Am I really as neurotic as I feel?

I swear my life is a roller coaster; I'm sure that's what everybody thinks. Fortunately, I'm pretty much over the big hill and I can sit back and relax and enjoy the ride. For the most part. Happy March.

Posted by: greeneyes at 17:59 | link | comments

I've been listening to this song lately...I've been listening to a lot of Coldplay songs, actually.  (Please don't think less of me because I copied the lyrics from some site as opposed to typing them out myself.  Thanks.)

 

Everything's Not Lost

When I counted up my demons,
Saw there was one for everyday.
With the good ones on my shoulder,
I drove the other ones away.

So if you ever feel neglected,
And if you think all is lost,
I'll be counting up my demons, yeah,
Hoping everything's not lost.

When you thought that it was over,
You could feel it all around.
Everybody's out to get you,
Don't you let it drag you down.

If you ever feel neglected,
And if you think all is lost.
I'll be counting up my demons, yeah,
Hoping everything's not lost.

If you ever feel neglected,
And if you think all is lost.
I'll be counting up my demons, yeah,
Hoping everythings not lost.

Sing out oh oh oh yeah
Oh oh yeah
Oh oh yeah
Everything's not lost
Come on yeah
Oh oh yeah
Come on yeah
Everything's not lost
Oh oh yeah
Oh oh yeah
Oh oh yeah
Everything's not lost
Come on yeah
Oh oh yeah
Come on yeah
Come on yeah
Oh oh yeah
Come on yeah
Everything's not lost
Sing out yeah
Oh oh yeah
Come on yeah
Everyting's not lost
Come on yeah
Oh oh yeah
Sing out yeah
Everything's not lost

Posted by: greeneyes at 22:26 | link | comments

The Ugh of Not Knowing

You know that feeling you get right before a job interview?  "What if they don't like me?  What if I'm not good enough?  What if I sound stupid?  What if I can't answer their questions?"  Or say you're waiting to find out how you did on a test.  Pass?  Fail?  A?  D?  What?????  For the love of God and all of Her holiness, let me know!

I carry around that "ugh" feeling most of the time.  I'm a worrier.  If I could be paid to worry, I would be fantastically rich.  I wouldn't mind if people paid me to worry for them; I would consider that a symbiotic relationship (I get money, they can relax).  Sure, I may develop an ulcer or suffer from other health maladies, but with my accumulated wealth I could afford the best doctors, so it would work out just fine.

I've been carrying around extra ugh the past couple days.  That Guy I Work With (TGIWW--the one I like) found out yesterday I'm interested in him.  So, foolish girl that I am, I allow my guard down and my hopes up, thinking he would come over and at the very least say hi.  Alas, TGIWW did no such thing.  He had opportunities to, but of course he didn't.  And even though deep down, somewhere maybe around the liver or the kidneys, I wasn't really expecting anything to come of this, I still ended up in a funk today.  Any hint of tailgating by another driver resulted in a slew of words that would make sailors blush.  Worst of all, I let myself feel bad about me.  Like it was my fault TGIWW didn't talk to me...maybe if I was prettier, or shorter, or skinnier, or somethinger, he (or another guy) would ask me out for drinks.  Then I started thinking that I shouldn't feel bad about myself.  I'm largely independent, self-supporting, intelligent, funny, friendly, and (put positive attribute here).  And I felt worse because I felt bad that I felt bad about myself.  So it's sort of a spiral, a black hole of self-doubt pulling my mind apart and toying with my emotions.  A simmering pool of self-pity.

How did I end up here, with my emotions and thoughts swirling around, playing ring around a rosey (or whatever you called it when you were little).  My incomplete theory is that there's a hole in my life that's been there for too long.  Despite my wonderful family, friends, and co-workers, a part of me feels empty.  I've never been in love before.  Or to be more accurate, I haven't let myself fall in love.  I've had incredibly huge crushes on guys (some of who I actually knew personally) but since I couldn't have them (darn those girlfriends), I wouldn't permit my heart to go through the pain of falling in and out of love.  There's no sense in wanting something or someone you know you can't have, so why waste more energy than needed?  I've been trying to figure out why this whole lack of a love(r) thing has been been bothering me so much lately, and I think one of the reasons is because the remaining aspects of my life are mostly in order.  My job is good, friends are mostly good, family is good, finances are good, life in general is good....except that one locus that, like a giant zit on perfectly clear skin, sticks out for all the world (or just me) to see.  I'm just waiting for Mark Darcy to come into my Bridget Jones life (minus 99% of the alcohol and all of the cigarettes).

The remedy?  Laughter.  This time, it was discussing farting stories with my mom and one of my best friends of nearly 10 years.  And dancing (if you want to call it that) to cheesy pop music.  These can always make the ugh go away.

