Going to the Ball

So, a typical Friday for me entails meeting my friends out somewhere... eating delicious food... and having a few beers. Super laid back. Lots of jokes. Maybe dancing. Maybe bowling. Maybe crazy costumes. And on occasion it involves roller skates and afro wigs.

Well, iron your wifebeaters and trim your mullets, cuz this Friday night will be something special. I've never used the word 'ball' to describe any place I have ever gone in my life. I have been to the grocery store. I have been to work. But I have never ever been to a ball. I've been to a prom. I've been to a homecoming. But never a ball. I'm not hick in any way. However, I am not accustomed to the prim and proper lifestyle that one adorns to attend a ball. I have a fairly quick tongue and tend to make off-color and completely hilarious jokes. I can't stick out my tongue or punch anyone. I've got to tone down my sassiness. I want my date to be proud that I am on his arm. I want to be classy and beautiful and lovely.

I am quite excited. Can you tell? I feel as though I was just asked to the prom. Except it's way cooler. I am wearing a lovely ball gown. A strapless black dress with mint-colored accents and beautiful beadwork and embroidery. It's stunning.

I am quite glad to not be a prissy girly-girl. I like my adventures and my scars and my gettin' dirty. But it's an entirely different feeling to be lovely. I was mentioning to Adam that it's a little tricky to be as outdoorsy as I want to be and still be feminine. You just don't tend to look as lovely with scabs and scrapes making your legs look like a roadmap.

I tried the dress on for Adam yesterday. And his eyes lit up. They really did! That's an awfully wonderful feeling. I certainly don't have any delusions of grandeur or perfection. I just am planning on having a wonderful time and on making Adam glad that I am with him. He is too wonderful for anything less.

I know.... I just posted that I wasn't dating. Well... that's going to have to wait until after the ball.

Brainless

Dear Brainless Exercise Fanatic:

At what point did you think jogging down Las Vegas Boulevard in the midst of oogling tourists on the block right where they've narrowed everything down to build CityCenter would be a good idea? I only saw you for about four seconds as I passed you, but it was enough. Your uptight little glare at all the hundreds of people ahead of you. They were impeding your progress. Their congestion was slowing your heart rate. Their pace FAR too slow for your athletic stride.

Hey. Guess what. The city is filled with treadmills. There's great trails all around the city. Heck... no one takes the stairs. Go run yourself up to the top of the Stratosphere. Use your brain, genius.

The No-Relationship Zone

Six months... a year... I don't know. Can I do it? Of course. Do I want to? At this moment - most definitely. But I can see myself regretting this plan down the road. I can see myself being tempted to high-tail it back into serial dating.

It's strange, I think, that I find myself repetitively in these semi-long-term quasi-relationships. I date one person for a series of months and poof. Gone for one reason or another (now, I realize 'gone for one reason or another' also indicates me breaking things off for stupid reasons). I know. That's what dating is all about. I fully admit that I may be in a severe state of confusion. So sometime down the road, I may look back on this and admit I was crazy. Whatever. It is what it is. This pattern is making me feel like that's all I should expect. But truly, there's much more to a really solid, beautiful relationship.

So, as far as RelationshipSteph goes... count me out.

Commitment

I have to say I've found that in beginning relationships, commitment is rare. For whatever reason, boys shy away from commiting themselves in a relationship because they aren't sure what's around the corner. They'd hate to pull you into their lives just to miss the great thing that they are sure is coming their way. Right? There's nothing like quasi-commitment to make a girl feel semi-wanted. Hey... wake up. I AM that great thing. Self-righteous? No. Self-promoting? No. Confident? Yes. Absolutely. I know girls. And I know I am a catch. So what's the hold up? Catch me.

I might as well swim my self out to sea. Find myself an adventure and in the meantime maybe find someone who is willing to risk the rough waters to find something worth catching. I'll leave the mackerel to you men who won't step off the shore.

No, Sir. I Actually Do NOT Need A Truck

I ran to Home Depot today. Very quick trip. I grabbed some wood, threw it in my car. Shut the back door and began to get into the drivers seat.

"You see?!? That right there is why you need a truck."

I look over to see an old man. It's okay to say he was old, right? I mean, he clearly was old enough to be a grandpa. Why is 'old' perceived as such a criticism? Sometimes, it's just plain true.

