One Year Anniversary

In commemoration for the one year anniversary of the day I walked boldly away from Mark forever, I give you the initial breakthrough....

Oh how different life has been since this day last year!

Tuesday, April 10, 2007

Stupid Boy

Current mood: Peaceful

Category: Romance and Relationships

Last week in my small group we talked about the dangers of being a "people pleaser". Now, at first I did not even consider this lesson to be one for myself- I mean, not everything is about ME. I think most of you who really know me well would agree with me on this one... Anyone who has spent time with me knows that for the most part I do my own thing, whether or not its considered the cool thing to do or not.

I mean, lets face it, I dont really give a damn what most people think about me, because, well, at the end of the day it doesnt matter to me that the snooty real housewife of the OC at Starbucks was laughing to her friends that my Chanel sunglasses are "so last season!" ... I will probably never see her again, and if I did, I certainly wont recognize her with her new nose, boobs, and botoxed face anyhow, so what do I care?! I just dont.... Me? A People pleaser? I think not!!
As the rest of the week commenced, I thought a lot about the girls and how their weeks were going also. Thank God I am not struggling with being a people pleaser, I thought. It must be so exhausting!! I mean, I barely have time enough to remember to eat, let alone think about making anyone else happy (other than Luca that is, that is all I do you know).... Then something happened mid-week, something BIG that made me realize I too fall victim to trying to please everyone!

What catastrophic event could have happened to throw my world into utter chaos, and disrupt the space-time continuum as I know it?? (Sigh) What could possibly happen that could be so earth shattering?

Well, Ill tell you....prepare to be shocked, horrified, pissed off, but still laughing at the same time. I think thats how it went for me...ummmmm, yeah, shocked, horrified, pissed off, and then eventual uncontrollable laughter...

Last week, Mark told me I had to marry him so that he can stay in the country.
I KNOW!! Ill give you a moment....

Apparently, when he went down to TJ to do his annual paperwork for his visa (its complicated, and not very interesting, dont ask), they told him this is the last year they would grant it. What that means, is that come April 2008, the US government will make the incorrigible Mr. Gerardi pack his shit and go back to Toronto, from whence he came!!

The only loop hole, at least according to him, is for him to get married. Again, this is a very complicated procedure, which I have myself researched and know to be true for the most part, but its boring, so suffice it to say, marriage is the easiest route to get a Canuck into the states for good. There is another way for him to apply for a green card, but as with most things, this method takes time, money, and commitment on Mark's part, so obviously, thats not something he considers an option.

Now, my immediate reaction was a "youve got to be shitting me" look, followed by a stunned "Really?!", as in, "really, youre seriously asking me this?!". Unblinking, he said "Yes!! Beth youre the only one who can help me, the only one I trust!!". Yes, the only one he trusts. Ill give you a short laughter break, and anyone whos close to pissing their pants, might as well go now, because it gets better....

So the night ended with me not able to say much, and Mark telling me to think about it. Graciously, God allowed me to get through the brief, yet akward conversation without bursting into laughter while tears streamed down my face, and, also without punching him in the face with the nearest heavy blunt object as my gut told me too. Wow, look at that, I am growing as a person!

Luckily he didnt bring IT up again until last night.... This time, I couldnt help it, and did burst out laughing (so much for growing as a person). Then I proceeded to point out that its a friggin riot that he can sit there and look me in the eye with a straight face and tell me how I had to do this for him because there isnt another woman alive that he cares about, or trusts like me. He actually said those words!! Who IS this guy?!

This from the man who last month was whining that he wanted a paternity test because he still isnt convinced that Luca actually is his son. (Of course when I said ok, it was suddenly too expensive to do)....

This from the man who badgered me my entire pregnancy to just admit that I did this on purpose to trap him into marriage or becoming my meal ticket. ...

This from the man who constantly accused me of trying to ruin his life.... (even to this day)

And these words coming from the same man who continually asked me if it was possible that Luca was someone else's baby, because he didnt think it could be his. In retrospect, this probably means he was sleeping around when he wasnt telling me how much he loved me and couldnt wait to have our 7 kids, but thats neither here nor there...

When I told him I wouldnt marry him, he immediately resorted to his primary skill set, manipulation. He was a different person then, hes grown now, he wants to be here now, and he knows he can trust me. Still, I wouldnt budge. Then it went onto how can I sit back and take Luca's father away from him?! I have the power to make this thing ok, and I wont do it because of his past mistakes. I am punishing Luca, because he (Mark) made bad choices when I was pregnant....

