Quick and dirty post

Alex and I are going to hang out tonight; just he and I.

Waving my white flag

I surrender, or quit rather. The responses I got last night from Alex were as follows:

Alex: No I did not know that. That's funny though...people always like to gossip.

Me: Daniel has been telling me to ask you out all day. What's that about?

Alex: I didn't say anything to him...I don't know what to say.

Me: Interesting. I guess I get Daniel harassing me and you get Laura. They probably won't stop until we're making out in a back room somewhere knowing them.

As of 11:30 last night...that's where we left it. And, to be honest, that's where we're going to leave it. My Gemini ways have me already getting bored. If anything ever happens it will be because he grew a pair and repeaked my interest because right now he's dropping back down to "just friends" status.

Did I mention that I went to 24 hour fitness on Tuesday? No, of course I didn't. I'm only posting about the ways of stupid socially inept boys these days because that and school are all I've focused on lately. Well, I did. I got a 7 day pass and went to use it. All the sales people were gone for the night so she just gave me a day use pass and said to come back and we'd initiate the 7 day pass. Whatevs. I worked out and realized I don't like that gym. It's one of the Lance Armstrong Super Sport versions and it's the only one between school and home that's somewhat easy to get to. It was packed, it was way too stuffy in there, and it's more expensive to join a super sport than a sport. No thanks. It was nice to be back at it, though. To feel like I'm making an effort again. I've lost a little at the last few WW meetings, but will only be going until the middle of next month. Can't afford the $40 a month with the way unemployment is fucking me these days. I'm so broke I'm taking summer classes just to try and get more financial aid money so I can live. Oddly though, I'm still not stressed out. It's like the day I decided I wasn't going to let all these things get me down...they didn't. Is that because I'm stronger or more at ease with things being out of my control? I don't know. Maybe I'm just so used to bad things happening that I'm unable to give a shit anymore. Either way, not caring is nice right now.

I have about one more week of classes for this term and it's going to be a rough one. There are a lot of projects due that involve a lot of work. After that I have two weeks off before summer classes start. My plan for summer was to really focus (like last summer) on losing as much weight as I can. It would be nice to go back to school in the fall and have people do a double take. We'll see what me, good food choices, my wii, and walking out at my brother's can do for me because I likely won't be able to join a gym just yet. Wish me luck, I could use some.

I got rocks like Gibraltar

The Rock of Gibraltar is a mass of land made of limestone off of the southwestern tip of Europe. It is 1,396 feet high and borders Spain. My rocks? Are bigger. I got balls, yo. Not only have I invited Alex to a couple things now that have lead to the successful exchange of phone numbers, but today I texted him and said, "People seem consumed by the topic of Alex and Kelly did you know that? Lots of talk about being convinced that you like me and yet I'm oblivious to it. Do they have intel I don't?" I know. I don't believe it either. Here is where you're probably wondering what his response was. So are my friends, I assure you, and so am I. I haven't gotten one. I just sent it a couple hours ago while he was in class and I know for a fact that he's not as glued to his cell phone as I am. Lord only knows when I'll get a response.

You see, Daniel was pressuring me all day about the fact that I need to just ask Alex out. That Alex isn't going to do it because he has no game. Agreed, he does not; however, I am not bold enough to just ask him out. This was my very own version of getting to the bottom of things without making myself look like a complete ass and having everything crazy awkward for the next year. I've simply made an inquiry. I haven't confessed a rumored crush. I haven't asked him out only to be rejected. I've simply asked if what everyone ELSE thinks is true...is. Hee.

The boy is told to kiss me and then he still walks me to my car knowing full well that everyone is going to THINK he kissed me? I've told the boy he's adorable and he only talks to me more? We're having a critique in class and there are empty chairs everywhere. Who does he sit by? Me. These are just a few of the reasons Daniel swears that Alex likes me. Daniel says he knows men and this man likes me.

I feel like this is a win/win for me. Alex will either sac up and tell me that it's true and we'll get married, honeymoon in Holland and have little left handed, dutch, graphic design babies OR Alex will tell me that it's all absurd and complete bullshit and I will have proved Daniel wrong. Sweet victory, my friends, sweet victory. Regardless, if my socially inept friend ever checks his texts and responds, this is getting resolved ASAP. That's how I roll.

Why don't boys come with spec sheets?

Today started with an interview. An interview for a Graphic Design Internship with the marketing department of my school. I wowed them, naturally, and they told me that I would most definitely be successful in this line of work. Problem is, I am currently enrolled with some of the most talented people this school has seen. They even said so. That the caliber of work that we, as first year students, are producing is mind blowing. Roughly stated: competition abounds for this job. Whatevs.

The day progressed with me working up the nerve to say something to the boy regarding last weeks events. The nerve to put myself out there and suggest that Laura might not have been completely off base with her comments. My first and second attempts to be alone with him were thwarted as other people came up to me just as he was about to go by. Damn my burdensome popularity. Both times he stopped and talked, but no way was I going to say what I had to say in front of other people.

Well, about a half hour ago I got my opportunity. I sat at the table outside of lab knowing that he would come in before heading to his class next door. I was working on projects and he came up. We talked about school and I suddenly didn't want to do it. I REALLY didn't want to do it. I had what I wanted to say somewhat planned out, but wasn't sure if I'd be able to eloquently execute it. I had told a couple of the friends that I was going to say something to him and now, there was no turning back. All or nothin'. Go big or go home.

"Soooo, I just wanted to apologize for Laura last week (pause for his reaction and comment suggesting we were on the same page). I don't know what all got said, but I DO know about the napkin (insert his laughter and surprise that I knew). And ummm, it might have been my fault (laugh). Laura has some mission to find a guy for me, and, uh, I may or may not have told her that I thought you were adorable."

Fuck me, that was awkward.

He told me that it was ok, that he had a good time, etc., etc. He was about to head into class, but stopped and sat with me instead. He showed me what he was turning in today and we talked about school some more. Nothing about my comments was mentioned. No professions of his mutual assessment of my adorableness. No suggestions of coffee were made. It was as if I'd said nothing.

I don't know if he sat down because he wanted to be there or if he felt like he had to be. I don't know if the feeling is mutual or if he's just merely flattered and being polite. I don't know if what I said was all he needed to hear to have the confidence to proceed or if he's a completely daft prick and completely didn't understand the magnitude of what just happened. I do know...that I kind of feel like an ass, but do appreciate that he sat down with me regardless of the reasoning behind it.

