The Last Fifteen Minutes of My Day

Living on the third floor of my apartment building was a horrible decision that I tend to hate myself daily for making. Since I hate to take more than one trip from car to front door, I load myself up with everything I need to take in with me and slowly, and painfully, hike up the three sets of cement stairs. Tonight seemed exceedingly painful because yesterday I waited tables for ten hours straight due to the Mother's Day rush, and today I worked my day job then returned to the restaurant for another severing shift. My feet just seem to be constantly sore. I actually don't remember the last day they didn't hurt. Regardless, I had to get upstairs loaded down with a bag of work clothes, my purse, leftover food from the restaurant, a Walgreens bag of shampoo and tampons, cell phone and keys. The very sweet rose that a "friend" left on my windshield was held by my teeth since that was literally the last option. Once I turned to start walking up the third and final set of stairs, I feel my body deciding that if I just stopped there and called it a night...it would be cool with that. I guess the outdoor landing between the floors might have been cold but apparently still an acceptable option for bed tonight. Maybe I could use the cardigan from my work outfit as a blanket and the bag as a pillow. I would have a late night snack and tampons (just in case).
Luckily I fought the urge to give up and pushed through the last set of stairs. After I coordinated the, always awkward, fumble to still hold the contents in my arms AND unlock the door, I literally dropped everything just past the entryway. The entryway is where everything ends up. It reminded me of what my mother used to do growing up. She would create a pile of things next to the top of the stairs of things that needed to go downstairs and eentually it would all get down there. It was almost like an assembly line. Car to entryway, sits at entryway for a few days, eventually gets properly put away. It's a slow process, but effective.
As I was busing my last table tonight, I dropped a ramekin of ketchup. If you have ever waited tables in an establishment that has hardwood floors, you know what happens when you drop a full ramekin. It doesn't just drop and spill on the floor, it bounces and flings its contents with every impact with the ground. Luckily, this time there were no guests left in the restaurant. The last time I dropped a full ramekin, we had to buy the food for three tables because BBQ sauce ended up on at least 6 people. Tonight though, the floor, wall, table and me, from forehead to toe, were its only victims. So after dropping everything at the entryway, getting this gross uniform off and washing my face and bangs were top priority.
Finally, the day came to an end and I was allowed to crawl back into my, not-so-comfortable bed with extremely flat and unsupportive pillows, and try to turn off the"To Do" list that seems to run in a loop in my head. I turned on my Eric Hutchinson Pandora station and pulled the sheets over my head. I'm in my quiet, safe and peaceful place. In an attempt to relax, I ran through my tried-and-true-tricks-to-help-Bobbe-sleep arsenal. First, I mentally walk myself through a meditation exercise I learned when I took a music therapy workshop in college. It's usually more effective when someone else is leading the exercise but I still try it. Essentially, you start from your toes and tell yourself to focus on relaxing your toes specifically. Next your ankles, calf  muscles, knees, thighs and so on up your body all the way up to your forehead. It helps a little, but I tend to go through the process too quickly and it has never been as relaxing as when the instructor lead us eleven years ago.
During that "meditation," I also tend to sigh a lot. My friends make fun of me for this because I do it anytime I'm trying to relax, whether it's in the back seat during a road trip, or on the beach stretched out on a towel tanning. Something about taking deep breaths and slowing releasing the air forces me to slow down and only concentrate on my breathing, which helps to drown out the irritating loop in my head. Finally my last get-the-fuck-to-sleep trick is rocking myself. That sounds ridiculous actually, and is probably more accurately described as wiggling my butt in an effort to simulate being rocked. I'm on my side when I do this and generally keep it up until the effort of wiggling exhausts me and I fall asleep. I'm not going to overthink how needing to be rocked could be the topic of a couch session with a therapist and just breeze past it because all that matters is that I GET to sleep; not the crazy process I have to take to get there. Mission accomplished.

A Bunch of What Makes Me, ME!

When a man says he will call and doesn't, I'll always want to think it's no big deal, but will really know that if he can forget to call, then I am forgettable.

I will always carefully craft my criticisms towards those I love to be gentle and nonthreatening, even if they don't take the same care for me.

Even if I am not dating anyone on Valentine's Day, I will always hope for flowers and a note from a secret admirer.

No matter how interesting and compelling I think I am, I will always be jealous when a man I like, pays attention to a skinner woman.

Hallmark commercials with returning soldiers around Christmas time will always make me cry.

Nothing makes me feel more safe than the embrace of a strong man.

Every time I walk to my car  I will always secretly hope there is a note left on my windshield.

It will always be slightly hard for me to relate to people that don't drink.

I will continue to be friends with people that I know in my heart don't need my friendship just in case one day they do. 

I will always hope that Karma is real.

The song "Movin' On" by Rascal Flatts will always remind me of how I felt when I moved to Tennessee.

Sniffling, slurping and snoring will always have the potential to send me into a fit of rage. 

Sunflowers will always be the way to my heart....and Jack Russell puppies. 

I will never understand how my father could walk away from his three girls and I pray everyday my children will never know what that feels like.

People that call themselves Adele fans but only jumped on the bandwagon after "21" went platinum pretty much piss me off.

I will always believe in my soul mate.

I will always want fries as my side item though I hope to have the strength to ask for broccoli. 

There will always be parts of me that I am ashamed of and pray to still be loved for.

Nothing makes me feel better than making someone else's day.

I will always be more attracted to a man who is a sarcastic asshole to the world but a sensitive romantic to his lover

It will always be easier for me to stand up for others than myself.

I will always seek my sisters' approval no matter how old I get.

I will always underline the perfect words on a birthday card that reflect my true feelings before mailing it.

