Clichés and the primitive desire to be liked

One of the hardest lessons you will learn in life is that no matter how hard you try, some people just won't like you. And honestly, what is our obsession with being liked, anyway?

This post will be full of clichés, I'm sure, so please, forgive me. Or don't. I don't particularly give a fuck a the moment.

Meeting someone for the first time and getting off on the wrong foot, or just giving the wrong impression, can figuratively kill any chance of developing a well rounded, healthy relationship. It doesn't matter how hard you try, later on, to convince the person that they have you pegged wrong, they will only see what they want. If they don't want to change their opinion of you, they won't, no matter how hard you try.

I am one of those people who never seems to learn from their past. Over and over again, I have been shown that if someone doesn't like you, short of an act of God, they will not change their mind. History does not repeat itself, it rhymes. When will I learn? Who fucking knows. I certainly haven't learned my lesson yet. I don't know if I ever will, or ever understand how being nice can be twisted and manipulated into something other than being nice.

It's a perversion really, to take something as pure as being nice, for the sake of being nice, and twisting it into something dark and devious. I believe that doing something like that is more of a reflection of the other person than it is of me. It's sad really, to have the belief that there is an ulterior motive.

The loose definition of insanity is trying the same thing many times and expecting a different result. I guess the point I'm trying to make is, I'm insane. I am nice for the sake of being nice, but it won't last forever. I'm getting to my stopping point, I'm getting sick of the games.

Take me as I am, or leave me. It's as simple as that.

Wanting to be liked is normal and a natural state of human existence. It's as if that one little piece of the kid left inside you, wanting to be liked, is refusing to grow up and become jaded by the reality that is people. It's a primitive survival instinct. Could you imagine, as hunters and gatherers, if the pack decided they didn't like you anymore? Your chances of surviving on your own were pretty much non-existent. Wanting to be liked is one of those things that never evolved as we did. Society and interpersonal relations change so fast than our emotions are unable to keep up.

I feel the need to ask myself some rhetorical questions: why do we care so much about other people liking us? Why do we try so hard in seeking their approval? Why, after being shown time and again that our efforts have no effect, do we continue to try? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with us? 

It's nice to imagine that one person you want to like you so desperately, changing their mind. It's not a pipe dream. It's happened to me, once, and maybe that's my problem. Like fucking snowflakes, no two relationships are the same. One cannot be compared to the other. The history, the problems, the dynamic, and the people involved are all different. 

Perhaps it's time to suck-it-the-fuck-up, put my big girl panties on, and get over the fact that not everyone is going to like me, no matter how nice I happen to think I am. Even as an adult, I still struggle with this and I believe I will continue to, at least for a little bit longer. One thing I have noticed, gradually changing in me is my ability to not care. I hope it continues to grow, because I don't think my skin is quite thick enough yet.

Destiny...?

I am a firm believer in the saying that everything happens for a reason. I also believe that God doesn't give me more than I can handle. While it can be frustrating, the amount of trust he puts in me and my abilities is flattering. 

I have just finished my first semester of my paralegal certificate. It went really well and I learned so much. Being the overconfident, cocky bitch that I am, I decided that I knew enough to get a paralegal position and decided to apply for one that had just opened. As luck, or providence, would have it, within three days of applying, I got an interview; within a week of my interview I was offered the job. And it's not with any regular law firm. It's for the Attorney General. The Attorney General! Let that sink in a little bit. I am still in shock I got the job, but I am so incredibly humbled. I will be doing what I am going to school for (yes, I will continue going to school till I get my certificate) and I will be helping children. It was pure dumb luck that I found the job and never in a million years did I think I would actually get an interview. 

I am blessed beyond words and my husband is incredibly supportive and excited for me. 

Now we can move forward and buy a house; one step closer to starting our family. 

Three months since my last post

Forgive me readers, for I have been lazy. It's been three months since my last post.

Okay, not entirely lazy, but really busy. In January I went back to school. I am taking two classes in paralegal studies and they should have been one-night-a-week cake walks. My professor decided after week two to go back to working at a law firm and drop all but two of his classes. Wanna guess which two he kept? Neither of the ones I was in, so, it doesn't really matter. I'm still a little bitter. The professors the college replaced him with take up so much more of my time, it's hard not to be. Brandon complains that I'm always busy. My body is always complaining that it wants a nap. My brain is having just a little too much fun with all crap I have to do. The bright side is that I am doing really well in my classes. Go me!

