Your Girl is an Idiot.

I have a roommate that I had no hand in choosing. I thought it best not to protest the idea last month because I pay ridiculously low rent and did not want to give my landlords any reason to raise it. I also don't plan on living there for much longer and thought it would be nice for the landlords to already have someone else living there. That way I don't have to clean anything but my room. Bonus.

There are however, a few downfalls. first of all, his cologne stinks. It might not smell that bad if it weren't for the fact that he wears so much of it that my sense of smell is overloaded and I have to use all of my strength to not vomit as I brush my teeth. I have helped to avoid this by both holding my breath and putting on the fan while in the bathroom for any reason, since he insists on spraying himself in there. I do the same, as all of my Bath and Body Works daily use lotions and sprays are located in there. I can only hope the scents displease him in an effort to balance out the universe.

Next we have the problem that he has to use all of my things. From the pillow he lays his head on to the silverware he eats with. The furniture, the pots and pans, the drapes, comforter and even back patio table: All mine. He has nothing but clothes and a mismatch of flatware and plates I'm sure he lifted from Applebee's. He shows no respect to my things and we had to have a little chat about eating anything with a marinara sauce in it on my furniture. I did not, however, confront him on finishing off the last double shot of Southern Comfort that was in the freezer. Again, of MINE. Since it wasn't a half, or even a quarter of a bottle, I figured I couldn't really ask for a replacement. All future bottles of alcohol will be kept in my bedroom, getting me just a little closer to alcoholism.

He is also loud. He has to get up earlier for work than I do and it does not fail that every freaking morning he is waking me up bounding down the stairs like a galloping stead or making noise in his room or the bathroom like there are monkeys packing luggage in there. I have not worked out in two weeks because by the time I fall back asleep after being woken up, I just cannot will myself out of bed fifteen minutes later to get on the bike. I think I need to invest in some earplugs on the way home from work today. And there is no way that I am going downstairs to do yoga while he's down there eating breakfast. That brings me right around to my final problem with him.

He talks. All the time. About mostly nothing I am interested in. And I think even more than the non-stop lip service (and not the good kind) is the way he talks. Have you ever seen the movie American Pie? This one time, at band camp..... I'm not kidding you. He has somehow managed to make the last word of each sentence be in a higher pitch, making each statement a question. This reminds my of the girl Brian was dating on the Family Guy. Stewie points out that Brian's girlfriend had such an annoying talent of the question statement. He summed it up best when he told Brian: Your girl is an idiot.

Maybe the earplugs can help with this problem as well.

Soul Searching at the Biltmore

Maybe it was more like shoe searching, but I was at the Biltmore. Did you know you couldn't take photos or video in there? Huh. I walked around the house, the conservatory, the winery, the inn and rode all over the land in the shuttle bus when I got lost. It was impressive. Really. I had my iPod in my ears for most of the five hour day. The soundtrack of my life includes The Shins, The Replacements, Black Lab, Dog's Eye View and Bonnie Somerville. There were a few guests tracks of Snoop Dogg, Biggie, Kelis, and Ice Cube. What can I say? I'm a pretty well rounded individual.

The shoe searching? Well, that came into play while I was shopping in Ashville and decided I needed a chocolate pair of kicks. I was thinking Vans, but never found any that I wanted to drop the cash on after just spending money on the trip. Either way, I bought a pair of white old skool Adidas since I won a $50.00 gift card today. Sweet surprise, I must say. Glad I didn't buy those kicks now in NC.

What I was really doing there was taking time to myself. I just had this urge overkill to get into the car and drive. Seven hours is good enough for that, I think. And the house was amazing. I kept trying to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in that place. Like when your date would come to pick you up. Like he wasn't intimidated! Of course Mr. V probably made his only daughter date on the Estate. I mean, he would have told her: Go out? For what? You can go to the bowling ally in the cellar! And he can take you to dinner in one of the four dining rooms! Yeah, that would have been my dad.

The library really was amazing. It was my favorite room. I really am a geek in rock star's clothing.

So back to the soul searching... I've decided to move when my lease is up. At least thirty or forty miles from here. I need to get away. I thought about how I wouldn't even live here if I hadn't gotten involved with my ex. So I think I need to follow the path I never took now. It's not the same as running or starting over. I mean, if that were the case I'd be kicking my grandma out of my old bedroom and asking my folks to buy organic peanut butter from now on. I'm not going crazy, I just need the change. My job and where I live. That's what needs to be done. I've had some good times out here at the beach, but there are also a few demons I'd like to put some space between. Yeah, that does sound like running, but at least I just got those new Adidas, right?

