Deep Thoughts on a Friday Night

I don't ever get homesick for places.

I get homesick for people.

To be wrapped up under the strong arm of my favorite Bear-type friend, who always kept me safe and warm when I was drunk and cold?  I miss it.

To sit down in the middle of a road because Sabine and Dirk were "being mean" to me?  I miss that shit, too.

Laughing til I can't breathe with all of my girls... or talking shit with my boys, knowing that they love me enough to not call me on it?  Miss it.  Miss it all the time.

I'm thrilled that the people that I love have had the sense to develop lives and careers and buy houses, just like I have.  That's good. That's important.  That responsibility and grown-uppedness is part of why I love them as much as I do.

Sometimes, I just kind of wish they'd done it a little closer to where I did it, too.

Why I was late to work and listening to death Metal at 7:30 AM

My morning commute:

Left home: 6:40

1:  At this stop light, the passengers of 2 cars ahead of me got out of their cars to switch vehicles, pretty much entirely. There were 9 people involved.  This took the span of 2 lights to complete.

2:  Dueling tractors on the highway taking up both lanes for 1.5 miles.  

3.  While on the Cross Lake bridge, a blue tarp flew out of the bed of the truck in front of me and plastered itself to my windshield.  My only option was to pretty much stop in the road, throw on my flashers, and wait to be slammed by a Prius or something. Fortunately, a man in a truck zipped in front of me, jumped out, and removed the tarp before I could even get my door open.  Nobody rearended me.

The tarp-litterer didn't stop.

4. 3-car accident caused 2 lanes of 3132 to just...stop.... for about 20 minutes.

Arrived at work: 8:02

Crunchy deep-fried derby girl

I love roller derby. LOVE. I love the skating, I love my teammates, I even love, to a degree, trying to improve the things that I suck badly at, though you would THINK that transitions would have worked themselves out better after 2+ years... but I digress. I love my sport.

Leadership, though... leadership is eating my lunch, kids.  I am over saying I'm a "bad" president.  I'm not.  I've done a lot of good for my league and I know they appreciate it, even though over the last few months I've been a lot less attentive than I should be.

I said all along that I was in for a year then out, just like I said with treasurer before that. My theory on service to an organization is that setting a term limit from the start is smart if it is set in conjunction with your goals for your service.  You set your goal- you have your time limit - then hopefully you meet your goal and you're done, or you don't, and you at least did enough that you did some good to the greater body that you're there to support.

I like a year.  A year means that I might do some good, but I won't do so much damage that it won't be fairly easily undone... and my year is coming to an end, thank GOD.

This? Is me.

I am so burned out. It is not that I don't give a damn, I just don't have the energy for actually utilizing the damn that I give and thus, things get dropped and not picked up.  Presidency has taken an additional 10-20 hours per week on top of trying to be an effective team member, and while I fully intend to continue being of service to my league, I really am looking forward to it being a little more part-time and a little less important.

Hey little sister, who's your Superman?

Bridget and Heebie's wedding was stunning. We knew it would be, and it surpassed all possible expectations.  

Weekend Highlights:

John and I setting aside our "IHATEYOU" because we found a mutual enemy: Codename Pocahontas Boots.

The best Bloody Marys EVER (they're better when they're on somebody else's tab at the rehearsal dinner.)

Our lives becoming a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book without the benefit of suggested page numbers.

Squid wanted to go have a classy cigarette... really. Pinkies up!

Taking Jeanie to Target in pajamas

Cards Against Humanity

Winning card: A windmill full of corpses. Because really- when is that not a winner?

"Goin' to the Fair" Hair

The most gorgeous bride to ever walk an aisle and a groom with tears in his eyes:

a 90 lb bride's bouquet made of edible plants

A 7-year old ring bearer with a black eye and more game than any man I've ever seen on a dance floor

Inappropriate dancing with a Christmas Tree

"Do you have a tuxedo, can you do the Electric Slide?" and other Craigslist postings that never actually happened.

The ladies' stirring rendition of "Love Shack." Rusted tin roof provided by: Jordan

Finding a sunbeam and a friend to lean on like a lizard rock

And throughout it all, we kept our pinkies (mostly) up!

My family is not "textbook" perfect.  

We're irreverent.

Sometimes a little too loud.

Sometimes, it's hard to keep up...

But dammit, this is MY family, and I have never been prouder to be a part of it.

Confession: I read The Rules.

I read "The Rules," once.

This would be back during the last time that I was single, and if my memory serves rightly, my second-first date with my most recent ex was right around the corner (already planned, hadn't happened yet).  I was talking about this with a lady friend who was also single, and she asked with ferocious concern if I'd read The Rules because apparently the parameters of the date- which involved out of town travel and the date having acquired a hotel room in town due to his living in another state- set off great big trumpets of warning according to The Rules.  At that point I had heard of, but not paid attention to them, and the conversation concluded with her loaning me her Kindle copy so that I could read them that very night before I managed to completely destroy my virtue and make some huge misstep that would eventually lead to my ending my days as a sad dowager cat lady.