Work is getting better. They are playing musical chairs with us at the moment: laying some people off, shuffling others around; but I get to keep my job, for now, and I am being given a lot more responsibility. I am really loving the challenge that it is presenting and if I get the opportunity to move up (salary position) I will take it. I love challenging myself and seeing how far I can go before it's time to find something more challenging. Side note: A perfect example of this was when I started line dancing; I learned so many dances that I had to keep a list in my phone just to remember which ones I knew. When I learned all the ones I wanted to know, I got kind of bored because there was no longer a challenge. Well, now that I no longer live near a country bar (my favorite one is 359 miles away), there is a challenge to learn the new dances when I actually do go. Wow, that was a long side note. Sorry guys.

Moving right along to: fitness. I try to go to the gym (zumba!) three days a week and ballet one day a week. I cannot get enough zumba in my life. The instructor is awesome, always has high energy. The classes last an hour and I want to give up after the first fifteen minutes. One night a week, the class goes for two hours. Now, I have gone three times and I have never made it the full two hours. I say "fuck it" after 90 minutes and throw in the towel. Actually, it's more like a grunt at that point and I walk out of class. Ballet is awesome, but I haven't been able to go in the last few weeks. That makes me sad because I love the way it makes me feel, but I do have my own ballet barre so if I ever got really depressed about it I could just practice in my living room.

Now on to current events:

On Friday, I was diagnosed with keratitis. I'm sure you're all thinking "WTF is that?". Props to any optometrists reading this who know what I'm talking about. For all the people who have no idea what that is, like me when I was told, I will give a quick run down of my particular situation. I have ulcers on my eyeballs. See, quick. Sometimes it feels like granules of sand under my lids but more the most part I am just extremely sensitive to light; it will take at least two weeks to heal. The sensitivity started on Thursday and I probably would have ignored it except that I couldn't keep my eyes open, or from watering, while driving; extremely dangerous. This weekend I was supposed to drive to California (five hour drive for me) and go with my bride friend and fellow bridesmaids and bridesman to Santa Barbara for her bachelorette party. The following day, today, I was supposed to be at another friend's wedding, whom I have known for 12 years. I could not drive, so I was unable to go. I normally do not throw myself pity parties, but today I did. I am beyond heartbroken that I missed out on two good friends' important life-events. They have been so understanding, but it doesn't make the anger and hurt I feel toward myself any less.

Enough with the depressing stuff. I can only wallow in my own sadness and self-loathing for so long before I tire of it.

Thanks for reading, till next time!

'Tis the season

The Hubby and I are in California this week for Christmas. We have bounced back and forth between my mom's house and his parents' house like a damn pinball. I miss our families so, so much, but I do not miss the lack of privacy and I do not miss sleeping in a twin bed. I really like our queen size back at home, thank you very much.

While we are no Griswold family, we are a "jolly bunch of assholes" and there are always those cliched family holiday moments to chew over and savor. My favorite was being asked when my family can expect a baby from us. First, let me just say that I always want to laugh when I get asked this question. Second, Brandon and I are no where near ready to have babies; we don't want the responsibility and we don't have the money. Third, we want to be by ourselves for a few years and I am going back to school to get an AA in Paralegal Studies (I have a BA in History, but I can't do much with it in BFE, Arizona). Who wants to take care of a baby while trying to take college classes? In addition to every thing else? Not me.

Anyway, I digress. This Christmas has been one of the best of my life. I whole heartily believe it is in large part because of my husband. Spending our first married Christmas together has been a delight; I can't remember the last time I was so excited for this holiday. I even had my own tree to decorate and that was such a fun experience (and I'm sure I will loath taking it all down because... I'm really fucking lazy). Now that it's almost over, I can't wait for it to be done. This shit is exhausting! How do our parents do it? I need nap.

Merry Christmas!

Adulthood.

I lived with my mom till I was twenty-six years old. It. Was. Awesome. Why did I move out? Because I got hitched and my honey's job was in a different state.

Flash forward eight months. I am a bigger baby now then when my mom cooked me dinner every night. Being an "adult" is fucking hard. It's one of those situations (more like a permanent state of being) that you never thought would be as hard as it is; like college without the permanence.

I love, love, love being married, but now that I am here, I'm finding that I am grossly under qualified for my new-ish role. Lucky for me, my husband is disgustingly understanding of my wifely shortcomings. More about him later.

I am slowly filling in the gaps and cultivating news skills. Moving away from home was more difficult than I ever thought it would be, and though I've had multiple mini meltdowns, I am beginning to figure out what kind of adult I want to be.

So, here goes nothing. Adulthood, here I come.