There are just people here that I need to be away from. For different reasons, but the same basic idea: they are in someway stopping me from progressing. One because I love too much, and one because I never want to see him again. Others because I think it's just my time to move on. I spoke with my best friend today, and after eight years through good times and bad, in sickness and in health, I told her that I really needed her to tell me that I wasn't going to make her feel like I was abandoning her by leaving. She said it didn't matter where I lived, I was her best friend and we would see each other regardless. She thinks I'm running, but if I thought it was best for me to get outta here, she would help anyway she could.

I can't stay here for my friends. And anyway, it's not that far, where I'm going. It seems that way because you have to go over a 3 mile drawbridge or go underwater through a tunnel to get to where I will be. It used to even be long distance calling to communicate, but that's all been changed with cell phones. It will mean weekends instead of weekday hanging out, that's all. I will be happier. Hell, just being happy would be a start. It was difficult to say out loud what I had decided long ago about the next chapter in my life. That's the thing isn't it? When you have an idea in your head, you keep it there safe and sound until you have made up your mind that is the only solution, despite what anyone else says. Then when you tell your closest friends or family, you have this thick shield already protecting your idea so that you cannot be swayed. So far there was initial protest from everyone I've told, but only one person is actively looking for another apartment for me at the oceanfront so I will stay. She is not understanding what I need to do. Or why I need to do it, I guess. But it isn't her path to travel. It's mine. And I think I'm ready for it. I'm ready to work without the net.

Sure, I'll be closer to my parents, but for some reason it hurts me more when I know they see me struggle. That's the difference. My closest friends out here see all sides of me. The weak and strong. My parents only see what I want them to see, and that image is what I hope to actually become. I'm not even trying to say I think this is going to be an easy undertaking. But I am saying I know I can only benefit from it. There isn't much more to being down that I can get!

If I had Three Wishes....

Lets just say that I was a treasure hunter. That's a lot more fun than my current occupation (where I am now, typing this blog up.) Let's just say that me and Indiana Jones, that's right, I loves me some Hahn Solo, are in the Persian desert hunting treasure. Yes, I am well aware of the heat and the beads of sweat that collect on his sun kissed brow as we look deep into the eyes of one another....... That's a totally different blog. So, we find the lost treasure of Ali Baa-baa. And I realize that might not make a whole lotta sense, but I am in Persia with a significantly younger Harrison Ford- let me have my fantasy.

So we find the treasure and of all the gold and jewels and pearls and a lamp. Not like a Tiffany's or anything, but a genie lamp. I would say genie bottle, but that damn Christina Aguillria song might get stuck in my head. On a similar note, Indiana can rub me anyway he wants.... I digress......
POOF! This big blue genie appears after I rub the lamp! He has a round physique and his voice bears a striking resemblance to Robin Williams. So he sings a little song and does a little dance and says I have three wishes, but I can't wish for more wishes.

On the long trip back to America, I think over what my three wishes would be. I also devise a plan in regards to the safety of the lamp. Indie has no say in the matter whatsoever, because I will include him in my first wish. That will make him happy.

For my first wish, I wish that Indiana Jones and I are both as wealthy as the Olson twins, with taxes being up to date and nothing owed. I think this pretty much sets us up for life. It also gives us the groundwork for buying anything I didn't wish for. E-Z fo sheezy.

For my next wish, I wish for all incurable diseases to be eradicated. I'm covered under that one, and so are a few family members and friends, not to mention most of the worldly population that would benefit.

For my final wish, I think I would have to go with the no more acts of violence and crime. I figure that is a big umbrella that covers your local crooks and terrorists alike.

Now, in procurement for my family's well being, I shall pass the lamp to my mother. This will insure that the rest of my family gets the lamp and can help themselves as needed. After each member has used the lamp, the last one is to free the genie so that no one can un-wish our wishes and bring more pain and suffering back into the world. There might be better things to do with those wishes, but I think I'm off to a good start. As for me and Indiana Jones? Well folks, I could let you read it, but you would have to be 21 and up and pay a dollar a word to read it!

Normalcy, Early Twenties, Religion, and Fertility

There have been some things going on in my life recently that are out of the ordinary. First of all, I am tired. I have been sick with 'the crud' as my patients call it. This mysterious illness consists of sore, scratchy throat, cough, congestion, nasal congestion, and ear irritation. At once. However, these symptoms may make you feel like ass, you're still not actually sick enough to miss work. Balls. Like no fever, not contagious, nothing to make the boss find coverage for me. That's the trouble with working for a physician, they kind of know when you're too sick to work and send you home. If you don't show up, they want a note. So has been the last week of my life; sick, but not quite sick enough.

