orange jello

I think all my creative writing skills fell out of my brain this morning when I was lying in bed fighting with my will before I actually got out of bed about twenty minutes before I had to leave the house. Creative writing, why hast thou left me?

Since January first I've lost ten and a half pounds. I am becoming a whore for the gym. I go with Merry and I've gone a few times with my little sister, but I go alone too and I really enjoy it. Thirty minutes on an elliptical, walk a few times around the track, go home. I feel amazing after and I sleep so well. When Merry and I go I usually do a lot more, but it's just something nice to do that makes me feel good and look better. I think I'm going to plan on swimming once a week soon; I love to swim, and it works all your muscles and is fun. However, walking out into the frigid 14 degree weather with wet hair doesn't sound that appealing to me. Yes, I've heard for hair dryers, no I have no desire to use one more than once a day.

I need to do laundry so bad. I hate laundry... more than anything else I hate laundry. I am the girl that buys new clothes instead of washing what she has. I am not ashamed of that.

My little sister wants to learn to cook. I am pleased that I not only taught her to drive (sort of) but now will be teaching her to cook. Cooking is one of my favorite things. I'd teach anyone who wanted to learn.

Ellen being gone is starting to hit me hard. I am getting used to her absence, but my heart still aches. Last night I dreamt she and Andi both died one day apart. It was the worst dream I've had in a while. I woke up crying at least three times because every time I would fall back asleep I'd be right back in the dream and the grief was insurmountable. I used to have nightmares a lot, it was one of the things I talked to my therapist about often... since I've been less crazy I haven't really had anything that unsettling. I hope this isn't coming back. I really don't think I could live in fear of sleeping again.

Today I get to leave work early to go babysit. This is awesome for two reasons: I get to leave early and I get to be paid twice. I didn't tell my boss I was leaving and he is rarely ever here so we're good.

I like Tom. Like really like him. I could go on but I won't. Saturday night we got drunk and talked about things and watched The Never Ending Story. I also made him a chocolate cake. If you make a guy a chocolate cake and he doesn't put out you're doing something wrong.

Just like if you buy a girl something shiny. Please don't ask why girls like shiny things... it doesn't even make sense to us. But, walk us past jewelry and I bet 90% will look, and the other 9.86% will want to. (I do allow room for the occasional girl who doesn't like jewelry)

Anyways, I really like him for reasons I won't mention because he happened to find my blog and I don't want him reading this and getting a bigger head than he already has. It's weird dating someone I actually knew prior to our first date. the internet dating things has basically changed the way I look at dating. This normal way most people do it will take a little getting used to.

I may have sort of decided to pull myself off match dot com for this guy. I canceled my two dates last week... (and that guy from Fridays post was a tool. He kept sending me pictures of himself doing every day tasks... why would I want that?) This is a weird decision. Men from the internet make sense to me, I expect less and know that more likely than not they are probably at least a little bit crazy. Real life men are the ones that are over my head. Tom is proving to be interesting to say the least. And he's hilarious. And so so cute. *swoon*

While I pick my tongue off the floor and try to stop drooling let me fill you in on other fantastic things that are happening. I found my new favorite band of the moment. They are called Mumford & Sons. Look them up. You won't be disappointed.

not exactly the way to my heart

I got asked out today by a fellow match dot com-er who I have officially been talking to for, wait for it...

One day.

He emailed me this morning asking for my phone number, I emailed him back giving it to him and we've been texting for approximately and hour and a half...

5 texts later he asked me to dinner.

Naturally I accepted. I love dinner.

But here is where he rubbed me wrong:

him: Do you have class or work today? (I'm re-reading your profile now)

What he actually means by re-reading is reading. For the first time. Because he admitted in his original email that he had just skimmed my profile.

me: I'm not in school right now because I originally started out studying music Education and decided two years in, it wasn't for me. Now I'm ready to go back and will be studying nursing starting in May but I won't know if I'm accepted into the program (30 people per session get accepted) till March but because I'm brilliant I should have no problem. That and my good looks.

him: Intelligence idk yet. But looks I agree :-)

First of all, I hate IDK, just like I hate BTW and people (my sister, the English teacher) who say them out loud. Secondly, please do not tell me you're finally re-reading my profile after asking me for my number, then tell me you think I'm hot but you don't think I'm smart.

