Where Does The Good Go?

You know that feeling when you first meet someone and it is almost overwhelming how great the person is? How each morning is met with a little more excitement because you know you’ll hear from that person and every part of you anticipates his first text of the day? When your work productivity sees just the slightest decrease because you were up until 3am talking and spend most of the day replying to sexy, witty texts? How your first “I miss you” is met with “I’m keenly feeling your absence. I miss you, too.” and you think nothing can feel better than being missed by this wonderful person who actually uses words like “keenly” and punctuates texts correctly? That feeling when even just being with him makes a trip to Target more fun and you let yourself, just for a minute, think you wouldn’t mind making your next hundred trips to Target with him? Yes, those feelings are simply amazing.

Which only makes it worse to notice, suddenly, your last texts to him hasn’t been replied to in three days. And no, not just happen to notice, more like have been noticing every two minutes for the last 96 hours, even finding yourself waking up at 4am just willing your phone to show some signs of life. And for those last three days having the Band of Horses song “No One’s Going to Love You” seemingly on repeat in your head, your mind’s own personal sad soundtrack needling at the mass of confusing feelings already running rampant in your mind. It makes it worse because while you’re looking at your silent phone you go through the last few months, weeks, days wondering where did the good go? When did “I miss you” start turning into “I’m finding myself not thinking of you as often as I was and am okay waiting until tomorrow morning to reply to your last text because I seemed to have lost that lovin feelin”? When people are romantically involved and things are going SO well, except for maybe little hiccups like, oh say, 1100 miles separating you, and then all the sudden things just…stop, what is it that happens?! Where do all those previous feelings and warm, fuzzy thoughts go to? When nothing has changed on your end, when you’ve had no fights, when you are still that same lovely, witty, adorable but sexy person that attracted this other person to you in the first place, what is it that leads to something new and wonderful, fizzling and fading?

I wish I could say these are rhetorical questions to which I will suddenly spout a mass of information that will lead to clarity for all readers in the same situation, but, sadly, I cannot. This is just me asking, because I really want to know, where does the goddamn good go?

What I Like About Me

As some of you may know, I am critical. Yes, I can be a judge-y, snarky, bitch (with a heart of gold, I promise!). Usually just internally, but I have been known to let my criticism fly a time or two. The thing most of you don’t know is the person I am most critical of is myself. I have always been this way, judging myself far more harshly than any outsider could. And it’s not just the general ‘oh I could stand to work out a little more, go out for pizza a little less, save more, spend less, help the needy, think less of myself’ type judging. More like, ‘my sneeze is weird, my cuticles are always a mess, I still suck at walking in heels, I sound like I’m twelve when I speak on the phone, my ears are slightly uneven, the way I part my hair isn’t flattering my face to it’s fullest potential, I never eat enough vegetables and suck at staying on a diet, my closet needs major help from Clinton Kelly and Stacy London, I loathe my unsightly cellulite, my posture is atrocious…’ type judging. Yes, it goes there. Now, I’m not like this all the time. If I was it’s likely I’d never leave my bed and let another person lay eyes on me again. Most days I’m your average girl who has worries of misplaced bangs, but, in general, is feelin’ pretty a-ok. The exception to this though is when I am going through a weird guy-situation (or work or friend or family sitch, right now it just happens to be a guy). When these weird guy-situations arise, like when one is sending mixed signals and, on the whole, making you feel like he’s lost interest (just an example), these criticisms can take me over. I become the poster child for self doubt. This isn’t my favorite part of myself, but it’s something I’ve been working on since I realized what was up. Most days when I catch myself going to the dark pit of despair where all confidence is killed upon entry, I give myself a minute or two to indulge in it, and then I tell myself to “snap out of it!” (ala Cher in Moonstruck, of course). But some days, well some days that minute or two turns into me, eight hours later, hidden under my sheets, face buried under a pillow, tissues littering my bedside table, and a Sara Bareilles/Cat Power one-two punch to the tear factories in my eyes playlist put on repeat. Like I said, this isn’t my favorite part of myself. Maybe it’s from being so introspective. Maybe I just tend to take on whatever is going wrong, internalize it, and pick myself apart until I can figure out what it is I did to cause said situation, when, in all likeliness, it’s nothing I did at all. Or, if it is something I did, say I’m in this weird guy-situation now because of making myself too available (again, just an example), that probably has nothing to do with the size of my thighs and why working out only seems to make them rounder. On those days where a minute or two turns into an all consuming self doubt decathlon it can sometimes feel impossible to brush the dirt off my shoulders and return to normal. It’s hard to reason with a judging-frenzied brain, especially when tears and sad girl playlists get involved. So. How can I get myself to pull back the covers of my confidence killing cocoon, turn off the sad girl playlist, stop wasting time on negative thoughts and go out and make the most of life? Well, right now, this is my only thought…

