Too Scared to Pray

I have faith. Lots of it.

There was a time not too long ago when my faith was my most defining quality, when community with God and a rich prayer life summarized my daily existence. It's who the people who knew me best- my family, friends, and co-workers would describe me to be.

Somewhere along the line, things changed. I don't read my Bible every day, and I don't spend time alone in prayer and processing every day like I used to. Don't misunderstand: I don't love God any less, and it's not like I started to doubt the claims of Christ or his power in my life. Kinda the opposite, actually.

I know very well what it looks like to let God lead, and to be honest, sometimes it just flat out scares me. It scares me because I KNOW that when I make that choice to let God poke around in my heart, in my mind, in my life, He's gonna ask me to do something about what's there. He's gonna ask me to surrender something stupid that I've been clinging to for too long, something that doesn't allow me the freedom to live the beautiful, sacrificial life He calls me to; something that has become toxic and made me feel stale, stuck, and stranded.

I KNOW that, while I've felt this combination of longing and discontent in my heart of hearts, the one thing that will lift the burden and the haze is to sit down and pray. To come clean. To stop trying to do things my way (which obviously isn't really working anyway) and get back to what actually makes me happy. But I'm too scared.

Sitting in church this morning, I had one of those experiences where it felt like God was looking right at me, waiting for me to acknowledge Him. To say, "Hey, can we talk? I mean, really talk." At one point in the service, I stopped and thought about the words I was singing and completely lost it... front row, tears, awesome. I wasn't sure I would be able to regain my composure but grateful that I did. Anyway, I knew that it was time for me to get some things worked out, and that usually starts with a quick blog to get the thoughts cohesive.

So, yeah. I am too scared to pray right now. I am too scared to face my mess and deal with it. I am too scared to ask God what I should do next. But I am going to do it anyway. He has never let me down before.

Statute of Limitations

Is there a statute of limitations when it comes to dating the ex of a friend?

This oh-so-awkward topic came up just yesterday when a close and dear girl friend asked me how I would feel about her going out with one of my exes from long ago. Apparently, they had started communicating just recently and he asked her out. Poor thing, I know it took her a while to even broach the subject with me. I mean, how do you bring that up with grace and tact? Not an easy thing to do, so I must give her credit there.

For a wee bit o' history on The Guy, this particular ex was one the great loves of my life. He entered my world when I was in a very dark place and like a beautiful, golden ray of light, he gave me the respect, love and grace that I had always wanted but never knew was possible. I know. But oh, it's true. We had a passionate, joyful, ecstatic love affair that felt right and true. It was the kind of relationship where I felt free to grow and discover my own likes and desires without having to suppress them for someone else. I still had a lot of personal healing to go through, but really we just accepted and loved each other. Simple. Needless to say, I was pretty devastated when we broke up.

A bit more history- The Girl Friend: We had been incredibly close for several years, BFF's and roommates with enough dirt on each other to make a fortune in blackmail $$ if either of us ever got rich, but with enough class and AtGFC (Adherance to Girl Friends Code) to never betray the other. "To the Grave" was one of our favorite mottos. Not long after the time that The Guy and I became a couple, The Girl Friend and I were beginning to move in separate directions. It was not because of anything against the other (as far as I know) but simply finding ourselves dealing with life and choosing different paths. So, when things with me and The Guy ended, The Girl Friend wasn't really aware of what it did to me. We had all but stopped talking to each other by that time.

OK, fast forward a few years. The Guy and I are talking occasionally, on amicable terms, and just at peace. The Girl Friend and I still hadn't spoken in years.

Fast forward another decade and change. The Girl Friend finds me on a social networking site, we "friend" each other, and start to repair what was broken. We find ourselves at a place in life where our friendship fits and makes sense and is really good again. It feels right. Apparently, this maturity thing is pretty good for the soul.

And now, this question of dating my ex appears, begging to be addressed. I don't wanna! (Ignore previous statement regarding maturity)

Logically, I know that I have absolutely no claims to this man. We literally haven't seen each other since we were in our 20's, and a lot has changed. 'Moving on' is an understatement! As far as I know, he is still a great guy and probably a really good catch. The Girl Friend is a beauty and deserves happiness as much as anyone else does. Why shouldn't they date? And if it works out, why shouldn't they find love together? Logically, I think, "What's the big deal?" Water under the bridge, etc. Emotionally, however, some weirdness definitely came up in me. And I do not mean my lunch.

After riding my personal roller coaster, I am finally settled about it all. Yes, he is a significant piece of my history. Yes, I loved him and have no regrets about that. And, yes, I realize that I have truly let him go. As for my friend, I honestly do want her to be happy... with him or with whoever is lucky enough to win her heart.

Unfinished Business

---------.

I need a kickstart, since my life seems to have stalled again. I know when it happened but am not sure yet how to get back to where I was going. I am at that point in the cycle where I just feel a bit lost, a bit off-track, and infinitely frustrated. Like I've crossed over the fine line between contentment and boredom and look around wholly displeased with where I'm standing, still undecided as to which foot to pick up first and where to go from here.

