Personal shit I should keep to myself
Balance
Aug 30th
For a really long time, my life has been way off balance. It’s been off balance for so long, in fact, that off balance feels natural and normal. Off balance is a comfort.
Lately, I’ve been trying to find more balance. It actually all started with finally being a mature individual with a budget.
I’ve kept a clean apartment, so it’s not a mad dash to pick things up when someone is coming over. Also, it’s just nice to come home to a clean apartment. I never really knew this would make such a difference, but it’s incredible how awesome it is to get into a bed that’s made. Walking into a closet full of clean clothes on, all on hangers, is also really nice.
I’ve been trying to eat better, though so far I haven’t made many changes. Which is why I’ve decided to go vegan again on September 1st. This time I’m going to try it for two months, instead of one. Since I’ve been so successful at forming new cleaning habits (so far), I’m hoping that this will help me establish some new eating habits.
If someone could get me to the gym, that would be great. I miss rock climbing, but I’ve decided to find something more martial arts/self-defense related for now. I loved Jiu Jitsu when I took it last summer. It’s expensive, but probably worth it. This time, though, I’d like to start with something that’s straight up self-defense. I can’t wait to get back to the climbing wall, though. I just need to get myself in a bit better shape. Feeling strong, physically, is very important right now. And I don’t feel strong.
Relationships, as always, have been the hardest for me. Finding a balance in relationships with friends and family is more difficult than I thought. Adding other people into the mix just complicates things. I usually have a lot trouble with family, much to my mother’s dismay. I can’t seem to explain to her the WHY, though. A couple of week’s ago, we had lunch, because I wanted to talk to her about the trouble I’ve been having with this whole “selling myself as a writer” thing. During lunch, I got the requisite lecture about how “distant” I am with family and about how she wishes my sister and I were closer. “Because, at the end of the day, family is all you have.”
I hate that statement. It’s just not even true. Plus, I love my sister and I would absolutely be there for her if she needed me (which…she just doesn’t). I just don’t really feel the need to talk to her everyday (not to mention she never bothers to return phone calls or emails, which makes me less inclined to even bother). We don’t have very much in common, and honestly, it’s just easier and less stressful if we don’t talk a lot. And my conservative Christian grandparents? Yeah, I just…can’t. My Nana is probably the most self-absorbed person on the planet; my Pops, while sweet, comes with a side of Nana. Also, we don’t agree on anything, so it’s hard to make conversation. Which just means that for the entirety of the interaction, I feel uncomfortable and on-edge.
My dad’s parents are easier, but they live in Tennessee. The older I get, though, the harder it is to sit around and take the lectures about conservative politics and the evil homosexual agenda. I’m expected to respect them and their beliefs (and to hold my tongue), while they hold no respect for me or mine, simply because they’re older. It’s a concept I find difficult, to say the least. So rather than put myself in the position of being uncomfortable, I just avoid the situation as much as possible.
Friends should be easier, because you get to choose your friends. That hasn’t really been the case for me lately, though. Let’s just say, this is a work in progress.
As for more intimate or romantic relationships, this is where I struggle the most. As a person with a very strong sense of self, I know I have to make some compromises, if I’m ever going to let myself get close to someone again. But I don’t want to lose myself or put myself on the back-burner, either. I do that too easily, mostly because I know that I’m strong and I’m tough and I will be okay. The truth is, though, I won’t be okay if I lose myself to be with someone else. My problem is striking a balance between knowing when to hold my ground and when it’s okay to compromise. It can’t be my way or the highway, but it can’t be “whatever you need,” either.
At the end of my last long(ish) relationship, I came up with a list of ways I had felt in that relationship that I will never feel in a relationship again. These are, as they say, the deal-breakers. The things are the list on broad enough in concept that they can be applied to any relationship, with any other human.