Like I said, most days I’m just your average girl with average worries of pants feeling a little too snug and hair falling flat halfway through the day, but, in general, I’m feeling good. But once and awhile, on the most magical of days when all the stars align I don’t just feel good, I feel GREAT. We’ve all had these days. Maybe you wake up feeling that way or you get your favorite outfit on, but whatever it is, you look in the mirror and just say “Damn girl, you fly!” Yes, these way above average days are rare for me, but I’ve had them. I’m not currently having one (read: weird guy-situation lurking) but I can recall the feeling well enough to put it on paper – or blog. On these heavenly days I feel so very certain of what I like about me. I’m loyal. Maybe even a little too loyal, but I like that people can know that once I’m on your side, I’m on your side. I have eyelashes for days that do not require mascara. I have an awesome balance of being a girly-girl and a guy’s-girl. I like sports and action movies and camping and most other things dude-related, but I still love to whip up some home cookin’ for a boy, get dressed up, get my nails did, and dish celebrity gossip over mimosas. I read interesting books, am always on the lookout for good, new music, love going to art galleries, and generally, try and keep myself pretty cultured. I’m funny, but not to the point where I always have to be “on” and telling jokes. My body is far from perfect, but I actually kinda dig that I look like a woman and not a ten year old boy and think that there are probably a good handful of men out there who appreciate the same thing (no offense to my friends/readers without the curves, because your bodies are beautiful, too!). I love my laugh when I’m really laughing. It feels good in my stomach and my cheeks and I love that it’s so loud people wonder what I’m laughing at, but not loud enough to be annoyed by it. I love that I’m organized and attentive and try hard at work, even when I don’t love my job. And you know what? It may not be the best “move” when starting up with a new man, but I like that I made myself available to someone. That despite my fears, I didn’t close myself off to someone because there was a possibility of ending up in a weird guy-situation and having a day (or, okay, this whole last weekend) where I doubted myself and laid in bed and listened to sad songs. So, the next time I am in the shameful cutting-myself-to-the-quick spiral, I will pull up this entry and remind myself that there are things I like about myself so much, I just had to let the world see. And that I am a pretty spectacular and worthwhile person, and any guy/job/friend that makes me feel otherwise doesn’t suddenly make me less spectacular, and, someday, there will be a guy/job/friend out there that appreciates everything I appreciate in myself…and, quite possibly, more.

Secret Sunday

1. I am obsessed with award shows.

Award show season is the most wonderful time of the year! I anticipate and full on salivate over the fashions, the acceptance speeches, and the major upsets every year. As I type, I am applauding Kat Dennings’ flawless porcelain skin and the deep crimson gown against it. GORGE.

2. I’ve practiced my “loser face”.

Yep. Never been nominated for an award (Golden Globe for outstanding writing in a comedy? One day – typed with fist shaken toward the sky), but better believe I’ve perfected the art of “Yes, I just lost, but look how humbled and proud of the winner I am!”

3. When heartbroken over boys, I turn to carbs.

Sweet, delicious carbs. Glorious carbs! Feta and mushroom pizza, saucy, garlic-y pasta, and warm, toasted onion bagels. Screw the chocolate, this girl wants carbs to curl into to soak up those boy related tears!

4. I am a fiend for dip.

French onion, spinach, queso, garlic and herb, yogurt fruit dip…you name it, I want to dip a cracker/chip/veggie/apple into it.

5. I am ready for CHANGE.

On the fore front of my mind almost any time I find myself unable to sleep is ‘What’s next?” Austin? California? Teaching English in Japan? I can’t quite decide, but something is out there for me…somewhere.

Secret Sunday

1. One of my favorite movies, and my favorite song, is Footloose.

Judge away if you must!

2. Most of my embarrassing stories involve me throwing up.

Throwing up at a concert in front of random people. Throwing up in my college boyfriend’s shared dorm bathroom. Throwing up over the side of a ferris wheel while sitting next to a cute boy. Throwing up, and eventually clogging a boy’s toilet, in California. Yes, I am a classy, CLASSY, lady.

3. I positively LOVE girls with pixie cuts.

But you will never see me sporting one. I am cursed with one of those round faces that looks absolutely frightening with short hair. A girl can always look at Carey Mulligan or Lena Dunham’s new do and dream though.

4. There is one sure sign that I like a boy.

I will spend at least five minutes editing my text message to him. Once that happens, I know I’m in trouble.

5. Not all of my tattoos have meaning.

But the newest one does. Tattoo number four is the name “Mae” on the inside of my right wrist. It was my Grammy’s middle name, and if I ever have a daughter, it will be her middle name as well. Everyday I think about my Grammy and I like that, even though she’s been gone for a few years now, she will always be close by.

Image

The newest addition.

A Case of the PRB.