I've got way too much energy to be stagnant, and the longer I squander it the weirder I get and more annoyed I become with myself. All the more likely I am to do something stupid/regrettable. All I'm saying is that if this morphs into a week of truly bad poetry and too much alcohol, it's just not going to end well at all.

I know the things I enjoy and that bring me a deep sense of satisfaction, but I can't always do them. Unless I win the lottery and become insanely wealthy, thereby freeing me up to pay those remaining debts, travel and pour my life into helping the poor around the world. And it's clear that daydreaming about what I'd rather be doing borders on ridiculous, and amounts to filler. That isn't the life I want to live or the story I want to tell.

And back to the need for a kickstart:

Something new. Or, something old that didn't work out so well the first time around, or got set aside when I hit a wall with it. Unfinished business.

Write
Paint
Plan my escape
Grow pretty things
Make edible things
Rebuild
Break
Reinvent
Learn something
Find inspiration

The one thing I know right now is that something has to change, and I prefer to be the one doing the changing.

The Lame List

Things that either annoy, irritate, truly upset and/or piss me off, in no particular order:

Kids on a Leash
Bad Parents
Bad Drivers
Racists
Homophobes
Rude People
Mean People
Animal Cruelty
Hate Speech
Line Jumpers
Corruption
Cat Pee
Dogs That Won't Stop Barking (hello next door neighbors! geez)
Burnt Toast
Surgically Enhanced Body Parts for Cosmetic Purposes
Liars
Oversharing
My nervous energy, once it's kicked over into Obnoxious
Bullies
Creepers
Allergies
Freeloaders
Typos
Random Chaos
Savage Acts Committed in the Name of God, Allah, or anyone else

Coming Soon! The Awesome List

RIP Margarita and Otis

Otis the Bullfrog lived a happy life in my backyard pond. Raised from a tad, he was the smarter of the two and managed to keep himself from getting trapped in the filter basket time and time again (unlike his buddy, Jeremiah, who never made it to full-fledged frog). Otis grew into a fat, glorious bullfrog with an wonderful baritone and a delightful song. Listening to him sing was magical, and it brought a smile to my face every single time. Last week, he sang his final song.

I'm not exactly sure what happened. I suspect that he was trying to escape a predator, maybe an ambitious bird, and when he leaped into the water he over-shot his landing. At any rate, he got himself caught in the pump intake and was unable to survive. He croaked, and it sucks. (Replacing the pump for $500 wasn't so great either.) I totally miss hearing his song. It's just not the same.

Margarita the Hen also lived a happy life in the backyard. Of my three hens, she was the eldest (by two weeks) and largest. She quickly surrendered her Alpha Hen status when Fiesta stepped up and declared herself top of the pecking order. Margarita was a sweet natured and gentle bird, a good deal slower than her housemates. She never laid a single egg, though the other two lay almost every day. Although she somehow managed to find the mealworms first, she would just grab them in her beak and run away with them... not stopping to eat them for fear that Fiesta or Cholula would take it from her. Silly girl.

Over the last couple of weeks, I noticed that she was lagging behind more than usual and seeming to get lost in the yard. She would wander in the opposite direction of Fiesta and Cholula, then look around and call out for them in a forlorn voice. Last week, I heard a terrible commotion in the backyard while I was getting dressed for work. I looked out the window to see Fiesta and Cholula calling out frantically, while poor Margarita was lying on her back in the hen run.

I ran outside and sure enough, Margarita was gasping for air, unable to pick herself up off the ground. I quickly wrapped her up in an old towel and just held her, speaking softly to her as she faded away. A single tear fell from her eye as she gave her last breath. I'm not gonna lie, I kinda lost it. Afterwards, I wrapped her carefully and laid her to rest.

Rough week.

Animals are beautiful, and they add so much to our lives if we let them.

Kiss and Tell

I Kissed a Boy, and I Liked It.

Oh yes, I definitely did.

I'm not here to brag or boast, and I'm not going to share all the intimate details. But I am going to say that it was... Sweet. Romantic. Sexy. Hot! Really, really Wonderful. And, it left me wanting more.

I didn't expect it, and I don't know if anything will come of it. Maybe it will just be a hot fling and nothing more. Maybe we will begin to see each other regularly, and maybe the distance will just kill it. All I know is that I thoroughly enjoyed every minute with him, and I (not so) secretly hope he is feeling the same way... excited, a little nervous, happy... the butterflies.

XO, XO

Let There Be Butterflies!

So, I have this friend... let's call him "Jack". We were chatting recently and commiserating about our current (somewhat pathetic) love lives, about how hard it is to find someone that you "feel butterflies" for. (All together now: awww!)

I don't entirely understand how someone so attractive as Jack is still single. It puzzles me! He is smart, funny, artistic, kind-hearted, has lots of interests, and is very handsome (some might even say "hot"). Ladies, if you want, I will hook you up- just let me know and I will review your resume.

By his own admission, he has a couple of barriers in place: holding extremely high--um, possibly unrealistic-- standards and not letting people get in too close. I actually got super sad when he told me this because Jack's just one of those guys that I have a real soft spot in my heart for, and I want to see him happy and in love. I mean, if we've learned anything from LOST it is that love is the most important thing in life; it is what connects us all, the only thing worth living or dying for.