Translator needed. Apply within.

Kelly: Rumor has it that dear sweet Laura was up to no good last night, bless her little heart. That she may have suggested something was up with me and Alex???

Daniel: hahahaha suggested?

Kelly: What the heck was said?

Daniel: lets put it this way: a napkin reading "kiss her" was kicking around.

Kelly: OMFG, Daniel!! WTF?

Daniel: Wasn't me. No one included me. I did sleuth things out though. As did quite a few of the others.

Kelly: I know you didn't WRITE it. I saw her give it to him and asked her what she just did. I just didn't realize that everyone read it.

Daniel: It was sitting out on the table. Did he do it?

Kelly: Poor kid. He finally starts socializing and he gets Laura all up in his shit. Just what did all your sleuthing deduce?

Daniel: That love was/is in the air.

Kelly: LOL crackhead.

Daniel: Deny it, foo.

Kelly: I don't know what you want me to say. I've thought Alex was adorable since day one of typo last term, but I didn't know him. hardly constitutes love being in the air.

Daniel: And now you know him, and he's into you...so um...I don't know how I can make this anymore clear...go forth and kern closer together.

Kelly: Into me? Huh? I obviously missed a LOT on Thursday. Him being nice while Laura practically plans our wedding in front of everyone doesn't constitute him being into me.

Daniel: So, did you dudes make out in the porking lot?

Kelly: Hell no. He said he wanted to see my car cuz he found out I had a convertible. So, we walked to my car, talked, and I left.

Daniel: Aight I gotta bounce. I'll see you at eight.

There is only one aspect of this conversation that needs translating..."And now you know him, and he's into you." Is Daniel assuming? Does Daniel have secret intel that no one else does? Is he just egging me on? Jerk didn't answer me. Tomorrow should be fun. I have two classes with Daniel, one of which Alex is in as well. Good times.

It's time...to blog it out.

Journaling, for me, has always been a way to clear my head and get said things I might never be able to verbalize to anyone else. For me, it's therapy that money can't buy. This blog is the only journal I work on these days. Here, though, I edit myself and use a filter 85% of the time; careful not to say too much or be too inappropriate. I carefully try to balance sharing my life with not sharing too much. Letting readers in without letting them get too close. Today I'm throwing out all filters and getting to the core of some things.

I don't know how to let people get close to me. I've been treated badly, very badly, in my past and now I have walls up that might have served China well a few centuries ago. I am more guarded than the Queen of England only without all the ceremonial b.s. getting in the way of the task at hand. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.

I'm fat. I know. I just found out myself. Though I'm far greater at presenting self-confidence than I used to be, I am often overwhelmed with feelings of self-doubt, self-loathing, and self-consciousness. This works against me on so many levels when it comes to men. On the rare occasion that someone does peak my interest, I presume that, at my size, I don't stand a chance despite my sparkling personality. This means I'm not going to make any bold moves to make my intentions known. On the flip side, if the same guy shows me any signs that he is interested, I don't have the first clue how to deal with it. I misread the signs as him just being nice. I convince myself that it can't be possible. I give him no chance to proceed because I make it seem like it's the last thing I could possibly want despite how much I might. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.

When I am with someone, I can't verbalize how I feel. Often times, I don't even know how I feel, but mostly, I feel like if I actually SAID how much I liked someone that they would take that as their opportunity to hurt me. That it would be ammo in a very fucked up gunfight where I never win. Conversely, if I never admit how much I might care, then I can't get hurt. If I don't say it, then I don't care. Kind of like my philosophy on illnesses. If the doctor hasn't told me I have X, then I must not have X...despite the fact that I just plain haven't been to the doctor. Oddly, guys don't like this. They need reaffirming and ego stroking. This gets in the way of trying to establish relationships.

Are we seeing a trend? Are we beginning to understand why I'm single and why last night was so awkward for me? It's like I'd almost rather he'd have made it clear that he's not interested. That he just would have said to Laura, "I'm flattered, but I don't think it's a good idea." That's a reaction I'm oddly capable of dealing with. Like I was hoping that WAS my phone number he was pushing back across the table. If he'd have done that, then I wouldn't have to figure out how to let someone get close to me. If he'd have done that, then this would all be over and I wouldn't have to continue wondering if there are bright neon signs that I am misconstruing as friendship. If he'd done that, I could concentrate on my homework instead of obsessing with everything I did wrong last night. Believe me, that list is getting long. I'm a hot mess, people, a hot mess.

OMG and WTF

So, the frantic nature of this post might be because I'm just a flighty bitch sometimes, might be because I'm floored by the events of tonight, or it may or may not be because I'm still slightly intoxicated. Let's proceed shall we? Hang on, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Tonight was the night that my classmates and I were to go out and have drinks after class. On a normal night, I am working in the lab until 8 and right next door they are in class until almost 9. Not tonight. Tonight they got out at 6:30. I still had to stay until 8. They were all at the bar well before I could even leave school. Lame. Not the point of this post.

Before I continue with the events of tonight it's time to give names. Laura is my bestest bud in the program. Andy is another close friend. Andy and Laura were (notice I said were) the only one's that knew about my crush on Alex. Yes, Dutchie has a real name. Daniel is another one of my friends and will be explained later.

I get to the bar and walk in to our "usual" spot, pass Alex, Andy and Daniel's end of the table without saying anything, and head straight to Laura's end. Me. Coy. Subtle. Etc. Whatever. I'm barely there long enough to get my coat off when Alex comes up to say hi and tries to score a high five. I, naturally, inquire as to how much he's had without me as he has never suggested that we should high five nor has he slurred quite so much. We, and Laura, talk for a bit and he goes back to where he was originally. Andy informs me that he has intel but must pee first to sober up a little before he can tell me. On pins and needles, Laura and I wait outside the men's room for the scoop. Apparently, when someone from the program that was there that I really don't know very well asked who "Kelly" was before I got there, Alex was quick to jump on describing me with things like, "You know, she just cut her hair. She had really long hair and she just cut it really short. She..." and proceeded with giving information about me. Andy takes that as a good sign.

