Ask me. I won't say no. How could I?

The plot thickens. I'm very bad at break ups. I tried again tonight, without success. I'm not used to failing, and this is getting ridiculous. I suggested the poor man in question jump ship early, but I think he thinks I'm just being funny or playing hard to get. He told me tonight he doesn't have any place to go for Christmas. If I were a nicer person, I'd say, "Oh, sure! Come to my house." But I didn't. Because I can't. And it's all a big secret because if my family got word, they'd do the inviting for me. My parents, who are lovely people, are very concerned. My mother told me Saturday that she is concerned I'm going to be the family's Old Maid. My dad told me today that someday I'll have to answer to God because I've had "so many chances to get married" that I haven't taken. I wouldn't call those "chances" legitmate, but maybe I'm wrong.
So whether it's out of cowardice or selfishness or stubborness or just needing some clarity, I'm hereby on an official sabbatical. No dating for a while. I'm cutting it all off, because it's going to take some big energy to go out with the next 29 guys.
Besides, I have a lot on my plate these days. Particularly in the area of my house. This week I've already met up with the contractor to discuss the wood wraps around the windows (Hooray for territorial style!) and eventual paint colors (avacado or moss green in the study, a robin's egg blue accent wall in the living room, and eggshell everywhere else), and settled on a silver metal roof. This week I have to pick out fixtures for the sinks and other plumbing bits, buy my pellet-stove insert for my fireplace, and I think I'm picking out cabinets. Most people think of this as the fun part. It is, but for someone as indecisive as I am, it's a bit of a nightmare as well. Still, I'm having a blast. It's nice to have something to throw myself into.

Shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life you'd like to

It has now been over a month since the whole fiasco. You know. THE fiasco. I don't really have much to say about it, except it seems like a milestone, and it seems like a lifetime ago. And it's a tedious topic and I'm 85 percent healed (sometimes I like to think that I'm all the way back to normal Rachel, but then some little incident will crop up and I'll feel a little sick, but no more of this bleeding from the face, so that's progress).
So at this time of year, when we're all talking about what we're grateful for, I guess one of my biggest blessings is time. I'm grateful for the way it helps you heal, gives perspective, and works as an emulsifier for all the day-to-day events and makes them your life. And as far as lives go, I've got a pretty good one. I'm glad to have the next few days particularly to reflect on all the reasons it is so good.
Bardzo cie dziekuje.

I'm afraid I'm a bad person

I tried to break up and off last night, but I think I did a little more in the leading-on category. Part of this is because I care about the person at the center of the whole mess-- quite a lot. I keep thinking that things are getting a little better, so I ought to give this whole relationship thing a fighting chance. But at the same time, I'm not sure my motivations are quite that pure. I'd done my best to not make the new guy a victim of my rebound-osity, but he may be that anyway.
My cousin told me last night, "What it boils down to, Rachel, is that you and I are players." For years, that's what I wanted to be. Now player seems like a dirty word.

