The First Cut is the Deepest

I thought it would be totally blissful once things had calmed down enough at work so that I could actually take a breath.  I imagined that I would enjoy the summer as I should — going out to long lunches, leaving early, etc.  But instead of merely slowing to a manageable pace, my workload has suddenly ground to a halt.  I have work lurking out there, but I am waiting on other people’s work / revisions to be able to make next steps.  My plan had been to ride things out for 3 weeks until i leave for Europe (yay!) but it looks like that might not be possible.  After all, there is only so much blog-reading, Facebook checking and online shopping (or rather browsing) that a girl can do.

Two side notes before I get to the heart of the post.  First, speaking of online shopping, what do you think of this swimsuit?  I’m going to Vegas for a bachelorette party in a couple weeks, where there will be much pool time, and am sick of all my old suits.

Second, speaking of Facebook, thanks to its evilness I have been subjected to unwanted sets of shmoopy photos this week — one of C. and his new girlfriend (don’t get me started).

I’ve discovered that for me, down time = just more time to think about my neuroses.  Today I’ve been contemplating the frightening uncertainty of relationships.  I guess that’s part of what makes a new relationship exciting, the not knowing — but all it does is give me a big ulcer.  In a situation where it would serve me well go with the flow, I find myself insteaf thrashing helplessly against the current.  Last night, as I mentioned, EHB came over.  We went out for a drink, then we hung out at my apartment, then it turned into a sleepover during which we stayed up half the night doing various and sundry things that go beyond the scope of what I will write about on this blog (to spare the people who actually know me in real life from serious TMI).  But in any event, things were really really good.

But can I just sit still and smile and say “things are good”?  No, of course not.  I start worrying and obsessing and imagining what bad things could be lurking off in the distance.

I don’t know if I mentioned this, but EHB was married before.  It’s interesting because I always thought that would be a dealbreaker for me.  But I learned about it on our 1st date and it didn’t make me want to date him any less.  Who am I to judge, seeing as how I broke off my engagement?  I thought long and hard about why I had always been so wary of dating someone who was divorced, and the answer I came up with is this: divorce is a big reminder that things often don’t work out the way you expect or want them to.  Not only is there uncertainty in the first month of dating, before you get engaged, before you get married — really, things are never certain. 

 I always imagined that I’d marry someone and we’d be each others’ first loves.  But I’ve had loves in my life already, and I’d be hard pressed to find a guy who hasn’t (and really, why would I want a 30 year old guy who’s never been in love?)  But without that first love thing, how do you believe that this relationship will last when all the others have failed? In the face of such massive uncertainty, how do you move past the paralyzing fear?  How do you trust someone?  How do you take that giant leap of faith?  I hope I don’t feel this way forever, but I’m afraid I’ll never be in a relationship where I don’t feel the constant anxiety and uncertainty.  How does one begin to get over this?

And in the short term, how do I quiet my restless heart and mind enough so that I can just get some sleep?

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I guess that’s why they call it the blues

I meant to go to bed early tonight.  I really did.  But I was talking on the phone, then I was eating a belated dinner, then I was watching something sappy on TV, then I was chatting online with my friend A., and somehow the hours just slipped by. 

I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately and I think it’s a combination of factors.  First — drinking Diet Coke in the afternoon/evening, as always, is a killer.  Bad SF, bad.  Need to wean myself off DC and at the very least, if I am not capable of cutting the soda cold turkey, back onto Diet Sprite (which I convinced myself I loved but I think I may have had one two many of and now the thought makes me feel a bit ill.)  What’s that you say?  Water?  Yes, I know, I know…that is the next step.

Second, stress always does it to me.  Tomorrow I have to take not one, not two, but THREE depositions, and I have a feeling I will wake up in the middle of the night (read: two hours from now) in a cold sweat with my heart racing.  The partner on this case seems to pretty much trust me to do anything, which in my humble opinion is a questionable judgment call, at best.  You remember I’m a lowly third year associate, right?  Right?

Third, my darling cat (bless his attention-whorish heart) has seen fit to start waking me up with meows, steadily increasing in volume, beginning at about 4:30 in the morning every day.  If only he weren’t so damn cute… (Story of my life, right?  Big sigh.)  He won’t even do the normal cat thing of jumping on the bed; instead, he’ll lay outside of my door and meow plaintively until I 1) shut the door (somewhat muffling the meows); 2) fall back asleep (highly unlikely, given the stress factor above); or (and this is the most likely scenario, because I’m a sucker) 3) trudge sleepily out of bed to feed him. 

Let me ask you — is there ANY reason for a cat who gets fed every morning and night and who always has dry food in his bowl and who weighs at least 15 lbs as of the last vet appointment, ANY reason why he should be fed in the middle of the night like a baby?  No, of course not.  Will I do it anyway to shut him up?  You bet.  Who’s the boss of the house, anyway?  Not even a contest.  In the month of June so far, Noodles: 15, SF: 0.

