Poor Poor Pitiful Me

Okay so you know that Terri Clark song "Poor Poor Pitiful Me?" It's something like this: "Poor, poor pitiful me, all these boys won't let me be, Lord have mercy on me..."

Well that's my issue right now. I hate to complain, I really do. But I am not doing anything at all to provoke them. It's to the point where I got off work today, and had 11 missed texts- 4 were from guys I hardly know. Maybe it's my fault-I'm always up for more friends. I'm okay with meeting a guy at a wedding and maybe casually chatting, getting to know him. But 11:30 pm is past my bedtime and highly inappropriate.

And the ones that text "Hey" .... yeah, when I was younger and didn't know anything, I would be like, "What's up?" But now I have to fight every instinct to talk (believe me, it's difficult as talking runs in my family) and just ignore them. Then the next day, I get, "What's up?" and I'm like ready to pull my hair out. I just keep thinking if I ignore it, or reply with one word answers and never ask questions back, they'll get the hint and stop. It seems rude to ask them to stop talking to me...I mean, that comes off as bitchy and I'd like people to think I'm nice. (Until they get to know me, then I don't care. All my friends know I'm a bitch and believe me, I've got plenty of them anyway.)

And the one who wanted to know if he could come and stay at my apartment this weekend? Get real. I mean, I tried to be kind. I said, "I don't think that will work. Sorry." But next attempt, it's "Get real." That's for friends, not random people I hardly know.

I don't even flirt. I don't dress cute. I don't put makeup on. I am doing NOTHING to provoke this. Some of them are guys I work with. Um...hello? Do you really want to get to know me better? I show up in crappy clothes with crappy hair and I'm a complete sarcastic honest bitch all day, and then they're like, "We all going out tonight?" And that doesn't bother me, the guys at work are predominantly cool and non-creepy and I don't think they're hitting on me or trying to get in my pants 24/7.

I've also gained 9 pounds the past 8 months or so, that's 20 since I've been in college. That whole thing about guys liking skinny girls, not true. So curvy girls, embrace it. Those 20 pounds have gotten me way more attention than I ever wanted. And I can't help that I have blonde hair and good facial complexion. It's true that when I covered it up with brunette dye, I did get less attention..but not that much less.

So just throwing this out there...I'm single. I'm not looking for a boyfriend. I can hardly tolerate a date. I really, really hate it. I'm self-centered and not interested in anyone but myself. And most of all, I am not sexually active, and I have no desire to be. None at all. <<<- Spread that last part around, please!

I go out all the time. Once in a while I dress up-FOR MYSELF. I dress up because when I see what a beautiful person I am on the outside, it makes me happy. When I see people that are less than 10 on the looks scale looking at me, it pisses me off. Seriously, you should have to pay to look at me when I walk by. Trust me, I'd be a millionaire, and I'd have no idea why.

I'm writing this because I hope with all my heart that people (boys) will realize I'm not interested in them EVER (the one exception knows who he is) and that they'll think I'm not very nice and so they'll stop bothering me all the time. I know I'm cocky and self-centered, etc. etc. but for real, I have to figure out how to stop this plague. My phone can't handle it.

Any Man of Mine... (let's pray there is one)

"Someday I'm gonna be safe in the arms of love" -Martina McBride

"I'm gonna treat you so nice, you're never gonna let me go." -Vivian (Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman)

I blame my parents for the fact that I'm so screwed up (Dad always told me parenting is the main factor in how a kid turns out). You see, at a very young age, I remember watching Pretty Woman. We're talking maybe 5 years old, I have a memory of Julia Roberts being treated like somebody special, and I remember the first time I saw the ending. The feeling I got when Edward (Richard Gere) came in the limo and "rescued" Vivian (Julia Roberts) from her balcony (well...from her life of prostitution) ... I still get that feeling. Pretty Woman is my favorite movie and I watch it often.

Perhaps I'm obsessed with happy endings because of the lack of romance in my life. Maybe it's my fault, I mean after all, fairy tales aren't real, right?

Here's how I see my fairy tale ending. I'll meet a guy (handsome and well built of course, with impeccable manners and a non-difficult mother). This guy won't be like the rest. We'll lock eyes across the lecture hall, church sanctuary, bar, street, or wherever we happen to meet, and the rest of the world will cease to exist and he'll know and I'll know and we'll fall in love and bam! Fairy tale ending complete with having a large farm (he'll let me keep a couple goats around) and adopting a couple rugrats (don't get me started on the reasons why I myself will not be reproducing).