The thing that irks me most about the whole situation is that this is a long time coming. Mark knew from the get-go that at any time, he might have to leave. He knew from the beginning that there are certain things that he needed to do to ensure he could stay, but he chose not to do anything about it. Now that this day is upon him, it isnt his fault, its mine if I dont do what he says.... Once again, Mark is the victim.

As I sat and looked at Mark, it struck me at how truly effective he was at the art of manipulation. How sincere he looked, how distraught and anguished he seemed at the thought of having to leave Luca... But what struck me the most this time, as it had not all the times before, is that this was the same face, same sad eyes of a seemingly sorry and broken man asking for forgiveness, as the man who told me all those lies about everything while I was pregnant, in hopes that Id agree to abort our child....

The same face I see every time I call him on the fact that he has lied about something, or once again failed to follow through on something as small as buying his child a box of diapers. "Beth, I dont know what to say, Im sorry and I am doing the best that I can- Im sorry that it isnt good enough for you".... I sat and watched him put on his best "feel sorry for me", or "its not easy being Mark" routine.

And it just struck me how the lies flowed off his tongue smooth and sweet as honey, as he looked so forlornly into my eyes.... It was so easy for him to do. As I stared back into that same face that used to break my heart, and make me feel horribly bad for how things were working out for him, something happened.....

Suddenly, it was as if time stopped, and for the first time I saw clearly with my heart what my head had already known for a long time- this was the face of manipulation, and this is who he truly is. While I am sure he will miss his son, the main reason he wants to stay is for himself. He doesnt want to grow up, and if he goes home, he will have too. Its not ok for him to behave like a college kid in Toronto, because no one else does at 33. No one else lives in an apartment with their best friend, drinking and smoking away their paychecks, floating from one meaningless fling to another.... In Toronto, he would have to be responsible, and thats something he is not ready to face. In Toronto, they will look down on him for his unwillingness to be a more involved father. They will chastise him for that fact that he does not really resemble a man, hes still just acting like a stupid boy.

This time, things were different inside me, and, this time it was easy to say no... All the old feelings of guilt I have wrestled with ever since I found out I was pregnant were gone. All the uncertainty and burden I have carried on my shoulders in having him in my life.... All the responsibility I have felt in making sure that things are easy on him so that he will want to see his son and be more a part of his life, came crashing down. In that instant, it was as if someone threw a hammer through my window, and for the first time in a long while, I could see the light of day, and how truly dark it was where I had been living.

While it is a truly liberating feeling, its also chilling to realize that I have been killing myself trying to please someone who will never be satisfied. Nothing I do ever does make him happy- he always has some kind of complaint about something.

Everything he does is purely driven by selfish reasons- everything. He would rather take our child to someone who isnt taking good care of him, whom we know now isnt licensed, all because then he doesnt have to get off the freeway (his chief complaint with our current nanny). This is the same man who preferred not to go see his own mother in Toronto after she had a stroke, because of how it made him feel to see her like that. A man who left all the planning and burden on his family, eventhough they pleaded with him to come, all because it made him uncomfortable. The stark realization has been that everything is always about him, and how it will affect him, before he even considers anyone else.

And sadly, while this is something I have known forever in my head, it has taken nearly 2 1/2 years for it to get all the way through, and for me to finally grasp it. Ashamedly I see now that I have told myself for so long that its ok if he pushes me around and my life is made to come second… Its ok because its for my child, and my sacrifice now will make his father come around... For 2 1/2 years, I have bent over backwards for someone else, who couldn't care less about my efforts, let alone appreciate them.... if that isnt being a people pleaser, I dont know what is!

But, the good news in all this, is I am finally aware of it, and I can make a change. I dont have to carry around a sense of responsibility for what Mark does and does not do any longer, because its not my burden to bear. While its sad to think about, I know I cannot make him want to do better by his son.

The only consolation I have is in knowing that Luca is so loved by everyone in his life. Everyone who meets or hears about him, loves him too, and I know he is a special child who was meant to be here. In a lot of ways, I dont even know that it really makes a difference right now if Mark is around or not. I know I would be a lot less stressed, and it would make it easier to just focus on doing whats best for Luca, which includes, finally taking care of myself..

Maybe some day Mark will come around, but for now, Im afraid he is nothing more than just a stupid boy.... and frankly, I dont have the time to try to make a stupid boy behave or want to do whats right....

I am much to busy living my life, and trying to raise a MAN.