Can't have that, now, can we?  I read the damn book and thought it was damn fine Sorority Girl Satire, except it wasn't.  Advice straight out of Stepford (or Mayberry, maybe) that included a Rule about not discussing The Rules with your therapist, I left the book mighty sad that men get "The first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about Fight Club" and women get "Always End the Date First."  I also completely ignored the book and things went just fine.

Unlike The Rules, these rules actually make sense.

My friend Cliff posted this article to Facebook earlier this week, and I finally think I GET why The Rules and other such "rules for girls" infuriate me so much.  I won't paraphrase the whole thing - go read the damn article, it's worth it.  I will say that the lightbulb moment for me in the article came with this paragraph:

"When we send the message that resistance is a form of flirtation—a strategic move in the game of love—we romanticize the imposition of one human being’s will on another. The building block of violence. By looking at love and sex as a game, a chase, a fight, we give violence our social permission, cultivate a rape culture, and throw consent out with the bathwater. If, as Rhiannon says “I don’t know means No. I’m drunk means No. Maybe means No. I don’t seem into it means No,” then that should apply to every aspect of the dating experience. Hard To Get and No Means No don’t—can’t—exist together. One lives in a world of conquest and the other of communication. And if you say No when you mean Yes or infer Yes from another person’s No, I’d say you’re not really communicating." - Why I Never Play Hard to Get by Rachael Kay Albers

Admittedly, the "do you like pina coladas?" game is hard.  Finding people that I click with in a way that makes me want to spend quality time with them, doubly so- though some may doubt my formula, I'm actually really picky about the characteristics I require in anybody hoping to hold my attention for more than 12 minutes- friend or lover, really.  So if I happen to encounter somebody I want to date- I'm going to encourage that in a way that I hope conveys genuine interest. It may be awkward, but that's just part of my charm, not part of a "maybe if I'm not busy doing something more interesting" game.  And the awesome part of that? If I'm not interested, I know I'm not sending the same exact signals I send to the ones I DO like... but feel compelled to lead on.  

It'd just be nice if the rest of the broads would quit scrambling the signals.

(every single bit of self control I had went into NOT posting a YouTube video of Antoine Dodson as the conclusion to this post.)

Book Recap: 5 Love Languages

Evil Sara and Bre both told me that I had to read this book.

I've now read it twice- the second time was because I didn't feel like I got much out of it.  I'm not feeling like I actually took that much out of it in the end, but I'm not going to read it again, either.  I think I compare it to the whole "Men are from Mars" or "Chicken Soups!!!" book franchises; there may have been some good content there, once, but whatever there was was watered down and spread out for the sole purpose of selling ALL THE COPIES.

So basically, what I took away from the book is that I'm crappy at determining what other people need to feel appreciated (already kind of had that one pegged) and that I'm righteously needy (ditto).  Just to confirm the latter point, I took the test:

And... ok. I'm not going to say there's not something valid there; those are basically my settings, but it seems to me like I basically ended up with the highest-maintenance personality type available, according to the text. Not necessarily unuseful information, but I'm not going to call it a restorative and awakening process; rather, I just feel kind of like any interpersonal failures have been reinforced by evidence of my own difficulty as a human.

I also reaffirmed my belief that the premise of the Self Help book, more often than not, is to not actually "help" but rather to inspire one to buy more Self Help books.

I've got a huge backlog of books that kind of tread on the "Lunatic, Heal Thyself" path; some recommended, some I just found, but I think that for the moment I'm going to step away from the repair manuals and go curl up in something that actually just makes me feel good about myself, all by itself.  This ought to do the trick, I think.

Happier than I believe...

"Always remember you are stronger than you think you are, wiser than you seem, happier than you believe and more successful than you even need." -- Possibly a Christmas card quote, and I'm pretty sure it was paraphrased from A.A.Milne.

Things for which I am grateful right this minute:

• My hair is good, my dress fits, my shoes are (hopefully) stretched just right, and the wedding present is acquired, if not wrapped.  I've not worked out the Fingernail Situation yet; playing derby doesn't make acrylics a good option, but I'm sure it'll come together.
• ROAD TRIP.  I get Squid, Mouse, Jeanie, AND John in a caravan going to a wedding.  And it only took 4 days and an act of congress to get everybody to agree on a hotel.
• I also get leftovers from Jeanie and John's mom's house, and Bell Family leftovers are the best kind in the WORLD. 
• Evidence has been posted on Facebook that Ray is collecting Hostess Donettes for me. 
• The Dalai Lama is coming to New Orleans, and less than 3 hours after finding out, a plan for attending, lodging, and a zen girls' weekend had already pretty much been formed.
• WFTDA released the new rules set.
• Cowboy Mouth's newest album finally hit Spotify (favorite track: When it Rains)

• Subway's salads are $2 if you buy them in the morning (I don't understand, but I do not argue).
• This

All in all? That makes for a pretty damn happy Tuesday.