Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The Mighty Jackalope

At what point in my life did I stop listening to my own advice and start following the "should haves" from others? It is like I just had an epiphany of sorts, Right now, at this very moment, I'm kinda figuring it all out, seriously people, this is one for the history books! Read on, because it's one of those rare moments where you actually get to witness a little "How Kara Got Her Groove Back," instead of the usual clumsiness that you're so accustomed to.

As it turns out, I don't do "Poor me" very well and to all those that have had to put up with it by offering up their own kind of "what works for me is..." kind of advice, I know you mean well, but deep down you hate saying it as much as I hate hearing it and wish that I was the last person on earth that you had to try to give advice to.

Because here is the thing, I'm gonna take it and then I'm gonna break it. You know, fuck up any semblance of what you told me I "should" do. I know your intent is good and I appreciate you caring enough about me to even consider advising me, it's what we do for the ones we love. We hate to see anyone hurt or misguided, I do the same thing. Every. Single. Day.

If you know me, then you know that I am a long-winded, loud-mouthed, "fixer of others," it's like I'm advising my friends from the floor of the Stock Exchange, he who speaks the loudest and longest wins, right? I also LOVE to hear myself talk, but guess what, I'm not actually listening.

All I do is talk, talk.

As it would seem, the only so-called "expert" on my life is me, and somewhere along the line I stopped listening to my own expert advice, most likely because I didn't want to hear what I actually had to say. See, if you tune out yourself and follow the advice of others, when everything falls apart, "you" aren't to blame.

"Well, if only I hadn't followed your stupid advice, then none of this would have happened."

Oh. My. Geezers, do I adore saying that, but it's time to start the weaning process.

My expert advisor, just stated that I should, and I quote,

"Man the fuck up Martin, if you are going to be truly kick ass, then you have to learn to balance out the ratio a little more evenly. Not work with the 90% protective armor, 10% "sugar and spice and everything nice" on the inside model that you've been rolling with. Oh and by the way, how's that been working out for you?"

Fuck you, when did you get to be so smart, Selfie?! And how is it that you've finally caught up with me? I've been evading you with great success for years. I figured the case went cold by now or you found something better to do with your time, but no, here we meet again. You're sneaky. Sneaky like a snake!

Alright, alright already. I'm listening, no really, I hear ya!

I feel like I'm coming out of the closet, but instead of giving some sort of statement about my sexual orientation, I'm saying "Hey, guess what guys, I am not as tough as I think I am!" But the reply is still the same, a collective "Duh, we know!"

Oh hello there, pleased to meet me.

I think I get it. Like for reals get it! Let's do this, Ms. Martin F.T.W.!

*If you'd like to know more about the jackalope species, please read Getting to Know Your Inner Killer Rabbit.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

A Life Less Extraordinary

There are no absolutes in this life of ours, with the exception, of course, that one day we will die. That statement isn't meant to be sad or all melancholy and shit , it's just the cold, hard facts.

However, this life is a bit of a prankster. There you are functioning out in the world, doing your thang and everything is fine, perfectly status quo, happy as a clam...then bam, just like that the rug is pulled out from under you and everything changes on a dime.

What. The. Fuck. Life?! Why you got to be such a cruel bitch at times?

I sometimes actually fantasize about living a life less extraordinary. Don't get me wrong, I'm not living this incredible, lush, glamorous lifestyle, not by a long shot! What I mean is, I wonder what life would be like if I didn't think so much and analyze every fucking little detail of every fucking little thing so fucking much, you know, actually let my brain have a day off now and again. Or what if I had a way less stressful job, a job where people's lives weren't on the line.

How would it be if I slept like the normal people of the world, during the night instead of trying to keep my body upright from sundown to sunrise with copious amounts of caffeine. And would I freaking die if I didn't have to be the life of the party every single time?! What if my bark weren't actually worse than my bite and I had the courage to recognize and accept that about myself? What if I stopped using humor as a coping mechanism and for once faced my problems like a serious adult should. What if I had a heart that was incapable of being beaten up and bruised?

I'd be like a one man cast of Wizard of Oz characters, but hey, I sure would look cute in those ruby slippers!

Faults, I have 'em, that's a fact. There are many that I have come to terms with over the years, but what I can't seem to shed is this godammed armor that I've been wearing for years. You can't see it because it's that awesome Wonder Woman kind, but my true friends know it's there, they tell me when it clashes with my outfits and accessories. Those bastards will call me out in a minute, because they know what is underneath all of that heavy metal and fucking loud-assed, over the top personality of mine. I ain't fooling them, not for a minute! They know that ordinary girl exists, and guess what, they still love her for exactly who she is, the one that they have seen completely defenseless and weak and vulnerable and even pathetic at times, but they've never left my side, not for a second.