Back to the butterflies. I totally agree with Jack that without that special, magical chemistry between two people, that nervous, butterflies-in-the-belly feeling that someone special causes you to feel when you are around him/her, the Love Train just isn't going to leave the station. And it's not something that can be forced, faked, or manufactured. Call it chemistry, call it butterflies, call it crazy- but it is unmistakable. It can happen instantly or it can start as a tiny spark and develop over time, but for me... for Jack... for pretty much anyone with the freedom to choose who they will give their heart to, it just has to be there. Who is to say that something that starts out so magical, so unexpected, cannot grow into the kind of love that lasts a lifetime, the kind that is a verb and outlasts external beauty and internal hurts? Isn't this the kind of love that we long for, even if we fear we will never experience it?

It would be easier in the short-term to brush this off as nonsense and just decide that love like this doesn't really exist, that it's nothing more than lust, but I disagree. I think that is a cop-out, a defense mechanism that We Who Have Been Burned use to keep our wounded hearts safe from future damage. But this wall around our hearts only does us more harm than good, and closes us off to the opportunity for love-- beautiful, ridiculous, stunning love. Two-way street love. Redemptive love. Second-chance love. Rare, yes, maybe. But REAL.

Jack, my friend, please do keep your heart open. And let there be butterflies for us all.

Upon Re-Entry

It's been 3 days since returning from Kenya.

It doesn't matter how many times I go there, coming back is always the hardest part for me. Don't misunderstand; I love my country and am blessed and grateful for the many comforts and conveniences I enjoy here on a daily basis. Being a woman and not treated like property or a second-class citizen (not such a problem for me as a white woman, but definitely felt by black women in Africa-- and many other parts of the world)...having a hot shower, potable water, private above-ground toilet, a comfortable bed (with lots of fluffy pillows!) and clean satin sheets in a private room in my own home... no need for a mosquito net... animals as pets... abundance of food in every variety at a moment's notice... DirecTV, Anaheim Ducks season tickets, internet that is quick and efficient, power that stays on pretty much all the time, my own vehicle and yes even traffic on paved roads with observed traffic laws... so much more! But-

I miss the people. I miss the connection to each other, to God, to community. I miss the smiles and the laughter and the genuine curiosity. I miss dancing in church and I miss being waved at and greeted by total strangers, I miss having a posse of street kids who can't wait to hold my hand and laugh like it's the Best Day Ever, and I miss the freedom of smiling with my whole self and not being looked at like I am crazy for being so happy.

The people of Kenya are models of hospitality. So gracious, so giving, so generous. People who are thoughtful and truly desiring to make you feel at home and welcomed. I feel like a beloved part of the family, like a little white sistah in a huge African family. I wish I could have the same sense of value here. I know that my family cares about me, and loves me in their own quiet way. I also know my friends like my company. And I know that my job matters to someone. (Sure, most days any monkey could probably do what I do, but at least I don't fling my own feces.)

It usually takes me a couple of weeks before I feel "normal" again upon re-entry. I force myself to do the "normal" things and get back on track, back to my hamster-wheel schedule. I actively fight back the tears of loneliness and heartache, I bite my tongue to the point of bleeding in order to withhold judgment and self-righteousness when hearing people complain over the smallest things. I keep my fists to myself instead of unloading on rasicts and selfish pricks/prickettes who feel entitled to cause a fuss over stupid shit. I cry to God and apologize for falling short in so many areas, amazed that his grace and mercy is so far beyond my comprehension.

My biggest prayer is that my heart will not forget the lessons learned, and that I will find the capacity to extend love and compassion and friendliness to the people here... not just to the ones who make it so easy.

Grrrr!

I'm beginning to wonder if I have Anger Management issues. Either that, or a serious case of vigilantism has taken control of me, causing me to think I am much bigger, stronger, and more of a badass than I really am. Whatever the root, it's going to get me in trouble because I cannot seem to keep my mouth shut when I see an injustice or bullying taking place. Don't let the little blondie fool you. Oh yes, I will get up in your face over it.

Bruce Lee movies and hockey aside, I do not like fighting and get very upset by violent encounters in real life. I don't watch wrestling (it's fake anyway) and you will never find me enjoying a cage fight. Ever. But time and time again something Hulk-esque clicks on inside me when I see something blatantly unfair happening, and I will gladly defend you at all costs if I think someone is taking advantage of you or causing you harm.

Just this morning while I was sitting in the waiting room at my health care facility, a bit of crazy broke out right in front of me. It's not like I was asking to get involved. The fight came to me.