The three of us go back to the table and Alex is now sitting across from where I was sitting. Laura and I sit down and the three of us were talking about all kinds of things. She's asking all kinds of questions about him and his life and his past and does he have a girlfriend and "No? You don't? Kelly? You're single aren't you?" Wow. Good thing I'd had a couple drinks. Then Laura leaves he and I there to fend for ourselves (somehow, not sure, this is when Daniel found out that Alex and I getting together was Laura's mission and deems this something he can make happen). Alex and I continue to talk and laugh and get to know each other and all is right with the world. We casually start mingling with the others and every time I go to another table to talk to someone else, within no time, Alex is standing next to me again. I go to another table, turn, and Alex is standing next to me. After a while I look over and he is talking to Laura. She nods in my direction in a "get that, yo." sorta way. He laughs and tells her to shut up. She says something else and he says, "Yeah?" and "Really?" which I took as "Not a terrible idea." The I look back and see her slipping him a napkin. I think it's my phone number. He looks at it laughs and lays it back on the table. WTF? He's not taking it. He's ignoring it. Wait. He's folding it. No, leaving it. No, wait, he's??? WTF? I text her and ask her what she just did. Apparently, she wrote "Kiss her!" OMG.

After a little while longer, she takes my keys because I was ready to go and she didn't want me to. I ask for them again and she gives them to Alex and tells him, in front of everyone, that he should walk me to my car. He takes them. I tell everyone I'm leaving and he gives me my keys. I walk out. Mortified. I'm barely out the door when I hear "Hey, let me see this ride." It's Alex. He found out tonight what I drive. I said, "It should be over here somewhere." and just kept walking (I SHOULD have stopped and let him walk with me). We got to my car and talk a little while as I got my bag out of my trunk. Talked a little more as I opened my car door. Then he told me to drive safe (I SHOULD have stayed out there and talked to him and not made it look like I couldn't get out of there fast enough).

Here's why I couldn't get out of there fast enough. I didn't know what all got said to him when I wasn't around. I didn't know if he came out there on his own or if he was peer pressured into following me out. I didn't want him to think I had a hand in the awkward comments made by my friend or that it was all part of my master plan. After talking to my friend on the phone later I now know that he came out there all on his own. That she was surprised he did. I know that I'm a fucking dumb ass and totally cock blocked MYSELF! Who does that, by the way? I know that things could be all kinds of awkward when I see them all again. I know that I'm tired, confused, mortified, and going to bed. OMG and WTF?

Plans A through C

Plan A: Make the most of summer vacation to get over this stupid crush and lose tons of weight.

For the last few days I thought that I only had to get through the next 4 weeks with this crush and that over the summer break I would find a way to get completely over it. I'd find a distraction, a replacement, a reason to never think twice about it again. Well, apparently there are forces at work that are beyond me. As it stands right now, he and I have both signed up for the same summer class. So much for that plan, onto plan B.

Plan B: Rid myself of the crush quickly by finding something so annoying about him that I can hardly even hold a conversation with him.

Though in its early stages, this plan isn't going very well. I keep hoping I'll hear him saying something rude or inappropriate; nothing. He's both nice and polite so far. I keep hoping I'll notice that his clothes are dirty or that he smells funny; nope. Bad teeth; no they're perfect. The only thing I can even remotely find fault in is that his nails are about a week past needing to be cut, but they're clean so really? How much can I bitch?

Plan C: I believe my new favorite bad ass, Liam Neeson, put it best in Taken...what I do have are a very particular set of skills; skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you.

I'm going to wow him with my graphic design prowess, win him over with my sparkling personality, and just when I have him within my clutches, give him the ol' one two with my quick wit (I may or may not lean over his desk with a low cut shirt). He very likely has no current interest in me, but should Plan B backfire then I will spend the next year perfecting Plan C.

I chopped off all my hair yesterday. By chopped off I mean that my neck is bare. Dutchie cut his yesterday, too. See, we even think alike. I know this because today I was working in the Graphic Design computer lab with a couple friends when he came in. Neither of us mentioned our new dos...other people did it for us. Unfortunately, he looks even cuter. He's killin me. We talked quite a bit, but mostly project related things. One of my friends left and surprised us by bringing back ice cream sundaes for us all. He and I sat and ate ice cream together. Swoon.

So, I'm still hoping I'll find something unbearable about him that will help me cope because right now I'm so frickin' distracted that I can't focus on school the way I normally do. It's terrible. I've managed to save myself this agony for a very long time and don't especially dig this sort of thing. Should I need to put Plan C into effect...what are YOUR suggestions (besides losing a couple hundred pounds)?

Check Yes or No

Remember in grade school when you (or your friends) liked someone and everything could be sorted out with one well written note? Maybe you've even received one in your day. Passed from the back of the room, shoulder over shoulder, until it finally reached you. You'd open it and see, "I like you. Do you like me? Check yes or no." followed by the sloppily penned signature of your admirer. You'd check a box designating your chosen response and pass it back. If you chose yes, whether you ever spoke to him again or not, you were now his girlfriend. Done deal. End of story. When my brother was in grade school this is how he scored the affection of a particular girl. I'm not sure how long it lasted, but I do know that when they got a little older he must have crafted a much more devious plan to score her because he is now married to her.

I remind you of this dating ritual of our youth because right now I feel like I'm back in middle school. I feel distracted and giddy. I feel anxious and, well, stupid. Since high school (uh, that's a long time ago, people) the number of times I've had a thing for someone I've had to interact with on a daily basis is minimal and since I'm so socially inept I don't deal with them well. Think I'm kidding about being socially inept? Try this on for size. Last night I went to a bar I like that's close to my house. It's pretty low key and I knew that I could bring Mac and sit and work on some things for school. I was sitting there and the four seats to my right filled up with a group of friends. All of a sudden I heard the guy next to me say to his friend on the opposite end, "No, I'm not lonely down here. I've got a beautiful woman sitting to the left of me." Cue the crickets because I said nothing. Not thank you. Not "Sho you right." Nothing. I acted as if I didn't even hear him. Who's lame? I'm lame.

