Dear Boy

I found this little gem on Hollie's Quotes and thought I'd share it ♥

Dear Boy, 

I do not know who you are, or where or when we will meet, but I do hope it is soon.

I pray that when we meet and fall in love, you will love me for me, and not hope for someone who is thinner or prettier. 

I hope you won't compare me to girls who may have brighter smiles. I hope that you will make me laugh, take care of me if I get sick, and be trustworthy. 

I hope you will remember that I prefer daisies to roses, and that my favorite color changes with my mood. Please know that my eyes aren't blue, they're gray, with flecks of navy. 

Please know that I might be too shy to kiss you first, but please don't be afraid to kiss me. I won't slap you or push you away. I'm sure your kisses will be perfect. When we go on a date, please don't stress about where to take me; what's important is that I'll be with you. 

If I cry, please know it isn't because of you, just hold me close and I'll heal quickly. And, if it is because of you, I'll heal just the same. 

And if we decide to break up, please understand that I may be bitter, but I'd like to be your friend if you'll let me. I promise to remember that you have feelings too, even though you'll never admit it, and when you are ready we'll have a friendship. 

Please tell me if anything I do bothers you, or if something just doesn't sit right. I would like you to always be honest with me. If I have a bad day, I hope you will shower me with confidence and smiles. 

I hope you don't think that I'm asking too much of you. I hope you understand that I'm a little bit nervous and very scared. I wish I could tell you how or when we will meet, and if we will be in love forever. Every relationship is a new game of cards, and ...(sigh)...I've never been good at cards. 

But I will try my best to be kind and love you dearly for all that you are, without expecting too much from you. Thank you for listening; this is all that I ask. 

Yours always, 

Me

Me circa 1987.  Always been a dreamer ♥

 

 

Ode To The Nice Girls

Ode to the Nice Girls

This rant was written because a nice girl finally snapped.
I've read the tribute to the nice guys; this is my response.

This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don't give it up on the first date, who don't want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they've heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren't perfect and that the guys they're interested in aren't either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe... maybe this time he'll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don't deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from "there are plenty of fish in the sea," to "time heals all wounds." 

This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it. 

This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it's an experience that they don't want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments, and explicit invitations that they'd rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn't care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed.  

This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they're too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend. 

This one's for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won't because it's easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he's just not ready, he's just not over her, he's just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it's easier to believe that it's not that they don't want you, it's that they don't want anyone. 

This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you've returned home alone, for the nights when you've seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he's with to be a random hookup. 

This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn't that he didn't want a relationship: it was that he didn't want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he'd realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep. 

This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear.

This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys. 

This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mind games, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: Were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find?  

Because therein lies the truth, guys: We nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it. 

 

So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. 

See through the disguise. See me. You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. 

You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. 

Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race. 

So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)

By Jessica Leigh Griffith

A Love Story That Withstood The Test Of Time

Yesterday was such a beautiful day.  I was getting cabin fever since I've been cooped up in my house all week, so I decided to go out for a drive.  I ended up going the back roads through Boones Creek and then to my parents' house.  My mom was leaving for work when I got there, so she didn't have time to talk.  I saw my parents' neighbor, Lucy, outside watering her flowers.  I used to go over to Bob and Lucy's house alot when I younger.  My grandparents all passed away over 10 years ago, so I always enjoyed going over to their house.  Lucy is 81 years old and just a really sweet lady.  So I head over to her house and saw her face light up.  As I was walking towards her, I noticed that she had lost weight and looked rather frail.  Their carport looked exactly the same as I remembered, with the artificial green turf and chairs lined up perfectly in a row.  I couldn't help but notice the sign near the door.  "The Adkins - Bob and Lucy".

Bob passed away last March.  He was 80 years old.  I hadn't been over to visit Lucy since he passed because I really didn't know what to say.  I knew Lucy had been having a hard time.  They were inseparable.  Bob would take her to the beauty shop every week.  They would go to the Piccadilly every Sunday in Kingsport.  If Bob was mowing the yard, Lucy would sit outside and watch him.  If Bob went to feed their cattle, Lucy would go.  They were the sweetest old couple I had ever met.  One didn't go anywhere without the other. 

