Monday, February 25, 2008

Catching up

I've been MIA for awhile. I thought I was on a roll there with my blogging for a minute, but then life happened and I got really busy and now I'm just lacking any blog inspiration. I have one or two things that I'd like to write about, but I'm a little nervous because I'm not sure if a certain person knows of this blog address or not. I guess that's the problem with a public blog, it can't be "public, with the exception of this little handful of people. " Oh well, I'll ponder that one for a bit and maybe I'll be back with a post about it soon.

Just to keep my public (which probably only consists of about 4 people so far!) up to speed with what's been going on with me the past two weeks, here's a little rundown.

* I hate my job, but I'm trying to stick it out a little longer. At least we are about to hit our busy season, so I will be too swamped to think about how much I loathe the place.
* I'm completely burnt out with grad school and I'm wondering if I should stay the course since I'm halfway there or change directions altogether. I have to get through mid-terms this week and then I will get back to deep thought on this issue.
* I'm feeling a little jealous of everyone that is going back to Collegetown for alumni weekend in a few days. I had been pumped up about it before the new year, but now I'd just rather pass on the front row seat to see Scuba Steve and his new girlfriend bumping and grinding on the dance floor or hanging out on the front porch of his frat house (where I would want to be to see MY friends!). No thanks. And to all of those people who would say get over it already and don't let him keep you from having a good time... bite me! But no worries people, I have big plans for Collegetown this summer. More details to follow.
* I am obsessed with my new ipod! I thought that getting a new ipod would encourage me to run more often, but I've found that it has only encouraged me to cozy up on the couch with my laptop and waste countless hours building up my library. I'm loving it though!
* I've had it up to here (imagine my hand raised far above my head while I stand on my tip-toes, stretching my fingers as high as possible until I get a pinky cramp) with dating. You'll hear more on this later, believe me... (once I'm sure that no involved parties will read this or hear about it.).
* I have baby fever. The faint echo of the clock tick tocking, which starts creeping in the closer women get to 30, is getting louder and louder. So many people have either just had babies or are about to have babies. I have been surrounded by the sweet little drool spewers for the past couple of weeks. This past weekend just topped it off though when I spent some quality time with a little princess that could best be described as a Shiloh Jolie-Pitt doppleganger. I have two baby showers in the next 6 weeks. My biological clock is like Big Ben on estrogen! I have to get this fever under control before I start pandering for desirable sperm.
* I have made absolutely no progress on my bucket list and I'm nearly 2 months into the year. I've got to get crackin'! I'll elaborate on the details of my bucket list soon.

And that's pretty much what's been going on in my head the past two weeks... in a nut shell.

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

Blind Dates- Mental Health Not Required

I mentioned in the previous post that I had been dating around the past year, and it has been an experience to say the least. There have been good dates, bad dates, hot dates, and I-hope-I brought-my-mace dates. I thought I would tell an interesting (and some might say humorous- I would not be one of those people) story about what it is like being a single girl in the dating world these days. Let's just say, "it ain't what it used to be!"

My most outrageous experience so far was a blind date a little over a month ago. We will refer to this man as Scary Larry, because it only seems fitting - just keep reading. I had seen a picture and was very pleased with the aesthetics. We talked on the phone briefly and he seemed fairly nice. We even had a "small world" moment when we realized that I had kind of gone out once with his now brother-in-law back when I was in college. We were set to go out as soon as he came home from his deployment in Iraq, which was going to be right after Christmas. So D-day came and I was pretty excited. After spending a little too much time getting ready than I probably should have, I checked out the final product and I was feeling gooooood! We had planned to meet at Starbucks for a casual coffee date and just see what followed. So I pull up and Larry is already there. I see him sitting in the car and I think- not too bad. The picture that I had been shown was obviously one of his better ones, but he wasn't completely lacking. Until he got out of the car. Let me just say that I am not a clothing snob in the least little bit! However, I do have certain expecations of how a man should dress on a first date, call me old fashioned. His baggy, ratty, ankle-grazing jeans with his faded, stretched out Hanes t-shirt (tucked in for maximum accentuation of the distended pot belly) and his grungy Route 66 yard-work sneakers were miles away from meeting those expectations. But I give him a break and look past it. He just got back to the states two days ago, maybe his luggage hasn't arrived...maybe.