Normal. You're not like normal girls, you're only nice one week out of the month. What exactly is normal? I made this bowl of corn noodles for you and I made regular noodles for the normal people. I just want to have one normal day. Whatever that means. I mean really, what is normal? Who gets to decide what is and isn't normal. I might not be the most normal person I know, but I'm normal for me. I want to have a text-book normal day at work. Just once. I guess when I find that leprechaun I'll be sure to get my three wishes and ask for that one as well as cures for all currently incurable diseases.

I have a new roommate. He's 24. He moved in on Friday, and it's the first time we've met. It seems like we'll get along. Honestly. But his friends..... The early twenties male is different from the late twenties, rounding thirty male. Add alcohol to this and I don't think that I need to elaborate on that. I find them annoying, and intolerable. Over the summer I was happy to be around this age group, as they were so cute and fun. But as a sober woman that's getting over 'the crud' they bugged the hell out of me. My new roommie actually called me after they had all left my house on Saturday from the quite comforts of his truck on the way to the gym and apologized to me for their behavior. I took this as a good thing. He realizes his friends are idiots too. All in all, I think we will get along just fine. And my landlord evidently has faith in me that I could get along with anyone. Little does he know I'm only nice one week a month.

I also have had my questionable religious practices thrown up in my face lately. Let me point out that other people, normal people, have been asking the questions. I was raised to be Catholic. I do not practice, and have not practiced Catholicism for the last few years. I did, however go with my mum and g-ma two weeks ago and they spewed from the pulpit that when people get married it's for life blah blah bullshit. I looked at my mother. She says to me that God has never meant for anyone to stay in a dangerous situation, that's why He gave me the strength to break free. OKay, way to put a spin on it for me, mum. I enjoy my time watching church on TV. The TV evangelists are entertaining as well as passionate about the Bible. I pray to God and to the saints (that's the Catholic in me.) I also believe in the chakra's and healing through crystals or meditation (that's the hippie in me.) I believe the universe sends us signs and we can either take heed or ignore them. I believe in karma and auras. Maybe you think I'm wrong, and that's fine with me. I've never claimed to be right. For all I know, the Amish have it right and we're all going to hell for using electricity.

My mortality has been challenged. My best friend's husband had leukemia. He was diagnosed over seven years ago. He is doing great. In fact, out of the people who received treatment in his care unit, he is the only survivor. He is now sterile, and in preparation for this made a small deposit to a special savings account to be held on ice. His wife has tried IUI three times without pregnancy. She has even donated her eggs for a couple that could not conceive with their own. She asked me to go with them yesterday up to Maryland for implantation, IVF. They took two 8 cell embryo's and placed them in her uterus. Then we drove home. She will know in 10 days if her body will nurture them, or has expelled them. As I sat there in the waiting room of this extrodinary facility that gives life to the barren, I realized that we were all in here, this room for the same reason. That makes it different than your normal doctor's appointment. There are great odds that I too will be sitting in that waiting room as a patient one day. Should I decide to procreate. Should I find someone that I could share a life with. And after all the hormones and procedures and shots and pills that my dear sweet friend has endured, I just looked at the two of them and I couldn't imagine ever being strong enough to go through it. When he was in the hospital, beating the odds, fighting for his life and through recovery, he borrowed her strength. Now she uses his. Looking at them makes me see the value of love.

So I have had some reflecting to do. Reflection is always good, right? I don't know that I'm going to be a nicer person more than one week out of the month, but we'll see. I actually have taken a small poll. Everyone's first reaction to the question: Am I only nice one week out of the month? has been one of two things. Either a half smile, yeah when you're PMSing- just kidding! or a tilt of the head and high-pitched, no, I wouldn't exactly say that. *shrug* Whateva. I'm not fool enough to think that I'm not a work in progress.

Cheaters Never Win, and Winners never Cheat, Right?

Cheaters.

Is the old saying true: Once a cheater, always a cheater? And does Karma really smack us in the ass? I mean, if you cheat on your significant other, does karma then return the favor by having them cheat on you? What if no one would ever be the wiser? If a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound if no one's there to hear it?

In my experience as the tree, no. It does not. However as the ground, yes- loud and clear. I'm not saying I've ever cheated on anyone, however I may have been a participant, an Xfactor if you will. I don't think that's as bad. If I knew a guy had a girl, but was hitting on me I must say that I have generally put up a good fight before giving in and being the true kissing slut that I am. BUT I don't think I should have been the one putting up the fight in the first place. Let me point out here that if he was wearing a little gold band, I have no difficulties keeping my hands to myself. If you are ecstatically happy with your bf or gf you shouldn't be looking elsewhere or putting your hands elsewhere. If you do, are you the type of person that can let it go and keep a secret? Looking into your sweetie's eyes, knowing that less than 24 hours ago you were looking in someone else's eyes.