I didn't notice that I was struggling at all to fit the very long wood in my car. Actually, I just stuck it through the space between the two front seats and it fit just fine. No issue. So what encouraged him to yell out across the parking lot at me? Is he a truck lover? Has he had damaging relationships with small cars in the past? Does he have stock in Ford or Dodge? I don't know.

That was one of only two instances in the last year that I have needed to fit something large in my car. And in zero of those instances did I think, "Damn. I wish I had a truck." Whatever it was that I needed to cram in there fit like a glove. All I could think of as I closed the door was, "No. Old Man. I do NOT need a truck. Clearly, the wood fit in here just fine. Don't you know how much it would drive me crazy to drive a truck? To jump up in that thing and to haul around town like some big time Texan? To spend about twice what I do in gas? Old Man, I got 38 miles to the gallon on my last trip to Buena Vista. Didn't seem to need a truck then, did I? You don't even know me. You don't know my needs. You don't know what I haul around. I'm a single girl, for heaven's sake! What business does a single girl have owning a truck? Tell me that!"

And I wished upon wished that I had just said it all right there.

Really would have taught him a lesson, huh? Right? RIGHT?!?

Quiet.

I've been discovering my own need to be quiet and to be by myself. To turn off music. To turn off my phone and to bury myself in reading and thinking and journaling. This is the quiet, reflective side of me that I'm sure people don't recognize. All too often, I'm the brash and brutally honest, slightly in-your-face me. A friend of mine wrote a blog entitled, Breathe. It talks about intentionally placing yourself in a spot where you can fill your lungs and settle your mind and heart. It's all too necessary and all too overlooked. I recently have wrapped myself in social events - moving from one workout session to a dinner party... from one girls night out to another night in with my guy. And all I need sometimes is to be. Quiet. Settled. Alone.

Breathe.

Well, I spent some time reading today. I read slowly through a paragraph. I read it again. And then I read sentence by sentence. Words tangled through my thoughts. And I questioned the intent of what I had read. I journaled. And when I came out of this time, I thought about the following things... I realized how selfish I've become and how wrapped up in myself I get. And I realized how very, very little all of that matters. Sad, really. I have no significant issues in my life and yet I perseverate on running every little detail through my mind until I'm exhausted of it. Am I really that exciting? No. I'm really not.

I also thought of the idea of home. And what it means to make my home. My physical home is not the idea here. But instead, I really mean how I create my life and where I place value. Where am I settled and comfortable? Where am I at peace and at rest?

I love the word, abide. It indicates so many things. On a surface level it indicates staying or residing. To wait for something and to remain faithful to something. I love that. It's up to me what I choose to stay with... to be faithful to... and whatever it is that I choose, ends up being my home. And it's there I can rest.

That idea is beautiful.

Devil's Advocate

My opinion:

I don't think guys fall in love. Yes... okay. EVERYONE disagrees with me. Fine. You don't have to agree. I'm just playing devil's advocate. Let's just suppose that guys don't fall in love. Why would we do that? Because it would just make me feel much better. That's why.

I'm just trying to think through all the gents I've had the pleasure to know in my lifetime. I think I've dated my fair share of boys. Starting with Jason S. freshman year of highschool. That one shouldn't even actually count. The first one never counts because all you do is tell people you are going out. And you talk on the phone like three times and then you break up.

Rob R. loved me. That's for sure. How do I know? Because I just know. It was nothing he did or didn't do. I just know he did. So, I guess that blows my theory out of the water. So let me rephrase it... Few guys fall in love.

Well, then there's all the boys that fell in love with my friend, Abby... and all the boys that are constantly in love with my friend, Sarah. And then there's my grandpa and my grandad. And my dad, who loves my mom. And all those stupid sappy boys who fall in love with women in the chick flicks. Well, Max really loved Angela. I know that for sure. And there's a teacher at work who is in love with his wife. Alot. And I'm sure all my friends husbands are in love with them. Damn it. So, let me again rephrase my theory... Few guys fall in love - with me.

I am okay with that. Not everybody in the known world has to be in love with me. My dogs are in love with me. My friends love me. My family... yes. I'm not complaining.

I'm just warning you. One day somebody will be in love with me. And he better watch out, because I might be in love with him too and then what will we do? We'll have to do all the stuff that people do when they're in love, like smile. And write notes to each other. And bake cookies as a special surprise. And plan birthday parties for each other and go on vacations together.

It's all too much to fathom.