I won't bore you with all of the very uncomfortable details from the coffee-shop conversation, but I will give you a quick run down of key points. Within the first 30 minutes of the date, I learned the following about Scary Larry:
-He had been married and divorced TWICE
-He married his first wife three days after he met her, and the second wife 2 months after he met her.
-He had 18 tattoos. That's not a typo, EIGHTEEN tattoos. I got a descriptive tour of all of them with background information such as what they meant, what country he got them in, and what he was drunk on at the time. One of them included the name of his ex-step-daughter who he seemed way too infatuated with in a very weird way.
-He could see himself involved with a man, "if it weren't for the whole anal sex thing." Yes, he actually said that.
-He had been arressted for domestic violence on multiple occassions. Who admits that!?
-He was court ordered to 6 months of anger management classes.
-He went into graphic detail about how good it felt to punch his wife in the stomach. According to him, it was well worth the jail time. Way to throw an upper-cut Larry!

Yes, he divulged all of those little jewels of information within the first 30 minutes of the date. Obviously, I barely got a word in edge-wise. If I had gotten a word in, it would have been a very subtle "help!" sent in the direction of the barista. What is worse is the fact that he had no common social skills that would allow him to read my facial expressions or body language. He just kept digging a deep hole of scary. Then he had the shocking nerve to ask where we were going next! Could he not tell from the white knuckled grip around the sleeve of my tall hot chocolate that I was NOT feeling it? I guess Larry wasn't that perceptive. What was I to do? Do I break it to him that I'm ready for the date to end? All I can see are flashbacks of his face as he described punching his wife in the stomach for taking his car keys. Do I want to piss Larry off when he's less than 5 days out of a war zone? Did the 6 months of anger management really take and if so, exactly how well? I decide to not rock the boat while I am in within arms reach of him. I reluctantly agree to dinner to keep him complacent- I can already hear the audible gasps of ,"no she didn't!", but you guys weren't there! I did, however, refrain from the offer of riding with him to dinner. No thanks Larry, I've seen Unsolved Mysteries before, I know the deal. I manage to make it through dinner without bolting for the door or setting off his psycho within. I was safe at home in bed by the time he sent me a text message saying that he missed me already. Are you f'ing kidding me? As I lay there reflecting on the evening's events, I reached into my nighstand drawer and placed my gun directly in front of my alarm clock for easy access... just in case. Goodnight Scary Larry.

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

The Ex Files

It happened. I knew this day would eventually come, but I wasn't expecting it to be today. I admit that I sometimes cyberstalk through a popular social network that has been known to ruin careers, relationships, and entire lives. Well it has yet to ruin my life, but today it definitly threw a kink in it. He changed his status. The ex-boyfriend that is. "In... a... Relationship," three little words that turned my stomach upside down.

The ex and I, we'll call him Scuba Steve* (for a hateful reason that makes me feel better right now), have been broken up for a year and a half technically, a year realistically. For the first six months we did the whole back and forth/let's try to work it out/let's be close friends/ let's give it another shot thing. Of course, that was after the initial 6 weeks of crying non-stop and wanting to be put out of my misery. Then just over a year ago I gave the ultimatum. Y'all know the one I'm talking about- we're either all or we're nothing. Well his lack of answer was answer enough for me and I hugged him goodbye for the last time and left in tears.

He was my first "real world" love. We went to college together and I'd had a brief crush on him, but didn't really socialize with each other except at fraternity/sorority socials. Then after college we were both living back home in the same town and our paths crossed again. I knew on our third date that I was going to fall in love with him. And never one to let myself down, fall in love with him I did. And I mean HARD. I continued to tumble head over heels right until the end where I ended up sprawled in a pathetic mess on the unforgiving basement floor known as dumped-town. It's almost embarrasing to confess that I let a ignorant man affect my life so much, but it was truly the lowest I've ever been. Even after the ultimatum we eventually fell back into our old habits of flirting, drunk dialing, and contemplating giving it another go. That continued until the end of last summer when it became obvious that it was more painful to stretch it out the way we were. We stayed "friends"... as much as a scorned, bitter woman can consider the man who ripped out her heart a friend. That was until two months ago. Two months ago I ended all contact with him. I had met other men and been on dates and I really was trying to move on. Of course in the back of my heart I still loved him a little and thought that there could be a chance that sometime in the future we would reconnect. And I made efforts to keep us in each others lives anyway I could because of that. But nonthesless, I wasn't going to wait around. I made sure that he knew that I cared about him, but I was seeing other people and not wasting any more time. Well two months ago is when it finally hit me that he loved that I was still obsessed with him and our relationship. Whenever I appeared to be moving on, he would do something to twist the knife in my heart. He started to seem really vain, egotistical, and patronizing about the whole situation, which makes me laugh now because his cockiness is part of what first attracted me to him. So anyway, two months, no contact whatsoever, and I'm feeling good about it... until tonight.