I embraced Lucy and could feel that she was just skin and bones.  I made a comment about her weight and she said that she weighed 84lbs now.  She had always been really thin, but since Bob died last March, she has lost more weight.  She finished up watering her flowers and invited me inside.  I could tell she was tickled to see me.  We went inside to talk a bit, but it just felt really strange that Bob wasn't there.  Their house looked exactly the same as it did when I was in high school.  That's what I love about elderly couples.  They don't mind having outdated furniture and old electronics.  They are content with what they have and don't have any desire for the lastest fashionable furniture or fancy smartphones or high-tech appliances.  Lucy had sold Bob's truck and their van.  But their 2006 Cadillac was in the garage and still looked brand new.  Even though she no longer drives, she didn't want to sell the Cadillac because it was a birthday present from Bob.

I didn't know if I should bring up Bob's passing, but I asked her how she had been doing.  I could see tears forming in Lucy's eyes as she spoke about that March night back in 2011.  Bob had collapsed in the floor upon trying to get to the bathroom early in the morning.  She awoke when she heard the thump and called 911.  He had a heart attack and died a few days later.  Lucy was by his side the whole time.  They had been married 57 years.

Fifty Seven Years.  I can't get past the 6 month mark in relationships.  I cannot even fathom 57 years with a man.  I asked her to tell me the story of how they met.  I live for romantic stories.  I have over ten books about Love Stories.  I am obsessed with finding out how people met and courted.

This is the story to the best of my knowledge.  Lucy had a male friend who was in the Marines.  That male friend of hers befriended Bob while they were stationed in Korea.  He told Bob that he would give him Lucy's address if he promised to write her.  So Lucy and Bob started writing back and forth.  They wrote back and forth for 2 years.  Some of the letters didn't get to Bob because he was in the foxhole during the Korean War.  After the war, Bob came back to his home in Butler County, KY.  He came to see Lucy in Tennessee upon his return.  Lucy said she was working at the Eastman and took the bus to downtown Johnson City one day after work.  Her family didn't have a phone at the time.  So her father came to Johnson City and had a huge grin on his face.  Bob was in town to see Lucy.  Lucy was so excited.  Lucy met Bob in person for the first time in downtown Johnson City.  It was Love at First Sight.  They saw each other 3 times, then were married in 1954. 

Bob never said an angry word towards her.  Sure they had their disagreements over 57 years of marriage, but she said he was a good man and treated her with respect and always showed her his love.  She said that she thought Bob had sensed that he was sick.  Three months before his death, he had asked his nephew if he would take care of Lucy when he passed.  I listened intently as she spoke of how hard it was to sleep in the bed without him.  She said one of her friend's who was also a widow, told Lucy to start sleeping on Bob's side of the bed.  Lucy said she had been having trouble sleeping.  But the first night she switched sides and slept on Bob's side of the bed, she slept the best she had since he passed. 

I plan to visit Lucy more in the future.  I have always loved older people and their easy-going, simple lives.  Lucy still enjoys doing crafts and making embroidered handkerchiefs.  She has no plans to go to a nursing home.  She is content living in the home her and Bob shared for many years.  My dad mows her yard and she has some family and friends who bring her food.  She sent me home with some chocolate pies she made.  She still cooks and even though her body is frail, she is still able to live independently.

I can only pray to one day find a love like Bob and Lucy's.  Their love was the Forever Kind.  A love that withstood the test of time........♥

Rest In Peace Bob Adkins 

1931-2011

 

Bipolar Disorder is a Bitch.

 I have had one hell of a week.  First, I had the best sex I think I've ever had in all my thirty years last weekend.  And then, I slipped into full-blown mania.  I am feeling somewhat better after a shot in my ass and some samples of psych meds.  But I am still very ticked off at my psychiatrist.  What fucking psychiatrist takes off for a damn week without an on-call pager or number?

Listen to this shit.