Rather than make a list of the qualities I want to find in a partner (as in that atrocious Hallmark movie I watched last night), I think this is a healthy thing to do at the end of a relationship. Particularly one that ended poorly. This is simply a list of warning signs. If I feel this way because of someone else’s actions or words again, I will hopefully be much more likely to walk away.
How to throw away underwear.
Aug 16th
I feel like I might have talked about this before. If I have, I’m mildly apologetic that I’m doing it again. A search for “underwear” in my archives brought up more posts than I was expecting and I didn’t feel like sorting through them.
So I have this problem. I can’t seem to get rid of old underwear.
You’re probably thinking this is completely ridiculous right about now, but it’s not.
Okay, maybe it is. But my Grandmother has the same problem. And you can shut your whore mouth before you make fun of my Grandmother.
The problem is this: I don’t want to throw out dirty underwear (because ew), but if I wash it, I usually just put it away without thinking and then I end up wearing it again. Rinse and repeat. Ad nauseum.
It’s a vicious cycle and I’m tired of it.
I need a new plan, people. How do you get rid of your old underwear?
You should probably understand that I have more underwear than a sultan has concubines. And no, I’m never ever getting rid of my knee socks.
Friendship?
Jun 17th
I’d just like to say that this is a terrible idea. A terrible idea, indeed. But I’m doing it anyway.
I’ve recently determined that I am le suck at relationships. Of all kinds. I suck at relationships with family, I suck at intimate relationships. But I always thought I was a good friend. Good at friendship, even.
Yeah, not so much.
I’m impatient and easily annoyed and I expect things from people like, “Don’t be fucking late to everything” or “Do what you say you’re going to do” or “Don’t be an asshole.”
Unfortunately, there’s this sort of side list of things that rarely gets discussed. Because they’re those things that you either have or you don’t. For instance:
I am not a terribly touchy-feely, huggy person. I hug people, sure. I even touch people sometimes. But I’ve been called out enough in my fucking life about flirting, that I pretty much try to keep my contact to a minimum. Also, I was raised by a mother who’s second-favorite phrase was “don’t hang on me,” so I don’t really like constant contact or whatever. My sister is even worse about it than I am.
Don’t come to me for advice if you don’t want me to give it to you. Because I will. You probably won’t like what I have to say, either.
I am NOT negative or pessimistic. I am realistic. I’m more than a bit cynical, but I can see the happy good stuff, too. I’m sick and fucking tired of being called negative.
I’m not much for the schmoop. Also, you will rarely hear the big L-word coming out of my mouth. Like, to you. I will happily type “Love you” or whatever all day about people I’ve never even met. I love cheese fries. I love cupcakes. I love my hat. But I probably am not going to look at you and tell you I love you. Unless you’re either really fucking special (and I actually love you) or you’ve made me so uncomfortable by getting up in my face and telling me you love me that I feel like if I don’t say it back you’ll eat my face.
If you make plans with me? You best fucking show up. Or call. But mostly show up. If you constantly forget that we made plans, I will happily stop making plans with you. I have a lot to do and I don’t have time for your flakiness.
Communication? It’s a two-way street. You can’t always expect me to plan everything and invite you to everything. If you want to hang out with me? Feel free to call, text, email, Twitter, Facebook, whatever. There are plenty of ways to get a hold of me. But don’t, DON’T, whine and complain to me that you never see me and then never bother to make the effort to try to see me.
If you can’t figure out how to be yourself, I’m going to notice. I don’t need you to be me or like me or any such thing. Theoretically, I’m friends with you because I like you. BE YOU. But if you have the self-awareness of a rock? I may not be able to take it.
I don’t really dig gushy compliments. They never seem sincere to me. In the face of such, I will just be self-deprecating and that will lead you to think that I’m negative, when really? I’m just fucking uncomfortable. It’s a whole vicious cycle I’d rather not have to deal with. I can handle some compliments, but not all of them. I’m weird. Yes, this is my issue. No, it’s not likely to change. There’s actually a whole post on this stewing in my brain. Stay tuned, if I haven’t pissed you off so much you’d rather not read.