"Stupid Boy" by Keith Urban

Well, she was precious like a flower

She grew wild, wild but innocent

A perfect prayer in a desperate hour

She was everything beautiful and different

Stupid boy, you can't fence that in

Stupid boy, it's like holding back the wind

She laid her heart and soul right in your hands

And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans

She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens

When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't

Stupid boy, stupid boy

So what made you think you could take a life

And just push it, push it around

I guess you build yourself up so high

You had to take her and break her down

She laid her heart and soul right in your hands

And you stole her every dream and you crushed her plans

She never even knew she had a choice and that's what happens

When the only voice she hears is telling her she can't

You stupid boy

It took awhile for her to figure out she could run

But when she did, she was long gone

Long gone, long gone

Ah, she's gone

Mr. Soggy Bottoms

So I know what you all are thinking: this is going to be a post about poop, or some other bodily function related antidote, hopefully relating to Luca....

Well guess what?

Youre wrong.

The category of tonight's post (as they are categorized on myspace where this blog originally started) is "Romance and Relationships", and Mr. Soggy Bottoms is a guy Ive gone out with recently. That being said, this should entice you to read on, because knowing how my life goes, it very possibly could be about my latest dating exploit and poo...

Ewwww.

No, theres no poop involved (sorry Taylor), but it does raise an important question, which I will get to shortly.

The last few weeks I have been keeping company of a new guy. I know most of you are scratching your heads because I havent mentioned it, or because you havent heard from me in so long you were beginning to consider the possibility that I have in fact died- but the truth is I have just been so busy with the new job and stuff that I have been a crappy friend lately.

Sorry.

Is it just me, or has anyone noticed lately that every person you know who isnt already married is getting hitched? Daisy and I were talking about that yesterday because yet another singleton weve known for a while just got married. And, the interesting trend that we have noticed is that all of people seem to have met their significant other at the newest singles hot spot, Starbucks.


With this is mind, I have made a point to make sure that I have already applied my lipstick before entering the Mecca of caffeinated goodness, just in case... Am I looking to get married tomorrow? Nahhhh.... But, I wouldnt be opposed to meeting someone fantastic who makes me happy enough to make others sick.


Anyhow, a few weeks ago I stopped into my friendly local Starbucks to grab a reduced fat turkey bacon sandwich and a coffee light frap with sugar free vanilla to reward myself for making it to Friday, and something happened. Maybe it was because I had just heard from one incredibly happy Starbucks-matched-married, or perhaps it was merely because no one had emailed me yet that morning, but for once, in the midst of my usual morning quest to caffeinate and get to work on time, I noticed someone noticing me. Standing a mere 5 feet away from me I noticed a nice looking guy, smiling at me, Blackberry in hand.

"I cant decide which is more addicting, Starbucks, or the CrackBerry", he said to me.

"Crackberry", I answered immediately.

A pleasant little conversation was had, business cards were exchanged, and the following Monday a casual after work drink was organized.

And, while Im making little observations, Ive noticed that the casual after work drink seems to be the new first date. Or, perhaps, its just the way grown ups do things. Good God, am I a grown up now?!

Anyhow, the after work drink is a nice idea because it can be anything you want. You have an easy out, such as "this was fun, but now Ive got to pick up my kid", or it can turn into dinner and other merriment. On this specific occasion, I did have to in fact, pick Luca up, so it was only a casual after work drink, and I was so strapped for time I didnt even bother to change into jeans in the back of the Jeep like I did the last time I had one of these. I simply met him at Happy Hour and we talked and had a few drinks one evening.

The conversation was fun, and flowed easily, and as he walked me out to my car, he asked the all important question of "Can I see you again?". Seeing as I had a pleasant time, and he seemed to be nice, successful, and not in the least bit creepy, I said ok. Throughout the week, my Starbucks date called me a few times, and we made plans to go out on an actual date later that week.

The first date was actually a lot of fun. We met for coffee and ended up sitting all night there debating when exactly Pearl Jam stopped being a great band, and a lot of other really important issues of the like. With this smashing success of an evening wrapping up, I happily accepted the offer of a "real" date that weekend.

As the weekend approached, I was actually a bit excited to have real plans to go out on a date. I met my new friend down in Laguna near the beach, and we had dinner at a little Italian restaurant. And, he brought me a rose! Kinda cheesy, but clearly he had put at least 15 minutes of thought into this before hastily leaving the house that night, and I appreciated the effort.