Which brings me to new boy from class. Hereforto known as Dutchie because a couple weeks ago he and I talked about the fact that his dad is Dutch. I know; so meant to be I can hardly stand it. Mondays and Wednesdays he and I have a class together. I got all dolled up and came to school. Comment after comment was made about my long straight hair and how cute I looked. I got through my first class and then it was time for my class with him. People were talking to me when he came in, but I saw him do a double take out of the corner of my eye as he entered. I sat at my desk (him sitting at the computer across the aisle to my right) and started working on my project while we waited for class to start. He got up and came over to me and said, "Hey, Kelly. How are you?" He could have done that from where he was sitting. I don't think for a split second that he likes me, but I like to read a lot into the fact that he got up and walked over to me instead of doing it 3 feet away from me. We talked for a minute and class started. I talked to him a little more later and at one point I sat between him and one of my guy friends so that I could talk to said friend. Dutchie participated in the conversation a little while he worked and I subtley put the pressure on him to join us for drinks next week.

Today I didn't see him until 2. I was secretly hoping that he would appear at my table again like he did Tuesday, but he didn't. I went to the Graphic Design work room that is between the two rooms we have classes in. I sat in there working and he showed up for his class. Initially nothing much got said. I said a few things to him when he'd come in there to get something off the printer, but not much. It was becoming more and more obvious that I'm not on his radar at this point. After that class it was time for me to slip into the other room and stand post as Graphic Design Lab Assistant. I do this every Tuesday and Thursday from 5-8. He usually comes in while he waits for his 6pm class. He hadn't. I decided to run over to the main building and get something to eat. I was walking up to my food vendor of choice and saw that he was there. I didn't say anything. I didn't look at him. I just walked past him and looked at what sandwiches they had. He bought his food and I heard, "Hey, Kelly. How are you?" Now, he could easily have just walked off and not said anything. For all he knew, I hadn't even noticed him. He didn't. He stuck around to say hi. We talked for a minute and as I turned my attention to the lady that wanted my money, he stepped away. I thought he was gone, but he had only stepped around the corner and as I started heading back to our building, he did, too. We walked back to class together and talked. If only he'd have carried my books. Oh wait, I didn't have any books.

So, yes, I do wish I could just pass him a note and get my definitive answer, but I can't. Life isn't that easy anymore. Life is all angsty and complicated now. My friend says she's going to help me out on that front as much as she can, but that at this moment she's not picking up on anything either way. There's only one thing that can sum up the way this is going. WTF?

Confessions of a 30-something school girl

So, it's time. Time for a confession. A confession of monumental proportions. No, I didn't get freak nasty with a pint of Ben & Jerry's. No, I didn't binge on various unmentionables...oh wait, I did, but we're not talking about that. It's not about my laptop, my lack of weight loss, or my stress level (which is TOTALLY in check right now). My friends? My devoted readers? My family that just feels obligated to still suffer through this meaningless drivel because it gets sent to their inboxes when I click post? It's about a boy. I...have a wee lil mini crush.

Any of you that know me well know that I've had my fair share of dates with people I've met on the internet. This is not my ideal way of meeting men because there is always fear of rejection looming over every first date. I've never really BEEN rejected because I don't hide my size before we meet. I make it very clear. I date guys that like, or claim to like, that sort of thing. Nevertheless, I go completely bat shit crazy with angst before every first encounter. I worry (like it's my job) that the person is going to be completely disgusted by me because they weren't paying attention when I explained my hugeness or thought I was exaggerating. In a perfect world, I would meet guys out in real life where they see me live and in color and still think I'm bringin' sexy back.

What sucks for me is that on the rare occasion that I do meet someone I like out in the real world, I can't tell them. At my size, there is a 99% chance that he won't like me. I can make conversation, flirt, come up with reasons to be near them, but I can't tell them. The most I can do is secretly hope that he's just as twitterpated, but has the manlies to make a move. Especially if it's someone I have to see every day AFTER the embarrassing and awkward confession of interest. This never happens. That is why, despite my growing interest, I will not be telling a particular boy that I think he's adorable (enter big sigh here).

Last term I had a guy in my class and on the first day, as I perused the room to see if there was anyone I was friends with in there, I spied him. I didn't see him the term before and this is a close knit group so I wondered who he was. I thought he was cuteish and wished I'd have sat next to him. As the term progressed, it became obvious that he was the quiet type. I rarely saw him talking to anyone let alone me. I wanted to know what this boy was all about, but didn't make any efforts or think much about it.

Last term my closest design buddy was intent on determining who in the program should be my boyfriend. It seemed like every week she was pointing out someone else that would be good for me. Usually, she was WAY off base! As the term wound down I told her that if there was anyone in the program that I would want to make graphic design babies with, it would be "him." She hadn't had any classes with him and knew nothing of said boy. This term, I have one class with him and she has like three (completely unfair, but I digress). When he walked into class on the first day he said hi and asked if there were any free seats. I quickly said that the one next to me was open (nevermind all the ones across the room). He was going to sit there when I noticed that someone had set there bag on the floor when I wasn't looking. Foiled again! I corrected myself and pointed to the one on the other side of me that was across the aisle. He sat there, quietly.

Over the last few weeks, he has been making a solid effort to get to know my circle of design Gods. He makes comments here and there or asks for an opinion. He's started talking to the guys more and actively participating in conversation. The last few days though? Have mercy. He and I have talked a lot. I'm now making up reasons to talk to him. I'm asking his opinion on my design whether I want it or not. I'm sitting close and leaning in when he asks for help. Saturday he confessed that he isn't on Facebook and we told him that he had the weekend to remedy that. He said he was still on MySpace and hadn't ventured over to the other side yet. Today I was sitting at a table in the common area outside our classes killing time before my 2:00 p.m. class. I had Mac so I was watching a movie and working on some things. I remembered the MySpace comment and decided I needed to look. I needed to know how old he was at the very least, maybe see if he had a girlfriend. Any intel I could get would be good at this point. I eventually found him on there. I was looking through his pictures, hadn't read anything other than the fact that he is 28 and claims to be single. I looked up and my heart lept from my chest as he was walking toward me with a huge smile. I don't think I've ever closed a screen faster. He couldn't see it, but would have as he came around to sit next to me. My heart was racing. He asked if I was going to be sitting there for a while and I said yes. He set his stuff down and said he'd be right back. A few minutes later he was back and sat with me. We talked about projects, I asked him some Getting To Know You type questions and tried not to look all glossy eyed and stupid as he talked. Swoon.

We now break for these important messages.

I'm at school right now working in the design lab and he has class in the room connected to this one. He just came in and sought me out to ask if I had an extra plastic folder (that we turn our projects in with) that he could borrow. Whether I do or don't, even if I had to take all of my stuff out of one to let him borrow it, I jumped on the chance. Flutter.

