't care who you are or how good your general attitude is in life. Someone puts little pieces of paper money in your hand and little cardboard cut outs of pretend properties, and an otherwise generous, loving person becomes the Donald Trump of their living room.

Ladies Night Out: Year 27

The Enigma That Is Me: January 2005


I know an unusally large number of single women. I don't know if that says more about me, them, or the men in our lives. (and by "men in our lives" I am being generous and including anyone who might possibly walk by)

When I was growing up, I didn't get boys at all (and by that I mean understand boys-- but to be honest, I didn't GET them either, so read it however you want). I didn't really understand why they liked to pretend to shoot each other. I never understood why taping our dog's ears together was a riotous good time. And I really never understood why they were mean to both the girls they liked and didn't like-- and we were supposed to somehow be able to tell the difference.

As I got older and started to believe that I did, in fact, know EVERYTHING-- I thought I had boys pretty well figured out. They liked to pretend to shoot each other because it made them feel adventerous. They liked to tape the dog's ears together because it made them feel powerful. And they were mean to the girls they didn't like to try and get a laugh out of the girls they did. Those were the keys-- Adventure, Power, and Laughter. Basically? It all boiled down to the fact that boys were attention whores.

Now I'm back in the camp of not understanding the boys who are now men (or at least should be, but that's another post for another day). Are they still attention whores? Well, some of them are. But then-- some of my female friends are as well. Do they like adventure? Some of them do.

But what I didn't understand until more recently is that some of them would much rather have the semblance of adventure than a real one-- and that's something a lot of us have in common at one point or another.

I suppose I should find the common ground reassuring, but I don't.

It's Not Denial

For as long as I can remember, I've had the desire to be an enigma. And for as long as I can remember, my friends have been telling me that I have no hope of being mysterious......ever. I guess the impulse to do this is just further evidence that they're right and I'm wrong.



P.S. I hate 7th Heaven