And I know no one said it was fair

I got pulled over tonight. Well, not pulled over, exactly, but stopped at a sobriety/security checkpoint. Sobriety-- no problem. Obviously. Like always, I handed over my documentation as I proudly told the officer, "I'm a Mormon. I've never even had a drink." Usually they smile and tell me how good I am. But tonight, the security was the issue, because apparently my proof of insurance was expired (by about a week, actually). Even though we pay for insurance in my family, I guess I didn't think to check for a new card (really, is this at the top of anyone's list of things to do?) and so I got a "citation." Which means there's no fine, but I have two weeks to take my current proof of insurance (which is probably floating around somewhere on my mom's desk) to the Bosque Farms Police Department so it doesn't show up on my very clean driving record.
And you know, I get it. I appreciate the police trying to keep us safe and all. And I hope they found any drunk drivers who were out on the road. And I hope they got the real deadbeats who DON'T have insurance. I know they were just doing their job, but I'm still just a little annoyed. I'M A GOOD PERSON! I DRIVE THE SPEED LIMIT! I DON'T LITTER! But it is technically my fault that I didn't have the new proof of insurance card, so there you have it.
Of course, I can't help thinking that somehow this is karma and I must have done some bad things in my day because things are coming back to bite me in the butt. And even though I've spent HOURS this week doing service projects (I was on my way home from one tonight, ironically), something I've done in my past is catching up. Well, the police thing is obvious-- my own stupidity, I guess. But for example, having someone tell me I'm physically unattractive probably is a punishment for me yelling and freaking out at my friends when they suggested I date another friend... the pressure was too great, and I regretably said something to the tune of, "NOOOOOO! That will NEVER happen." It wasn't because I didn't adore the guy, it was just too much pressure at the time. So maybe that whole thing a while back was payback. I don't know.
Or maybe it's because things just aren't fair sometimes. If things WERE, then I'd be head-over-heels in love with the nicest boy in the world, who happens to feel that way about me. It's strange. I don't think anyone has ever liked me this much before, and I question his judgment. Yeah, this is probably way too personal and I shouldn't be sharing this with the whole world, but I don't know how to be anyone but myself, and in a kind of public way. So basically, I'm feeling like the devil right now because I've got this great person in my life who wants to be a bigger part of my life, and I just don't know if I can let him in. And I don't know if it's because I'm just a wuss and freak out when anyone shows any interest (which seems like something I ought to be able to overcome), or if my greater fear is true and he and I just don't have enough in common to merit this whole charade continuing for a moment more. It isn't fair that someone as nice as this guy should have anything but happiness, but I can see some hurt coming.
When I was a little girl, I remember watching Geraldo or Phil Donaghue or Sally Jessy Raphael or someone talk to people who had near-death experiences. This man said that as he was "walking toward the light" he was watching this movie of his life and saw every moment. But it was completely interactive and he FELT everything he'd ever made someone else feel. Joy and pain. I would really prefer my life movie to be a story of someone who made people happy, not someone who inflicted pain... even unintentionally.
Add to this frustration the fact that I think all the people in my life believe I'm a touch on the crazy side. My dad's convinced that I have a chemical imbalance, my aunt thinks I'm an actress and not showing people my true colors, and my mom blames it on my high IQ. I'm at a loss, though, because I'm honestly just being myself-- and really the best self I can manage right now. Truly. I don't act as a cry for attention. I don't write to satisfy anyone but myself. I do my best to adapt and fit in, but there are just things about me that make up who I am. Hmm. I don't think I'm describing this well. I wish I had Nate Thomas' way with words.
It's like this. I don't have a way of dressing that would put me in a category, unless it was "ecclectic." My only true loves are everyone. I'm taking a step into the dark, hoping to be brought further into the light, but grasping for goodness wherever I can find it, and then telling everyone all about it-- the good, the bad, the ugly. I'm shouting all my secrets from the rooftops. I know mystery is good, but I can't keep a secret about myself. I'm too loud, I'm too unsure, I'm too confident, I'm too proud. And it all comes together in this synergystic ball of something you know as Rachel. I don't know if I'm crazy or just a fool.

Nobody puts Baby in a corner

I just got off the phone with one of my favorite college roommates. Today she'd sent me a package in the mail to celebrate my half birthday. Yep, I'm now more than half-way through the year. I'm practically 26. I'm old. I didn't realize it was my halfers-day. But I'm happy. With age comes experience, and maybe a little wisdom, if you're lucky. I'm lucky.
Amber, the former roommate, sent me a copy of "Dirty Dancing" on DVD. Maybe this is because I go out clubbing now?
And I also feel I should mention the fact that I've been seeing this nice guy recently (not exclusively, but frequently), and I just found out that he's got a bit of a strange hobby: He makes bull whips for fun. I'm not even joking. Ouch.
The only thing really weighing down on my mind these days is a little concern for a friend. In fact, it's pretty distracting. I want to help, but my hands are tied. I think I've just had my first glimpse into what parenting must be like. I can see him going down this path that seems like it will only lead to unhappiness, but I'm not in a position to sit down with him and suggest a course-correction. It's not really my place, and I don't think he'd listen. I feel kind of helpless on this count because I want nothing but his happiness, but it doesn't look like that's on its way for him. I hope I'm wrong.
The whole situation is driving me a bit crazy, but as it seems there's not much I can do at the moment, I guess I'll have to concentrate on the positive things in my life. I just don't know yet if bull whips fall into that category. ;)