When I hear a song I really like, I will always look back in my relationship history for the guy who most fits that song. 

I will always be a bad speller and use horrible punctuation.

A strong man who is happy to do everything for me but knows I can do it myself is a gift from God. 

I will always be a teacher and a musician at heart and hope to return to them both one day.

During the week of my birthday, I walk into every room secretly hoping it's a huge surprise party.

I will always have short stubby nails (unless they are fake).

I have always worried that my fear of settling will turn into me never choosing at all.

Emotional Arrhythmia

I’m sure everyone has a little voice in their head that is the voice of reason. The one that advises you through situations, trying to help you avoid regrettable decisions. It reminds you that you aren’t desperate enough to chase after a man who just isn't that into you, or selfish enough to spread a friend’s secret. Essentially, it’s the good person in us. The honorable, goal oriented, selfless confidant version of US we all strive to be but have managed to drown out enough times to get us into trouble. As much as I try, some days are a struggle to stay on track and not get derailed by loneliness.

Recently I think my inner “good person” has started to have an erratic heart beat. One day I feel like she consumes me and her intense drive is the perfect compass directing me to the best decisions. Then there are other days when she lays flat, barely moving, allowing me to say or do things without considering the consequences. Is it normal to be a good person 70% of the time and then the other 30% be lazy, dramatic and generally unpleasant?

My "good person" voice is background noise I can easily ignore if I really want to.  I keep myself as busy as possible to hold me over from one week to the next and even though I’m on the course I want to be on….it’s lonely out here. I spend a lot of my free time with my server friends, and if you know anything about the life of a full time server, you know that they stay up late and drink a lot. They flirt with each other constantly and spend a lot of time complaining about guests. I am not a full time server. I actually have to be in the office by 8:30 am during the week, so I really should not even try to hang with these young servers, but I do....a lot actually.  I think I spend so much time with them to avoid being alone. Most of them are single and are still searching for their place in life. In that respect, we have a lot in common, but our life experience is so different. I really should be passed this point in my life. I've already been through the server years of going out all the time and flirting with anyone who gave me the time of day. Emotionally and mentally I'm in the same frame of mind as my best friends; ready to start the next chapter of my life...the grown up one.

I am very lucky to have a number of very close girl friends, but as I see their lives coming together, it makes it more painful to look around and realize how much I don't have. As they are planning weddings and staying up all night with infants, I can't help but be slightly jealous. I am older than most of my friends, but so behind them when it comes to starting a family. Don't get me wrong, I am beyond happy for all of the gifts I have in my life, just ready to be at the point where my friends are...or at least a little closer.

Recently, a bunch of my girl friends and I stayed out in the middle of no where to spend some relaxing quality time together. The first night of the weekend, we were sitting around the big table drinking our drinks of choice and discussing weddings and babies. Most of the girls present were either married, engaged or in a long term relationship heading straight for the alter. Of these six girls, one is pregnant, three hope to be in 2012 and the other two plan to be pregnant after their inevitable walk to the alter. They were all discussing how they want to be pregnant at the same time and essentially dividing up into teams. Baby baring teams. That is when I got up and brought my big Bota Box of Malbec to the table to make constant refilling easier. I was not assigned to a baby baring team because you need a freaking boyfriend to even begin to play this make-believe, white picketed fence, long term fairy tale planning game. So...I sat there drinking my wine like it was Gatorade after 10k. I tried so hard to giggle and seem interested, maybe even appear amused by their conversation, but I found myself going to a dark, condescending and snarky place.

Jealousy can lead you down a very bitter and lonely road that I know can be a path if I'm not careful. I remember asking my sister once if I was a selfish hooker for being jealous of my friends, and her response was classic. She said, "of course you're being selfish. If you weren't I'd know we weren't really sisters and that joke we told you about the milk man would have been true." Luckily, that inner "good person" voice eventually kicked in and I found away to stop being a Sourpuss Sally. I joined in the conversation, because the truth is, seeing my friends happy really does bring me tremendous joy. I want this for them and I'm happy they want to share this transition in their lives with me. They just better be ready to assign baby baring teams when it's my turn....even if they are going through menopause by that time.

Starting Out Fresh

Staring at this blank page, I first stretch my arms, flex my fingers and take a deep breath of relief. This is now my place to post all of my reflections on life, friendship and family. One of the basic exercises used in therapy sessions is journaling.  I have never agreed with a tactic more, but I also think reading about others going through similar situations and seeing how they handle it, is equally therapeutic. I'd like to think my 6 months of therapy sessions have dubbed me an honorary therapist worthy of your full attention and, of course, respect, but my ego is a smaller healthier size. Instead, I hope that I can find a community of other opinionated, independent and passionate friends to share my story with.

I have been writing my life reflections for a few years now. They started on a similar blog platform where my only followers were my mother, sister, best friend and maybe two other random people. Captivating audience huh? From there I transitioned into writing on my MySpace page (you know, the year and a half that was cool). Next came the inevitable move to Facebook. At that point, you could only have a Facebook page with a school email address so my audience was just friends, and only ones in school.  I had quite a bit of freedom to write about whatever I wanted, but didn't really take advantage of it. Little by little though, my friend list skyrocketed and now I have just as many posts in the draft folder as the published due to the filter I had to place on the subject matter. Before your mind even begins to drift to the not so morally sound side, I mean subject matter that is too honest, too true to life. Posts that involve family and friends that I'm sure would not like our conflict reflected on in such a public forum. So here I am. An anonymous writer talking about non specific relationships that none of my friends or family follow! This is the perfect forum now! I feel like I've been a Great Dane stuck in a English Bulldog's crate. The door is open and I fully intend to say everything I want to say.