Registering for avoidance

So, I've got this test tomorrow night on the meaning of the universe according to a bunch of guys who died some 2500 years ago. I'm not what you would call "ready", so in order to GET ready I decided to take Scott to BB&B to register.

That was kind of fun, but the whole thing is still kind of surreal. I feel like I'm 8 and we're playing house. What is it about getting married that makes you suddenly think you need thinks like a mortar and pestle or an ice bucket? You weren't using these things before, but now you have to have them?

We conked out by the bedding, which is just as well because our tastes run towards things like the $400 silk comforter and the $200 sheets -- they were 1000 thread count. Do you need THAT many threads, really??

I still don't see why we can't just register for a bank account -- what's the difference anyways? People are going to be needlessly throwing money away on silly crap just to have a wrapped gift to present and frankly, I'm okay with cash. I've got crap, he's got crap -- we may want new crap but money buys crap, that's the thing that's good about it! No worries about size, color, shape, whatever -- it can't be returned and that is a GOOD thing! If you get two of them, that's better!

But, you can't just say that. You can't tell people to give you money -- money is tacky. Talking about money is tacky, asking for money is tacky, needing money -- TACKY! I still can't get over this phenomenon. It's not like things are free, and it's not like people don't know how much things are -- but God forbid we actually talk about them. Scott and I were together for a good while before I told him how much I make and to this day I couldn't tell you anywhere near how much money he has in his account right now.

Well, I've gone off subject again. And then I'm talking about going off subject.

About the only thing more taboo than that is money!

HP

colds suck

You know, when you're sick you're really alone. Unless you throw a party and invite everyone to hang out around you and mourn for you in your sickness. Which is just such a Heather thing to do. Although, honestly the party part had long been planned out whereas the sick part was pretty unexpected.

But, what're you gonna do? I'm riding it out. But I am really bad about being sick. It's not like I'm so sick that I can't do regular things, I just really don't have the drive to do them much anymore. I don't feel like getting up off the couch and getting water or eating or whatever, but these things have to be done.

It really sucks when your cold medication lets you down. I was a big Aleve fan, even in spite of the medicine-headiness, but it has done NOTHING for this situation whatsoever. My cold laughs in the face of Aleve while I spew snot. I can no longer remember simple things, like it's impolite to blow your nose in front of rooms full of people. What the fuck do I care? They can breathe, I can't -- I don't see them feeling bad about breathing, why should I feel bad at trying to be like them? Is that so wrong, really??

Here it is, the last night of my favorite show and I should be hanging out in fully Sex & the City regalia, wearing a pink tutu and too many strands of pearls and I've got jammies and a red nose instead.

Self-pity isn't even enjoyable when you're sick. It's not like you have to work for the sympathy like you do the rest of the time. People take one look at you and sympathy exudes from their pores. I don't want their sympathy, I want them to bring me things! What good is your pity doing me while you're just standing there?

It is the only time you can get away with being a demanding, whiny princess. But you're supposed to blow on the soup before you spoon it to me."

I'm going back to my couch. It loves me. It understands me. It cradles my poor snot infested head.

Ah, now that'ssexy!

HP

It sounds like a lesson

I'm blunt. I don't always win friends and influence people with this attitude, but the fact is that I just can't seem to stop myself. And the crazier thing is that people generally tell me that this is a quality that they appreciate about me and even though it's hard to take, at least they know where they stand with me.

Yeah, this is true. And the fact is that I'm honestly not sure how well I would do being friends with me. I go up and down in my self-esteem levels -- as many people probably do -- but for the most part, I'm pretty happy with who I am. There are things that I wish I could improve on and a lot more things I wish I was more proactie about, etc. But I'm only one person, I can only do but so much.