Posted by: greeneyes at 22:36 | link | comments (1)

It’s amazing how strong fear can be.  Some people can’t even listen to cats meowing without breaking out in a cold sweat; others avoid going to the doctor about that weird lump because it might be the big ‘C.’  That one guy down the hall prefers to keep his job, so the fear of being sans employment results in getting projects done on time.  I hate listening to the sounds of the plane’s engines while I’m 30,000 feet in the air with my life completely in the hands of some guy who has a pin of an airplane on his blue blazer.  I have no control over my life while I’m flying; consequently, I’ve developed a fear of flying (but that’s a whole other blog).

 

There is a guy at work I’m interested in.  I know, I know, dating co-workers is a huge no, but we don’t work together.  We simply happen to be in the same building at the same time and have little interaction.  I want to ask him out.  Everyone who knows that I like him wants me to ask him out.  My problem?  I’m scared.  Scared of rejection, scared of humiliation, scared of falling in love, scared of getting my heart broken.  I swear I’m usually not this nutso, but it’s entirely possible I am; however, I am convinced that every other person in this world has been or is in the same situation.  The fact that I am quite shy does not help the situation.  Another co-worker was surprised after I admitted to him that I am a very shy person; his response was “Awww, isn’t that cute.”  That may be, but it doesn’t get me closer to a date with the object of my affection (which is a good movie, btw).  So I’ve ended up acting like a high schooler…giggling and blushing when I talk about him, pining away, and not doing a damn thing about my feelings, which is customary when I am in such a situation.

 

One of my current biggest fears is getting pregnant.  After a recent minor scare (thanks to my first and last fling) I realized how much I don’t want to be pregnant at this time.  I do want to have children, after I’m at least married if not settled, but I am neither married nor settled—far from it.  I tried to force myself to decide what I would do if I did get pregnant right now.  I could not decide.  I’ve long been a proponent of abortions (early-term only) but have always said I would never have one.  But during the minor pregnancy scare (I call it minor because I knew there was almost zero chance I could get pregnant, but was scared anyway) I couldn’t make the decision that I wouldn’t have an abortion.  My options, despite this so-called modern age we live in, weren’t great.  I make enough money to support myself, but I couldn’t afford day care, plus diapers, plus baby food, plus this and that and all the other things that come with a baby.  I’m not sure I could give my baby up for adoption.  Call me selfish, but I couldn’t give away a part of me.  I could have my parents raise the baby, but they don’t need that extra burden.  They already have a house full of people (long story) and don’t really have room for a baby, let alone the time to raise one.  I could move in with my parents, but of course there’s no room for two extra people, and the job opportunities back home are limited.  Sure, I can say “Paper or plastic?” and “Would you like fries with that” and “Sign these insurance forms here, here, and here” with the best of them, but that’s not much of a career.  Well, the insurance agent career is, but I’m still a little fuzzy about coinsurance and copayments, so I don’t think insurance agent would be the best fit for me.  The moral of this paragraph?  Ain’t no way I’m getting pregnant.

 

I’ve let fear run my life several times, and will probably continue to do so.  I fully admit that it’s the weak way out.  Remedying this facet of my personality is on my to-do list, but it’s also on my “I don’t know where to begin” list.  So here I sit, stuck in the same routine, wondering if I’ll have the strength to change myself.

Posted by: greeneyes at 14:20 | link | comments

My cooking skills, like many other of my real or imagined skills, are often underutilized.  Living alone + Being single + Being thrifty (or poor, depending on your perspective) + A tendency towards laziness = boxed pasta way too often.  I spice up the Pasta Roni or mac and cheese, though...just add some chicken and a can of corn or some frozen (thawed, drained) spinach, and you got yourself a gor-may meal.  Great for lunch the next day, too.  (Did I mention I was thrifty?  And lazy?)

Tonight, though, I made potato soup.  Creamy potato soup to be exact, with some chunks of potatoes, parsley, pepper, and Lawry's salt mixed in, topped with bacon and cheddar cheese.  This is quickly becoming my favorite food.  There's a comforting quality about creamy foods--soup on a cold night, leftover frosting from your birthday cake, a new dip that grabs your taste buds' attention.  Food in general can act as a cure-all, a salve for wounds unseen from the outside world.  Feeling depressed?  Have some chocolate.  Stressed?  Chew some gum (which isn't necessarily a food, but it has nutritional facts on the package).  Feeling lonely?  Pizza rarely disappoints.

Cooking, however, has a more therapeutic aspect.  You're creating one thing out of several things, and that one thing will be good.  The foods, the flavors, the scents, the textures intermingle so well they must have been destined to end up in your kitchen at that very moment.  To think otherwise would be blasphemous for a veteran of the kitchen.  Or maybe I'm just being a tad dramatic.  Either way, cooking a meal has to be one of the more enjoyable activities one can experience.  This is why I tend to hide my surprise when I find out someone doesn't know how to cook.  How can they not know?  You simply have to follow a recipe, or make it up as you go.  It's certainly not particle physics.  The sense of satisfaction that can be had simply by throwing some ingredients together is amazing, particularly when others can enjoy your masterpiece.  How could anyone deny themselves such satisfaction?  I don't get it.

Posted by: greeneyes at 19:52 | link | comments (2)