Ok, so I started noticing that I was little hyper last week at work.  Last Monday, June 25th, I didn't leave work until 1:30am and didn't get the least bit sleepy till 9am.  I thought that was odd, but I've stayed up late like that before and functioned normally.  Well then Tuesday night I left work at 1am and thought for sure I'd go to bed early due to only getting a few hours of sleep the night before.  But I stayed up until 5:45am Tuesday night!  Ok.  So Wednesday, I just knew I'd sleep at least 10 hours.  But fuck!  I forgot about the mandatory staff meeting at 8:30am Thursday morning.  So I couldn't take my Trazodone or I would have overslept for the mandatory meeting!  Ok, so no Trazodone Wednesday night.  And I woke up at 6am wide awake.  So I planned on going home and taking a nap that day before I had to be at work at 4pm.  But I found out my friend was hit by a car while she was waiting in line to get a burrito.  Ain't that some crazy shit?  I bet the last thing she thought when she went out to lunch was that a car was gonna break through the glass and hit her.  Well anyway, I wanted to go visit her and bring her some gifts because she broke her foot and ankle and was in a cast.  So no nap before work.  Well then Thursday night I didn't get sleepy until 2:30am.  But for some odd reason I woke up at 9am.  I felt like shit Friday.  But I somehow mustered up the energy to go to work.  Ok, then Friday night I was thrilled that I had 2 days off to get my sleep back in order and feel normal before work on Monday.  But what happened, you ask?  This dude asks me to come over at 5am Saturday morning,  So me, being the chronically single and horny girl that I am, go to see dude.  I was still thinking that I would a take a nap during the day and be fine.  Well the nap never happened. I never got tired!  I could tell that I started getting racing thoughts and grandiose ideas.  And it didn't help matters that it was such a sunny day and I don't know how, but if I'm out in the sun for a long period of time, it triggers my mania.  Well anyway, I could tell that I was hypomanic (the stage before full blown mania) but still I thought I could control it and be fine.  Well, I ended up coming back to JC about 4 or 5pm.  And I tried to lay down, but it's really hard to even sit still with racing thoughts.  Think about an ADD or ADHD child.  Like super hyper, jumping from idea to another.  Just crazy and restless.  So I get the bright idea to drive to Virginia...like past Abingdon and see a show.  I didn't get home till 12:30am Sunday morning.  So sleep would be the logical thing I did next, right?  Fuck no.  So I take an extra Trazodone but still felt the racing thoughts and grandiose idealizations.  Well, when I finally did sleep, I thought for sure I'd sleep 12 or so hours since I had been up over 40 hours.  Fuck no.  I woke up at like 9am.  Which wasn't bad.  So I thought I felt normal and would lay low all day Sunday.  So did I lay low?  Fuck no.  I get asked to go with my friend to a movie.  Well I get there and she didn't answer her phone.  So I was pissed off and decided to go get a new tattoo I had been wanting.  Well I should have known then that something was wrong.  Because all FOUR of the tattoos I have...were all done when I was manic or hypomanic.  Well after calling like 10 tattoo shops and realizing no one was open on Sunday night, I go see dude.  Then dude pisses me off .  I tend to get extremely irritable when I'm manic.  So I leave dudes at like 4 in the morning thinking I would sleep when I got home because I'd already taken my medication.  Did I sleep?  Fuck no.  I take enough meds to knock out a horse.  But the sleep never came.  So since it was 8am and I was still up, I call to make an emergency appointment with my psychiatrist so I can get my meds adjusted and function normally at work.  That is what I normally do when I'm manic.  Before the mania leads to psychosis and I wind up in a psychiatric hospital.  Well, the psychiatrist and mental health nurse practitioner I see were out all week due to the holiday.  Fuck my life.  So the lovely receptionist tells me I would have to go to the ER.  I thought I would forgo the ER since this wasn't an emergency yet.  I mean, I was crazy manic and unable to sleep even after taking my psych meds, but I didn't think it was a true emergency!  And plus I have to pay a $200 copay anytime I go to the ER.

