changing our reactions...

Social media and other Internet functions are a great way for people to connect, express opinions, learn about the world, and gain new perspectives and experiences. I've always liked that about these sites.

Now, though, there is something that I really need to get off of my chest, because keeping it in is driving me bonkers.

The problem with all of these sites and resources is that often, the posts and ideas get turned into negatives. People constantly search for the hole in the argument, or the bad feeling that most likely came from behind the opinion. The tiniest hint of bad feeling or racist/sexist/bigoted/misguided/silly/whatever is latched onto, and the offended party then nails the original speaker for those obviously shallow, naive, and prejudiced statements.

Why does it always have to be a fight? Why can't things just be let alone?

For example. This whole explosion about moms who like to go all-out (or overboard, depending on your rhetoric) for holidays, birthdays, and the like -- who cares? There shouldn't be a reason to put moms or dads or whoever likes to party on the defensive because they like something and act on it. There shouldn't even be an attack!

OR. Selfies without make-up, commonly tagged as #nomakeupselfie. Okay, yes, to me it's a little weird that people broadcast the fact that they're not wearing make-up, particularly in a world where we're so self-conscious and worried about it. Maybe it's a little arrogant, or insecure. Maybe it's brave, or perhaps just normal. But. Who cares? It's just a choice, whether they're supporting cancer research or not. So, if someone feels a need or desire to tell people about it with a hashtag, who cares? Why is that all of a sudden a horrible, terrible, awful thing? Who cares?

Why do we care so much about what other people are doing that we feel this desperate need to write some mean-spirited or vengeful reply to tear down those who think and act differently? Why are we so caught up in the social media exploits of other people? I ask again, who cares? Is this really that important?

I know, I know. If someone reads this article and finds a hole in it, or thinks that I'm misguided, or believes I'm missing the point, I'm going to get blasted for it. Because this post is an opinion. It's my opinion about what I see as people getting so caught up in the way others are living their lives that they stop living their own. And I see it as incredibly damaging. Why argue things that don't really matter? Why take a side on an issue that really isn't that big of a deal?

I can see why though. Don't get me wrong -- after all, I'm taking the time to write about this, meaning that I feel passionately about it and it's bothering me. I'm sure that's where most of this stems from: our reactions to the actions and lives of others. And so what do I do? Go write a blog post about it. I'm being a hypocrite. I know it. I'm the first to say it, without fear or shame. I'm including myself in this, too. Just because I can use a computer doesn't make me the sole authority on this, or anything. I'm as imperfect as anyone else.

But seriously. Think about it. If we're constantly judging the lives and values of other people, what does that make us? Obviously, judgemental. Shallow. Prideful, even. Let's all just calm the heck down and remember that there are a lot of other things in life to worry about. Even better, there are a lot of other things in life to find joy in. So let's stop with the shaming, the belittling, the rejection, and the judgement. We need to change the way we react to things.

How, you ask? Well. For starters, ask if whatever it is actually matters. If it does, think before acting on the initial feeling. Basically, as I see it, it's simple. It's about real life -- what we have here and now, today and maybe tomorrow. It's bridling that emotional response and asking, will this matter in five minutes? In five months? In five years? Should I be caring about this? Or is this just distracting me from what's really important?

Let's just focus on what we have right now: this day, this moment, in which we -- not that person on your newsfeed or Twitter page -- are living.

back to school...

This is a whiny post.

Basically I really, really, really, really, really do not want to go back to school. I don't want to go to class. I don't want to sit in those ridiculous little desks. I don't want to take notes. I don't want to do homework. I don't want to have my life controlled by assignments and busy work. I don't want the anxiety and the stress.

Man, I'm pathetic. I don't want to go so much that I'm crying.

Don't get me wrong, I like to learn. I enjoy discovering new things and expanding my view of the world. What I don't like is the absolute utter exhaustion and anxiety that comes from the way our education system works. I don't like being a grade point average -- I don't like having my future rest on some stupid letters that stand for how well I did at something.

I'll get it done. I always do. I guess this last semester has kind of killed any love for college that I may have possessed. And I'll tell you a little secret -- with the exception of Economics 110, I got straight A's. I knew I wouldn't do super well in Econ, and I only needed a C -- I got a B- and was excited because it was way better than I thought I would do. What bothered me is this: this was absolutely the worst semester of my life, and I felt that I slacked off completely. I didn't feel that I deserved any of the A's that I got -- and I almost feel angry that my lack of effort was given straight A grades.

My half effort was rewarded as excellent. I procrastinated every assignment because the depression was so intense that I could barely function. I skimmed reading assignments and left classes feeling more confused than I was when I went in. I studied like crazy for exams, but never felt confident. I felt that everything I did was pointless and pathetic, and I expected that to be reflected in my GPA.

