There once was a time when I handled my romantic relationships like a caveman. Not even a cavewoman. A caveman.
Despite having grown up in a family full of (questionably) happily married couples, I never had any formal training when it came to learning how to form my own relationships. Did any of you? Hmm. Perhaps I mistook the Dating 101 seminar invitation for junk mail… or bills. *Shudder* I always make sure to throw my bills into the recycling bin straight away. It’s good for the environment, you know.
Anyhow, unlike the whole birds and the bees thing (from which I naively took away the message, “Never, ever, ever touch boys”), my mother never sat me down and explained what I should and should not do if I hoped to maintain a successful partnership with a member of the opposite sex.
I didn’t have any siblings to ask, and although I’d grow to have friends who also dated, I wasn’t about to pick their brains about something so serious. Besides, I was fairly confident that they didn’t know what they were doing either. It seemed like a much better idea to wing it. And so, I did.
Turns out I was a relational caveman. No contemplation. No patience. No decorum. No idea what the heck I was doing. It was simply, “Me like. Me want. Me take. Me bored. Me throw away. Me like new thing now. You go away.” And the cycle would repeat itself.
Before I jump into today’s throwback post, I’d like to wish all of the fathers out there a very happy Father’s Day.
It has always seemed as though mothers get so much more recognition for their half of the parenting. I mean, retail stores practically cram Mother’s Day gifts down our throats a month in advance. By the time we hit Father’s Day, stores are like, “Here, just get him another tie. It doesn’t really matter.” That’s not true though; it does matter. Fathers matter.
Fathers are just as important as mothers. They have a responsibility to show their sons how to properly conduct themselves as true men. Likewise, they have a duty to display the kinds of qualities their daughters should look for in a mate. Fathers should be there to guide, provide and nurture their children to the very best of their abilities.
As for my father, he has served as an excellent role model. I’m not saying he is perfect, but he’s done such an exemplary job of being the kind of father many people wish they could have had. I truthfully cannot name anyone who has worked as diligently or hard as my father has throughout the years. He’s been such an inspiration to me. It is from him that I inherited my two favorite traits: (1) the ability to dream bigger than big and (2) a wild taste for adventure. Thank you for everything, Dad ❤
The world could use far more love. Wouldn’t you agree?
Today I hope to encourage you guys to spend some time thinking about the things and people you love by sharing 100 things that fill my life with happiness and enjoyment. I have seen other people do something like this before; it is always a fun and fascinating way to learn more about what makes them…them.
At first, it seemed like a lot of things to list! However, the making of this list was filled with ease. I love so many things, places and people! The more I contemplated what I loved, the longer my list grew. By the time I was finished, I felt as though I could have easily made it to a thousand. Now I feel so grateful. How lucky I am to live in a world so rich, expansive and varied that I have been able to quickly identify countless things to love and admire.
I’m afraid that I’ve gone and gotten myself into trouble again. Don’t bother sending for help. I fully accept where I’ve landed.
You see, he is the first thing on my mind when I wake up. I start praying for him before I can even get my eyes halfway open.
There used to be a time when I prayed first thing in the morning for the strength to chase down my dreams. I’d pray for the remaining members of my family—my cat too. World peace. More love. Less strife. Answers to questions I can’t answer. I still pray for these things, but I pray for him first. I always pray for him first.
I pray for him to find his rightful place and purpose in this world.
I pray that he lives with more gratitude and passion now than he ever did before.
I pray that he took my nervous ramblings to heart.
I pray that he doesn’t think that I am completely delusional.
My mother has been rifling through some of her prehistoric belongings lately.
Old birthday cards. Old Valentine’s Day cards. Old Mother’s Day cards. Old Christmas cards.
From overpriced Hallmark Signature greeting cards to good ole’ fashioned handmade masterpieces, that woman has somehow managed to keep every single thing I’ve ever given her since I first learned that it was socially unacceptable to ignore your parents on holidays. So, she’s been harboring a lot of junk for a really, really LONG time.
I have no idea how she’s managed it. Her closet is like an extension of the Smithsonian, only instead of it being full of valuable relics of the past, it is full of complete garbage that her only child gave her: Me. You are most welcome, Mom.
Well, today she ever so graciously passed along two bits of antiquity that I gave her back in 1994. She thought I would find them “funny”. I then decided to share it with you guys, but please do not judge what you are about to witness. It’s sincerely a crime against humanity, but what’s done is done.
It is hot as hell here.
It was 106º today.
It’s nearly midnight, but it is still a concerning 91 degrees Fahrenheit.
This being said, I’ve just voluntarily made myself some hot tea. Absolutely absurd.
For some reason, I am half comatose the majority of any given day. Forget not being a morning person— I’m not a day person. But if you catch me at night…woo! That is when I’m wide awake. This being the case, I tend to get most of my work done while it is dark…and not a blistering thousand and a half degrees. Actually, my favorite thing to do at night is make a mug of coffee or milky tea and plop in front of my computer to catch up on whatever I’ve been procrastinating about. It is oddly relaxing, really.
As the morning sun would stretch and rise from its resting place just beyond the horizon, she would open her eyes and say to herself, “S—t. I’m still here.” And like clockwork, her tortured mind would take up its usual post. The damning inner dialogue swirled round and round, raging like a tropical storm. It was like this all day. It was like this everyday.
I can’t do this anymore. I’m so tired. Why didn’t I just die in my sleep without any fuss? Now I have to find a way to get through yet another day. Another day of constant pain. Another day of crippling loneliness. I could probably cope with it all if I could just take a break—I only need a break. But there’s never a break, is there? Not for me. Not for messed up people like me.
I want out.
I may never come to understand why he meant so much to me…why this one night meant so much.
When I recall this particular memory there is such a rush of raw, poignant emotion. It has been twelve years. You have no idea how hard it is for me to believe this to be true. For me, it still feels like yesterday. It’s almost as though everything about the world has changed in those years except for my feelings for him. Sure, the details are fuzzy at best, but there is something about that man that never left me. “It” will never leave me.
Hey, everyone! Today’s post details my first few days working at the job that ended up being my favorite of all time. Somehow, someway I got lucky enough to score a position working for a major title company when I was still a lowly college student. Just thinking back to my time working for them makes my innards feel all warm and fuzzy…like a cashmere sweater or a newborn kitten.
Thinking back, it is easy to see how I came to love working there. Between the good pay and frequent (aka. weekly) in-office cocktail parties, the general nature of the job made very good use of my natural abilities. My co-workers were (mostly) amazing and best of all, I loved my boss (the feeling was actually quite mutual). I’d give anything to work for her again.
The entire process of revisiting the written events of my past has been surprisingly cathartic. In the very short time that I’ve been doing this I have been struck by a handful of profoundly beneficial epiphanies, all of which have helped me to make significant strides in my present day life. I’m having great fun over here…hopefully you guys are too.
Today’s post is reasonably lackluster on the surface (my apologies, guys); I was just a college student painting her nails the night before starting a new job. As seemingly benign as this post is, it was actually interesting for me to look over it because I could actually recognize this period of time as being a sort of “jump-off point” for a number of issues that would later prove to be quite problematic for me.