Soooooo.....I go see my regular nurse practitioner thinking she would be able to write me a script for something that would make me sleep and I'd be on my way.  Did that happen?  Fuck no.  She said she couldn't help me because she couldn't prescribe the high dosage of my psych med that I needed to actually make me sleep.  So she called the ER and told me I needed to go there ASAP.  But then she didn't want me to drive.  I tend to drive like fuckin Danica Patrick anyway when I'm manic, so I was ok with calling my parents to pick me up and drive me.  Well, this was at 10:30am in the morning, and my parents sleep in till after noon.  So after calling them 20 times, I realized that I was shit out of luck.  I was gonna have to drive.  The nurse came in to ask me who else she could call besides my parents and I lost it.  For some reason I started hysterically crying because I just felt so alone.  There wasn't anyone else to call.  My best friend was still asleep as were my parents and there was no one else I knew of  who would drive to Kingsport just to take me to the ER.  I guess I just felt sorry for myself.  I was thinking, "Times like this is when I need a boyfriend/significant other that cares enough to pick me up and take me to the ER."  I guess the nurse saying "Who else can I call to pick you up?" just triggered some raw emotion inside me that I was alone.  Well that didn't help matters now that I was hysterically crying.  And I heard the nurse out in the hall talking to the doctor.  Well, in between my sobbing, I found this small Bible in my purse so I opened it.  I used to be big on signs.  But after reading the "When God Winks" books by Squire Rushnell, I now believe signs are "GodWinks."  This is how Mr. Rushnell describes a GodWink.

"A godwink is what some people would call a coincidence, an answered prayer, or simply an experience where you'd say, "Wow, what are the odds of that!"
What do godwinks mean? Think about when you were a kid and someone you loved gave you a little wink across the dining room table...Mom or Dad or Grandma. You didn't say "What do you mean by that?" You knew. It meant: "Hey kid, I'm thinking about you right now." That's what a godwink is too: a message of reassurance from above, directly to you, out of six billion people on the planet, saying "Hey kid...I'm thinking of you! Keep the faith! You're never alone."~ 
www.whengodwinks.com

So I take out this small New Testament Bible and this is what I read.....

 Psalms 40

 ¹ I waited patiently for the Lord;
    he turned to me and heard my cry.
² He lifted me out of the slimy pit,
    out of the mud and mire;
he set my feet on a rock
    and gave me a firm place to stand.
³ He put a new song in my mouth,
    a hymn of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear the Lord
    and put their trust in him.

⁴ Blessed is the one
    who trusts in the Lord,
who does not look to the proud,
    to those who turn aside to false gods.
⁵ Many, Lord my God,
    are the wonders you have done,
    the things you planned for us.
None can compare with you;
    were I to speak and tell of your deeds,
    they would be too many to declare.

⁶ Sacrifice and offering you did not desire—
    but my ears you have opened
    burnt offerings and sin offerings you did not require.
⁷ Then I said, “Here I am, I have come—
    it is written about me in the scroll.
⁸ I desire to do your will, my God;
    your law is within my heart.”

⁹ I proclaim your saving acts in the great assembly;
    I do not seal my lips, Lord,
    as you know.
¹⁰ I do not hide your righteousness in my heart;
    I speak of your faithfulness and your saving help.
I do not conceal your love and your faithfulness
    from the great assembly.

¹¹ Do not withhold your mercy from me, Lord;
    may your love and faithfulness always protect me.
¹² For troubles without number surround me;
    my sins have overtaken me, and I cannot see.
They are more than the hairs of my head,
    and my heart fails within me.
¹³ Be pleased to save me, Lord;
    come quickly, Lord, to help me.

¹⁴ May all who want to take my life
    be put to shame and confusion;
may all who desire my ruin
    be turned back in disgrace.
¹⁵ May those who say to me, “Aha! Aha!”
    be appalled at their own shame.
¹⁶ But may all who seek you
    rejoice and be glad in you;
may those who long for your saving help always say,
    “The Lord is great!”

¹⁷ But as for me, I am poor and needy;
    may the Lord think of me.
You are my help and my deliverer;
    you are my God, do not delay. 

I just thought that was awesome.  I knew God was with me.  Here I was in the doctor's office, feeling so low and distraught that no one could come pick me up and take me to the ER.  But after reading that passage in Psalms, I just felt so much peace and was reassured that God was in control.  Shortly after, my best friend woke up and she came to Kingsport and took me to the ER.  The nurse had left a message on my parents' cell phones, so then my parents came and drove me home.  