But what I realized tonight is that as hard as it may be for me to take someone being straightforward with me, I would rather have it that way than not have the truth told to me straight. Because if someone isn't straight with you about little dumb things, then how can you really know if they are being straight with you about BIG things? If you've been less than straight with me about something as small as liking a shirt that you really DIDN'T like, then why on earth would you be straight with me about a major decision -- like where I should be investing my money or what I should do about a problem I'm having with a co-worker? Maybe you're just going to tell me what you think I want to hear then too, right?

I would rather have my feelings hurt by someone's honesty and have to painfully remind myself that I BEGGED for that honesty than to think that things are one way and really find out that they are another.

I want a real life that's based in reality, not some fantasy world that someone created for me because they didn't want to hurt my feelings.

The fact is that I have been through some crap in my life, just like everyone else has -- a disabled stubborn ass mother, a drinking, emotionally unavailable dad, a bad divorce, bad credit, bad career decisions, bad break-ups, big bad tumors, and just more. I'm still here, I'm still kicking and in spite of all that -- I'm still pretty happy most of the time. Telling me that you don't like my fucking shoes is not going to be the end of my world. I will take your opinion under advisement and if I agree with it then I may change my shoes. But do not tell me that you think that my shoes are great and praise them just to pump my ego up. That's just irrational. I'm human, I'm susceptible to these kind of things and will probably wear my shoes more around you because you like them. I'm just a suck-up that way. I'm looking silly always wearing shoes that you don't like, and you're kind of foolish just not telling me that you're not really crazy about my shoes so you don't have to keep looking at me in them.

Anyways, that's my rant. Just be honest. You don't have to be mean (like me, HA!) to be honest -- just don't blow smoke up my ass. I mean, there are times that we're not going to feel comfortable telling someone that we're not as happy with something that they obviously love, but don't go along with that just for their sake. Sometimes not saying much of anything says PLENTY!

Until next time...
HP

This is Dedicated to the One I love

You know, it's like this. I try to keep a lot of my ooey-gooey stuff out of my blog. I am often quite unsuccessful and I take some heat for that. I try to keep it real, I try to keep it about me. Not a big stretch, as anyone who has ever met me can attest.

But, just for tonight let's talk about Scott. Really. Sometimes, because we've been together for a while and known each other for a lot longer than that even (we actually met about 4 years ago), I tend to take him for granted. A lot. I can be overly critical and forget how I come across.

A quality I am not overly fond of in myself.

So, let me say this. I love this man.

I love him because he is kind and gentle with me to a point that no one would ever guess. Nor will they even believe when reading this.

I love him because he delights in teasing me and even because he takes it a step too far sometimes. (Blog topic -- do not tease your fiance into doubting if your diamonds are diamonds.)

I love him because when he gets really excited about something his whole body gets into it. He lights up like a Christmas tree and talks really fast and there's this voice that he has that goes along with that and it's SO cute you just want to bottle it up so you can listen to it again when you're feeling kind of blue.

I love that he really puts a lot of thought into gifts that he buys me and gets so excited about giving them to me that half the time he can't even wait til the actual occasion to give them to me. And when I like the gift he's so happy it's like I'm giving him a gift just by appreciating it.

I love that he really makes an effort to get to know many of my friends. If he doesn't like someone that I like, he still makes an effort to get to know them better and try to keep the path smoothe for our continuing relationship.

I love that he's intelligent and has opinions on things. Opinions that he didn't just pull out of his ass. And when he learns that his opinions were wrong about things, he's not afraid to admit that either.

I love that he makes a strong effort to impress my family, but doesn't sacrifice his personality to do so. He's not phony. Ever.

I love that he listens to me when I'm going through my forty mood swings per month and only very rarely uses the hormone word. Mostly he just listens to me. Yes, he does try to solve my problems instead of listening to them sometimes -- but sometimes the solutions help me realize that my problems do have solutions.

I love that he thinks important things over before just coming out with an answer. It makes me crazy because it's so radically different than my own style, but I recognize how important having that balance is.