The room was pretty packed. People were checking in as their numbers were called, trying to be gracious while maneuvering in the tight spaces. Not a perfect system, but for the most part everybody was cooperative and fairly pleasant. After I had checked in and found an open seat up front, an older women with a slight limp and severely crossed eyes was trying to check in her charge, an elderly woman in a wheelchair. After checking her in, she rolled the woman's chair back and settled into an open space up front. Shortly after moving, another person pushing a wheelchair bound man approached the reception desk from the opposite side of the room. The cross-eyed woman, facing the other direction, did not see these people. Now here's where it started to get weird. The large man seated next to me addressed the first woman and said, "Hey, you need to move that chair." Not in a kind or neighborly way, but in a gruff and grumpy way. OK, he definitely could have been more polite, but it wasn't the worst thing to happen...yet. The cross-eyed woman with the slight limp pushed her charge forward, allowing the other wheelchair to pass behind her and check in, and stood still waiting for a seat to open. Just as I was about to offer her my seat, the grumpy man next to me began to accost her! "Hey!" he said loudly, pushing her on the hip from behind, "Hey! Why don't you sit down over there! You are blocking my view!" Really? She's blocking your view? Of what, the reception desk where you already checked in, dumbass? "Ma'am, you can have my seat," I said as I stood up and moved across to stand along the wall. I hoped this simple gesture would end things and smooth it over. But no. Big Dumbass Loudmouth Man wasn't done.

"Get out of the way! You can't just stand in front of people!" he yelled at her. Why on earth none of the nurses or even other patients said anything at this point is beyond me, but I was not about to let that go. "Hey! Why don't you calm down and leave her alone!" I said. The cross-eyed woman limped over to another empty seat and told Captain Jackass to stop bothering her, but he kept berating her, telling her to "have some common sense." I was appalled! "Calm down dude! Seriously, so unnecessary!" I said, looking him straight in the face. We stared at each other for a good minute, not saying another word. I'm grateful it didn't get more out of hand. I confess that I secretly hoped that whoever was about to draw his blood would miss and have to stick him a couple of times.

While I know that being a defender is a big part of who I am, I do get concerned about this call-to-arms vigilantism as being my default. I want to be a peacemaker first, and a butt-kicker second.

I shouldn't wonder that I don't automatically walk away. It all started back when I was a scrawny kid, getting in fights with the kids around the block who would pick on my brother, a sweet and harmless boy with autism and developmental issues who is just different. He would be out for a bike ride or a walk, big smile, enjoying the sunshine when some bullies went after him for sport. I remember one day he came home shaking and scared and agitated, his bike nowhere to be seen. I got him to take me back to where it happened, about 3 streets over from our cul-de-sac home. When we got there, about 4 big girls and boys were laughing and taking turns on Bobby's bike. "That's my brother's bike. Get off it now!" I shouted, fists clenched, angry eyes on. "Make me!" said the big fat redheaded girl sitting on my brother's bike. My awesome retort? "You're already made, and too dumb to know it!" And that's when it came to blows. I was maybe 8 or 9 at the time, and fearless. I didn't consider that the Big Kids might gang up on me. All I could see was a fat ugly bully in front of me, sitting on my brother's bike, calling him a retard and daring me to do something about it. So I did. I ran at her as fast as I could and pushed her over! "I said, get off that bike, NOW!" She did, and as the other Big Kids laughed at her, i picked up the bike and gave it back to my brother. "Let's go home, Bobby." I was lucky that it went my way, and I was able to stick up for my big brother.

I wish I could say that was my first and last fight, but I would so be lying. There are many, many times when I would love to throw a rock at somebody who was being a big jerk (I have never done it, just a fantasy). I didn't and still don't go looking for trouble, but somehow... it does seem to find me... and i don't back down easily.

I long to be a peacemaker. Clearly, I have a long way to go. Or maybe a career as a masked superhero... No, that usually involves a suit made out of rubber, leather, or spandex. I lack the abs for such attire.

What the Heart Wants

"The heart wants what the heart wants." Yes. It is a line from LOST. (Don't judge me.) Still, it couldn't be more true, could it?

Maybe it's me, maybe it's spring, maybe it's hormones. Maybe it's the warm beautiful weather and longer, lazier days. Maybe it's seeing all of nature pairing off for the annual mating rituals, and humans pairing off with announcement after announcement of impending wedded bliss. All's I know is that this chick is feeling way l.o.n.e.l.y. and craving some human companionship of the male variety. STAT!

And here, of course, is where my conscience or my guardian angel or whatever steps in, smacks me in the head and reminds me that I am reformed of my one-nighters, casual flings, and hastily made, alcohol induced, bad decisions of the male variety-- a.k.a., my 20's. Oh yeah, I'm a Good Girl now. Woo!

I've actually been a practicing Christian now for 15+ years, and believe it or not most of that time has been lived out in total celibacy. For me, it seemed like the right and natural thing to do to give up all the really wild stuff and try to live a more simple, clean life. I still know how to have a good time and enjoy my life, it's just that now I much prefer to find deeper joy and meaning outside of non-marital sex. Of course I am human and far from perfect, and even made a pretty significant judgement error that wasted a good year of my life on broken promises and guilt-fests. (Hangs head in shame) Lame. But, I digress. What does my heart actually want?