But still for a a few days, I was still crazy manic.  I called the lovely receptionist again at my psychiatrist's office and went off.  I said, "Look, I'm not going to go to the ER every day and pay $200 each time when they can't even help me."  She said that was my only option since my psychiatrist was off all week, so I said, "Well thank you so much for your help.  I will be finding a new psychiatrist.  You have a great day."  Well, I guess me being a bitch paid off because10 minutes later the lovely receptionist at my psych's office calls back.  She had called the psychiatrist (finally) and they did give me samples to increase one of my meds, so I guess that was good.  I was still pissed that they didn't do anything Monday morning when I was crying on the phone.  I understand that even psychiatrists need time off.  But fuckin have an on-call number.  Because some poor people can't afford 200 bucks for a trip to the ER.  


So anyway, my family doctor did put me off work all week.  It hasn't even felt like a week though.  Tuesday night, my aunt came over to visit me and I asked her if she went to church.  I was thinking it was Sunday.  Then on Thursday, my best friend was supposed to come over but got called in to work.  And when she called me, I asked her what she wanted to eat and what time she would be at my house.  Totally forgetting she had got called in to work an hour before.  It's like when I'm manic, I have Alzheimer's!  My dad took me to my therapy appointment on Tuesday and when he dropped me off at home, I couldn't find my cigarettes.  They were in my hand!  I hate feeling crazy.  I know I'm not crazy, though.  I know bipolar disorder is a mental illness.  Or as some like to put it..."a chemical imbalance in the brain".  But it sure does suck because I am normally a very intelligent person.  And I just feel so stupid when I don't even know what day it is!  


Tuesday night I thought I was going to have to do inpatient treatment at a psychiatric hospital, but I called Woodridge and knew the person who answered the phone.  I ended up getting Peninsula's number in Knoxville.  But when I called Mobile Crisis in Knoxville, they said I was out of their district and couldn't help.  But the lady was super nice and we talked for over 30 minutes.  I went from sobbing hysterically to laughing by the end of the call, so Thank God I didn't have to admit myself in the looney bin.  


I know I've been cussing alot and basically being in super bitch mode this week.  But the good Lord has watched over me, and I feel as if my relationship with Him is stronger that ever.  I've been reading my Bible alot this week, and I just know God will carry me through any struggles I go through.  Looking back, it could have been a lot worse.  I could have succumbed to the suicidal thoughts I had on Tuesday night.  I just wanted to take all the pills I had and go to sleep and never wake up.  But I just kept thinking that would kill my poor 70 year old parents.  Especially my mom.  Her mom, my grandmother Elsie, was manic-depressive also.  So she's been around the bipolar craziness for many, many years.  And my mom has been an RN for over 40 years.  So she gets me.  And my best friend Jessica is a RN.  I have a lot of people in the medical field around me, so that helps a lot.  My sister is a doctor, but bless her heart, I think I've asked her so many questions over the years, she just doesn't respond to my texts much anymore.


But anyway, I'm doing better now.  I still am not sleeping that much.  But the racing thoughts have lessened and I'm not having the grandiose ideals.  Please continue to pray for me as I get back to being stable and functioning normally.  I am excited to get back to work because I truly do love my job.  I feel as if I can relate to the ladies there in treatment.  Not for the addictions to drugs or alcohol, but some ladies also have mental illnesses along with addiction issues.  They all really like me and I enjoy making them smile.  I try to show them empathy because that is how I would want to be treated.  I think this week at home has been good, not only to DE-stress, but to restore my compassion for others so I can be a good tech at the ol' rehab. 

I've lived with bipolar disorder for almost 10 years, so I'm somewhat used to the roller coaster ride.  Hopefully I can prevent another relapse by taking my meds at the same time every night and getting adequate sleep.  I think I'm going to abstain from sex also.  Having sex when I have feelings for a guy, definitely triggers my mania.  I start thinking "OMG I'm In Love" and "OMG He's The One", but I've got to realize there is a big difference between Love and Lust.  So I'll just go back to being the Good Little Celibate Girl....who only masturbates. 

♥

Ridin' Solo, Bitches.