I love that even though he thinks I'm silly for picking a date to be our anniversary, he still went all out for the occasion and really made me feel special. Bringing me flowers and taking me to a nice place for dinner.

I love that he likes to gossip as much as I do. I love that he likes stupid reality tv and celebrity scandal stuff as much as I do. We have some of the same guilty pleasures and that's what makes things fun.

I love that he appreciates me for who I am, how I am, all the time. He never lets a day go by that he doesn't tell me that he loves me or reminds me in some way how important I am to him. He doesn't run every single detail by me, but he often asks me for my opinion on things in his life and really makes me feel like we are a team.

I love that he wants us to be a team.

I love that he's funny. And that it's a goofy kind of funny. I love that he makes ME feel funny, although for totally different reasons than most people think that I'm funny.

I love that he's about the same level of not so great housekeeping that I am. We're both kind of messy at about the same pace. And we both go into huge fits of denial when people come over about being too busy to pick things up, etc. He's MUCH better about doing a whirlwind of cleaning when people come over.

I love that he likes my butt. It's weird, but it's true.

I love that it's been 8 months since he ate my great aunt's crabcakes and he still talks about it like it was yesterday and he still compares everyone's crabcakes to hers.

I love him because he's snuggly and fun and brilliant and good looking and witty and charming and sassy and loud and quiet and adventurous.

And I love that in this crazy world we managed to find each other TWICE and that we're going to get married and spend the rest of our lives together.

I'm excited!

SNOW SNOW SNOW!

Pray for snow -- hope for snow -- I really need a day off!

I have a day off on Friday and MAN that seems like a long long way off!

On a side note, I bought a wedding dress today. I'm not sure if I'll ever be in love with the dress. It's just such a difficult commitment and frankly, I don't do that well. I need validation! And Scott won't even look at the dress on the hanger, so that's no good either.

I'll keep looking. Apparently, shopping for your wedding dress when you're hungover with irritable bowels is not an IDEAL situation. Who knew?

HP

Things that make you go, "What the fu..."

I like to pretend I'm going to travel. So, I get several travel oriented newsletters in the mail. Today I got one that said, "HEATHER! Discounted flights from Norfolk to the U.S."

Um, did we leave the Union successfully this time? How can I fly TO the U.S. if I'm already in it? Little unclear on that.

But then again, I think I'm permanently fuzzy now that I am studying philosophy. The query for the day is:

Is it possible to know that no one does know? Is it possible to know that no one does know that no one does know? Is it possible to know that no one can know no one does know? How do you know? How do you know that you do not know?

Yeah. I'm gonna need a little more coffee with that one, Bob. Tried to talk to the Unicorn about that, but she likes to argue a bit too much. Well, God bless her, she likes to listen to herself argue a bit too much. I like to entertain arguments, but in part because I like to hear other people's viewpoints. I get the feeling sometimes that she doesn't always think my viewpoint is as strong as hers because she makes my head hurt. For example, I believe that she believes in God, but have tried to discuss with her the possibility that she can't really KNOW there is a God because there is no way to know this. She disagrees. Vehemently.

That's why most of my friends tend to be heathens. I can't afford the aspirin it would take to keep up with the non-heathens.

Doesn't mean I don't love the Unicorn, because I think she's awesome. Just pulling from a different belief system, that's all. I just don't happen to think she's as wrong as she may think I am.

Or something.

Interesting.

Anyways -- the blogs are likely to continue about this sporadically. A) No one's reading but me anymore, which is fine on some levels but I am an attention whore and need the recognition. B) I just don't have time or energy to pump out readable stuff anymore. I used to be better about keeping track of anecdotes for later writing, but not much of a-HA seems to happen in my busy life. C) It's lost it's shine. At first blogging was a shiny thing for me and I really enjoyed my new toy. Maybe I'll get back to that.