Now back to this post already in progress.

Once in class I texted my aforementioned buddy and told her that it has progressed to a full blown mini crush. She's giddy about the whole thing. She was in class with him at that very moment and decided that he's really great and she approves. Now I have someone to giggle with about the whole thing every time he walks by. Not sure that's a good thing as it makes me feel like I'm back in high school. I told her that we needed to have another after class drinkfest at the bar up the street next week. She agreed. I proceeded to invite the regulars as I saw them and then he and I were talking again and I invited him. He seems interested, though confessed that seeing him drunk might not be a good thing. Oh how I disagree.

So there you have it, my confession. He and I have class tomorrow morning. Now that my crush is official, maybe I should start coming to school looking like I didn't just roll out of bed, no? Time to bring the heat. He doesn't stand a chance.

This message brought to you in part by

The letter A
The number 3
And my new MacBook Pro

I went to the campus bookstore today to get a new flash drive because my little 2 gigger wasn't big enough to hold my project for my Illustrator class. Yeah, it's that big. Since I was there I ran upstairs just to ease my mind and have confirmation that my laptop was in fact still not there. You see, when I had called them yesterday they told me that it wasn't due to arrive until sometime on Thursday. Thursday, you see, is when I was leaving for the beach until Sunday. Thursday, in fact, would be too late unless it got there before 11 am. Understanding my plight, Mr. Computer Man told me to call him every day and he'd let me know how things were shaping up. Well, calling is so impersonal, no? He knew who I was upon initial contact today and after checking a few tracking numbers, serial numbers and whatever else it was he checked, he uttered the words, "I think that one's yours." Then voiced his amazement over how it got to Portland from Shanghai in a day. I told him that he was my new best friend. He said he was OK with that.

I've been having my dirty way with it all night. I've been installing software, setting preferences...it's transferring all of my music from my iPod as I type. This entry is, in fact, the first thing I've really done on my new laptop that has nothing to do with setting it up. He's a beauty. Anyone that knows me will have no qualms proclaiming that I am a whore for electronic gadgets...this is no exception. I'll not bore you with the details, just trust that I'm a happy kid as I crawl into bed with dreams of our future together.

On the diet front, I've been 100% on top of things the last two days, which, as of late, is a feet for me. I even meandered around campus for a little while before my first class this morning and discovered something. The school gym and all things associated with physical activity type classes is in the building right next to the one I'm locked in most of the day. Who knew? Not me, obviously. I should see what's involved in using these facilities. Maybe there's a class I can take. Maybe I should take one. I can pretty much guarantee that it won't be swimming as I'm not interested in being half naked on campus at any time. Mayhaps a weight training class? Something of a cardio nature? Options abound I'm sure.

I was skinny until that freak buffet accident.

Saturday was my mom's surprise birthday party. Complete success. I even managed to distract her as we pulled up to the house because I knew she'd catch on if she saw all the cars. I had her dig in my purse at just the right time to find my lip gloss and she found a brownie that a friend had given me at school. Like a moth to a flame, boy. She was so fixated on that thing that I was in the driveway and parked before she bothered to look up and notice the huge crowd of people. Like mother like daughter, no?

The food aspect was hardcore buffet. All of the invitees were told to bring their favorite dish. Well, they may not know how to RSVP, but they do know how to bring the grub. When I walked up to it and saw how much there was I flashed back to buffet tables of parties past. Buffet tables that have done me in so many times. Buffet tables that, as if it were a cage match, had me tapping out as my waistband cut off the circulation to my naughty bits. Not this time. Not this buffet table. I showed surprising restraint. There was so much food that I found it overwhelming. I was intimidated by it. I wasn't, however, scared and feeling like I was about to undergo an all time record breaking binge. I was just, well, kind of disgusted actually. I didn't even try most of it. I also didn't drink. As a matter of fact, I stayed well away from the food and drink by going to the backyard and throwin' down on the Vball court. Fat girls STILL can't jump, but we do have a wicked serve.

Today I tried out another new workout game for the Wii, Gold's Gym Cardio Workout. It was too hot in my room so I didn't do it for very long. Seems to be a lot of boxing, which I dig big time. I'll have to get back to you on if the game itself is any good. What I can tell you is that in the beginning, when you make your little character and give him/her all of your physical attributes, your belly stops growing once you reach a certain level of gordo. First I upped my lil characters height and she got a nice thin little waist because her weight hadn't changed. Then I started upping the weight and she just got thicker and thicker until her little animated belly had a nice rotundness to it. After a while she stopped growing because even animated Wii people aren't as fat as I am.

I gave homework the finger this weekend, too. I did a little, but I'll have to finish the remainder of the mandatory stuff tomorrow during a between class break I'll have. The weather was just too nice and, well, I was just too crampy. I decided that a day like today was better spent driving around with the top down for a little while, sitting in the backyard with Lola reading something that didn't involve learning anything, and daydreaming about my date with my new laptop. Roughly translated: I wanted to finish kicking my stress in the slats and focus on me a little more. The weather is supposed to be great for a few more days. Me, sunshine, convertible, new laptop, upcoming weekend beach trip, a ban on stress...things are lookin' up kids.

A day of class, culture, and introspection

I gave the Portland Art Museum three hours of my time today. It had been a very long time since I had been there. Many things were as I remembered them. The Monets, Renoirs and Picassos were all cohabitating together with various other artists. The Asian art exhibit is still so large that it takes up most of the lower level. I now firmly believe that, when it comes to sculpture, the Tang dynasty kicked the Han dynasty's ass. I realized that I still love art as much, if not more, as I always have. I see in every piece something different to appreciate. Mostly I am envious of their talent. Sometimes, I'm envious of the fact that someone, somewhere, got paid a lot of money to paint black stripes on a very large canvas.