It wants to give love and receive it. It wants to beat a little faster at the sound of your voice, at hearing your special ring tone on my cell phone, at reading your sweet and silly text messages. It wants to take an adventure with you, and it wants to share mundane tasks in comfort with you. It wants to have a beer or a bottle of wine with you. It wants to spoon and fall asleep beside you, and wake up with you the next morning. And the morning after that. It wants to watch movies, and hockey, and the Jon Stewart show with you. It wants to kiss and make up. It wants to doodle your name absent-mindedly during an important meeting and blush when someone seated next to me steals a glance at my notebook. Hey, eyes on your own paper! It wants to discover the perfect little hole-in-the-wall restaurant with you. It wants to laugh and cry and shout and dance and whisper. It wants to make plans with you and it wants to look back on fond memories with you. And it wants so much more than to compromise and settle for something quick and easy with someone who won't even remember my name next week.

OK, Conscience, fine, you win. You win! I'm going to stop goofing around now and playing with those temptations that never leave me satisfied. Love really is worth waiting for, and that, after all, is what my heart wants.

Cyber Dating Awards, Part 2

At last, at last! The Cyber Dating Awards ("Cybees") are here! A time to recognize the truly depressing depths to which my love life has sunk... nay, to Celebrate the Madness! And just like a real awards show, it is a little too long and painful (THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID! Sorry, addicted to The Office.) True, plenty of people have found what they are looking for through the many Popular Matchmaking Websites, and in my short time participating in the forum I have met some truly interesting people. Well, "met" is a relative term. Given the overwhelming amount of remarkably bad matches offered to me, I am really taking my time to sift and weigh the very few actual possibilities presented.

I mean, I understand that the sites "match" people based on a few very general tags in their profiles, and the rest is up to us... kinda like real life... but the bad matches are just so far off, I have to assume that the only criteria is that we each have a pulse. Judging by some of the profiles, even that much is questionable. Still...

(Me, clapping my hands together in rapid succession) So Excited! Ladies and Gentlemen, without further ado, it's time to award the winners!

For these first 3 categories, I cannot post their actual photos, for fear that they may hunt me down and shank me!

Creepiest Photo: "Serial Killer Chic" Dear Online Dating Dudes: Please groom before taking a photo of yourself and posting it in the hopes of attracting females. We scare easily.

Creepiest Photo: "Gang-banger/Thug life" Dear Online Matchmaking Site: Look at me! I'm a nice, tiny blonde lady who does not have a criminal record. Does this really look like a match to you?

Creepiest Photo: "Most Naked in a Creepy Way" Dear Online Dating Dudes: Thank you for wanting to show me your body. Would prefer not to see the cropped off portion of your previous girlfriend next to you in bed.

This next category is fun! See, although I am typically most comfortable dating younger men, I am totally open to dating men of my own age or even a little bit older- like 5 years. Age may be just a number, but my stated preference on profile is 35-50. And here are the winners for...

Most Significant Age Difference: "Over" 62!! >"Under" 19!! and "Switcheroo" stated age as 50, but confessed to 56!! (after writing about how much he values honesty- anyone else see the irony here? Bueller?)

A few Honorable Mentions...

Least Compatible: "Marital Status" MARRIED! Um, yeah.
Least Compatible: "Geographically Undesirable" CHINA! Really?
Least Compatible: "Religious Differences" ATHEIST! It's your business, but I love God so this just won't work.
Least Compatible: "Miscellaneous" "INTENSELY PASSIONATE" MAGICIAN! Runner Up: "EXPLORING MY FEMININE SIDE WITH WOMEN'S CLOTHES!" Oh God, where do I begin? I'm just going to move into a fetal position now and cry.

This next category is Extra Special. I'm just going to go ahead and post their photos because these guys truly suck. Consider it my Public Service Announcement. If you see them, or a lady friend of yours gets caught up with one of them, warn her immediately.

Total Jackass: "The Imposter" The Nigerian Money Scammer!
Profile Pic-- (top screen)see that super-handsome guy who looks like a model?
Actual Pic-- (second from top)this is his actual photo found on fraud website!!!

Total Jackass: "The Belligerent Bully" The Guy Who Made Me Cry!
(third one down)Stupid sunglasses should have tipped me off--


Total Jackass: "The Sleazy Sexual Harasser" The Scary IM Guy!
(last photo) Eww, eww, ewwwwww... cannot repeat what was said... need to bathe myself in Lysol-


And finally, I would like to wrap things up with the Most Hopeful Awards. I am genuinely excited about the final awards because they represent the best of what the whole dating thing has to offer, online or otherwise. Hope. People were created and put on this beautiful planet to love and care for one another, through friendships, families, and soul-touching love. It's just something I believe we are all hardwired for, and hope against all odds to find. Right now there are some nice friendships forming, and a couple of promising possibilities developing. I am looking forward to meeting soon to see if there is a spark that flies beyond nice pics and the written word. If one of these matches pans out, I will have found gold. I don't want to jinx it so that's all the info I'm sharing at this point. Wish me luck...

The Cyber Dating Awards, Part 1

Maybe it's just that I'm nostalgic for the recently ended awards season...