/rant
There’s no way I can NOT talk about this.
Feb 25th
You guys. Today I totally had a light-hearted post about leggings as pants planned, but then last night, I heard some news. From Utah. And now we’re going to get serious.
Or, well, I’m just going to tell you about this and probably get all stabby and teary-eyed and you’ll sit at your computer screens in awe of how pretty I can be while crying and then we’ll all go have coffee and talk about the douchebag Republicans that run the state of Utah. Deal?
On February 18, the Salt Lake City Tribune reported that the Utah Senate had joined the Utah House of Representatives in support of a law that would allow for criminal charges to be brought against an expectant mother who arranges for an illegal abortion.
Now, federally, abortion is legal, but I assume here that each state gets to define the term “abortion,” and decide for itself what the legal issues that surround said abortion are. In Utah, an abortion is legal:
Before 20 weeks, abortion is necessary to save mother’s life or health, if woman was raped or incest committed, or child has grave defects; after 20 weeks, necessary to preserve health, life of mother or if child would be born with grave defects
Any other kind of abortion is illegal. This law, passed now by the Utah Senate and House of Representatives, will extend criminal charges to women who have miscarriages.
It doesn’t address legal abortion, but allows punishment up to life in prison for an “intentional, knowing, or reckless act” that leads to a miscarriage or abortion without a doctor’s supervision.
They’re doing this, supposedly, because a woman in October was being held and facing criminal charges because she paid a man $150 to beat her, in an effort to try to abort her baby. Clearly, that is not on the “legal abortion” list. At that time, she was released, because there was no law criminalizing her actions. Her pregnancy did not terminate.
But she had to take such extreme measures because of the restrictive nature of what constitutes a legal abortion in the state of Utah.
If the governor signs this new law, it is feared that women could and will be prosecuted for any negligent behavior that causes a miscarriage. A glass of wine, improper diet, failure to wear a seat belt in an auto accident, or slipping and falling down the stairs. And if you’ll notice, it says up there that a woman can be charged with UP TO LIFE IN PRISON for such a careless mistake.
Even more to the point, how is Utah possibly going to police this law? Jezebel.com writer Anna N. listed a quote from Dan Savage with a possible solution. A pregnancy registry. I won’t even go into the logistics of trying to force all women who become pregnant to go sign in to a registry, so that the government has an easier time prosecute them later for possible negligent behavior.
Rachel Larris, of Reality Check, writes:
Using the legal standard of “reckless behavior” all a district attorney needs to show is that a woman behaved in a manner that is thought to cause miscarriage, even if she didn’t intend to lose the pregnancy. Drink too much alcohol and have a miscarriage? Under the new law such actions could be cause for prosecution.
I’m just amazed that ANYONE, but particularly any woman, can find this new law palatable. Some people believe that birth control pills already overstep the bounds into MURDER because they prevent (if ovulation manages to happen) the egg from implanting into the uterine wall. But what has most people so concerned about this law is that it is aimed specifically at pregnant women. Most other laws about such matter to date, have been aimed at a third-party. This makes women the criminals.
This is an issue that is very close to my heart. As a woman who has had a miscarriage and who has had an abortion, I can tell you this: Neither is easy. I don’t want children anyway, but accidents happen. Life happens. I had an abortion because I chose me over a ball of cells in my uterus. My miscarriage was caused by several things. Not realizing I was pregnant and therefore continuing to take my birth control pills for a month or longer. Not eating, because I had just gone through the most painful heartbreak of my life. And contracting the flu, because things weren’t bad enough already. If the governor signs this law in Utah, it would be possible to prosecute me for those actions. I was negligent and reckless with an unborn fetus. And in Utah, a mass of cells in a woman’s uterus is more important than the woman carrying it.
Is that really okay with you?
The three-date rule, “I love you,” and the loss of something beautiful.