I am mostly in awe of the European Collection. Some of the paintings are so life like. Considering the day and age that they were created? Their talent floors me. My question remains the same, however, what is up with all the little boy junk dangling about and all the rubenesque titty shots? Babies just laying around naked and women looking like Janet at Superbowl. Not because they were about to breast feed all the naked babies. Not because they were exquisitely depicted as the voluptuous women that they are. They would just be sitting with their friends and a boob would pop out, crying at the feet of a man in armor as if begging him not to go and a boob would pop out. Playing piano? Oh look, a boob. Plucking a chicken? Boob. Holding your dying husband? Boob. In a big battle with Centaurs? Two Boobs (some of those centaurs were hot, I must say). I get the appreciation for the female form. I love that we big women got mad props back in the day. I thought they were all very beautiful, but, seriously? This was my stroll around the European wing today, "Man in wig...boob...man in wig looking a bit pinched...baby junk...baby junk...baby junk AND boob...two boobs...boob and man in wig...baby's junk getting circumsized. (WTF?)...boob...ah, two women playing piano. Is that a nipple?...baby junk..." I think you get the point. Let's not accuse me of immaturity just yet. I was at least 15 paintings in before I was consumed by the completely random diplays of T&J.

Anyhoo, I came to realize something else during my afternoon of class and culture. I need to get back to being me. I need to find balance. I need to do the things I enjoy and stop stressing so much about things that are out of my control. That's what most of the things going on in my life are; out of my control. Why worry about things that I cannot change? Why let it stifle me and make me miserable? Decision made...no more stress. It's that simple.

Say anything

I woke up this morning to the familiar sound of Peter Gabriel. I slapped my snooze button soundly on the ass, but the music still played. I listened intently trying to determine where it was coming from. I got out of bed and looked out the window. There, with his bose speakers held high above his head (boomboxes are so 1980's), was my Cyrano. I've spent at least 3 years in love with him, but kept telling myself that he was no good for me; that it wasn't the right time in my life. Over the last year it's become more and more obvious that this is a relationship that was destined to be. I would get emails from him and letters in the mail. I would see him at school and at the mall. I couldn't get away from him and couldn't ignore him. I had been waivering over the last few weeks. Things were falling into place and it seemed like we would eventually be together. It seemed like now was our time. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the plunge.

My Cyrano is not John Cusack (though, please do give me a call cuz you kinda rock). My Cyrano is not someone I met online or someone that sits across class from me unable to focus on his design because he's so overwhelmingly smitten with me (though, I'm sure my classes are riddled with such casualties of my charm). My Cyrano is a bright and shiny new Macbook Pro. And after such a grand romantic gesture this morning, I agreed to meet him at the bookstore between classes today. Yes, I could have met him at his place (the apple store), but I didn't feel like it was a safe place. I needed neutral territory. I needed to be able to make an unbiased decision and if I had walked into an apple store I would have been like a moth to a flame. I would have seen them in all their prettyness and I would have said to the vulnerable salesman that dared approach, "Look, little man. We don't need to have a talk about how this little gem will meet all of my needs and then some. We don't need to wax poetic about gigabytes, ram, video cards, resolution, warranties or my additional software needs. We don't need to talk about Wacom tablets because I already have one (what we of the computer illustration age draw on, ya know the ones, big tablet of goodness with a pen so that when you draw it shows on the screen?). You, kind sir, are a truly lucky man. This is going to be the quickest sale of your computer pushing career. Now just turn yourself around, walk to the back room, and thank the heavens above that you walked up to me today. Run along now."

Instead, I walked up the stairs of my campus bookstore and I had a lil chat with my new relationship counselor. He explained that size doesn't always matter. That the 17" version is overkill and, really, what's another two inches when you've already got 15? It's just gonna make it heavier to carry around (giggle). Too true, sir, too true. He recommended that I get the 15" and take the money I would have shelled out for the 17" and invest it in a comparably priced, much larger and sassier monitor that I could hook my laptop up to. Agreed. I asked him how long I had after date of purchase to really make a commmitment as involved as a warranty. He explained that I had up until our one year anniversary to tie the knot. This investment was getting cheaper by the minute. I thought about it for .275 milliseconds and told him to sign me up.

I am now fully committed to a solid relationship with a 15" Macbook Pro laptop. We have our first date in 3-5 business days. I just hope that it's before I go to the beach next weekend because we have a lot of catching up to do. It's going to be a beautiful relationship.

The world I live in

When I was in first grade the biggest thing I had to worry about was making sure I didn't miss the bus. In fifth grade I had to move up to a different school and we were no longer in one classroom all day, but had to go from class to class. My biggest stress then was finding all of my classes. My freshman year was more of the same, but now I had to worry about the rumored initiations one might undergo by seniors. I also had to worry about my grandma that was dying of breast cancer. As high school progressed my stress ranged from my weight, to getting my driver's license, to boys I might have secretly liked, to grades, to a bad relationship with my father. At the time everything seemed so critically important and as if my life were hanging by a single tattered thread.

Now I'm a college student. I expected the various stresses that go along with this level of education, but there is one aspect of it that I didn't anticipate. Every term we have what is called an Active Shooter Drill. Whichever class you're in when it happens has its own method of dealing with this drill, but it goes a little something like this: an alarm goes off indicating that there is a lock down; lights are turned off; doors are locked and closed; people sit on the floor, huddled up, quietly hiding; we wait for the alarm to stop thus signaling us that the coast is clear. Usually when this happens I sit and ponder how fucked up it is that the world I live in has a need for a drill like this. That because someone is having a bad day or a series of bad days, they are coming to schools to kill people (I also occasionally joke with friends that, at my size, at least two of them could easily hide behind me should the shooter get through the series of locked doors between us and them).

Today was different. Today the alarm didn't stop. Today we sat huddled in a room texting furiously to family and friends. Today our hearts beat a little faster. Today was not a drill. Today there was someone on campus that meant harm. Today we sat in the dark with no information other than the fact that someone had a gun. The stories of other school shootings cross our minds and, for a moment, we feel the fear that they must have felt. At one point someone walked up to our door and tried to open it. "Of all the classrooms on all the campus," we think, "he chooses ours." He walks away and we never find out who he was. Maybe he was just someone trying to get into a room to hide. Maybe we should have let him in.

I text classmates telling them not to come to campus yet. I text my sister and let her know what's going on. I opt not to tell her I love her refusing to believe that this is serious enough for such a dramatic addition to her day. I do tell her to tell mom what's going on. Part of me does wonder if I should be doing more, saying more. What if the last thing I said was "You gotta be fucking kidding me. I'm up to my eyebrows in gradient mesh and clipping masks and you want to have another drill?" (I also wonder if the shooter is an over-stressed graphic design student and feel a sense of connection to his plight). Eventually the alarm stops. Eventually we snap out of our stupors and stand up. Eventually we walk out and go back to our classes as if nothing has happened. We find out that someone was at the bookstore threatening to commit suicide.