And finally, I’ve just been feeling a sense of general malaise (really wish I could use that word without thinking of Dr. Evil, because it is so apropos here).  I swear that I will elaborate more on this, dear readers, but for now my eyelids are closing (miracle!!!) and I need to take advantage.

till then,   SF

It’s Official – I’m Crazy

I can hear my dear readers saying simultaneously, “Well, we knew that.”  But I’m not just talking about the weekly dose of neuroses that I divulge on this blog.  I’m talking about a real, serious mental disorder.  And if I’m guessing correctly based on what I know of you, dear readers, particularly my blogger friends– I’d bet that some of you are afflicted with it too. My question is, what is the cure for this particular disorder?  It probably does not include endless games of Scrabulous (some people I know, ahem Knittikins, insist on starting like 5 games with me at once), nor Gmail chatting, nor blogging, nor reading other people’s blogs (thank you J. for enlightening me about Google Reader, the new love of my life), nor any of the other things that make my work day tolerable.  And call me crazy if you will, but we all need some way to get through the day in one piece, right?

 In fact, I’ve been thinking that I want to devote even more time to this here blog.  Often I don’t write unless the mood strikes or unless something in particular inspires me to —

[OMG.  I had to interrupt this to say that I just saw my first ever 90210 trailer on the CW — yes, I am watching a Gossip Girl rerun, what of it? — and hearing that oh-so-familiar theme song made my little heart go pitter patter.  If only I didn’t have to wait till the fall!!  Is it wrong that I Iove shows about high school students as much now as when I was 12?  Wait — don’t answer that.]

–Anyhoo, as I was saying, I think maybe I need to force myself to be a bit more dedicated to the blogginess.  So starting today, I am going to attempt to post every other day.  I’d like to work my way up to every day, but that seems a bit ambitious right now, so…every other day it is.

I also want to spruce up my blog and add more photos and fancy shmancy stuff.  But…and this is embarrassing to admit…I am sadly a low-tech girl in a high-tech world.   And at the risk of being shunned by the blog world, the truth is that I just don’t know how to do the things I want to do on my blog.  Now is when I’m hoping that some bloggers more savvy than I–read, every blogger out there–may have some advice for how I might make Single/Fabulous more, well, fabulous!  Anyone?  Bueller?

So I’ve been sharing with all of you some of my dreams for what I might like to have happen in my life.  I still don’t know if the bookstore is what I will pursue or not — though, I have gotten loads of awesome advice on things I could do in conjunction with my bookstore.  I think right now, taking everyone’s suggestions, it’s something like a bookstore/wine bar/record store/knitting shop/cupcake store.  A little eclectic, but it might work, right?  🙂

Anyway, even as I continue to ponder it, I find that the bookstore has become that “happy place” that I go to in my mind when things start to get stressful or hectic or upsetting at work (read: at least once a day.  No one ever said being a lawyer was tranquil).  Ever since my trip to Maui last year, my “happy place” became the memory of the snorkeling excursion I went on with my dad.  I have a beautiful sea turtle photograph on the bookshelf in my office, along with a carved wooden sea turtle (which I originally bought as a souvenir for my then-boyfriend, and kept when he decided to break up with me the very night I returned from Maui), so every so often when I am feeling particularly overwhelmed, I try to stop for a moment, take a breath, and picture that I am swimming through that beautiful blue water, fish and turtles swimming past me, so far far away from my everyday stresses.  Well, in the past week or two since the bookstore idea began a’ brewin’, when I have felt overwhelmed I’ve just pictured myself working in the bookstore, exactly how I have always dreamed it, and it brings a smile to my face.  I’ve been asked to describe the bookstore, and it’s weird because I can SEE it in my mind’s eye perfectly but I can’t describe it well at all.  Obviously if I start to get serious about it I will need a business plan and all the nitty-gritties, but for now it’s best described as a feeling.  (Ps. Sarah, I may well take you up on your offer to run the business side of things. 🙂 )

One last thing before I get in my PJs and retire to my room to read — yes, I am totally hooked on my most recent read (which will be the subject of a future post once I finish it) and I would have stayed in bed starting at 9 pm on a Saturday night, reading, had someone not persuaded me to bust out the rally monkeys — the mini-saga of Cute Boy has come to an end.

And for once — once in my life,  I tell you! — I am proud to say that I was the one to put the brakes on the (yes, self-created) drama.  As you know, dear readers, I have only met this guy a whopping two times, though we have traded a bunch of random emails and have made plans to hang out that have never quite panned out.  A couple of weeks ago, I was putting together a little happy hour get together with a girl I know at Pink Taco.  Yes, I know – and imagine that business lunches take place there!  Even better is that I just discovered, in looking for a link to the restaurant, that it has its own Wikipedia entry:

Pink Taco 

is a Mexican restaurant chain that has earned notoriety[1] for its name, which is the same as a slang term for a human vagina. The president and CEO, Harry Morton, contends it comes from a menu item[2] and claims that if the restaurant were truly “vagina-themed” there would be “vaginas all over the walls.”[3]

 

 Now that is classic, dear readers.

On second thought, I don’t think I can top that for now, so this will be a to-be-continued!