Liberation and Revelation

OK, remember not to judge too harshly.
1) I'm feeling very proud of myself for not making the title of this rant "So-and-so (using the real name, of course) is a complete ass." But defamation, slander, etc. (it can't be libelous if it's true, right?) probably isn't the high road. I still feel that way, but at least it's not posted all over my profile. Here's the deal: It's not even me I'm worried about anymore. You know how someone can treat you like crap on their shoe and it sucks, but if they start messing with people you love, you come out swinging? That's just where I'm coming from these days. I'm about to open a can on this particular guy, who by the way, is no Chevron, if you know what I mean.
2) Now this may seem weird, saying so many uncharitable things in the paragraph above, but I do want to say I feel pretty blessed these days. Being the Molly I am, I was reading scriptures last night and came across a verse essentially asked, "How is it that you forget God in the very moment He has delivered you?" Wow. That hit me hard. Here I was, feeling a little forsaken because things didn't go the way I'd hoped, and I realized that once again, I've been snatched out of a bad situation. I certainly don't know why a) I have so many blessings and b) why it takes me so long to recognize them sometimes, but there it is. I'm trying to do better.
3) Speaking of that liberation, here comes the next possibly-offensive musing-- warning: much bragging to follow. I have to say I am really great, and I'm not apologizing for it. You know, I've had a lot of great opportunities, and I'm really lucky/blessed. Not that everything has been smooth sailing, but I recognized I've led a pretty charmed life thus far. But I'm sure happy with what I've been able to make of myself with what I've got. As I told someone not too long ago, I am fun, I am smart, and I am energetic. I love life, and I make the most of every situation. I'm naturally loving and extraordinarily loyal. I really live up to the things I claim to be on Sunday—I do what is right out of love for God, not just fear of punishment. I am virtuous and I am kind. I am ambitious and helpful and submissive to proper authority. I'm carving out a great life for myself because I don't wait around for others to hand me anything. And I'm extraordinarily blessed—I know who I am, and I know how to treat my brothers and sisters. God expects a lot out of me, and I'm prepared and willing to deliver. And that makes me pretty pleased with my reflection in the mirror every day.
4) I've decided that I can be a little picky now, especially with the guys I date. If you are wondering, "Who does she think she is, and why does she deserve this?" see above. No, the next man in my life is going to really know who he is. Being good is going to be more important to him than being good looking (though, as long as I'm making demands, let's say he ought to have red hair and a good nose/mouth area, wear Chuck Taylors, and appreciate my Bohemian style). He'll help me get over my fear of Santa Claus and always have something interesting to say. He'll be a world citizen and care about leaving the planet better than he found it. He won't try to win me by playing on my insecurities. We'll work together for the good of the world and the good of one another. I deserve this.
So that's it. Anyone who cares to read this now knows the real me-- in all my indignation, self-importance, and demanding glory. Here I am. Love me or hate me, but this is who I am, and I'm happy with it.

Magic Moments

A few years ago, I had my annual Christmas Party at my apartment in Sandy. The usual suspects all showed up, and it was great seeing old and new friends. I'd worked hard to get everything ready, wore a sparkly green sweater, and tried to play the perfect hostess.

My parties are generally pretty casual affairs. Not casual in preparation, but I like having a home where friends from all different parts of my life can get together and mingle. It's exciting to see my circle strengthen.

That year, I had an unexpected surprise—a crasher. Not a crasher, exactly, because he'd been invited over by some of my old neighbors, but I didn't have any idea who this kid was. He just came in, made himself a plate of food, and put himself to work being at home. I remember breaking away from some guys I'd not seen in years, just to investigate who the crazy stranger was. He said, "Who in the world made this food?"

"I did," I said.

"In that case," he said, dropping to one knee and kissing my hand, "will you marry me?"

"That depends," I said. "What's your name?"

It was a great introduction. I like the "life of the party" types—they remind me of myself.