So what does that make those A's, anyway? Somewhat worthless, if I'm honest. Maybe I'm being ungrateful (actually, I know I'm being ungrateful), but I really do feel like those grades are total lies.

I was mediocre. My papers were excellent, and my professors want me to publish. But the work I put in? It wasn't excellent. It was rushed, last-minute, pathetic.

That's why I don't want to go back to school. I don't want to do the work, especially because I know that even when I don't do as good a job as I should, I'll get outstanding grades anyway. It's like lying.

What I should do is put in more effort and be proactive in my education. I, however, would rather watch Chuck on Netflix, go take photographs of beautiful things, write poetry and articles on things I'm interested in, spend time with the people I care about, sing and dance and play, learn the piano again, read real books, sleep when I can and for as long as I need, and work at a job that actually does something worthwhile (like the one I have).

I suppose this is why there is a thing called retirement. Although...that may quickly become a myth.

today, i feel like i suck...

It's just been one of those days.

Ever since I got out of bed this morning, I've felt completely stupid in all areas of my life. I can't seem to get everything done, or done as well as things need to be done.

I'm so stressed out by work. I used to love my job -- now, it's like hell. I turn around and there's another enormous project that needs starting. My to-do list grows and grows and grows by the hour with people wanting this done or that done or these things finished and hey, remember that one thing from last week that still isn't finished?

I can't keep up. There are 7 employees hired in my department. Guess who comes in to work?

Me.

I'm doing the work of 7 people -- even when people come in, I still end up doing most of the work. If I was a part-time employee, it'd just be part of the job, you know? As a student, though, there are things that I really can't do, especially once school starts.

I hate going in to work because I know that the second I step in the office, there will be more to do -- and I'm the one expected to do it. I hate constantly worrying that I'm going to get in trouble for things I'm doing my best to cover.

I have to work, though -- I need the money, and I need the job experience for my career goals. And I do like the job, most of the time.

Money. Another area of my life in which I have felt uber sucky today. I cannot seem to save money. I'm a compulsive spender -- this school year will be dedicated to changing that trait. I'm creating saving plans that do not involve plastic cards, because ever since I got a debit card, my financial life went crazy. I did realize today that I've had $200+ in coins in a shoebox for a year without touching it, and I'm starting to think that's a pretty good way to go -- cashing in coins is too much of a hassle to do regularly, and buying things with all nickels and dimes is embarrassing (to me).

There. Less sucky. Although the thought that I've made almost $5,000 this year and have literally none of it makes me want to punch myself.

We'll start today with saving money. No more spending it on stupid things -- rent and groceries are no longer an issue, as I'm living with the parents again (one upside). And so, save away.

breaking...

Really.

It's the only word I can use to describe the way my life appears right now.

Nothing is working out. No matter where I turn or what I attempt, things fall apart. Often it's not my fault.

Like the fact that the IRS doesn't recognize my social security/address combination, and so there is now an issue with my financial aid. It clearly states my address and social security number on my tax return -- figure it out, government. Oh, wait -- that's too much to ask, isn't it?

Like the fact that I suddenly went from registered for ECON 110 to being 106th on the wait list and I'm a SENIOR.

Like the fact that I have to take ECON 110 at all.

Like the fact that I'm completely alone at home this week because my room mate is out of town in Disneyland, on a vacation that I thought I was going on as well. I'm still not sure why he broke up with me. At least I didn't buy a plane ticket.

Like the fact that my presentation partner flaked out on me and I ended up doing almost all of the work. NEVER have I had such awful groups, EVER, like I have here at BYU. Seriously, I have never had a good group at this college. Of all places -- where we profess to be hardworking and honest and dependable. Guess it's one of those things that's easy to say, right?

Like the fact that my dad is getting sicker, and his company still makes him travel. HELLO. HE HAS CANCER. If you're reading this, dad's employer, I am NOT happy with you. Yeah. My dad's cancer is terminal. He's DYING. And you -- for the sake of the all-mighty dollar -- are making it worse.

Like the fact that my dad really is dying. How fast or how slow, I have no idea. Having that hanging over me all of the time is absolutely horrific.

Like the fact that my ex-fiance treats me like a girlfriend -- that, though, I have more control over. And let me tell you -- that will stop. So help me, it's going to stop.

Like the fact that no matter how well I eat, or how much I exercise, I'm still gaining weight.

Like the fact that no matter how often I pray, or count my blessings, or do nice things for other people, I cannot shake the anxiety and fear that threaten to envelop me every day.

Wow.

What a rant of negativity. Sorry about that -- I feel better though.

mia...

I realized tonight how long it's been since I've written anything. I'll update you on the happenings around the House, but right now, I need to spew.

I feel so...not good enough. In my classes, among my cast members, at home, on the job, in my relationships...in all parts of my life, I don't feel good enough.