So after this weekend's ups and downs in the Wonderful World of Online Dating, I've decided to create special categories for the interesting matches that have been selected for me and/or have hit me up online. I figured that the best option is just to laugh at the absurdity of it all, rather than throw in the proverbial towel and resign myself to a small and bitter life... or worse, devolve into another Crazy Cat Lady.

I will be recognizing awardees in the following categories:

Creepiest Photo: "Serial Killer Chic"
Creepiest Photo: "Gang-banger/Thug life"
Creepiest Photo: "Most Naked in a Creepy Way"

Most Significant Age Difference: Over, Under, and Switcheroo

Total Jackass: "The Imposter"
Total Jackass: "The Belligerent Bully"
Total Jackass: "The Sleazy Sexual Harasser"

Least Compatible: "Marital Status"
Least Compatible: "Geographically Undesirable"
Least Compatible: "Religious Differences"
Least Compatible: "Miscellaneous"

And finally, I would like to wrap things up with the Most Hopeful Awards... because I like to end things on a positive note whenever possible. I'm just a big softie, after all, and I really am hopeful. I'm sure that in the gigantic cyber-haystack of creeps, crazies, and can-you-please-give-me-a-friggin'-break, there are some amazingly sharp (ooh! subtle needle reference!) candidates for finding love and long-lasting friendship. Stay tuned for Part Two!

Confessions of a Potty Mouth

Swearing. Curse Words. Foul Language. #@%@##*&!!

In attempting to exercise self-control, I think this may be the biggest hurdle I've ever tried to clear.

Ever since I was a little girl, I can remember the power of the Dirty Word. Whenever I found myself at odds with a neighborhood bully or about to get pounded by a school-yard foe, I used my greatest weapon: Potty Mouth. Weilded at the precise moment, I could leave my opponent stunned and speechless- leaving me just enough of a break to throw a punch or turn and run. Pretty heady stuff for a six-year-old!

As a kid, my selection was not too varied. I only used the few that I heard from Pops when he lost his temper over something: Hell, Dammit, and if he was REALLY peeved, G-D DAMN IT!!! That one scared the shyte out of me, coming from the thundering voice of his 6'2" frame. Let me just be clear, he rarely lost his temper with me, or my brother, or even my Mom. He never threw stuff around, he wasn't abusive- verbally or otherwise- and I can only remember a few times EVER that I got spanked by him. He is very even-keel, and not a big communicator- but when he gets upset about something, eesh. Scary. OK, back to me.

As I quickly came to realize, nice little girls do not use foul language. Ever. Much less do classy, smart, beautiful Christian women, especially if they actually do love linguistics and can turn a phrase quite nicely without the use of expletives. So what was I to do? Give up cursing? Use pseudo-swearing? Go f-ing insane??

Turns out, I actually like to let fly a little foul language when the mood or occasion merits it. I'm comfortable with detonating a well-timed f-bomb, or tossing in some blue words for shock value. And let's be honest, driving in So Cali pretty much begs for it now and again.

What I am very conscious of, however, is the company I keep. I mind my mouth when it's appropriate, and hold my tongue rather than offend someone with my words whenever possible. There's really no excuse not to. So please, if we are ever hanging out and enjoying a few beers at the pub, or if we are at the hockey game and my team is getting stomped or the ref makes a REALLY BAD CALL, or if you are in the passenger seat when Super Jerk rides our ass then proceeds to speed around and cut us off in traffic... be prepared for the ugly that may fly from my pretty little mouth. If it offends you, tell me, and I will apologize. I will even make an effort not to unload around you.

So, I will keep trying to find a comfortable balance with my choice of words, and moderate my foul language outbursts as best I can. Peace and Blessings, and Have a Nice F-ing Day. :)

Getting the Last Word

Getting the last word can be many things, but my favorite is when getting the last word is EMPOWERING. Take, for example, my last encounter with Mr. T. (The Nigerian money scammer, not the A-Team icon. Still, I pity the fool...)

After the humiliation of discovering Mr. T was only interested in my money and couldn't care less about me, I will admit that my pride was stung. I was irritated with myself for getting caught up in the hope of a finding a real Hottie, who turned out to be a total NOTtie. I was embarassed for sharing my excitement with friends, knowing that now I would have to look like a loser. Again. Then I began to think about how many other people he must have scammed, and how many went along with giving him money. How many lost their money, their heart, their dignity. And the more I thought about it, the angrier I grew... Hulk style... and I wanted revenge.

So I did something a little crazy: I called him.

I didn't say a single word, just listened to him repeat "hello? hello?" over and over again. Surprise! No Russian accent this time. Instead, the bustling sounds of a cyber cafe filled the background, and Mr. T called out "Hello? Hello? Are you there? Hello?"

Moments after hanging up, my phone was peppered with his text messages: 5:41 MR. T: "Hello" 5:42 "are u there talk to me" 5:44 "u tried to call me now" 5:44 "say something to me please" 5:44 "talk to me" 5:53 "are u there" I won't lie, I enjoyed watching him squirm a bit. And then, my disgust boiled over. ME: "How can you live with yourself?" MR. T.: "what do u mean?" "please call me now lets talk on the phone" And then, I had my final say on the matter. ME: "It's bad enough that you and your partners steal from people for a living, but it's despicable that you prey on people with broken hearts." MR. T: "ohh how do u mean" "im not into that ok"

So, technically, I didn't have the last word with Mr. T... but I did have my final say in the matter, and felt empowered in having said it. I imagined that I was choosing to be one small voice for the voiceless, and I was proud of myself in that tiny moment.

