Last night we ate at Cracker Barrel. And it was decided that if we had to choose one place to eat at for the rest of our lives, then we would all choose Cracker Barrell. It's the variety and the fact that you can get breakfast all day.
The talk turned to boys, as it so often does when it is only girls at the table. And this is what I don't understand: I have amazing friends. Great Women. Seriously Funny. Generous. Dependable. Really Smart. Beautiful. And all single. What's with that?
In a way, it is easy to understand my single life. It is always easy to be critical of yourself and there are always things that I think need to improve. But then I look around at the multitude of great single women I know and I think that there is something else going on.
It is true that each of us in a little picky in her own way, but at the same time none of us are turning down dates. I don't believe that I have ever said no to a first date. (Well, except for the times when one of my students wants to set me up with someone. That is just too weird.) One of my friends instituted a "Take One for the Team" policy. The idea is that you are not allowed to turn down any date. Even if you might not be interested, you have friends, many of them, and this guy might be perfect for one of them. Even with the policy in full effect, we all remain dateless.
____________________
Editorial Note: I started this post and wrote everything above on 10/24/05. And then I didn't have time to finish so I just saved it as a draft. Several time in the last 4 months this topic has come up. Again tonight. Except this time there was a boy at the table and we didn't talk about it in real depth, because who wants to come off looking that desperate? ____________________
I've tried the whole online thing and I am convinced that it is not for me. My experience has left me with the opinion that Neil Clark Warren is of the devil and his 29 dimensions of compatibility is a load of crap. Or maybe they aren't a load of crap, but rather a tool to get more of your money. It seems that you always get matched with people that are not in the least bit "compatible" (and the use of quotation marks is appropriate in this case) until your subscription is about to run out. Then they will actually match you with someone who seems decent and this will suck you in to paying for another 3 months just in case he is the one. Of course you eventually end up going out with the guy who claimed that he is 5'6" and turns out to be 5'4". No more online stuff for me.
Today at my weekly Chinese lessons, my teacher offered to set me up with some men. I don't want to be accused of being picky, but seriously, am I suppose to say yes to that offer?
I don't know what the answer is. I guess I will just continue to wait and trust. And have conversations with me friends about the reasons we are all single.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Why the Mental Block?
I have to admit that I would consider myself a pretty intelligent person. Okay, honestly, I think that I am quite smart. And not just in book sense, but in common sense and in being able to reason things out.
However, there are two areas/subjects/things that I am afraid will always be a mental block for me.
The first is my ability to spell. I think that there has been a small improvement over the years, but in truth that may be attributed to the proliferation of computers and spell checker. Rare is the day that I can type and entire email and have it pass the spell check the first time through. More often, I misspell words to such a degree that the spell check doesn't even recognize it and offer up suggestions. I have to take a second guess.
The other area of my life where I just never seem to be able to learn is in medication. For the life of me, I NEVER know what I should take to make myself feel better. Decongestant? Antihistamine? Both? Something else entirely? And what is really frustrating is that self-medicating should be an innate ability. I come from a family of pharmacists. My grandfather is a pharmacist. Momma is. My aunt and uncle both are. One cousin is in pharmacy school. Her brother is a doctor. And my youngest sister is a lab technologist who has taken enough science classes that she could probably make medicine. And then I can't even go to the drugstore and match my symptoms to those listed on a box. Seriously. I might as well be reading the boxes in Chinese. I might even fare better. Just now, I spent 20 minutes walking up and down the medicine aisle of Kroger trying to remember what momma told me yesterday about what I should take to kill this rotten cold I have developed.
I think that she said the 12 hour Tavist D would be best for the day and Benedryl at night. But the Tavist was 20 bucks and the other thing about coming from a family of pharmacist is knowing that I could probably get it cheaper (or free) at home. Surely, I have something here that isn't that far past the expiration date. So I left without medicine. Only chicken and stars soup, apple juice, and two more boxes of Kleenex.
Oh I feel crappy.
However, there are two areas/subjects/things that I am afraid will always be a mental block for me.
The first is my ability to spell. I think that there has been a small improvement over the years, but in truth that may be attributed to the proliferation of computers and spell checker. Rare is the day that I can type and entire email and have it pass the spell check the first time through. More often, I misspell words to such a degree that the spell check doesn't even recognize it and offer up suggestions. I have to take a second guess.
The other area of my life where I just never seem to be able to learn is in medication. For the life of me, I NEVER know what I should take to make myself feel better. Decongestant? Antihistamine? Both? Something else entirely? And what is really frustrating is that self-medicating should be an innate ability. I come from a family of pharmacists. My grandfather is a pharmacist. Momma is. My aunt and uncle both are. One cousin is in pharmacy school. Her brother is a doctor. And my youngest sister is a lab technologist who has taken enough science classes that she could probably make medicine. And then I can't even go to the drugstore and match my symptoms to those listed on a box. Seriously. I might as well be reading the boxes in Chinese. I might even fare better. Just now, I spent 20 minutes walking up and down the medicine aisle of Kroger trying to remember what momma told me yesterday about what I should take to kill this rotten cold I have developed.
I think that she said the 12 hour Tavist D would be best for the day and Benedryl at night. But the Tavist was 20 bucks and the other thing about coming from a family of pharmacist is knowing that I could probably get it cheaper (or free) at home. Surely, I have something here that isn't that far past the expiration date. So I left without medicine. Only chicken and stars soup, apple juice, and two more boxes of Kleenex.
Oh I feel crappy.