As the evening wore on, I got better acquainted with my new "friend" – Bryce was his name. We chatted and entertained, and I couldn't have been happier. When he went to leave, I walked him to my door and shook his hand. But that wasn't good enough for my unexpected guest. Instead, he twirled me around, and pinned me up against the door to kiss me under the mistletoe. And ok, I was screaming a bit so he just kissed me on the cheek, but it was fantastic. Bless those boys I know now, but none of them throw girls up against the wall.

It's such a good feeling to know you're alive

I love it when I should be in bed but I'm not because I just got home from having an awesome time. There's a little sparkle in my sad little world. Not sad because it's unhappy-- just sad that I really don't know anything about anything. Tonight I went with Nina out clubbing. Hahaha. Me, in a club! Hysterical. (Probably even funnier to the people who know us-- nothing like half of the Relief Society Presidency at a place with lots of bumpin' and grindin' [didn't participate in that, obviously] to shake things up) I didn't even know the right name of the place, but I'll tell you this much-- I think I'm gonna go again. Dancing is like kissing-- it makes you a good person.
And I'm stoked because tonight I reconnected with an old friend from High School. We had a short chat, but I hope I get to see him one of these days. I heart nostalgia, and this kid is wonderful. It'll be good to hook up.
Yeah, it feels like I'm plugged into my life. Somebody flip the switch.

Hiatus

So in case y'all thought I fell off the face of the planet, stricken with grief, I'm back. And in a big way. I'm not sure everyone will think that's such a good thing, but I do. Mostly.

One good thing about being fickle is you can run the gauntlet of the grieving process rather quickly. As you all know from the Kubler-Ross model, the stages are

Denial and isolation - The "No, not me" stage.: "This is not happening to me."
Anger - The "Why me?" stage.: "How dare you do this to me?!" (either referring to God, the late person, or themselves)
Bargaining - The "If I do this, you'll do that" stage.: "Just let me live to see my son graduate."
Depression - The "It's really happened" stage.: "I can't bear to face going through this, putting my family through this."
Acceptance - The "This is going to happen" stage.: "I'm ready, I don't want to struggle anymore."

Of course, mine has kind of been out of order. I didn't really get a chance to have a Stage 3, but went from 4 to 5 to 2. I think now I'm not even in a stage. I just am.

I spoke to my friend David the other day. He asked me how it felt to go from being "Rachel—every guy's best friend" to "Rachel—a girl (some) boys want to date." Honestly? I think I hate it. I'm going back to pre-True Aggie Days (becoming a T.A. seems to have been the turning point—funny what kissing a stranger will do to a person)—a time when I knew where I stood with everyone. And I'm not saying this in a depressed, pity me way. I'm just on a break.

Hiatus

So in case y'all thought I fell off the face of the planet, stricken with grief, I'm back. And in a big way. I'm not sure everyone will think that's such a good thing, but I do. Mostly.

One good thing about being fickle is you can run the gauntlet of the grieving process rather quickly. As you all know from the Kubler-Ross model, the stages are

Denial and isolation - The "No, not me" stage.: "This is not happening to me."
Anger - The "Why me?" stage.: "How dare you do this to me?!" (either referring to God, the late person, or themselves)
Bargaining - The "If I do this, you'll do that" stage.: "Just let me live to see my son graduate."
Depression - The "It's really happened" stage.: "I can't bear to face going through this, putting my family through this."
Acceptance - The "This is going to happen" stage.: "I'm ready, I don't want to struggle anymore."

Of course, mine has kind of been out of order. I didn't really get a chance to have a Stage 3, but went from 4 to 5 to 2. I think now I'm not even in a stage. I just am.

I spoke to my friend David the other day. He asked me how it felt to go from being "Rachel—every guy's best friend" to "Rachel—a girl (some) boys want to date." Honestly? I think I hate it. I'm going back to pre-True Aggie Days (becoming a T.A. seems to have been the turning point—funny what kissing a stranger will do to a person)—a time when I knew where I stood with everyone. And I'm not saying this in a depressed, pity me way. I'm just on a break.