And what about that sweetie? Who may or may not have the right to cheat on you to even the scale. Personally speaking, when I have been cheated on in my spotted past, I didn't cheat back. Two wrongs don't exactly make a right. I am also able to say that I've never been the cheater. I'm not on a high horse or anything, but in my experience, one man is plenty trouble for me.

Do cheaters get what they deserve? Maybe. Like a crabs or body lice. Or the mouth herpes. But what if they think they are being galiant by coming clean and fessing up to their sweetie pie? Do they get forgiven and all is well? Or does said sweetie pie kick your cheatn' ass to the karmatic curb? Either way, crabs or breakup: is that what a cheater deserves?

And what about the X factor? You know the one you cheated with. Do you a) try to start something up with him/her after you get dumped; or b) do they want nothing to do with you because of your complete lack of respect for them? Let's consider both options. A) you figure that if there was enough attraction to cheat with this person, you might get to actually date. Maybe you go out for a little while, but in the back in of the Xfactor's mind they're thinking: Is he/she going to cheat on me too? And believe me, they're thinking it. So that won't last. B) You treated them like you thought there was something exceptional about them and then you went back to your sweetie pie. That's got to feel pretty damn crappy, so they still don't want anything to do with you. Head's up folks, this is the karma part.

Now for a little audience participation: Let's take a poll. Have you ever been the Xfactor, the cheater, or the cheated on? And how did it make you feel? I think that if you are a decent human being, any of these three roles feels like ass. If it didn't you're clearly a selfish bastard. Watch out for that karma.

There Was a Farmer, Had a Dog and Bingo was His Name-o

It's Friday Night. Big hair. No hair. Track suits. Mom jeans. I'm here raising money for the Red Cross. Strong perfume. Body odor. Yellow teeth. No teeth. I get there late, and they've often already started. Oxygen tanks. Sequined hats. Buddahs. Rabbits feet. Trolls. Smoky haze. Nope, scratch that- smoke so thick I can't see who's calling for me. How do they know my name? Name tag. NO- they can't see the name tag. Coffee. Snacks. Fiber. Big jewelry. Breasts to the knees. I could wear rollerskates to be more efficient. Cigars. Too hot. Too cold. Horse shoes. Four leaf clovers. Glasses. Hairy ears. Hairy noses. Blue hair. Don't pull your money out of your bra, that's McNasty- I have to touch that money. Specials. Jackpot. Quickies. Treasure Chest. Winner Takes All. Postage stamp. Seesaw. Single. Double. Triple. Cover all. They pay me in coins and my apron jingles. Hunch back. Wheelchairs. Sandals with socks. The eerie sound of silence, only interrupted by 'thump' 'thump' 'thump.'
I am at the bingo hall.

SORRY: a. Feeling sorrow; grieved; sorrowful; wretched; pitiful.

Does saying your sorry about something ever really make it alright? If you do something, or say something that hurts or upsets someone does it magically make it all better to apologize? Or are you basically saying that you can go through life doing what you please regardless of how your actions might impact others and then just shrug and say sorry to make all forgotten?

As children we are taught that saying you're sorry is a polite way to tell someone that you recognize you were bad. And as children, this action is rewarded with forgiveness.

As Catholics you are taught that to say you're sorry and ask for forgiveness is an obligation, and will bring you closer to God if you are truly sorrowful for what you have done. You have to confess your sins to a priest for such forgiveness.

As an adult we learn that nothing is that cut and dry. Selfishness is the way of the world. You try to treat people fairly, but in the grand plan of things, it comes down to 'How does this effect me?' And then you judge the sitch accordingly. In your own pursuit of happiness, if someone else gets let down, can you just say sorry to make that person feel better?

I think there is a difference between intentionally and unintentionally upsetting someone, and maybe apologies fit in there. If I know for a fact that I am about to do something that will directly impact displeasure on someone, can I then later say I was sorry about it? Will this lesson the action or words? Will it make the other person think they were silly for even entertaining thoughts of unpleasantries? I think not. But if someone accidentally does something that they didn't realize was going to upset someone, then can they use verbal apologies and make the person who feels upset feel vindicated?

Here's what I think: I think that apologies are bullshit most of the time. Nothing can be taken back, nothing can be done over. Things can only be learned from and changed for future events. Don't tell me you're sorry about something. It won't change anything at that point. Don't say you're sorry before you do something and then do it anyway, either. That doesn't lessen the blow or make it easier. If you were really sorry, you would find a way around these actions. I think there is something to be said about a heartfelt apology. Like when the person is in tears and says they are going to find some way to make it up to you. Or brings such a gesture forth when they are apologizing. That shows that they feel bad about making you feel bad. But it still doesn't take back the action or words, so is it really effective?

I could say I was sorry about rambling on about this point, but then if I was really sorry, why did I post the blog? See what I mean........