Monday, February 06, 2006
Just a few white flakes
Here’s the thing about teaching- you never mature past age 7 when it comes to snow. So, maybe there are those odd balls out there that think extremely rationally and say they don’t want a snow day because it means that there would be one added onto the end of the year. I am not one of those.
I wanted snow last night. I wanted it so much so that I stayed up far too late watching Grey’s Anatomy with the hope that I might be able to sleep in. And this morning when my alarm went off, I laid in bed and waited for the news to cycle back around. I needed to get up because I had already hit the snooze button twice and was running kind of late. But until the morning radio person confirmed no school closings, I was able to lay there and hope with my last bit of hope that outside my warm bed, there was a light blanket of snow or maybe even just icy road conditions. And then my hope was shattered with those 3 words: “No school closings.”
I think that when I begin to count down to summer break, people assume that I hate my job. Really that couldn’t be much further from the truth. I like my job. Some days I even love it. And I won’t be one of those people who complain about teaching being so much harder than the average job. I know better than that. All I ask is that you recognize that dealing with 30+ teenagers in 90-minute blocks throughout the day is no cake-walk. And so I will continue to gloat about the 2 month summer vacation.
And the next time, there is a possibility of snow, I will probably stay up too late and hope with all my might for my county to close school.
I wanted snow last night. I wanted it so much so that I stayed up far too late watching Grey’s Anatomy with the hope that I might be able to sleep in. And this morning when my alarm went off, I laid in bed and waited for the news to cycle back around. I needed to get up because I had already hit the snooze button twice and was running kind of late. But until the morning radio person confirmed no school closings, I was able to lay there and hope with my last bit of hope that outside my warm bed, there was a light blanket of snow or maybe even just icy road conditions. And then my hope was shattered with those 3 words: “No school closings.”
I think that when I begin to count down to summer break, people assume that I hate my job. Really that couldn’t be much further from the truth. I like my job. Some days I even love it. And I won’t be one of those people who complain about teaching being so much harder than the average job. I know better than that. All I ask is that you recognize that dealing with 30+ teenagers in 90-minute blocks throughout the day is no cake-walk. And so I will continue to gloat about the 2 month summer vacation.
And the next time, there is a possibility of snow, I will probably stay up too late and hope with all my might for my county to close school.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Sorry. I think that you may have some of my marinara sauce on your cheek.
As I become older, I am more aware of the power of words. Especially the ones used as descriptors. We posed the task to our middle school small group to narrow in on the word they would want their friends to use in describing them. The idea was that they should have in mind the type of person that they want to become- that sort of stuff doesn’t just happen.
And so I though of the descriptive word that scarred me when I was a teenager. How could he have known that such a harmless comment would haunt me? It was so innocent. But his words had power of which he was unaware.
“Susan P. has got to be the nicest person ever. Really, she is the nicest person I have ever met.”
It is true that Susan P. is (was? I haven’t seen her in over 10 years and so maybe she has become cynical and bitter. Somehow I doubt it.) an extremely nice person. But I wanted to be the nicest person that he ever met. And that day I determined that I would, at some point in my future, be the nicest person that someone has ever known. Bot just nice. The Nicest.
It is true that thinking such thoughts sort of negate the compliment. I don’t think that you can technically be the nicest if you are trying. I think that it has to be natural. And so I try to forget that promise I made to myself.
Since then, my friends and I have discussed the word that we think others must use in describing us. Mine word is “easy, but not in the loose meaning of the word.” I have to admit that it is pretty right on. I am easy.
But not in the loose sense of being easy.
That day in our small group, I told the girls that I wanted to be known as generous. Generous with my time, my money, and my self.
And then a couple of weeks ago, while having a very nice dinner with a friend, he admitted that the word he used in describing me to his mom was “intimidating.” Could that be further from being nicest? And he meant it in such a nice way.
Friday, a different friend used the following descriptor: “Of higher moral fiber.” Really?
In both cases, I almost spit my food across the table in disbelief.
Hmm. It looks like I have a ways to go. Nicest. One Day. Or, I’ll settle for generous.
And so I though of the descriptive word that scarred me when I was a teenager. How could he have known that such a harmless comment would haunt me? It was so innocent. But his words had power of which he was unaware.
“Susan P. has got to be the nicest person ever. Really, she is the nicest person I have ever met.”
It is true that Susan P. is (was? I haven’t seen her in over 10 years and so maybe she has become cynical and bitter. Somehow I doubt it.) an extremely nice person. But I wanted to be the nicest person that he ever met. And that day I determined that I would, at some point in my future, be the nicest person that someone has ever known. Bot just nice. The Nicest.
It is true that thinking such thoughts sort of negate the compliment. I don’t think that you can technically be the nicest if you are trying. I think that it has to be natural. And so I try to forget that promise I made to myself.
Since then, my friends and I have discussed the word that we think others must use in describing us. Mine word is “easy, but not in the loose meaning of the word.” I have to admit that it is pretty right on. I am easy.
But not in the loose sense of being easy.
That day in our small group, I told the girls that I wanted to be known as generous. Generous with my time, my money, and my self.
And then a couple of weeks ago, while having a very nice dinner with a friend, he admitted that the word he used in describing me to his mom was “intimidating.” Could that be further from being nicest? And he meant it in such a nice way.
Friday, a different friend used the following descriptor: “Of higher moral fiber.” Really?
In both cases, I almost spit my food across the table in disbelief.
Hmm. It looks like I have a ways to go. Nicest. One Day. Or, I’ll settle for generous.
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