I finally felt like I was ready for another relationship and have taken the steps to try some lucky men out for the available position. To be quite honest, I think I have a relationship deal sealed and in the bag if I want it right now and that's great.... but Scuba Steve beat me to it! How juvenille is that!? I know! I know that's it's stupid and pointless, and I still don't care. I wanted to be the first one in another relationship. I wanted to be the first one to change my profile status. I wanted to be the first one to rub it in his face that I found someone better who realizes what a good thing he's got! And Scuba Steve had to go and snatch the one little shred of pride that I was hoping to grasp in the end. Knowing that he is with someone else now does make me a little physically ill. I expected that though. I think the nausea will be gone by the morning... until I find out who the girl is of course (or until I see her- I hope she's a troll!). Once that subsides, I think what will bother me the most is that he beat me to the punch. I think there should be a rule that the dumper should never be able to go public with a new relationship until after the dumpee. It's just common courtesy, douchebag!

* Names have been changed to protect the guilty bastard.

Dip me in formaldehyde and call me pretty!

I'm getting old. In case you haven't noticed those two little digits in the "about me" section, I'm 29- blech! I'm two weeks into 29 to be precise and the last birthday was a BIG pill to swallow. 29 is just so.... "the end is near!".... know what I mean? I just don't know how I got here. One day I'm living it up in college thinking that I'm still such a baby, the next day I'm border-line spinster. I hate people who say that "age is just a number". Weight is just a number too, but 300 lbs still means fat. But it's ok.... I've embraced the fact that I'm on 30's front porch, peering in the windows and banging on the door. I'm ok with it now, really. If I say this enough times I am going to convince myself eventually, right?

What I am NOT ok with are the permanent signs of "old ladyhood" that have crept onto my face without me noticing until now. When did they get here? They are certainly not welcome guests. As soon as I noticed that those sneaky little bitches (that are commonly referred to as wrinkles) had inhabited my face (which just so happened to be right after the 29th birthday), I devised a plan of attack. I'm talking guerilla warfare here! I immediately consulted some older, more seasoned relatives on their suggestions. Unfortuantely for me, most of the women in my family age really well so there wasn't much help to be had. But my dear, beautiful mother did recall reading an article recently comparing certain products in the I'm-so-f'ing-old-give-me-some-miracle-cream-for-my-face industry. The shining star of the studies was surprisingly not from a department store cosmetics counter. Needless to say I rushed out to purchase some ammunition. I was prudent by starting out with just two of their offerings, the vitamin complex/mousturizer and the eye cream. As with most new purchases, I couldn't wait to use it that night. I honestly couldn't beleive it. As soon as I put it on my face, my skin just felt different - better! I wasn't naive enough to think that there was a visual difference, but if I could tell a difference in the way my skin felt in 2 minutes then I'm pretty sure it's doing something right in there. So 2 days later I venture out and purchase more of their products, the cleanser and another kind of eye voodoo. Can I just say that I'm in love? It's been about a week and a half and while no one has gawked at my astonishing transformation into an 18 year old prom queen, I feel much better. Maybe that's why the product works anyway... maybe it doesn't effect your wrinkles at all, but it just makes you feel like you look so damn good that you believe it and start to act that way! I don't know the science behind what it's doing and I don't really care. All I know is that I am so obsessed with anti-aging, wrinkle-ironing, fight-the-course-of-nature skin preservatives now that I may as well dip myself in formaldehyde. But I'm ok with that...

Monday, February 11, 2008

What's In A Name?

In the second grade my favorite book was The Little Girl With Seven Names. In the 5th grade I bought my first baby name book and chose names for my 6 hypothetical children that I thought were in my future. In the 10th grade I aced my science project by focusing on the effects of given names on children. When I got my dog, it took me more than a month to pick the perfect name for him- "Bosley" is from Charlie's Angels, not the Hair Replacement Center infomercial! Last year, I stopped seeing a man because his name did not suit me. Do you see a pattern? Names have always been way too big of a deal to me and my blog is not exempt from this psychotic obsession.

When I settled on the decision to create a blog, I took a day or two to brainstorm a title for the blog. I wanted it to have personal meaning, but not so personal that it made no sense to anyone else. I wanted it to be catchy, but not cliche'. It didn't want it to be too time or topic specific so as to narrow the possible content. Can you imagine putting this much thought into every seemingly insignificant decision that you make? I assure you that it leads to much unnecessary stress. So goes the story of my like.