As I sit here at my desk, on my last allotted break for the day, too tired to even make my way to the break room, or even outside for a short stroll due to the late night fire scare in my building last night (yes, apparently grown adults still burn shit in their kitchens and have to get the fire department involved…and then drink with their neighbors and whoop it up over all the excitement {yes, I’m looking at you neighbor directly below me} thus keeping others around them up until all hours, throat burning from the lingering smoke and smell of melted Tupperware.), I find myself having a bad case of PRB. No, not PBR. I’m not drinking a skunky case of Pabst Blue Ribbon (although, at this point in the day, even that is starting to sound better than another 100 minutes of work.). What I’ve got is PRB. Today I’m afflicted with a case of the Places I’d Rather Be. It’s clear to anyone who has seen me today that I’m suffering from the PRB. Even people who don’t really know me can tell by my restless leg shaking, constant sighs, and the glazed over look in my eye, all the classic signs of PRB. So here, dear readers, are the Places I’d Rather Be:

1. At a spa.

Not just any spa though. A spa that boasts miracle fat and cellulite reductions through intensive treatments of hot stone and deep tissue massages given by Daniel Craig look a likes and serves meals consisting of the world’s creamiest macaroni and cheese that is not only delicious, but is guaranteed to trim at least two inches off your waist (three if you add bacon to it).

2. A beach.

The beach from the movie The Beach with Leonardo DiCaprio is what I’m picturing (but not actually with Leo there. Sorry, love, I’m not 13 anymore and you’re just not my type. But please, if your friend Tom Hardy is available, feel free to send him over… with a bottomless pina coloda. And tanning oil that prevents all forms of skin cancer while giving the perfect golden glow.).

3. At a cafe in Paris.

With delicious glass of cabernet, Steve Martin’s “An Object of Beauty,” and a warm, fresh, delicious baguette (that, again, would take at least two inches of my waistline if I promise to eat all of it. With herbed goat cheese.)

4. In a magical world.

And in this magical world, when you force yourself to be brave and put yourself out there for a guy, the guy has the decency to respond to you in an acceptable period of time (i.e; not a day later).

5. In an even magical-er world.

Where guys stop acting so laid back about everything and thus never forcing you to have to be brave and put yourself out there. Yes, this is most certainly a PRB.

Secret Sunday

1. I HATE the Denver Broncos.

Oh wait, that’s never been a secret.

2. This time next year I hope to be enjoying fall from a different state.

Don’t get me wrong, aside from the Broncos, I’ve come to LOVE Denver. But, the time has come for a change. Yeah, I’m looking at you Austin or California…

3. I believe in soulmates.

But not in the traditional Hollywood-you’re-the-only-one-for-me-ride-off-into-the-sunset type soulmates. I think there are a handful of people out there that complement you perfectly, whether they be friends or lovers.

4. I have found soulmates in the friends department, but not in the romance.

But I haven’t given up on finding it.

5. I once sent Dean Cain a fan letter.

I was nine and in love with Superman (though Christopher Reeve was still my
favorite). It was written on Lisa Frank stationary and included many unicorn and heart stickers. To this day, I still cringe at the thought of my loopy and poorly written “Love, your biggest fan in the whole wide world”. (This still embarrasses me less than waiting in line at a mall for a Brian Austin Green autograph though…)

My Favorite Story

Okay, so it’s not my favorite story. That, dear readers, may come at another time…when I figure out what it is. But this? This is one of them. It’s nothing huge. Some of you may even have heard me tell it before, but it just makes me happy and every once and awhile it needs to be re-told.

We truly do live in a small world. Case in point; a guy I dated for a hot minute toward the end of college, G, ended up being a RA in one of the dorms with a guy from my high school, M. (Now, for a little back story; M is younger than me. We knew each other through the Speech and Drama programs at school, but then again, our school was TINY, so it’s not like we wouldn’t have at least known of each other. Anywho, M was a cute kid, loved him to death and was in a few plays with him, but after high school our friendship was that of occasional Facebook ‘happy birthday’ messages.) As they were talking during their RA training it came up that M was from my high school, so of course G asked if he knew me. M said that he not only knew me, but I changed his life. Say whaaaaa??? I thought to myself as G was later relaying this story to me. How could my casual friendship from, ohhh, five years ago, have changed someone’s life? Pretty easily, it seems. M told G that he really liked doing drama in high school but knew there was no way he could pursue it after that. It was a mix of his parents not supporting it and not feeling like he was good enough to ever go anywhere with it. When G was telling me this a vivid scene came right back to me. It was my senior year and I was chatting with some fellow drama geeks about plans for the future when M said almost those exact words and I replied,  “If it’s something that makes you happy though, find a way to go for it. It will be worth it.” And that? That changed his life.

Alright, so even though he used the words “changed his life” I know it’s a bit of an exaggeration. I gave the kid some advice, and he took it. Since then he’s found all sorts of things he loves, even took drama classes in college, and is basically just going for it. I just happened to come along at the right time and say the right thing. And this isn’t even one of my favorite stories because I’m the person who said it to him (okay, maybe it partly is. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be referred to as a person who helped shaped someone’s life?!), it’s one of my favorites because it makes me believe even more that you never know when you will make a difference to someone, in ways large or small. It’s just like my angsty-girl soul sister Angela Chase said in one of her many voice overs in My So-Called Life, “Sometimes someone says something really small and it just fits into this empty place in your heart.”