I'm very smart. I try not to be annoyingly smart when I talk to people because no one wants to hear about statistics and facts about the brain over a few cocktails even though that's all I'm thinking about. If a guy doesn't appreciate me for my brain it doesn't matter how cute he thinks I am.

I've never dated a guy before who wanted me to be his arm candy (mostly because I'm mildly to moderately outspoken and usually say something inappropriate because it's hilarious and I like to make people squirm). I will never be any ones arm candy. I may have arm candy in the future when I am a billionaire from writing a book or singing something really well, or possibly this blog gets as famous as the pioneer woman's or something... but arm candy is such a waste of time.

I've never slept with someone more than once that I found to be anything less than intelligent and hilarious.

I have two standards. You must be smart and you must be funny.

 If I get to choose you'll have glasses and be over 6ft tall.

If I really really get to choose you'll have dark hair and green eyes so we can make little baby clones of ourselves.

Basically all I ask is that you like me for the reasons I like me. And don't downplay how important my intelligence is. I'm not looking for a guy who doesn't value my opinions and input.

 And never say IDK... ugh.

why I think everyone should see a therapist

Life is hard.

Really really hard, every single day. And going it alone makes it harder.

Not that you may actually be alone, but you may feel alone. And if you're feeling alone, or overwhelmed, or under appreciated or over worked you may not be able to talk to the people in your life that are causing you to feel this way.

And having someone to talk to about these things, free from judgement or outside opinions, things seem better. You can deal with them easier if you have a way to talk through them, over and over again, out loud. You discover things about yourself and your life that you didn't realize before may have been affecting you. You see where things started. You come up with solutions to problems and have someone who generally cares about your happiness and well being sitting with you every step of the way.

You can cry, get angry, laugh, share stories or opinions and someone just listens and lets you. You don't get interrupted or pushed aside. For one whole hour it's all about you and what you're going through and your feelings and impressions about those things. All of those things.

Talk about your relationship with your mother, how annoying she is, how much you love and miss her, how you're afraid you're becoming her... Talk about school, work, stress, anxiety, depression, money, sex, match dot com, your secret lesbian fantasies, anything at all that's on your mind. Talk about sleep, dreams, your pooping schedule (yes, I do talk about this. It's important to me), your favorite things, things you don't do enough, your life plans, your friends that make you happy, your friends that don't. Talk about any and everything, over and over again till your brain can get around it and everything makes sense. And, if that takes a million sessions and a million hours of the same thing that's okay, because that's why you're there. To figure everything out.

Emotions, feelings about yourself and how others see you, feelings about how you see you, moments in your life where you feel crazy or hurt, anything at all. I'm serious. One in five adults has a diagnosable mental illness (and if you don't know one you probably are one...). Why fight something you don't have to? Why suffer if there is someone there to help? Why live your life miserable when happiness is just a pill (or two) away?

My argument probably could go without that last sentence, but really; my anti-anxiety meds have made such a huge difference in almost every aspect of my life (note: including my poo, but we won't go there... again). I feel different and I see things differently and I am able to get my head around my problems before any situation gets out of hand (usually, sometimes I need a few minutes).

More than anything, a therapist helps you reconnect with the person inside you that's having a hard time dealing with your life and isn't coming out anymore. It helps you find who you're supposed to be, because you need to be that person again. You need to get yourself past all the outside things causing you to hide from the pain, the stress, the money issues, the loneliness, your unresolved parental issues, your unresolved body image issues, any sad thing in your life you've been unable to deal with because you just have so much on your plate. Therapists get that. They get where you're coming from and want you to be and feel and live better than you are currently.

Everyone needs someone who is completely objective to talk to about any and everything. It makes the world a much better place to be.

oh internet... how you make me laugh

There is only one good reason for word verification ever... and this is it.