Okay maybe "love at first sight" isn't how it needs to happen. But I am holding out for someone who doesn't exist. I want someone who respects women (ie: doesn't use them for their own selfish purposes, exploiting their innocence and humiliating them around his friends, and then abandoning them when he's "done with them"). Not that that happened to me. Except it did, and that's how I know what I'm NOT looking for.

Well that was an unintentional rant. Obviously my scars run pretty deep. Don't give me an a soapbox, or I'll preach all day about that guy (and all the others like him, apparently, there are a lot) ... all the publicity I give him is probably good for his reputation. Ha! Lesson to be learned here: don't mess with me.

He actually asked me recently if I could please stop saying bad things about him. I replied, "Oh yeah sweetheart, I'll get right on that. I'm so sorry I spread lies and rumors and tried to ruin your reputation to make myself feel better. I'll fix that immediately."

False.

...........

Does that really sound like me?

I said, "Honey, I've never told anyone anything that wasn't true. And you're responsible for your reputation, not me." And I did NOT apologize, having done nothing wrong. I tell the truth. Deal with it. You do shitty things to me...karma will get ya. In the form of my extraordinarily large social circles and blunt honesty. And really, do I need to tear you down to build myself up? Duh. Anyone who knows me knows I would never do such a thing. For starters, I absolutely adore myself (and it's mind-boggling to me that not everyone feels the same way) and I don't care what anyone else thinks, really, I don't need anyone to validate my awesomeness. It's probably unhealthy for me when they do... bighead, littlebody syndrome.

Anyway, I learned a lesson so at least some good came out of it. Back to fairy tale daydreams I have, loosely based on love songs like "Queen Of My Double Wide Trailer" (my favorite song ever), "Fishin' In The Dark," and "Drunk On You."

So my perfect guy respects women. Also, I'm looking for someone who has fun with me. He dances well, and he knows how to handle a truck on a muddy dirt road. He likes to fish and hunt, he loves to sit by a fire with a cold Busch Light in his hand,  and he doesn't mind if I stop talking/listening mid-conversation to reach over and crank the radio up whenever my favorite song (at the time) comes on the radio. He also needs to realize that I talk a lot and I only listen a little, but I always listen when it's important.

Oh and having grown up on a farm, his work ethic is off the charts. He likes my sarcasm, my honesty,  and he doesn't mind that even though I'm the responsible one most of the time, every once in a while I drink my whiskey straight out of the bottle and I get a little out of control and he has to take care of me. He also doesn't mind that I'm crazy to start with. Which is good, cause since I get a little wilder every day, I think that's just part of who I am.

He loves to go to church with me (wearing his best boots), and he helps me with my Bible verse memorization. He also needs to be okay when I start out the day with "oh fuck, I overslept!" Dad approves of him and May loves him too. Cause that'll be his mule, unless I love him enough to share Razzle. (Fat. Chance. You have to be under ten years old for that privilege.)

And he's honest. I have gigantic trust issues he'll have to overcome, and since I'm skeptical of all two-legged men (I love my boy mules), he's gonna have to prove himself and be patient with me.

Oh and last but not least, he's gonna have to love me almost as much as I love myself. Well...that's probably unreasonable. But he has to appreciate me, whether I'm wearing cowboy boots and yoga pants with a cutoff, or my best jeans and glitzy top for a night out on the town.

Let's see....I think we've just about covered it. It's called standards, and mine are off-the-charts. Again, I blame my parents for letting me watch Pretty Woman at such an early age (plus all those Disney movies...what's up with that?). Plus when I was like 6, I was parading around singing "Any Man Of Mine" and "My Baby Loves Me." I still parade around listening to those same songs. Nothing screams "high standards!" like 90's country music!

So if you ever come across a sexy, honest farm boy, would ya send him my way? He needs to be social and realize that for right now I don't come home before midnight, ever, and I'm not looking for anything permanent, I'm just not opposed to it ... eventually. It would be more romantic if I could just find him myself but I'm failing, so help me out a little.

k thanks. :)

ps. I'm a sucker for dark eyes, so you should probably not send them my way ... that's a recipe for disaster (see above story) 

Matthew 18

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, "Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother who sins against me? Up to seven times?" 


Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times." -Matthew 18: 21-22


Oy! Friends, I don't need anyone else to remind me that I "deserve better..." I KNOW I DO! I just don't think it's a fucking crime to forgive and forget and to believe in miracles. Mmmmmkay? Thanks.


Not like I'm gonna let him walk all over me again...just kinda sorta a little bit. Not like last time though, I learned. Fyi. 

Frustrations

Keep your head, heels, and standards high. - Rules of a Lady (I saw it on Pinterest)


One of the most frustrating things in life, for me, is that I don't want all the good things I get. I lower standards and expectations just to keep people around. I did that for a guy; I lowered my standards to an embarrassing level and accepted treatment that I'm appalled at, really. And I wonder if it has damaged me, in some way, on a permanent level. Obviously there's deep wounds and they're taking "forever" to heal.