Back to titles...there were four or five options to begin with and I sought opinions from close friends. I thought I had a winner until none of the above mentioned friends commented on my favorite choice, something about life needing revisions/editting. It must not be good then, right? So then I moved on to option two, Bright Copper Kettles. It was an odd title, kind of out of left field unless you know the back story. Obviously anyone familiar with the thespian perfection that is Julie Andrews knows the significance of those three little words. They are from her famous song "My favorite things" from The Sound of Music. That was one of my all time favorite movies when I was a little girl and my mama gave me a special music box in the form of a wicker picnic basket that plays that song. That music box is still one of my most prized possessions and to this day I still sing that song to myself when I am feeling scared, distraught, like things are never going to go my way, etc. I know, I'm a Y-chromosome away from being a gay man, but I accept and own my quirks. So I had settled on the title and I was off to blogging. Then came the ever present glitch that follows me in life. Someone else already had a well established blog by the same name! Ok, so I'm not a judgemental person, but the blog is weird. I did not want to be associated to it in any way. I mean, what if someone was looking for my blog and got to hers instead and ended up with a completely distorted view of who I am. I couldn't have it. So the search was on a for a new blog name.

After browsing a few other blogs and finding no inspiration whatsoever, it finally hit me. The Dandelion Chronicles. You're thinking that's as weird as the other one right? Well not really. It's suits me perfectly actually. I had considered something similar to begin with, but I thought that it would make my blog to "identifiable". It turns out, I don't really care if it's identified. So the dandelion thing goes way back. When I was little I LOVED dandelions. I thought they were the prettiest little magical fluff domes ever and used to tell everyone that they were my "favorite flower". Imagine my dismay when, at the tender of age of 8, I was informed that they were actually weeds. I was devasted for a moment. How much does it say about me that my favorite flower was a weed? Well it probably says alot, but it says things that I enjoy. I was so enthralled by the weed that only I loved that my family starting calling me dandelion (or a morphed version of it that I can't specify bc it would give away my name). They still call me that do this day. When I was in college and thinking about getting a tattoo, what image did I gravitate toward? You guessed it, a personalized hand-drawn dandelion that is now permanently inked onto the small of my back- this was before that location was referred to as "tramp stamp". So The Dandelion Chronicles it is.

The same basic internal turmoil took place when deciding on my posting name. It started off as Miss Copperpot, which seemed fitting when it was linked to Bright Copper Kettles. Then I thought about a bevy of nicknames that have followed me throughout life, but somehow Martha Jr. seemed the most appropriate. It's a nickname given to me by an ex-boyfriend. God forbid he ever read this blog, because I'm sure he would think it was a sign that I was not over him and using this blog as a way to plot a scheme to win his heartless ass back.... but that's another post altogether. To sum it up, I idolize Martha Stewart in many many ways. I would love to be like her when I grow up, minus the bitchy scowl and prison record. I'm what some might refer to as a domestic diva. I'm the girl that would love to be a stay at home mom devoted to refurbishing the old crib and bringing home the blue ribbon from the quilting bee despite her degrees in higher education. Yep, that's me. Judge me if you will, but I know who I am even if the world does not. So that's the story behind my blog title and my pseudonym. Is that story really worthy of a blog posting all its own? Maybe not to some, but to me... there is infinite meaning in a name.

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Blogging... it's not just for losers.

So I’m a blogger now. I have to admit… I used to make fun of blogs and the bloggers who wasted their time penning them- I know, I know! But lately I’ve been following the blog of an acquaintance and it has completely changed my opinion. I used to love to write in my journal, but that seems so archaic now. Who has the time or patience to sit down with pen and paper these days? It’s much easier to jot something down in a word document while I have a few free minutes at my desk. So I’ve come to think of a blog as the modern diary, except you have the key hanging on the door and a detailed map of where to find it under your mattress. Yeah ok, the thought of everyone having access to read it is a little unsettling to me still, but I’m working through it. I’ve been accused of being too private on more than one occasion and maybe this will help me open up my world to people a little more. But I’m still undecided as to whom I’m going to give my blog address. Should I let my friends read it or should I keep it completely anonymous? Who knows? I’m going to play it safe with my topics for now, just to be on the safe side. Besides, it’s not like I have really good “diary scoop” anymore like who passed who a note during math class or who left the bar with someone else’s boyfriend! This brings me to my next point…

My life is completely boring. I’m issuing this disclaimer now so that no one can argue later that I have wasted their precious blog reading time with my endless droll about utterly unremarkable events and occurrences. I know people moan and groan all the time about their lives being boring, but mine really is. Maybe the pressure of having something interesting to blog about will force me into more note-worthy adventures.