The food was great, and so was the wine. The conversation was fun and light, and the evening ended with the much cliched walk on the beach. Being that this was our second "real" date, and given the fact that we were walking and talking on the beach after consuming Italian food and wine, there was kissing. It should have been a perfect evening...

I say "should" however because the kissing left a little to be desired...

At the time I chalked it up to a combination of my being cold, the wine, and nerves on his part. I swear it mustve taken 20 minutes of awkwardness before I finally asked him if he was planning on ever going in for the kiss or if we would have to stand out in the sand until the break of dawn. I guess I couldve just done it myself, but really thats his job. Or maybe more truthfully I just enjoy watching guys flounder. Hahahahaha! Yeah, ok, Im not gonna lie- thats it.

What can I say?! (shrugging shoulders, smirking)

Soon after the soggy lip-lock session ended, we went out separate ways. As I got into my car, I cursed the fact that the bottom of my jeans had gotten wet because it was making me so much more cold. This of course led me to think of "Soggy Bottoms", and then instantly laugh out loud to myself as I applied this term to the slightly bumbling end of my night. "Mr. Soggy Bottoms is right", I thought to myself as I recalled how sloppy and literally soggy the kissing had been. At least it was a nice night, I thought surely the next time it would be better.

The next day I got a phone call from an excited Mr. Soggy Bottoms, who obviously thought the date and its ending went smashingly. I didnt take the call simply because I was too busy tending to Luca and visiting with my recently widowed Grandma to take any time out and chit chat. I will just give him a call back Sunday night, I thought to myself.

Monday morning came, and my life proceeded as usual, or so I thought. As I waited inwardly inpatient and half asleep for the barista to make my coffee, I had little else on my mind besides getting my frosty caffeinated salvation into my system, and my ass into work. Lost in thought, I went through my mental checklist of what I needed to do when I got in, but was suddenly jolted back to reality by a rude intrusion. No, this intrusion was not the deep gruff bark of the manly lesbian barista letting me know my coffee light frap was ready, it was a hug!

It took me a few seconds to put together what had just gone down, but when I realized it was my match made in Starbucks Heaven, I was actually pretty annoyed. It was early, I hadnt had my coffee yet, and we are not engaged buddy! It struck me as odd that Mr. Soggy Bottoms did not seem to detect in the slightest the fact that I wasnt right there with him on this early morning love fest. He merely stood there with his arm around me, smiling, and then said:

"Why didnt you call me back this weekend?"

"Sorry", I told him, and then went on to explain I had been busy, and Sunday was a holiday (Easter)...

Two minutes later, my coffee was ready, and I was out the door and on my way.

After what seemed like a weeks, it was finally lunch time, and I had all but forgotten the weirdness earlier that morning at Starbucks. As I went to meet my sister for lunch at Corner Bakery, I read my email (courtesy of my Crackberry) and felt little hesitation as I accepted a dinner invite from Mr. Soggy Bottoms for the next night. I guess I reasoned that so far it had been amusing, so going out with him again would at least be more fun than spending my night off(from Luca and ultimate responsibility) sitting at home.

Tuesday was excruciatingly horrid all the way around, and I was more than ready for a drink by noon, errrr, end of business! Thankfully it was indeed my night off, and I was able to blow off some steam with my favorite boyfriend GYM, before getting ready to go out with Mr. Soggy Bottoms. I realized as I ran that I really should probably stop calling him "Mr. Soggy Bottoms" in my internal monologue, but conceded it was quite enjoyable, and knowing me, I wouldnt give it up. Besides, I couldnt get the thought of soggy jeans and soggy sloppy kisses out of my mind...

Hmmmm....

Heres hoping to a less soggy evening I thought!

This time we went to dinner at a nice trendy restaurant, and had a really fun time. All of my previous reservations had dissipated as I thought to myself how silly I felt for almost convincing myself to write this guy off. Not only is he a gentleman and easy on the eyes, but hes funny, and thats devastatingly attractive to me. Thank God hes not the creative type (or artist of any kind)- thats my kryptonite!! This is a good thing, I said to myself. As we walked out to my car, I was excited, convinced that this time things would be different, and I could banish the Mr. Soggy Bottoms moniker.

(Deep sigh)

(shaking head)

While I had convinced myself I would be having that wonderful, playful, passionate goodnight kiss I had been anticipating, I was instead assaulted once again by a soggy, sloppy, very unsexy calamity, parading (and poorly might I add) as a kiss. I actually just shuddered recounting the experience for you all!