Ok so picture this.  New Year's Eve.  I'm sitting on the couch perusing profiles of single men on match.com.  I had already searched Craigslist personal ads thinking surely some dude was wanting a date for NYE.  But to no avail, I finally had to accept the fact that I was "dateless" on NYE.  That didn't bother me much, though, because I'm used to being single.  It was just odd that none of my friends wanted to hang out or go out.  Probably because most of them are "coupled up".  

Ok so anyway, I had sent this cute guy on match.com an email and I was just sure he would reply.  But a few minutes later, I received one of those computer generated emails that said, "Thanks, BUT....Some people just don't know a good thing...."username" appreciates your taking the time to let him know you're interested, but doesn't think you're a good match for him. Don't be discouraged. Magic happens when you least expect it. With millions of singles on Match.com, you could be just one click away from finding someone who's right for you."

Now I have received plenty of those stupid generic emails, but only to guys I winked at.  I was so pissed off that I had emailed this dude....a nice long email nonetheless....and instead of taking the time to reply....he sends me that generic response.  I was just so mad and frustrated....I started crying.  The tears just came.  Here it was NYE and I had no plans and no one to bring in the New Year with.  So after about 3 minutes of throwing a little pity party for myself, I got mad.  I said to myself, "Self:  This is fucking stupid.  Get off your ass and get in the shower and fucking go somewhere."  So I went over and turned up my stereo to this rap radio station on like volume 20.  My whole condo was vibrating due to the bass.  It was great.  I didn't give a fuck if my neighbors came over to tell me to turn it down like they have done before.  I didn't give a fuck about anything.....I danced around naked and was having fun.

So I shower and start whoring it up for my big night out.  I put on this shirt I bought over a year ago that I had never wore because it was partially see thru...but I didn't care.  I didn't obsess about what to wear like I normally do.  I found a pair of Silver jeans I had bought on ebay, but couldn't fit in.  But after about 10 minutes of struggle and finally deciding to wear no panties so they would fit better.....I got the jeans on!  Woo Hoo!  They were slightly cutting off circulation, but after dancing around my condo for a while....They were starting to loosen up and I was happy.  

So it was about 10:30pm when I head out the door.  I had decided to go to Fanatics to sing some karaoke. I get there, though, and there is not a single parking space.  I ended up parking at the movie theatre and walking pretty far to get to the bar.  I go inside and immediately feel out of place.  There are couples, groups of 10 or more....and I just felt self-conscious about showing up alone.  But I go to the bar to get a drink and there just happened to be one seat left at the bar.  I down half of a Miller Lite and consider leaving after I finish it.  But then I start talking to this nice lady beside me and she asks if I would save her seat while her and her friend go out and smoke.  I obliged and ordered another beer and started feeling better. So the lady comes back and I ask her to save my seat while I go and smoke.  Well, this is where the night gets interesting.....

I had noticed this white limo parked in front of the hotel and bar.  This dude in a suit comes up to me and asks if I want a ride.  He said he was taking tips to ride people around the block or take them wherever.  I told him I only had $5 and he said that was fine to get in and he'd take me for a ride.  So I was so excited to ride in a limo because I hadn't ridden in one since the 8th grade when I sold the most fundraising crap and won a ride in a limo with my friends to the 8th grade dance.  Anyway, dude starts semi-flirting with me, telling me I was pretty, and that I could have any man I wanted, and he couldn't believe I was dateless on NYE.  Well then he asks if I would give him a hug if he pulled over.  I told him I had Mace.  So he drove me back to the bar.  Well I ended up giving him a hug and thanked him for the discounted ride.  

I get back in the bar at 11:56pm.....just in time to get my free glass of champagne and toast in the New Year with the nice lady and her friend sitting beside me.  I chose not to watch the couples playing tonsil hockey all around the room and watched NYC celebrating on the tvs.  My eyes got a little misty and I had to hold back tears because even though I didn't want to admit it...I was alone on NYE.....again.  I read an article earlier in the day that said, "Every New Year's Eve you're Single brings you closer to the New Year's when you won't be."  That was encouraging, but still, I have my doubts.