I'm way smarter than what I lowered myself to. My friends don't have to tell me I'm better than that, because I know I am. But here I am, knowing full well that God is trying to give me better things, and I'm just begging for less. Stupid, I know. Am I so humble that I think I'm worth less than I really am? Or am I too proud to admit that I wanted something that wasn't good enough for me? 


It's probably the latter, because I've basically always had a realistic picture of how good I am. It frustrates me, actually, to be so good, so I guess maybe lowering my standards was a way for me to cover it up. Can't I just admit to my mistakes, learn from them, and teach others? I have my moments where I do that. And they're getting more frequent. But then I have moments where I "crash." Moments where I wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then. I frustrate myself...I can't imagine how much I frustrate my friends. Or God, for that matter. I owe Him a million apologies. Maybe something will hit me when I'm in church in a little while. I like those moments. I'm in dire need of one.

And the truth shall set you free

She said, "I won't come back." I said, "Don't come back. I'm better off alone." -Casey Donahew Band

Anyone who knows me well enough (so maybe like 3 people) know that I despise Valentine's Day. Because it's only cool for the k-5th grade crowd.


However, this Valentine's Day was pretty sweet for me. If you've read my blog/followed me on facebook, twitter, or Pinterest, you know that the past couple months have been rough on a couple of accounts. One of those is the friend who abandoned me. Anyone who knows me knows we were more than friends, because I've finally admitted it to about a thousand people the past month.


Well I've been playing detective the past couple months, trying to figure out what the fuck happened. And today, I was told a true story by a subject in said story. And it was a life-changing revelation. For the first time in months, I don't have to wonder what I did wrong. I've literally spent months now, rehashing every detail of this friendship/relationship, trying to figure out what I did. And the truth is...nothing. I am completely innocent in this. I didn't do anything to cause him to abandon me, the fact is, he just wasn't being a good enough friend for me and if I had to analyze it, he felt/maybe still feels guilty about it. But it doesn't matter. Because the truth sets you free. And for the first time in a long time, I will sleep through the night tonight.

Weekend

I can't imagine how my dad felt when he called me Thursday. He called me about 5 minutes after he normally gets home from work, when I was in the middle of my favorite class and told me to call him later, not to worry about it, he just wanted to talk. He called me less than an hour later and told me I'd better come home, we'll talk when I get there. 


I left class immediately and high-tailed it for the parking lot, got in my car, and drove well over the speed limit the whole way home. I knew what it was. In my heart, I knew, but I wouldn't let my mind get carried away. I got home just as it was starting to get dark and sprinted (in my best boots, jeans, and sweatshirt) through the mud over to where my beloved Tim lay in his stall, turned to face me, but not braying at me as he normally does. I fell to my knees and wrapped my arms/body around his neck and head and just cried hysterically for about an eternity (maybe it was like 3 minutes). I heard my dad come up behind me, and his voice broke when he spoke, he was crying too. I'm not sure what was said but I got the message, something happened (probably with Tim's back, which had been broken as a young dude) and he couldn't stand up anymore. The vet would be coming in the morning. (I can't imagine what it was like to be in my dad's shoes, to tell his beloved daughter to come home, knowing that he was going to have to see me completely fall apart over this. He's a good man-I wasn't planning on coming home this weekend. A lesser man would've let me find out on my own when I came home next weekend.)


We went inside for supper and it was silent for a while as the four of us ate. Dad and I kept almost crying (well...okay I was actually crying), Chris looked like he'd been doing drugs (he's a little too macho to cry in front of us), and Mom was keeping it together cause she's Mom, and that's what you have to do sometimes. At one point Dad said, "You can tell how seriously we take our mules by how somber it is in this house right now." 


I went out after supper and sat with Tim, trying to hold it together for his sake. I rubbed his ears and head a lot, and he seemed to like it, but I could tell he was upset about not being able to really move. After a while he stopped eating and laid flat out so I gave him a final hug and went inside for the night. There was a lot of crying and not much sleep between the four of us that night. 


I woke up before 6 Friday morning with a feeling I can't even describe. On one hand, I couldn't wait for the vet to get there and end Tim's misery. On the other hand, I'm selfish by nature. Dad and I sat in the kitchen together in silence until it was light, then I went out and sat with Tim while Dad made preparations for what needed to be done. It was hard to put a smile on my face, but I figured Tim had absorbed enough of my tears the past 20 years, he didn't need anymore. So I told him how much I loved him and what a blessing he was and, of course, "You'll always be my #1 man." Of course when Dad came over for the last little while, neither of us could hold it together. I was anxious for the vet to get there, but when he came, I realized it was too soon. Dad and I went inside and cried and hugged each other, both of us were losing a best friend. 