It was TERRIBLE!! Like something from the sea washed up on his face and was attacking me! Just really NOT GOOD!

Devastated as I drove home, I began to ponder if it could really work out. I mean, how can you seriously date someone you dread kissing? I was completely bummed out because I had just convinced myself that I actually did like this guy. But now.... (shuddering)

The next morning I purposely went to a different Starbucks. Monday's experience, coupled with the quandary the previous nights ending had incited, I decided it was better to not deal with any more sneak affection attacks. After all, last time it was a hug, this time he might try to kiss me, and I dont know that I could take it. Even the frosty delectable coffee vanilla goodness might not be able to wash away the sandy, salty, mushy carnage such an event could inflict upon my day, and ultimately my senses. Thankfully I got out of the strange Starbucks without incident, my CFL 2PSFV in hand.

As I made my way to the office, I dialed Daisy. I definitely needed her input on this situation to see if perhaps I was being petty. I didnt think so, but sometimes you dont know because you are in the midst of the situation, and hey, thats what best friends are for!

"Good morning Elizabeth!!", she said cheerfully in a silly voice.

Instantly she could tell I was not in the best of spirits.

"Uh oh, whats the matter?!", she said, chuckling, as if she knew it was going to be something of a humorous nature.

Exasperated, I explained the entire situation to her, and waited for her to process the information.

"DUMP HIM", she said almost instantly.

"Dump him?", I asked?

"Its not like hes my boyfriend or anything", I continued, still taken a back a bit by how abrupt her verdict seemed to be.

"Good, then its going to be easy", she said matter of factly. "Life is too short Elizabeth. Youd tell me the same".

"Maybe..", I started.

"Of course you would. Remember Danny?", she retorted.

"But that was different", I started to say... ready to defend myself because just for the record, that was a really different situation...

"Not really, but fine. I have two words for you: SAM ADAMS", she said bluntly.

"Oh, now why do you have to go and bring HIM up?!", I whined, suddenly very irked by the mention of that fiasco.

"Because, you know this is just like THAT- so end it before it gets to that point", she said.

"I guess you really cant find happiness at Starbucks", I said dejected.

"Sure you can, its called a tall coffee light frappuccino. They only have 90 calories!", Daisy exclaimed triumphantly.

Of course she is right, but as I already said, thats what your best friend is there for- to hit you upside the head every now and then.

Tonight when he called, I knew Daisy was right, so I let him know that he is very nice, but I am getting back with my ex, and for the sake of our son, I wanted to give it a try. Of course he understood, because after all he is a nice guy.

Do I feel bad? Nope. I am liberated! I can go back to my normal Starbucks without fear of being hit in the face with a fish.

Life is good.

Across the Universe

Sadly, I am uninspired... and I feel utterly lost.

There are several deep questions I am mulling over at the moment, and have been sitting here trying to write, but for some reason the words will not flow...

Why is it that at the time when writing these swirling thoughts down in some type of medium would help me the most, I cannot seem to find the words? I could easily have the conversation with any of you at this very moment, should we happen to speak, but as I try to convey these thoughts into sentences....I cant....

I know, I am as shocked as you are...Beth is unable to grace us all with her opinions and granules of wisdom...write the date down...

And, whats even worse, not only can I not seem to put into words these thoughts, I also cannot stop from having the conversations about these things, with myself....inside my own head....

I am exhausted, but I cannot make myself go to bed. All I want to do is sleep, but my mind will not shut down. It continues to ask the same questions over and over, desperately grasping for some semblance of order and clarity...

Why keep picking from the pile?
Why ask why?!
Why NOT?!
Why did everyone on the SS Minnow pack so much crap for a 3 hour cruise?!

All fabulous questions, to which I have equally well-thought-out, compelling arguments for...but for some reason a complete and utter inability to express said well-thought-out, compelling answers, in a clear, concise manner...

While you look at the above questions and chuckle to yourself wondering what the hell kind of questions those are, and what quirky answers I will come up with to try to be clever, these are serious questions. And while they also seem completely random, they are in fact all different components of the same stream of conscious thought. Seriously, these are real and big questions and not whimsical or non-sensical ravings of a lunatic (or exhausted, you be the judge) mind...

Perhaps tomorrow I will have the ability to convey the answer to these burning questions....tonight I can only sit and feel helplessly tormented by the melancholy veil cast over my heart at the moment...

I can only sit and cry and wish I could put into words the colors and sounds and feelings that are trapped inside my chest, welling up and threatening to drown me....

