the old retainer

Happy Halloween! The Ugly Betty costume was a hit at work. People were mostly impressed with me wearing my real retainer from high school even though I couldn’t pull off braces. Note to friends—men seem to like orange tights.

I’m not at a bar with Bella Boy. We spoke briefly when I called the number he gave me from work. He was very whispery, annoyed that I would think he could locate downtown CS, and in a rush to get off the phone at work. This means I can hold onto brisk, purposeful movement and searching for someone to call me “Girl”, and who I can call Champ, Sport, or Chief. We’re not seductive here, just campy.

bella of the bar

I’m a disaster as flirting and worse at seduction. Tomorrow night I may possibly have drinks with someone who refers to me as Bella. It scares me a little. I feel to play his game I might need to start smoking, wearing cleavage, and moving languidly.

I keep praying God will speak to a Christian man on my behalf and that I can stop playing this game I fail miserably at.

waiting for a splinter

I just had an inspiring talk with Tea about honestly. Soccer Coach called, and I was ready to kindly and rationally divert us onto the friendship path. Unfortunately, he was in a great mood—going on about what an amazing coach he is and how stupid journalists are. Then he wanted to take credit for inspiring the edits Keen made. He really didn’t get that the edits were to entice other men.

Can you give bad news to someone in a good mood? I’ll wait until he has a splinter, his team loses, or his sweater itches. Yeah, yeah…I know I’m a big chicken.

Revisions

Well girls, this late post isn’t due to a long night out with the coach. He smelled nice and was a great conversationalist—interesting and generous with questions. He’d like to get together again and is genuinely good company. Unfortunately, he cusses like a sailor and mentioned he thinks people in my field are idiots. Ouch!

I declined dinner with him for meeting up with Keen Idea. On my way to her house I was braking quickly to avoid hitting a large, very hairy dog in the road. As I waited for it to pass, I realized it was a bear cub as it checked out my car and scampered on up a light pole.

We watched Sex and the City as Keen made numerous edits to my online dating profile. This comes naturally to her as she volunteers for the humane society writing personal ads for animals waiting to be adopted. Minor switch from “adorable lab anxious to catch your Frisbee” to “caring idealist seeks rugged artist.” She decided dancing is now a hobby of mine. We’ll see what the new bait brings in.

retirement practice

Tonight I’m practicing for retirement. I got home from a crazy week at work, searched for some yarn in the basement, went grocery shopping, curled up with my laptop to watch TV, and am topping the evening off sitting here in sponge curlers at 8:44 p.m. You’re probably embarrassed for me.

Sponge-curler me wonders if I’m really up for going out with the soccer coach tomorrow. I could be a little fringy and sensitive for him. What lies in the soul of a coach?

3-2-1 Contact

Today:
3 of my students busted for drugs at school
2 of my students who want to work out with me as they try to quit smoking
1 song that never fails to make me smile.
http://www.jonathancoulton.com/store/downloads

Look for Code Monkey. You won’t regret it.

poncho shopping

White Glue asks, “Is there a hair color requirement to get into my 1st block class?”

I answer: all new additions will have hair color that resembles nothing allotted by nature, multiple piercing, criminal record, issues with males in authority. Students will be assessed on ability to cut a straight line, draw a monkey, and choose the color glitter that best corresponds with a specific color marker.

This was my clearest thinking of the day. After work I visited the thrift store to work on my Ugly Betty costume. Big find—a silky paisley blouse that ties into a bow at the collar with matching sweater vest. The thrift stores may be onto this costume idea because ponchos were suspiciously overpriced. Big hint—save poncho shopping for next year

dust to dust

Tonight I returned to the comforting companionship of the old men at philosophy club. We were talking about bioethics and got on the topic of burial vs. cremation. I didn’t know this was controversial, but they were saying that there is tremendous significance around laying a body to rest in preparation for resurrection. I need to do more research on this to be convinced. I feel like I was created from dust and should return to the earth that way. Also, I’m suspicious of embalmment as a way of avoiding the reality of death. Seeing my embalmed aunt was a little traumatic for me.

seriously?

I met this guy on match who I seemed to have fun things in common with. He liked to hike and was an extroverted introvert. He also wanted to grow pumpkins and own a goat. Then I talked to him. He mentioned maybe my roommate’s boyfriend could set me up with his brother. Each scenario gets progressively worse.

fat and happy

I spent a brutal 45 minutes this morning with the trainer my gym provided for 2 free sessions with my membership. I think I prefaced the answers to all of her questions with, “I know this is the wrong answer but…” Then she got a little miffed when I requested doing upper body instead of lower as I think exercises like lunges that make it hurt to walk or jog are counter-productive. She doesn’t get my logic. I saw White Glue after that and told her as my arms still shook that I was reconsidering the goal of being thin and gorgeous to instead pursue being fat and happy. One should always end trainer sessions with the opportunity to see the look of approval and acceptance in a friend’s eyes.