After the vet left, Chris got out of bed and helped Dad. I tried to help, but apparently my body couldn't function anymore. So I stood around in the way while Dad and Chris did what needed to be done, and we gave Tim a real nice funeral. For me, the rest of Friday was easier after that. No more tears for a while, but it was mostly cause I ran out. My body and mind and soul were completely numb. I slept for over 11 hours that night, but I woke up a lot. It was kind of hard for me because I didn't really know what to do or how to act. I wanted to cry as many tears as Tim deserved, but I knew me crying wasn't helping Dad, so I tried to act strong. Mostly I acted lost. 


Yesterday it was snowing and I postponed going outside as long as possible so I didn't have to see the empty stall. Dad, Mom, and I looked through every photograph in the house all morning, looking at all the mules we've had over the years, and talking about how blessed we were to have Tim around for 25 years. He really was a blessing in so many ways. He taught us everything there is to know about donkeys, and he absorbed my tears and hugged me (literally wrapped his neck around me) when I went through a growing pain. I don't know what he means to my dad, mom, or brother, but to me, he was everything all rolled into one. I don't even know what I feel right now, but there's definitely an emptiness.


I don't expect anyone to understand what I'm going through-I suppose it's just the grieving process-but it was nice last night when I went to an ISU function, and half a dozen people came up and told me they were sorry to hear about my loss. I was numb enough (thanks to a large booze supply and someone to drive me) to have a really good time, so I kinda brushed it off. But it's going to be hard to go home next weekend, knowing he's not there anymore. I thought about him a lot when he was alive (like a few times every day) and now I'm constantly thinking about him, there's a constant ache.


I went outside yesterday afternoon for a couple hours cause I wanted to be alone. I went over to his grave and told him how much I missed him/was gonna miss him, and cried heartily for a bit. Then when I walked back through the mule lot, my spare mule, May, was off by herself. I went over to her and she wrapped her head around me like Tim used to, like she was hugging me back. Then, because it was warm, wet snow and the ground was slick, the mules and I played for a while. They had me laughing through my tears, and pretty soon I was just laughing. I shook my head and pawed the ground just like they were doing, and ran with them, only with a slight advantage-I was making snowballs and throwing them at random mules until finally all 9 were participating in the festivities. (This is one of the reasons I see Tim as a father figure...obviously I relate more to mules than to humans, which is why I struggle so much during the week when I'm an hour and a half away.)


I don't want to have to talk about it for a while. It was nice when my dad, mom, brother and I were talking about different memories we had, but for now that chapter's closed. I just want to grieve appropriately for a while; Tim deserves it, after all he's done for me my entire life. I honestly have no idea how to survive without him, cause I've never known a day without him in my life, but I reckon I'll manage. Knowing that my dad's with me is semi-comforting. Like, it's nice to know that he understands/relates, but I feel sorry for him because he's going through the same loss I am. Guess it's all part of life/growing up.


This song is fitting for my irreplaceable "Timmy boy," cheers to you, my friend.

So I came across this verse when I was pinteresting this afternoon. ("Pinteresting" = I was on Pinterest for an undisclosed amount of time browsing through everything that's been posted since the last time I was on Pinterest.) Anyway, the verse was Romans 12:12, "Let your hope make you glad. Be patient in time of trouble and never stop praying." So I looked it up to mark in my Bible, and lo and behold, it's a verse I already had memorized, and one that was going to be read at my wedding. The NIV version is much different though, "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer." So anyway, I did some searching and this version I found on Pinterest was the CEV (Contemporary English Version) translation. I made a mental note to check out different translations more often.


...


Patience. Something I've never been good at. What is patience? Webster's defines patience as, "the capacity, habit, or fact of being patient." This definition does nothing for me. However, it defines "patient" as "bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint." Guess what? This girl...is not patient. Unless "calmly" means "like a psycho" and "without complaint" means "crying and begging with God a thousand times every day." 


So I decided to dissect the rest of this verse, and the word "hope" was another that stuck out. Last summer, I got a tattoo based on Hebrews 11:1-Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we don't see (NIV). This verse is one I claim to live by, but I've never investigated the word "hope" before. One of Webster's definitions is, "to desire with expectation of attainment." 


Since I'm pessimistic, I don't "hope" very well, apparently. Cause the thins I want, I'm very unsure they will happen. Which makes me think my faith is shaky too. Just some general issues I'm having right now.