Some people paint, some people sculpt, some people make music to express the things inside of them...I write...but I cant at the moment...and it makes me desperately sad....

I guess its a good thing it is raining right now, then no one can see that I am crying, because that is an expression of weakness, and I am always the one who is able to remain strong.

Crying is a healthy expression of vulnerability and humanity- I fully support you in it..... I however....I choose not to indulge in it because I am able to accept that life just sucks sometimes and I am good at handling adversity... I do not crack under pressure, but thrive under it.
Adapt and overcome.

Climb out of the pile, because whining is a waste of energy.

Wasting energy is not efficient.

Inefficient tactics are not a logical solution to any problem.

I am strong.

I always have been.

And not because I necessarily want to (or have wanted to), for reasons of pride or self-importance, but because perhaps I have lived my whole life not knowing any other way to be.

Falling apart has never been an option or luxury afforded to me.

Bold statements?

Truth.

Truth?

Perhaps weakness is just a luxury I have never afforded myself...

Sadly, all I can do tonight is cry and watch the colors, shapes, and melodies dance around my room, taunting me to reach out and take hold of them before they slip and slither away across the universe...

My paint brush does not work...my paints are all dry...

My clay has hardened...

My guitar has no strings...

Perhaps I really am drowning, and these tears are just the overflow escaping out of the windows to my soul...

Personally, I dont want to get up to look and check, so I think I the best thing for me to do is just turn the computer off and try to get in my 3 hours of sleep for today...

Dichotomy, Unapologetically

I am a very practical person, but I think life is too short to wear plain cotton underwear- especially white ones.

I am pretty low maintenance, but rarely go out of the house without cleaning myself up a bit. Frankly I believe that one should take care of themself, and this includes taking pride in the way one looks.

I look like a prissy girly girl who only eats salads, water, and air, but I can probably put down as much food as you can, and I can definitely eat my weight in sweets!

I believe everyone deserves a little grace, but cant stand those who continually see fit to skate by with "just good enough".

I admire those who live their lives to a higher set of standards morally and otherwise, but I do not look down on those who do not. Ya know, that whole glass houses thing...

I have a very serious side, but prefer to only pull it out at work, or in case of dire emergency. Life is just too short to be serious all of the time.

I am a very polite and nice person, but tend to tease my friends and family frequently. You can usually tell if I dont like you if I leave you alone. You may think its because I am shy or quiet, but in all honesty its simply because I do not want to take the time and effort to think up a witty zinger to tease you with.

I am very much an extrovert, and almost always prefer to be around other people, however I value my time to myself.

I am very neat and meticulous, but I cant seem to ever fold all of my laundry each week.

I hate reading bad writing, but I cant be bothered to ever punctuate anything I write- I know how, but feel such an expenditure of time on literary pomp and circumstance might hinder the thoughts which flow from my mind...

I love intelligent conversation and debate, but cant stand the type of people who are prone to fanatical and frequent conspiracy theories such as I got my coffee refilled first because the waitress is a Republican subversive who is merely trying to snub you because you carry around a copy of Michael Moore's "Dude Wheres My Country?" like a Bible.

I come across often as very self-assured and perhaps even times cocky, but am my own worst critic. Dont get me wrong, I dont really care what anyone else thinks about me (well, except for my family and close friends), but I care about how *I* _____ (do at work, look, present myself, etc., etc.).

Reading over this I think perhaps this is what Daisy was talking about when she said that I am an "eccentric" individual...

I guess I prefer to look at it as Dichotomy.....

Unapologetically.

Carousel

Its funny how a lot of the time, if you ask me what I miss about my "old" life, I will say its having my time to myself. That is one of the things I always proclaim to love best about my gym time, is that it is the one part of my day where I do not have to answer to anyone, cater to anyone, or kiss anyone's ass, but in truth I never spend this time mindless meditating.



My mind is always whirling with the ins and outs of my life- what I have done, what I need to do, what I want to do... and of course what I have done and still need to do in order to be able to do what I want to do.

When I am not thinking about the neverending barrage of tasks and checklists that my life consists of, I am processing everything else. All of the news of the day, both politically and personally, seem to seep into my consciousness.

Why the hell is everyone working themselves into such a tizzy over the damned democratic primary? Only one will remain standing at the end, so why waste all this energy on the "what if's" and "maybes" of each hypothetical scenario, and tear each other down in the melee?