Tiger Lily

Tonight I saw Into the Wild. A fresh college grad falls in love with Idealism and in the end she kills him. This is why I’ve never read Walden. I’m afraid it might make me follow the crazy yearnings I get to head to a small town, change my name, and be lost in the woods with a new life.

Today confirms that the Lost Boys I work with want to be found. If I sit down with them to talk about homework, they’ll offer up focus and completed work for a little more attention. And they’re thankful. Who would have thought they’d be grateful for someone making them work?

secretary's prize

The secretary today asked how old I was and if I was single. People had been talking (Yikes!) She thought I was 25 or 26, so I was pretty happy to hear that! (And I was only trying to stick at 27). There’s a teacher who thinks I’m cute and apparently needs some help getting the scoop. Unfortunately, this man of mystery is not doing anything to talk to me or get to know me—I guess he’s just watching me. A little creepy, leaving me not knowing whether to feel hope or dread about what my secretary friend is cooking up. She left me with, “This is a man I’m trying to marry off.” Should that make him sound like a prize or a dented coffee table?

I got my hair cut by a complimentary gay man. Hearing him rave about my hair made my day. He asked what he could do to convince me to let him play with colors in it. “As soon as I marry an engineer, I’ll totally try that.” He wants to meet the twin brother of that engineer. I like a man who understands me.

ungrateful me

Sometimes I think my mom understands me less than anyone else I know. Tonight she wanted to talk about how Christ-centered a wedding was because there were so many admonishments for the groom about spiritually leading his family. Then it was on to several stories about couples my age, and how happy they are, advancing to the fact that my younger brother is dating someone who will be with us for Thanksgiving. We followed that up with getting my gift advice for my friend City’s wedding reception—a glass pitcher with a verse engraved or a plate that says “you are loved.” I admit I was in a snippy mood by then and told her that buying large, breakable items for people who are flying out for events is never advisable and that my friends are not the crafty, country types.

The worst part about this is that this morning I had a girl crying in my office about the death of her mother 5 years ago. She can’t stand walking through the halls and hearing people complain about their parents because she just wishes she had parents.

Normal people

This week is off to a more promising start. I did have to go shopping with Care Bear and have him ask where he should order lunch for his new special friend. (Arby’s???- oops, that wasn’t very helpful). Later though, I got to talk to Life Coach about my bizarre weekend and how it’s hard to sleep after watching a bouncer make someone pass out and meeting a teenage boy who thinks he should be a Playboy bunny. He thinks I should hang out with more normal people like him. Agreed. (Though I did have a lovely, normal evening with Tea over the weekend—thank you faithful reader and kind friend!)

Invisible Roommate took me out for dinner and wanted to hear if I was happy living here. Lesson of the day in pursuing happiness: Starting expecting the best instead of the worst. I try to re-learn that at least every other week.

blurring lines

Tonight I went with 2 Jewish social workers to cook and have dinner with a group of homeless teenagers. I thought the mingling could be awkward, but the kids seemed hungrier for attention and conversation than they were for Swedish meatballs. The two kids who hung out past dinner to chat had both been kicked out and disowned by their families when they announced they were gay. The boy eagerly ran to his dorm to change and show off his playboy bunny costume complete with heels and blonde wig. Later he wanted me to admire the quality of his $200 sweatpants bought with money he gets when wealthy relatives die, despite the fact that he hasn’t seen his parents in 3 years. The girl shared her thoughts on being pan-sexual (where gender doesn’t exist and only personality attracts) and got her box of poetry, mementoes and photos to show off.

I’ve had gay friends before and a summer roommate who was bi. It’s just a new thing to be talking with teenagers who don’t believe in gender and are transsexual. I feel caught between my social worker friends who were cheering on the blurring of all lines and my xian friends who would want me to convert the kids immediately out of their damaged identities. My theology and pragmatism don’t reconcile here.

Sidetracked

I have lost the Invisible Roommate Game 3 times today and she suddenly wants to have dinner this week. I’ll need to invent a new game.

I began reading books for a grief and loss support group I’m starting at work. I felt led to list losses of singleness as a way of mentally preparing to identify with the group. I now feel sidetracked on the route to pursuing joy. It’s like I was on the route with a water bottle, vague directions, and good weather. Now I’ve been held up with a nail in my tire that I have to stop and fix.

Action Adventure

Tonight was a minor series of mishaps (think crawling around through prickly bushes looking for a key in the dark and cold McDonald’s eaten alone in a parking lot). Things improved later when I witnessed a bar fight at Tony’s. The bouncer ended up putting a choke hold on a very drunken, fighting, half-naked man that made him pass out. Front row seat for that show! Mr. Heroic Bouncer Man was later kind enough to show my friends and me how to perform that maneuver. Good action downtown.

Have decided the roommate situation will be more fun if I make a game of it. It’s called Invisible Roommate. She’s gone so much that I assume she’s either trying not to get spotted or working an early shift weeknights as an exotic dancer. My strategy here—try also not to get spotted. We’re on a five day streak. Whoever is the last to get spotted wins, so I began evading tonight! Between the game and the bar fight, my life is starting to feel a little more like an action adventure movie. Okay… maybe if I was an extra in the movie.