The problem with this format I can't help but feel like I'm writing for someone else and for some slightly bigger purpose (even if my audience WAS only about 7) and when I feel that purpose shifting away, it's hard to lose the performing feeling. I can't let go of the idea that I'm writing for other people and therefore still continue to screen myself more so than if I were writing for personal reasons. I dislike the screening, but I feel it's a necessary evil of "just in case."

So, we'll see. For now I'll just go and vege for the night and soak it all in.

-HP

ego-surfing

And speaking of people with too much time on their hands... My current Communications chapter is on language and the symbolism it contains. The book states that language is an ever changing process, meanings of words are constantly changing and adapting. It referenced a couple of words that were new editions to the dictionary, one of which was ego-surfing. From dictionary.com, the exact definition is " Scanning the World-Wide Web, databases, print media
or research papers looking for the mention of your name."

While I've googled myself, just like most people, I hadn't done it in a while. Plus I didn't always realize that you could pull images from Google too. Duh. Anyways, it was strange to do a Google of my name and have it come back with SO many hits. All regular people living regular lives thinking they are unique in all the world. It's depressing, when you think about it. I guess that's why I don't get my knickers in a knot over the concept of changing my name after I get married. I don't become any more or less unique by having a new name. And underneath it all, I'm still just me.

Still, I would like to maintain that I'm one of the better Heather P---'s out there, but that's just me. ;-)

HP

Strange things people find on the internet

In case you feel like penguin bashing, you may want to check THIS out. You have to click on the Yetti guy to make him take a swing.

And then there is the crazy Badger thing. Scott didn't like it, but I was oddly addicted to it. You want to make it stop, but what if it changes?? That's the first sign of insanity.

It's crazy, the stuff on the internet. Do you ever really think about the links people send you? The wacky stuff, like Elf Bowling. Or the pseudo serious stuff, like the Conversation with God? Who puts these things together? Why? It's not like they're getting paid for them. Who has time to FIND these things and send them? Is the internet just the puppet of computer geeks with wacky notions?? I'm not saying that's a bad thing, it's just interesting.

And if you don't believe that there are ALL kinds of things on the internet that seem to be created by people with too much time on their hands FOR people with too much time on their hands, then check THISout.

Of course, just by linking y'all to this stuff proves I must have too much time on my hands too, huh?

Peace out.

HP

Don't read this if you haven't watched Sex & the City and don't want to know what happened....
aka: a Spoiler!

My blogging is slipping, which bothers me a little. I like to write. I like to write even when I don't have anything to say.

I really like to write when I have better things to do!

Like studying or catching up on my classwork.

I'm not sure I am really cut out to be a GOOD student. I've been enjoying going to class and the material is interesting. I won't even mind the tests, but the little assignments are what annoy me to no end. I am to be keeping a journal for my communications class, which is all well an good -- but it is an extremely guided, planned journal.

Hello, that is SO not my thing. That would be like you all telling me what I should blog about. Then again, I would welcome that a little because at least then I would know someone was reading this.

Only two more episodes of Sex and The City left... Guess you're wondering about THAT segue, huh? She quit her column tonight. So that she could move to Paris "indefinitely" with Alex. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I mean, I like the guy. He's rich, he's sexy, he's sweet. But she barely knows him and he just seems quite different from her. Maybe because he's so much older. I really didn't like his reaction to her friends at the dinner party. Fairly uptight and snobbish. Just didn't fit the puzzle.

And what if she is going because she doesn't want to fall out of a window? Can't that be a part of it?

Frankly, I've had occasion to battle with that but the fact is that I have never been with anyone who completed me more than Scott does. He's funny and he's serious and he's helpful and kind. He spent this whole weekend helping my parents re-do their new house. I can't think of a single other man I've ever been with who would have gone along with that so willingly. Anyone else might have done it, but would have pitched a big fit about it or whined and complained the whole time. He just went along with whatever anyone needed. Even when it didn't seem to make sense -- as my mother's requests often tend not to do.