Personally I think it is a paramount waste of time and proves that our society is addicted to drama and loves to blow things completely out of proportion. Frankly even the mention of this into the stream of my conscious thought is a waste of time and energy, and Im over it. But really it just proves my point that eventhough I dont care about it, I am annoyed enough to be at least momentarily invested, enough so that it leaks into my brain as I run down the list of things that currently annoy me, and feel the need to at least expend the energy to type it.

But as I move out of the realm of things that I dont care to invest any more in, I think of the things of a personal nature that tend to fill my mind as I am blissfully drifting off into my responsibility-free meditation time.

These are the things that make me smile to think about- things like Lindsay's new home and new job... Annette's new home, and the fact that they are having another baby, especially after how hard it was to get there the first time... Sarah finally moving to Colorado and rekindling a lost connection that meant so much... Amy doing so well at work and all the other areas of her life beginning to come together in amazing ways... Hearing Julie so happy that I can see her beaming smile through the phone... Having Matt back after such a long time...

All these things make me truly happy. I feel blessed to see these things happening for those I love, I tell myself that means things are going to happen for me soon. I believe good things are going to happen for me soon. I cling to the promise that good things are coming, but lately I am having a hard time feeling it anymore.

It occurred to me Monday that I am genuinely and sincerely happy for the things happening for those I love, and I am not jealous of them, but I am starting to tire of being happy for everyone else.

I want my ray of sunshine.

I want my break in the clouds- my rainbow.

I want the dove to actually land on my deck, instead of merely circling my ark holding the olive branch with the deceptive promise of landing.

I feel as though the world is running around me in color, and I am trapped in slow motion, and black and white.

I feel sad.

But then the phone rings and brings unexpected news from an old friend, and suddenly all of the clouds lift and I am pulled away from all that was weighing me down. I am happy once again...

How can you not be happy when one of your best friends has great news?

You Dont Mess Around with GYM

Today I was feeling a little bit under the weather, and actually did something I never do- I skipped my date with my most steady and reliable boyfriend, GYM.

I know, I know. Dont look at me like that!! Its the first time in probably 6 months that Ive missed a day, but yes... today I stood up GYM.

And, as I sat and battled the wave of anxiety that swept over me as 9pm rolled around and I didnt get dressed and go, I was certain I could feel myself getting fatter. But, then thankfully I got over it, and instead sat and began pondering the intriguing parade of people who frequent the gym.... Anyone who goes to the gym on a semi-frequent basis knows what I am talking about, but what I want to know is seriously, who are these people?!!

First off, we have the Lazy Ass. These are those annoying people who circle the parking lot searching for the closest spot possible. I mean seriously, WTF?!! Isnt the entire point of going to the gym to break a sweat? Or what about the people who will actually follow you as you walk to your car to take your spot? I mean, how lazy are you?! There are 100 spots further back, but youve got to follow me as if its 2 days before Christmas at Fashion Valley and there might not be another empty spot for an hour. Sometimes I seriously consider for a moment walking all over the parking lot, acting like I am going to my car, just to mess with these idiots.

The next character I usually notice is the Muscle Head. I mean, who *DOESNT* love the sight of a guy in spandex who is so pumped up on steriods that he cant put his arms down?! You know what I mean, the guys who walk around looking like a cartoon character- anyone remember Popeye?

Or how about his little wannabe friend whom I shall call "Mini Me"? Youve seen the Mini Me's- the guys who walk around behind the Muscle Head and emulate him, much the way little children emulate their parents. The only real difference though is between perception and reality, and well, the Mini Me can always be spotted by the unmistakeable prescence of "Air Lats". What are "Air Lats" you ask? Well, Mini Me is muscular, but he is by no means actually so muscular (like the Muscle Head) that he has lost the ability to put his arms down at his sides and walk around like Modern Man. I suppose "Air Lats" are a means of wishful thinking, much like the idea that you dress for the job you want. So I guess really that would actually make these guys posers, but now were getting into semantics, so Ill just go ahead and wrap this one up.

One last thing of note which I find particularly amusing about this prison-like segment of the gym population is those great shirts they love to wear. You know, the tshirts that have been gutted, into these tiny pieces of cloth that barely cover anything. The male version of the bikini? A Man-kini?! Or is this shirt a closer relative of the thong (the underwear, not the sandals)?? The mystery may never be solved, but regardless, the man-kini seems to be a sort of Muscle Head uniform, and is required attire for the gym.