I learned something about myself today that bothers me greatly. I learned that no matter how dire the situation, I will still worry about my weight. Today I worried that I wasn't hidden enough because I'm too big. Today I worried that should we have to run, I'd never get away and secretly hoped that adrenaline worked miracles. Today I worried that I would, indeed, die fat. This is the world I live in.

Warriors, and Monkeys, and Dogs...Oh my!

There are a lot of experiences that I have not had, places I have not gone, and things I have not done. Some of them are because I'm too poor, too scared, too shy, too inept; you get the point. Often times, though, it's simply because I'm too fat. Take wearing a size 2 dress, posing for Playboy (giggle), or using my Wii Fit. I have never done these things because I am, legitimately, too fat. There are things, however, that I haven't done because I only THINK I'm too fat. Yoga is one of those things.

Until now.

I was working out yesterday with, you guessed it, Maya. She had me focusing on flexibility and towards the end I saw that the upcoming move was called a Triangle Pose. I don't know a lot about Yoga. What I do know is that if a phrase has the word pose in it and no one around has a camera, you're likely talking about Yoga. I've always wanted to do yoga, but have never done much more than a Child's Pose because I'm confident that there isn't a lot of it I could do at my size. I grimaced as I saw what Maya had in store for me, but went along with it. OMG! L.O.V.E.D.'d it. I was all stretched out and when we were done with the move I was so relaxed. We did something with the word Pretzel in it and a Child's Pose and...I did Yoga. But wait, there's more.

I crawled into bed and decided I needed to see what else Maya offered for a Yoga rookie. I got back out of bed and turned her on (naughty; stop it). I chose a Yoga for the workout instead of Upper Body or Cardio so that I would get all Yoga, all the time. Ya'll? I did 15 minutes of straight Yoga. Warrior Poses, Downward Facing Dogs, Triangle Poses, Upward Facing Dogs, Monkey Stretches, Half Moon Poses (sorta)...me. Yoga. I know.

I can't say that I was style and grace. I can't say that I even did them correctly, but I can say that I tried and enjoyed it. The best part of working out with Maya? No one is watching. No one is judging. No one is yelling at me or making me feel inadequate because I can't do something. In my dojo? I am Yoga Master. Namaste, Bitches!

Bedtime stories didn't used to be this scary

Last night before bed I spent about 15 minutes with Maya. Her version of bedtime stories involve squats and lunges, bicep curls and tricep presses, crunches and some odd little thing where I curl into a ball and roll back and forth. I'm supposed to bring my knees to my chest for this. I haven't brought my knees successfully to my chest since I was a fetus, I assure you. I think I prefer my bedtime stories have ghosts, dragons, gory details of dismemberment, and the like. They'd provide far less nightmare potential for me I think.

This morning I decided to see what she serves for breakfast. Planks. The bitch had me doing planks. I guess she IS a real trainer because they ALL make you do planks! Where's the originality in that I ask? As you're working out with Maya she occasionally asks you how that last little bit of torture treated you. You can choose from "No sweat," "I was working hard," and "I couldn't keep up." This allows her to decide how she wants to ream you the next time you hang out. She'll only dial it up a notch if you say no sweat, people. I'm just sayin'! She is kind enough to let you have a rest period between certain things. Just long enough for her to adjust her ponytail, her shoe, her spandex, whatever might be riding up into her nether regions. And before you start another part of the workout, she'll ask you to wait while she "finds the beat." My new BFF for sure!

After dinner I went for a walk. I needed to clear my head and see if it filled back up with clarity. It didn't. I've been so disconnected the last week. So indifferent to everything. I've been seeing someone lately and I've even pulled away from that (for various reasons I'll not get into). School starts tomorrow and I don't want to go. Since when haven't I been jacked up on school? Even when I was drowning in it I was still loving it. Right now, I'm not. Maybe I'm depressed. Maybe I'm just tired. My life is still all kerfucked and I'm getting quite fed up with it all.

Before I sat down to write this I popped in my new Jillian Michaels' Fitness Ultimatum 2009 game for the Wii. I did about 15 minutes with it. I'm not all that impressed with it yet, but maybe I'm not doing it right. Maya works me out much harder than Jillian so far. My Wii Balance Board can be used on that one, maybe that'll make the difference. Right now it's just a lot of running in place. The rowing and the monkey bars seems good, but F@#$ it all if I can figure out the grenade toss. I'll have to play with it some more and see what happens. As you work out you gain access to new training tips and things.

For those of you trying to tally my activity for today. I got in about an hour. Considering how sedentary I've been for the last, eesh, six months...this is huge. Tomorrow starts another 11ish weeks of hell. Let's see if I can't bring my A game this time, shall we?

Wii are fat

and by Wii I mean me as determined by my Wii. I'm embarrassed to admit that my left shoulder is sore from an hour of bowling that I did a couple days ago. Granted, I don't just click and flick to knock those pins down, I actually DO go through the actual motion of bowling, but that is tragic. I turned on my Wii Fit a couple weeks ago just to see what would happen and, naturally, one of the first things it wants to do is weigh me. I got on it just for the hell of it and quickly regretted it. Nothing like a little animated balance board telling you that you exceed its weight limits. Today I got a game called My Fitness Coach. It doesn't require the balance board so I thought it was a good idea. Another notion I should have reconsidered.

I would like to tell you more about it at this point, but I haven't really done it yet because setting up my profile was about all I could handle today. I haven't really worked out to any significant degree since this summer. My nephew was in my room with me when we turned it on. A hot, animated chick with a perfect body proceeds to explain that I'll need to set up the aforementioned profile. This, as the paperwork explains, is Maya...my new personal trainer. Personally, I wish that she was a he that stood about 6'4", with biceps the size of small children and abs I could do laundry on, but who am I to complain? Maya will do just fine. She politely asked for my particulars. When it got to my weight I made my nephew take Lola downstairs. I didn't want to scar the child. He came back up and it was asking for various measurements. I kicked him out again as I took them. When he came back in I was doing the resting heart rate. Simple enough. What's that? You want me to do jumping jacks now? Ok...how hard can that be? For two minutes? No problem, Maya. I'm your girl. WTF? When did jumping jacks get so hard? Did I mention that I had just taken my bra off when I did the measurements? Ouch.