I think that's why when we have patches of not getting along that it seems to hit me so hard and knock me over. Because we just do so well so much of the time otherwise. He's remarkably tolerant of my babbling, I'm remarkably tolerant of his teasing.

Anyways, I'm all over the page because I'm so friggin' tired. Going to go communicate mosaically til I pass out.

kisses,
HP

Ok, now I'm a little pissed

I don't usually allow this celebrity bs to get under my skin, but listen to this...

In case you've been living under a rock, Justin Timberlake ripped off half of Janet Jackson's shirt during the Stupid Bowl this past Sunday. There was a HUGE muckty-doo over this (you can read about it at the drudge report) and NOW Janet has been banned from presenting or performing at the Grammy's.

Not Justin.

Maybe it's because he's up for an award and she isn't, but I don't care. Isn't this a bit of a double standard here?

He's the one that ripped her shirt, for pity's sake.

No wonder rape victims are villified in this country that they were bringing it on themselves.

Okay, okay -- that was a bit extreme, but let's get serious here. Yes, it was her Ninja star encrusted nipple that was displayed on national television (during the dinner hour -- gasp -- in some markets) but it's not like it just appeared there. He ripped her shirt open. Why is he escaping the controversy?

That just pisses me off. And yes, if I get pissed off over things like this my life must be fairly easy and carefree, but who cares? Yeah, it's being done to a celebrity and has no impact on my daily life.

Today. But, let's suppose that something similar were to happen to me. Scott and I are at one of his parents cult conventions (his dad's a Shriner, I think it's a cult) and as a "stunt" he decides to put a big chocolate handprint on my boob. This would be like I was asked to leave for HAVING the handprint, and them letting him stay (and even letting him sing a little number) even though he left the handprint.

You get me?

And no one's allowed to leave handprints on my boobs, for future reference.

Later.

All's well that ends well. Went to meet my friend (the "meeting" was related to my need of Avon products, also now known as "crack") and briefly discussed my issues with being stood up. I explained that it was mainly upsetting because it was SO unexpected to be treated that way by a woman.

I think she understood and she acknowledged that she was wrong and that was that.

My question is -- why can't it be that easy with men? I don't understand. I'm not saying that they have to acknowledge that they are wrong -- believe it or not, I don't think that they are wrong all the time. Or even most of the time for that matter. All though I may present the attitude that I think that. I think where they are "wrong" is in their inability to discuss anything that involves emotions.

Sorry, their seeming inability to do so. I'm trying to be more careful of my word selection because of my Communications class.

The fact is that it just doesn't seem that difficult from where I'm sitting to talk about things. But the fact also is that it DOES seem a lot more difficult when considering doing so with a man. And not just men of the fiance variety, men in general. My dad, my male friends, my ear doctor today. Brushing aside my "little" concerns and undermining my reactions to things. These are my feelings and I'm the one that walks around with them all the time, please do not tell me that something that I think or feel is not important -- even if only to say that my life must be really easy if that's all I have to worry about. So the fuck what if you see my life as easy?? What does that have to do with anything? Is your life so friggin' hard that you can't even listen to my whines for 15 minutes?? Is it that difficult?

I don't know. It's a process, as we have learned in class, this communications stuff. Can't wait to get to the male/female chapter. Ironically, I think it's the one that I'm scheduled to present. Hm. Hope I don't get thrown out for my biased viewpoints...

I got stood up tonight. By a friend -- a female friend.

That's the part that really gets to me. I have been stood up by men so many times in my life that I can't even begin to tell you what that number is. But not by a woman.

Because what woman hasn't been stood up by a man before? It's happened to all of us. And we all go through the same emotional nightmare of will he or won't he call?? Trying to make excuses for him why he hasn't called but all we're really thinking is that there's just no excuse for not picking up the phone and calling someone and saying you're going to be late or whatever.