Turns out that perhaps I have not made enough peace with my past and am allowing it to fuck up my present. I've got to reign that shit in for reals, I mean someone that I met exactly four weeks ago recently told me that he too could see right through my "so called" tough girl facade. If my friends can see it and someone that I just met figured it out right away, why the fuck can't I?

For the record, this isn't meant to read as some self-loathing bullshit, it is just me admitting that I have a problem.

"Hi, my name is Kara and I like dressing up in suits of armor because I'm afraid of being susceptible to being wounded or hurt."

First step is admitting it, right? So I'm off to AA (Armor Anonymous) with the hopes of coming to terms with my addiction.

1. I admit that I am powerless over my addition. - Seriously, wearing this metal breastplate has become unmanageable.
2. I believe in a power greater than myself, can restore my sanity. - Well hello Sir Lancelot, where you been hiding all these years, I really could have used your armor wearing advice long ago!
3. I will make a decision to turn my will and life over to the care of God in the way that I understand Him. For me, that means chocolate.
4. Make a searching and moral inventory of myself. - Like finally unpacking those boxes marked "hot mess" that are still buried in the back of my closet.
5. Admit to myself and other human beings the exact nature of my wrongs. - This is a tough one because, come on, am I truly ever wrong? Ok, ok...maybe so wrong, I'm right!
6. I'm entirely ready for God to remove all of my defects of character. - If I believed for a second that I could pray my armor away, I'd start praying the second I finish this blog post!
7. Humbly ask Him to remove my shortcomings. - Second verse, same as the first.
8. Make a list of the persons that I have harmed and become willing to make amends with all of them. - This could take a while, but okay.
9. Make direct amends to such people as much as possible, except when to do so would injure them or others. - I took an oath years ago in my profession to "Do No Harm," so I'm not about to start senseless injuries to those I care about.
10. Continue to take personal inventory, and when I am wrong, promptly admit it. - Gotcha, this I can do!
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God as I understand Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that out. - No joke, I'm signing up for some yoga classes right up the street from me this week. I could use a good, healthy dose of zen!
12. Have a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps and practice these principles in all my affairs. -Yep, I'll be fine once I get it, I'll be good.

"It's never too late to be happy. But it's all up to you and no one else!"

Saturday, June 22, 2013

Step Right Up You're the Next Contestant in This Sweet Charade

This is a repost from my sister blog So, You're Telling Me There's a Chance? A blog that picks apart the online dating world as seen through my eyes. It kind of fit into the theme of that blog, but at the same time, much too poignant and personal to not be shared here.

Writing, for as long as I can remember, has always been something very cathartic for me, it calms me, lets me put things into perspective, pick apart things and move ahead. That being said, why the hell haven't I done it in over a year?

This blog in particular (So, Your Telling Me There's a Chance) is touchy, it reached an oogy point for me last year where I thought that perhaps I was sending out nothing but bad karma into the world and in return, nothing good would come my way.

I mean, I'd like to think that I'm a good person, who deserves good things, but you get what you give, right? If I am writing a blog with for the sole reason of "making fun" of the online dating world, do I really deserve to be happy for not giving it a fair shot? Will I die a creepy old spinster cat lady?

Who freaking knows, but today I'm going to write, damn the consequences, because I need some purgative, humorous bullshit to get me through. You see, I got the shaft today from someone that I was beginning to like very much. He was kinda, sorta just like me with facial hair and cute checkered boy shirts.

I knew all of the rules up front. He wasn't ready for a commitment, the ball was left in my court and I chose to play through. I'm a big girl, I knew what I was getting into. I accepted knowing that if I could deal with the "What's the worst thing that could happen" scenario, that I'd go all in.

You see, I take my advice from movie characters and just like Danny Ocean said, "You're either in or your out, right now."

Bam, I'm in!

I'm not sure that it was truly a break up per se, since we were just "dating" after all, but it was indeed a let down. Perhaps actually one of the saddest, yet inimitable that I have encountered in my life's work of dating. He didn't do anything wrong, He didn't hurt me intentionally. He was gentle and kind, took the time to give it some closure without leading me on further. I guess this is growing up, but it never gets any easier to take.