The Confessor

Today I was asked if guilt could lead to stomach aches. This led to a session where I served as confessor for a boy who made out with someone for the first time last night and didn’t quite know what to do with his thoughts/decisions. We ended up talking about Samson and if choices could ultimately make you lose your strength. I’ve talked two other boys through love triangles in the last 24 hours. Does serving as a celibate confessor make me a priest?

I appreciate Michael Moore

I found out today it will cost around $750 to fix the pain in my molar, and I HAVE dental insurance. Also, the only dental group I was able to see when working for the college turns out to have a super shady reputation, making all prior work suspect. It’s time to consider donating eggs or moving to Canada. I’m part of the disappearing middle class, and I think my demographic will be shacking up with our neighbors to the north if the democrats don’t win the election this time.

Enough political rant… I hope any of you out there are having a peaceful, blissful day.

hail to the extrovert

Since last week I tipped my hat to the introverts, my own people, this week I thought I’d acknowledge extroversion. My friend Greek Life and I have nothing in common. She’s a sorority girl who doesn’t drink coffee, hike or read anything Oprah doesn’t recommend. She’s a religious shopper, devoted college football watcher, and drinks white wine that’s so sweet it could be a lollipop flavor. And before we go out, there is always a 15 minute wardrobe audition to help her choose the matchiest heels and necklaces from an enormous collection. We’re very Tampa meets Chicago.

But, she was the first friend I made when I moved here. I get invited to dinner at her house all the time. Whenever I’m bored or lonely I can invite myself over, and she’ll always say yes. My bike lives in her garage. For the last 3 years I’ve been wearing the same fleece pullover from her coat closet that someone left at a party whenever I get cold in her drafty living room. She knows I want the half serving of wine, a side of vegetables when we order Chinese, and the movie without violence or schmaltz.

Thank you open door extroverts for the invitations, the dinners, and another couch to crash on.

List

To Do List: Pretend it doesn’t bother me that Care Bear stood me up on Friday, go to fancy new dentist to book root canal, begin independent study of classic Christian allegory, sit through 2 evenings of parent/teacher conferences.

Next Week: Pursue joy.

Ms. Wrong

I pledged tonight to keep putting energy towards becoming a good version Ms. Wrong. I arrived at this goal after a great deal of conversation with Tea and Metro about the many self-help books, conferences, and retreats about how to becoming more dateable, more marriageable and more perfect. I just want to be more comfortable in my own skin today.

So I’m Ms. Wrong looking for Mr. Wrong, so we can be wrong together. We would laugh about our failings, wear slightly to moderately out-of-fashion clothing, and break many rules that Christian publishers make a lot of money inventing.

Today Ms. Wrong bought a pair of pants for $7 in the juniors section of Ross, tried to go jogging against the wind, and searched for grocery store toys that will make a good gift for a friend who has forgotten how to play. Can play dough and glow sticks bring the joy?

labels

Labeling people is bad. Labeling office supplies is good.

I have not outgrown pranks. Today White Glue and I snuck into an administrator’s office with a label maker and personalized things to help him out. He can now find Rick’s favorite pencil, Rick’s second favorite pencil, a ring around his chair marked Rick’s personal space, and seat of the chair as Rick’s very personal space. We made about 30 labels.

I sometimes ask students what they’ve done to bring joy into their teachers’ lives. This is my way of sharing joy with one of my bosses without taking any credit. Does it count as a minor act of heroism?

off

Something feels very off this week. I wish I could run like Elijah to a cave in Horeb to wait and hear what God has to say. Unfortunately, I have to go to work tomorrow and return voicemails. I understand a little about monastic life and just wanting and needing the time to pray and reflect.

I looked for God in a small group, and He wasn't there. I searched in a Christian Life book and could not find Him. God was not on the Mesa Trail. He wasn't on the radio. I feel like I'll be fleeing until I figure out what message I'm missing.

For the Introverts

"Still waters run deep my dear, there's never smoke without fire." says famous poet
"Still waters run deep. Quiet music-- play it loud." - says famous musician

How do we measure words? Significant words are weighty, which is good. Sad words are heavy, which is burdensome. In philosophy we measure words in weight instead of volume, which I guess is the opposite of journalists paid by the word. In prayer we’re warned we won’t be heard because of our many words. And I always think the mark of the very bright is their ability to say great volumes with few words.

The people who smolder and smile quietly to themselves are the keepers of all the good secrets and the mystery.

Monday

I knew it was Monday when my alarm clock came as a total surprise at 5:00 a.m. Monday was confirmed when I looked in the mirror and discovered a huge zit on my chin. On a Monday morning it's not funny when Care Bear says, "I think you're nice no matter what people say." Try that on a Friday. There was endless jogging on a cursed treadmill that seemed not to be adding mileage. Then my hot sauce packet that exploded onto the nice lady's jacket at the soccer game. It's time to put on the pink fuzzy slippers and climb into a book.