I kept getting more and more agitated because it kept getting later and later than when she was supposed to show up to meet me at Scott's house and no word and no way to get in touch with her. (People without cell phones take note -- having the annoying device keeps others from stressing out about your whereabouts.) I tried her house a couple of times and not there. I was falling over myself from exhaustion anyways and took a nap around 10. When I wanted to be home and in bed. But I didn't want to leave in case she just showed up with some excuse about losing track of time.

Scott woke me up about 11 and I called and she answered the phone. I didn't know whether to kill her or hug her -- I was both mad and relieved at the same time. I had even called the non-emergency police line like some crazed mom just to find out how I could learn about any possible accidents that night. That's how sure I was that something must have happened because she would just never ever ever ever leave me hanging like that, knowing I was expecting to see her.

So, she was home and just like a man, gave me some excuses why she hadn't come over nor had she called me to say that she wasn't coming. I was too upset, and let her go. I was, and still am, completely bowled over that someone that I consider to be such a good friend could overlook such a basic common courtesy. No matter what the reason. It made me feel very small. Scott tried to cheer me up but being a man, he just can't understand what it feels like to be stood up like that. He wound up just undermining how I felt by telling me that he thought I was blowing things up. How is THAT helping? Just listen to me rant and maybe throw in a couple of "Yeah, I really can't believe she did thats" and then send me home. How friggin' hard is that??

You know, I've been thinking about perception a lot lately because of my communications class. An one of the things that I've come to realize is that I'm never really going to get a clear perspective on how someone else sees things or WHY they see things the way they do or do the things they do. Because even if I try to picture myself in their shoes, that's just it. I'm picturing ME in their shoes and I wouldn't be ME doing the things I was doing or saying those things. I would be the other person. The other person who had lived the life that I had lived and seen and heard and dealt with all the things that I had.

And I'm not. I'm me. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not always great in the call you back game. I get out of touch with people and even when they call, I just don't want to call back because then I have to play the catch-up game and I hate that. It wears me out and makes me feel like my life is kind of dull, even though it isn't. And I'll also admit that I'm not always great about being on time -- usually I have a fairly healthy window after the expected time. But, if I'm not within the window I will call and I would just never NOT meet someone without calling. And t hat's where I lose the perspective. That's when it feels hurtful to be overlooked in that regard. It's one of those things where "I'm doing this for you, why can't you do it for me?"

I don't know. I know that I'm right, but it doesn't make me feel even a little better.

Anyways, now I AM completely spent and going to go snuggle deep down into that bed of mine...

Earworm

I learned this word on my new favorite show, Best Week Ever on VH-1.
This show is a HOOT -- and I'm not just using that word because I need to get out more. It's kind of like The Daily Show, only more goofy and less acerbic.

Anyways, an earworm is a word to describe when you get a song stuck in your head that you can't get out. They listed some contemporary earworms, and of course topping the list right now is Hey Ya by the Outkast. If you have somehow managed to escape hearing this song, a) you need to get out more and b) how much longer do you have go on your sentence? Seriously. This song DEFINES ubiquitous. (Because something's gotta -- it's just a big word!)

They also referenced Jenny from the Block and said that it gives you an earworm so bad that you need to get an icepick to get it out. If you played that song 3 times for the Pope, he would denounce Catholicism.

That's funny stuff.

Back to Hey Ya -- the reason you can't get it out of your head is because it IS that catchy. But, part of that problem is the stuff that's catchy in your head you can't even sing along to out loud because you get strange looks from people. Like the way he goes, "ohOH" or the way he says shake it, shake it, shake it like a Polaroid picture.

Actually, the only reason I knew THAT'S what he was saying is because of the video. Because for the longest time, I thought he was saying "shake it like a corduroy bitch." I didn't understand how they could use that phrase on the radio and I really didn't understand what a corduroy bitch was. Are we categorizing bitches by the pants fabrics they wear now? Do polyester bitches just not shake it the same way??

Gimme some suga -- I AM yo neighbor!

HP