Afterwards, I did something a little crazy: I prayed.

I prayed for the crook, hoping that maybe- just maybe- he would think... even for a moment... about what kind of life he had chosen for himself. I prayed, hoping that he might actually put a face on the faceless that he had robbed. I prayed, hoping that he would make a choice to be a better man. I prayed, hoping that through the process, I would not become bitter, I would not lose faith, and I would not give up on finding someone amazing to love again. Crazy? Maybe. :)

LET'S GO DUCKS!!!

Oh, Ducks- why must you break my heart? Do you not realize how much I enjoy watching you skate hard for the full 60, how deep a thrill you give me when you are on the ice? Delivering hits? Showing up with your Defense, holding up the blue line, throwing everything at your opponents' goal, crashing the net, and sounding the horn?

The last three losses coming back from the Olympic break have hurt, but today's loss... you actually made me cry. Giving up a 3-0 lead and going down 4-3 in the shootout just brought me to tears.

Come on boys, I know that you know that you cannot afford to let any more games slip away as you are making your playoff run. And I know that you have the individuals AND the teamwork to get the job done. So... time to rally, Gentlemen. I am not giving up on you! LET'S GO DUCKS!!! <3

Taking Back My Body

10 lbs to go to reach my weight-loss goal.

It's been a long process, slow going and sometimes very frustrating- but totally worth it. Over the course of 3 years, I have now lost and kept off more than 50 lbs of excess weight with very little fluctuation.

I am stronger, leaner, and more curvy in all the right places. I look forward to and enjoy working out because it's actually fun... Zumba, Yoga, and Spinning are the three that I can do year-round, and I add Water Aerobics in the summer. I want to try a couple of different dance classes and get back into tennis, too. I am also getting really close to buying a bicycle to get out and take advantage of all the great trails in So Cali.

The theme for this year, my motivational mantra, has been Taking Back My Body. When I started this whole weight-loss journey three years ago, I was having to buy new clothes in the largest size I'd ever worn. Standing in front of that dressing room mirror, bathed in the most unattractive lighting possible, I confronted my image. Beneath the layers of protective fat, hiding myself from the world of hurtful people and overwhelming circumstances, was the girl I used to know: sweet, caring, happy and fun-loving. I decided then and there that is was time for a rescue mission- I was going to start taking back my body. I wanted to care again.

I started by joining Weight Watchers and going to meetings. I learned some tools for making healthier choices, and began to set small goals for myself. I thrive on praise and positive attention, so instead of fighting that I learned how to use it in a way that benefits me. Slowly but surely, the pounds started to drop off and my self esteem began to rise proportionately. Within that first year, I had shed more than 20 lbs and 2 sizes. By the second year, another 30 pounds were gone and I had dropped another 3 sizes. Starting at the beginning of this year, I was looking at just 20 more lbs to reach my goal. 3 months in, I've lost 10 of the 20 lbs. I can see the finish line, but my weight loss has seemed to plateau.

I need to figure out what adjustments to make in order to meet my goal.

Sucker Punch to the Heart

Hello, Universe? It's me. Um, WTF?!? Am I just NOT EVER supposed to meet a nice, normal, attractive unmarried guy? Because if that's the case, I'm OK with it but would just like to know so I can stop making a complete ass of myself.

Scene: Two weeks ago, online, and getting hit on by a super-attractive guy (according to his profile picture, at least)whom we shall call 'Mr. T'. He seems genuinely interested in getting to know me, and we exchange email addresses in order to communicate/chat outside of the Popular Matchmaking Website. I'm not a complete idiot, so I do give a rarely-used email and don't give any of my personal info beyond first name. We spend some time chatting online, and proceed to chat daily. T writes me poetic, romantic emails. He asks if he can send me flowers (still not a total idiot, I don't give my home address but do give my office address). He sends additional photos upon my request, and they are smokin' hot. T types with an accent. A sexy, Russian accent, as it turns out. He gives me his phone number, and I get to hear the voice... definitely sexy phone voice, but sweet, not creepy. He is out of the country for a couple of weeks working on an international development project. Did I mention that he is starting to ring all my bells? Things are looking up, and I am cautiously optimistic and looking forward to meeting Mr. T. in a few days time.

Fast forward to Thursday: In the course of our morning chat, Mr. T informs me that his son is about to have his 16th birthday, but sadly he won't be home from his trip on his actual birthday. He is sad, because he and his son are very close (so I'm told). Aw, that is sweet! Model-good-looks, works with his hands, and cares for his son. And then the first big red flag flies up... Mr. T wants me to buy his son a birthday present! Um, we haven't even met in person yet. 'Wouldn't that be kinda weird?' I write. 'No my love, he will love you for doing this!' responds Mr. T. 'I don't know,' I stall. 'I don't know anything about him.' 'He likes video games, and wants a PSP.' Really? You want someone you've never met to buy your son a PSP? I'm starting to smell a rat. 'I need to get back to work now, break is over.'