He said I "was the coolest girl he'd ever met." Followed of course by a big "but..."

There wasn't the "spark" that he needed to take it to the next level, the was "something missing" in his feelings towards me. A classic case of "it's not you, it's me, blah, blah, blah..."

It still felt like taking a bullet, even though I saw it coming five days ago. I felt him pulling back, kind of putting me in my place through his responses. I saw that our hours of texting and emailing were dwindling. Suddenly he was "too exhausted from a long day" and couldn't chat until 1:00 am like we did for nights on end or "rushing to get to a meeting" in the morning when once again, we would chat after I got off my night shift. Yeah, I saw this shit coming, the fucking writing on the wall, perhaps even before he did. I think it's called "a women's intuition." That shit is for real, like a god dammed sixth sense. We woman are like soothsayers when it comes to that kind of clairvoyance.

I was even making a mixed CD in the middle of the night, long before the dreaded "break up" took place and now to go back and listen to it after the fact is downright creepy. I subconsciously chose songs that foreshadowed the events of what was to come during the disassembling of what we had tried to build over the last four weeks. It's weird, it is like I chose the music in advance that would be playing in the background during our final curtain call.

 Seriously, what the fuck though? How can I be the "coolest girl" that someone has ever met, but still not cool enough, or sexy enough, or smart enough, or just whatever. My thoughts on what we had going on versus his own feelings towards "us" got all kinds of mad lost in translation and I was the one left with the broken heart.

Sigh. What can you do? I can only be me myself and if the other person isn't down with that or just not attracted to me on some physical, emotional level, then what is the point of trying to force it to work?

Granted, I still feel burned that he only gave me a such a small amount of time to make such a judgement on where this was or wasn't headed, there is so much more beyond the surface, that quite frankly is his loss for not getting to know. I suspect that he met someone else in the dating world that better suited his needs. Maybe I can't really blame him. I mean, who can stand being around a loud mouth, always on the go, sarcastic prick like me? That's quite a handful to put up with, even for the strongest of men.

I'm not going to bad mouth him at all though, I have much respect for him and he is one of the coolest people that I have ever met. I am hoping that we can build a friendship out of the foundation that began to get us here in the first place. He is one of the easiest people to talk and laugh with.

Who knows, maybe I put too much out there too soon, I might never know. Maybe he recognized all of my quirky little flaws and decided they weren't worth it to him to deal with.
The truth is I don't really know, I am just going to have to accept it for what it is and move on. Everyone deserves their own happiness and if I am the one who is not making him happy, then he have every right to go find someone who can.

He is a genuinely great guy and yeah, I admit it, I thought this was going to be all super delicious and stuff.  After all I am a girl, we hope and dream, and plan, it's what we do! It was astonishing to me how we had SO much in common and could talk/text/email for hours about anything and everything. I hope for the best, but had been bracing myself for the very moment he asked if we could talk this morning.

We were unable to talk face to face, because we live about 90 minutes from one another, but we did talk "face time to face time," oh technology, I guess that's the way of getting it done in this day and age, beats getting a text I suppose. My eyes welled up with tears before I could even pick up the phone. I really hate the girlie girl squishy center of my hard candy exterior.

I wish him nothing but the best and do hope that we can eventually reach a level where we can be BFFs! Even though at the moment I've got noting left in side of my chest, I'm going to be alright eventually.  He is truly one of the good ones. That is what makes it almost worse. If he had been a true prick, today would have been a brighter day for sure. Yeah, I'd be angry at the bad behavior, but at least I'd have a reason to hate him and want him out of my life, but there was no concrete information given, so I'm still a little in the weeds I guess. A little sad, a tad bit annoyed, a smidgen of fury, and a whole lot of disappointment.

I honestly thought that this was gonna be great, our personalities seemed to mesh so incredibly well and complement each other's, we literally could openly talk about anything thrown out on the table. Hell, I'm just waxing poetic now about the "what ifs," because I'm a girl, and again it's what we do, it's in the blood.

Maybe I rushed to emotion too soon. Maybe my sarcasm was too much. Maybe I laid too low and didn't say what I needed to say, when I needed to say it. Maybe it's my aversion, versus his love of all seafood was the worst turnoff ever.  I dunno.

So much for the afterglow...

Now prepare yourselves, instant karma's gonna get me, because the next installment of this blog entry is going to be just as ridiculously out of control as it was last year around this time. I've got some real doozies just sitting in online dating site inboxes to share!

Let the next chapter begin, I'm back in the saddle!