I always have to stiffle a bout of laughter when I am assulted by the sight of our next character, the FAT personal trainer. I mean, talk about the blind leading the blind. I seriously dont get why: A) the gym hires people who look like they live next door to Krisy Kreme or B) people actually pay these Fatty McFatty's to help them get into shape. Its disgusting how easy it is for one to get certified as a trainer nowadays. The test is just that, a test, on paper, of book knowledge. Most of these people have no idea the proper way to train someone else, otherwise they wouldnt be obese themselves. Dont get me wrong, I am not ripping on people who are overweight at the gym, I love these people! They are there making the effort to get themselves healthy and I applaud them for it. I am just saying no one should ever pay someone else their hard earned money to get them in shape, if that person cant even see their own toes past their big huge gut.

And, while I hate trainer Fatty McFatty, I really cant stand Super Trainer either. You know the ones I am talking about- often a muscle head, or the female version... that chick at the gym who has rectangular boobs, man hands, and a booming voice which is freakishly deeper than your man's alluring verbal communcae. While Fat Trainer has no expertise whatsoever, Super Trainer has too much, and both are equally dangerous to Joe Average who is seeking their help in getting healthy.

Super Trainer doesnt seem to be able to identify the fact that their client doesnt compete in the Mr/Ms. Fitness competition, and end up making their obese and desperately out of shape clients do the same exercises that they themselves, Super Trainer, do in their own routine. It makes me so mad when I see some poor mother of 3 attempting to get rid of her badonk-a-dunk, struggling to do a 3 part lunge with weights, and falling down or getting hurt as a result. Mother of 3 isnt fit enough to do this exercise, and Super Trainer should know better, but they dont. As a result, their clients end up either leaving them because they get hurt, or are not getting the results promised. Bad trainers make me ill! Unfortunately, the gym is rampant with these people.

Next, we have the odd creature called the Barbie girl. Again, I have to take a minute to ask seriously, WTF?! Who are these girls who show up in their $300 sweat suits, make-up applied with a trowel, and their blinged out cell phone? You know, the girls who spend more time talking to other Barbie girls, or Barbie girl wanna-bes, than they actually do working out. Then they leave and gulp down their Grande Caramel Mochaccino from Starbucks, and are actually seriously wondering why they havent reached their fitness goals. Fortunately, some of these Barbie girls will find happiness, when they marry and become real housewives of the OC, and can afford to get lipo. The cruel cycle of Juicy Couture sweats, too much make-up, and excessive calorie consumption is allowed to continue with new results. Hooray for plastic surgery and perverted old men!

Lastly, and perhaps the most annoying of all habitual gym frequenters is Sweaty Talker Guy. This is truly one of the most hideous and perpetually inevitable pariahs who always seem to find me at the gym. Just in case you are lucky enough to not know of whom I speak, this is the big guy who gets next to you on the treadmill and tries to talk to you, eventhough youve got headphones on, all while he sweats profusely in your general direction. LOVE this guy!! And its even better when he really smells to top it off.... Seriously, unless I know you, I do not want to talk to you at the gym. Its nothing personal.

It seems that those of us who come to the gym, for the sole purpose of working on our fitness, are a bit of a rare breed. I dont come to the gym to make friends, or flirt with anyone (especially not the old perverted guys who are older than my dad. I mean, sometimes I want to tell them they should be ashamed of themselves, because they probably have a daughter my age.... EWWWW!). Infact, I dont even always wear matching gym clothes, and I certainly dont wear expensive ones. If I happen to be wearing make-up, it is because its the end of the day, and I have already been out and about being a productive, contributing member of society.

When I am at the gym, I am there for the sole purpose of making sure people are shocked when they find out that I am in fact a mommy. Thats right, I go to the gym to combat the possibility of having to wear "Mom Jeans"!! "Because shes not a woman, shes a MOM!".... Call it vanity if you want, but I simply refuse to go out like that! Truth be told, its not due to vanity at all, but instead my life-long *pathological* fear of being overweight... and anyone who knows me well, knows sadly why I have this particular fear...

That ackward glimpse into my pschye aside, the most important thing a date with GYM means is quiet time- a little "me" time- time to recharge and regain my sanity. A date with GYM is the 2 hours or so of my day when no one is asking me to tend to them...no clients, no boss, no children, no babydaddy.... Just me, and my music, and all the random thoughts rattling around in my head. And the simple act of having a nice date with GYM helps me feel like me again, so that I can go back to tending to needy clients, a rambunctious baby, housework, email, whiny babydaddy, etc., etc.

Yay for the gym!!