Anyway, the slightly creepy limo driver comes inside and finds me and wishes me a Happy New Year.  I start telling my new found friend beside me that I thought it was odd that his limo service had no name, no business card, no nothing.  She agrees that it is weird and I probably shouldn't have went for a ride with the dude by myself.  But I'm enjoying listening to people sing karaoke.  I go put in to sing a song.  Then, limo driver dude comes back in and starts chatting with me again.  He points out a guy across the bar and says he is single also and 29 years old.  I found it rather odd that this dude I don't even know was trying to hook me up with random guys.  So I ask him what the single guy's name was.  He said his name was Adam.  So I shout across the bar, "Hey, is your name Adam??"  And this guy looks at me like I'm crazy and says no.  Then his girlfriend comes and stands beside him and gives me this look that could kill.  So I decided to start yelling at the Limo driver dude so this girl can hear me.  I am not a big confrontation person, but I was so embarrased that I had yelled across the bar at a guy I thought was alone.....but ended up not being "Adam" and being attached.  I don't even remember what I said to the limo driver dude, but basically I told him to get lost and that he was freaking me out. I just found it weird and creepy that a guy that doesn't even know me took it upon himself to try to hook me up with strange men then ended up lying about the guy's name and his relationship status.  Oh, and did I mention limo driver dude was married.  Yeah, for 14 years.  Fucking Married Men....I wish they'd fuck off.....maybe go fuck their wife for a change.

So the drama was over and the night was coming to a close.  I go up and belted out "What's Up" by 4 Non-Blondes to a few people still hanging around.  Then I headed home.  I stayed up till 8am watching the movie, "He's Just Not That Into You" and eating ice cream.  

But overall, my NYE wasn't too bad.  I was proud of myself that I went out by myself because I normally don't do that.  I ended up having fun even though the limo driver dude kinda creeped me out.  But I love spontaneous stuff like that.  It's exciting to go out and not know what's going to happen or who you are going to meet.  Planned events are so monotonous.  You know who you are going out with and specifically what you are doing.  But I like just going with the flow and seeing what happens.  I thought it was serendipitous that when I had got out of my car I was walking towards the Electric Cowboy thinking I might have more luck there at meeting a guy, but then I changed directions and decided to go with my original plan of doing karaoke.  Who the fuck cares about meeting some drunk guy that just wants to get in my pants.  I think that has been my problem in the past.  I would go out with my girls and I just knew that I was going to meet Mr. Right.....or Mr. Right Now.  And then when I didn't meet anyone, I would be disappointed and vow never to go out again.  I set my expectations way too high and ended up crying in my pillow.  So it was refreshing to go out not even wanting to meet a guy....and just let loose, have a couple beers, and enjoy the night.  

So with all that said, I have decided on a few New Year's Resolutions:

To live life to the fullest and be more spontaneous.  To not sit at home on my nights off and have a pity party because I'm single and have no one to hang out with.  To not be afraid to grab the bull by the horns and go out alone.  To not be afraid to start conversations with people.  To not set such high expectations and think that I'm going to meet a guy every time I go out.  To not worry about the new guy I meet on Match.com being my future husband or just a friend.  To not be envious of my single friends that meet their Mr. Wonderful.  To just live my life, go with the flow, and not worry that I'm almost 30 and no where close to settling down.  To pursue my educational goals but not worry if it takes me another 5 years to get my bachelors.  And to get back on stage with confidence and make people laugh with all my crazy, quirky stories!

Those resolutions are a whole lot better than my usual:  Lose weight.  I do want to lose weight, but I don't want it as much as my nurse mother and sister doctor want me to lose it.  I want to get to the point where I want to lose weight for ME only and not to please others.  I am getting comfortable with my plumpness and I have found that some guys are still attracted to me and my big booty.  And I get laid just as much as I did when I was skinny so, ha!

I'm excited about 2012.  Twelve is my lucky number so I'm excited to see what the year brings.  I am proud of my new outlook on life and love.  I've wasted too many years feeling sorry for myself that I am so unlucky in love.  Who cares if I'm 30 and still single?   I bet there are some people my age that wish they were unattached.  I can do whatever the hell I want, with whoever the hell I want to do it with, and go wherever the hell I want to go.  

So here's to the New Year!  A new year, A new me.  New possibilities, New people, and No planning!!!