Feb 22nd
I used to work in new home sales. This means I was around a lot of men who build houses for a living. Men who build houses for a living, in my experience, are typically kind of…um, pervy. I was 19 when I started and, as I’m sure you can imagine, they really liked to fuck with me. Especially because at 19, I had led a pretty sheltered life. Calling myself naive would be the understatement of the decade.
Anyway, sometime during my six-year tenure with the pervy builders, I was introduced to what they called “the third date rule.” Since then, I’ve heard many people refer to the third date as the “sex date,” but this rule was a bit more involved. According to them, a woman must be prepared to make the sex with a man by either the third date or the point at which he has spent $150 on taking her out. Whichever comes first.
Now, of course she doesn’t KNOW anything about this. Oh, and my personal favorite man-thing? If she gives it up on the first date, she’s a slut. You shouldn’t waste your time. Never once did it cross their minds that THEY also gave it up on the first date. I mean, unless they just filmed her making the sex with someone ELSE on the first date. But not a one considered himself “slutty.” So a woman must be willing to give it all up by the third date (or the $150 mark) and no later, but also no sooner than the second date. I’m not sure what happens if you spend all $150 on the first date, as that has NEVER happened to me.
In fact, until Princess, I would say that no one had ever really spent a significant amount of money on me.
Well, I have my own “three dates rule.” In my opinion, three dates is the time you absolutely have to figure out if this person you’re going out with has what it takes to be in your life. If you decide that he doesn’t on or before the third date, I don’t think you owe him much of an explanation. Just a simple, “I’m not really interested” should suffice. And on or before the third date, your reason can be ANYTHING. He tucked his t-shirt into his underwear, he wore socks and sandals, he listens to Nickelback, whatever.
But you don’t owe him an explanation. Because the first three dates are just the interview process. And if I can’t figure it out in three dates, that’s usually my answer. Everyone is different though.
However, past three dates, I think you owe the other person an actual, truthful (but not mean) reason why you don’t want to be with him (or her). I don’t think you should be allowed to puss out any more, because you’ve put in a significant amount of time with another person. And that person DESERVES to know what happened. What changed. Even if it’s, “I met someone else and I think he’s better suited to me.” Or, “I just discovered that you listen to Nickelback.”
Breaking up with someone because they listen to Nickelback is ALWAYS okay. In case you hadn’t picked up on that.
I’m so tired of people pussing out. Of being too cowardly to be honest. Imagine all the over-thinking, over-analyzing, and misery you can save someone if you just take a few minutes to be honest. Of course, this also means you have to be honest with yourself. There’s no way to tell someone else the truth if you’re lying to yourself.
On a related note, this “I love you” thing has gotten way out of hand. Men (and I’m sure women) use it to get what they want without meaning it at all. And women (I don’t really know about men here) love the sound of those words so much. Want them to mean something. And when they don’t, it hurts.
Men, please stop throwing out the L-word when what you really mean is “You’re okay and I like hanging out with you for now.” Those are NOT the same thing. And if a woman hasn’t said it to you, please don’t say it to her if you don’t mean it. There’s no reason for that. If you want sex and she’s not giving it to you, find someone else. DON’T LIE about loving. It’s ridiculous.
Unfortunately for all of us, love is a completely subjective word. It means something different to everyone. Personally, I’m not even sure I know WHAT it means any more, with regard to a romantic relationship. Or if I’m going to feel comfortable hearing it in the near future.
But I can tell you one thing. I was completely and totally in LOVE with stealing internets from my neighbors. Yesterday, after at least eight months, my neighbors (assholes) secured their Wi-Fi. THEY PASSWORD PROTECTED IT AND LOCKED ME OUT. I thought we were friends! I thought they loved me as much as I loved them. But no. They just left me out in the cold. No explanation, no nothing. After EIGHT MONTHS of being together.
I almost cried. Now I’m going to have to…PAY for internets? That just seems wrong.