Friday AM: Text msg on my cell #1 Good morning sweetie! how are today my love? I cannot stop thinking of you my angel. Text msg #2 Are you there? Talk to me my love. #3 What about birthday gift for (son's name)? I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt, because dating in the middle ages (we're both mid-40's) is tricky and even more challenging when you have a teenaged child living with you who you are trying to appease. Still, I do not reply to any of the messages and am becoming increasingly annoyed with the pressure to buy a birthday gift for a kid I haven't met and am not even sure actually exists.

Friday PM: Chatting online, no mention of gifts. Mr. T is happy that I am online and wants to tell me how much he misses me, can't wait to see me and hold me in his arms.

Saturday AM: Awake to several good morning text msgs from Mr. T. After coming home from an intense spin session, I am fired up and feeling strong! I decide to hop online (just so you know, I am NOT online all the time and actually do have a life away from the computer) with Mr. T. 'Hey how are you? Did you have a good day?' 'No,' he writes, 'it was a very bad day, my son is in hospital with Malaria Fever!' 'WHAT?' I write, 'You mean he is out of the country with you now?' 'Yes, he is with me my love.' Hm, I smell a rat again. Didn't he tell me he was so sad that he was going to miss his son's birthday? I can barely see through the sea of red flags popping up. 'I need your assistance, my love. I am broke and cannot pay the hospital bill. Will you loan me some money?'

Hello, Universe? WTF?!!?

At that very moment, I was angry and embarassed. At that very moment, Mr. T went from being a fun, interesting, potential new hope for love to being every jerk, jackass, and lying mutha f@#$er I have ever had the misfortune of knowing. As I had deep down feared, he was too good to be true. He was just another scammer looking to prey on a hopeful heart and exploit it. He was another petty con man. And I was not going to be his next mark. I was pissed!

'NO' was my response, seething with those two little keystrokes. 'Alright, babe' wrote Mr. T. At that point, I could have just signed off, but I was still pretty upset. Before I knew it, I was typing furiously. 'And shame on you for trying to pull this fraud on me! I was stupid to believe that you might be for real. Do NOT contact me ever again. Goodbye, faker.'

He protested that he had made a mistake, and he was sorry for asking my help, and that he really has deep feelings for me, blah blah blah whatever. I sat watching his IM's pop up, trying to draw me back in. 'You know what? I don't believe you. Leave me alone you big liar!' The words flew onto the screen as I hammered out my humiliation before logging off. Several text msgs followed from Mr. T, but I refused to reply. I felt my heart turn cold and my eyes turn hot with tears. I felt like a damn fool.

And yes, I may be a fool. But one thing I will never be is a person who gives up on love. I have a lot of it in my life right now, and even if the universe is against me having another intimate relationship, that's OK. I do know that for every jerk, jackass, and con man out there breaking hearts there is a good, decent, attractive man living right. And maybe, just maybe, we will find each other.

Dating vs. Boredom

Is being bored a valid excuse to start dating again? I mean, is it OK for a single woman of a certain age (I prefer "timeless") who is reasonably well-adjusted, comfortable and old enough to know better but young enough not to care to throw caution to the wind and open the door to romance? I say Yes.

I have been single, or rather, unmarried, for my entire life. I'm not a man-hater, in fact I quite enjoy the company of men... it's just that I haven't figured out how to fall in love with the right man at the right time. Long term relationships? Check. Short term relationships? Check. Parenting, check. Drama, check. Wild, hot, passionate, please-let-me-forget-this-ever-happened, do-not-try-to-call-this-a-relationship? Uh, check please! Honestly, I have had a lot of fun and a lot of heartache in the love department, and have all but convinced myself that I am DONE with dating, mating, and whatever-ing for the rest of time.

But every so often, I find myself feeling... lonely? No, not quite that. Empty? Not really, I am quite content. And then I realize that, while I shouldn't be, I Am Bored. Just plain bored! I work, I socialize, I work out, I volunteer, I attend church, I have a family and friends and pets and hobbies... but still I just feel utterly, inexplicably bored. WTF?!?

So I decided that instead of complaining or over-analyzing it, the time had come to take the situation at hand and find someone new, fun, intelligent, attractive, attentive, and available to expand my horizons and rediscover life through fresh eyes. I created a profile and signed up for 1 month on a Popular Matchmaking Website.

This isn't mercenary, and while some form of boredom may serve as the catalyst, I am truly hoping to find something more than a pal or playmate. I am not interested in temporary relief with a hookup. I do actually have a lot to offer the right man at the right time, and am finally open to the idea of giving my heart to someone again. At the very least, I will meet some new people and learn something valuable.

The matches have been pretty uninspired, even dismal (I'm sure they're all nice people) for the most part, until two weeks ago... HELLO!!! Could this guy even exist outside a fantasy? I, for one, intend to find out. Who knows, maybe I will even fall in love. At least it will make for a good story.