After I nursed my black eye I had to do squats, modified pushups, crunches, and test my flexibility. Fair enough. Then Maya told me that I'm outside the healthy weight range. Money well spent, my friends. I'd been living the lie up until this point. She wanted to know my goal weight and if my objective was Weight Loss, Upper Body Strength, Lower Body Strength, Core Body Strength, Cardio Fitness, or Flexibility. After the revelation that I was outside the healthy weight range I signed up for weight loss, natch. Now Maya wanted me to set up a commitment schedule. Ya know, when will I work out and how long? Silly girl. She asked what equipment I have at home so she knows how to properly torture me.

As far as I can tell I get to choose music, workout location, and she'll ask me my mood before we work out. I get to choose from "Nothing can stop me," "Not too bad," and "You're lucky I'm here!" I think I'd rather have one that says "You're lucky I don't cut you, you skinny little animated bitch." Should be fun, no?

The Death of a Perfectionist

As explained by the Graphic Design grading standards of my school, when you get a B you are producing exceptional work. You are showing tremendous creativity and your application of design principles are above and beyond the call of duty. You are...phenomenal.

When you get an A? The clouds part and angels sing. A great light shines down upon your project and the world seems to be a better place. Instructors weep and your classmates feel inadequate. When you get an A you are destined for greatness. You are...a design God.

I was one such design God...until yesterday. I got online for about the 50th time to see if my last grade had been posted. So far I had three more A's to put in my pocket and was waiting for just one more. The one, mind you, that I was most worried about. The one from an instructor that is scattered, disorganized, and harsh. We got along fine on a personal level, but I knew during the first class that this could be my downfall. She was never involved in the critiques so the only feedback you got was from your classmates. She rarely answered questions regarding what she thought of something when you had the chance to pull her aside. When you turned in your project you were going in blind. There was no real prior feedback to hold your hand while you waited for your grade. I made my way through the many levels required to get to the page that would show my grades. There, tainting all my pretty little, streamlined A's was a letter foreign to me. My grade? Was a B.

B? I'm not a B kind of girl if you're new to this blog. I'm a 4.0 with no room for exceptions kind of girl. I'm a perfectionist. A perfectionist verging on O.C.D. when it comes to school. I pay attention to details that others don't think about. I tweek and perfect and then tweek again until perfect is no longer an adequate descriptor. I don't miss class. I'm not late. I am the girl that others come to for an opinion on their work. I was proud of my A's and held my head high in those classes. Now, when I see this particular instructor I will be looking at the floor and avoiding eye contact. Not because I'm ashamed, but because I might attack. I might take a T-square to her knees Tanya Harding style and do things with an Xacto knife that would make prisonyard stabbings look like foreplay. I got a B!

What's worse? I wouldn't even give myself anything better when it comes to weightloss 101. I weigh less than when the term started and only gained once throughout it all, but I should have done better. I could have done better. I have excuses galore, but it doesn't matter. I should have done better. I have only lost 15.2 pounds in the last two and a half months. I'm capable of more. Maybe I am not the perfectionist that I thought I was. Maybe I am a B student.

Did you know?

Did you know that you can put stints in the arteries of your heart that are 99% clogged, but you can't do anything when all of your major blood pumping heart vessels have minor blockage? That when that is the case you can't reverse it, you can only prevent it from getting worse? That bypass surgery would be of little use because it's not like you can just up and rebuild all of your arteries? Did you know that you can have 4 stints in your heart, diabetes, a skin disease that's basically eating away at your legs, and a host of other problems and still not care about losing weight and getting healthy? Did you know that stints aren't as easy an option for women as they are for men because women's arteries are smaller? Did you know that Prednisone can raise your blood pressure causing you to have a heart attack and raise your blood sugar to the upper 300's? Did you know that when you have a heart attack it goes not only up your arm, but also through to your jaw? Or that, though common sense would tell us otherwise, it's not something worth going to the hospital for? Or that you can have a wife, three children and two grandchildren and still not be able to find a reason to change your life and be healthy?

These are just a few of the lessons my dad has taught me. I can't say I know how to change a tire or drive a stick shift, but I do know where my dad's nitro pills are and when I need to run and get them. I've never been taught how it is that I should be treated by a man, I've grown up believing that my dad never thought I could even get a man. I have been taught, however, that hearing the words "You're a worthless piece of shit. You'll never amount to anything." will stick with you for your entire life. My dad has never lead by example on how to be healthy, he has only preached to me about things he won't do himself. He's quick to point out my do's and don'ts on dieting all from the comfort of his recliner. I've been taught that your eyes can be wide open to the failing health of your best friend and the reasons behind it, but still be blind to the fact that you are walking down the same path.

My father taught me that, though disowning each other was the right choice for he and his dad, forgiveness is the right choice for me. My father taught me that the ways in which you fail your child when they are young can be made up for when they are older. My father taught me that, in some ways, people CAN change...if they want to. My father taught me that a daughter can turn her childhood into 360+ pounds and a son will take the same childhood and turn it into anger and bitterness. My father taught me how to fish, but won't be around to teach my children how because, though he also taught me how important family is, he also taught me that they aren't important enough to live for. Maybe my brother will have to teach them. My brother will probably also have to walk me down the aisle some day because my dad will likely not be around for that either. At the rate he's going, he won't even see me FINALLY get a college degree.

I don't know if my dad is proud of me because he never tells me. I'm told he brags about me to other people, but he never tells me. I don't know if my dad thinks I'm pretty, but I do know he thinks I'm fat. I don't know if he still thinks I'm worthless or if I've actually amounted to something in his eyes. I do know that when I was young I was scared to death of my dad and now I'm scared to death that he's going to die. I know that I'm angry. I'm angry that the things he's always bitching about are things he has the power to change. I'm angry that his heart condition and his diabetes are likely going to kill him before cancer will get the chance and those are two things that he could remedy significantly if he would just lose weight. I'm angry that he can judge me for my weight and make me feel so terrible about mine when he is dying from his. I'm angry because, at the age of 32, I have to resign myself to the fact that my dad is going to die simply because he is content to do so. I'm angry because I try EVERY DAY to change my life and every day I watch him give up on his. I'm angry because the last lesson my dad will teach me is how to quit.

(Note to those that know my dad: printing this and using it as some sort of intervention method would not be wise and only make me stop writing as honestly as I do)