Sometimes I imagine leaving it all behind, all of it, and disappearing for a couple of days. Just getting into my car and heading off somewhere, with my cell phone silenced and Carrie Underwood on the radio. No note, no hints as to my going, no nothing -- go and come back before anyone notices. Just to clear my head, to take a break, to be me, without all of this, for a little while.

Inadequacy is a hard feeling. It's one I'm not fond of, although I am very familiar with it. Dealing with it never seems to get easier, though. If anything, it gets harder for me as I get older. More and more things enter my life, and more opportunities for the feeling arise. Honestly, it's pretty exhausting.

Life truly is good right now -- I'm a very blessed, very lucky lady. The hard things and difficult feelings make the good aspects even better. For that, I am grateful. You truly cannot have sweet without the bitter, for the bitter gives perspective that would otherwise be lost.

PS This is why I've been MIA of late:

Cute, isn't he?

worst shift ever...

I do not exaggerate when I say that I had my three worst ever tutorials yesterday. All right in a row.

The first one was awful because a student came in who had a huge statistical analysis research paper due the next day at 5 p.m. She spoke nothing of the writing in the paper, and wanted me to evaluate the observational study she wanted to do that afternoon. I have a little bit of statistical knowledge, but nothing like what she wanted. Stats 121 was the bane of my existence last semester. I didn't know what to do, and I tried to help her as best I could. Plus, she was an international student from China, and she barely understood half of what I tried to explain. 

She was super stressed out about the paper, and kept saying she didn't get what I meant and that I wasn't understanding her assignment. Huh. Imagine that. I'm a writing tutor, not a stats TA! We didn't read any of her paper, and she wanted me to give her all of the answers for writing her thesis, saying "Write what you would say for me." No. Do you want me to lose my job? Because I don't want to.

Tutorial number two was only awful because of the subject material. The guy was great. He's a Women Studies minor, which surprised me so much that I actually stared at him, thinking it was a joke (there are a lot of good guys at BYU, but I find that many of them have a 'women are second class' mentality, even if they don't come right out and say it -- it's a subconscious cultural thing here). But he was serious. I was excited to work with him, until I read his thesis. It was an analysis of the impact that popular literature has on girls' perceptions of the ideal relationship, using the Twilight novels as the basis for his observations. 

I had to hold back tears the whole time, because I kept seeing myself in the paper. After what happened on Monday night -- I've been a bit of a nervous wreck (as my coworkers and room mate can attest to). His paper was really great because it did an excellent job of pointing out instances of abuse, male dominance, and how victims come to behave. But it was really hard to read -- he noticed and asked if I was okay. I sort of shrugged it off and just said that it all sounded familiar. The look on his face was so kind and compassionate. Worst tutorial ever -- not because of him, but because I could barely hold myself together. Mom said I should have given him my number -- yeah, right. Although he was really cute.

Third the worst. I kid you not, it was the worst tutorial ever. The lady who came in for help was probably in her mid-sixties, and she was the rudest, meanest person I have ever met at BYU. She brought in a 59 page paper and wanted me to do all of the citations for her, in Chicago format. I've never used Chicago before, and no one else in the Center uses it. We all use MLA or APA. When I told her that, she got so upset at me, and started bossing me around and telling me that I was unhelpful. "You don't know this format? Well, are you a writing tutor, or aren't you?" Um...yes. And last time I checked, you aren't, madam. 

After spending ten minutes trying to help with handouts, the Internet, and a manual, she handed me her 59 pages and told me to read it. I'm not supposed to read students' papers without them -- they read them aloud and I follow along. We're also not supposed to read all of long papers -- especially when we have a three hour wait (yep). When I told her those things, she snatched her paper from me and said, very loudly, "So you can't help me." I was so shocked that I just sat there, stuttering that yes, I could help, but that I had to follow the rules. Then she snorted and said, "So. You won't help me."

I was absolutely stunned. Of course I would help her, but I have to follow the policies and procedures of the Center. I even tried to explain to her that I had to be available to help other students, and I pointed at the line out the door. She just glared at me and said, "Will you help me or not?" I didn't know what to do at that point, and because she was older, I couldn't tell her off like I can a student. And so, for 60 minutes, I sat with her while she read her paper, criticizing me for all of my comments and telling me that I didn't get it. Duh, I didn't get it. She wouldn't tell me about the paper, shushing me when I asked her what the assignment was and saying, "I am reading." She wouldn't listen to anything I said, and if I so much as moved in my chair, she'd stop and glare at me, "You're not paying attention. Listen."

Dana and Chloe saved me. They were watching, and I saw out of the corner of my eye that they were just as stunned and unsure as I was. Eventually, Chloe came over and stopped the tutorial, pointing to the line of students needing help. I was so relieved; I'd been trying not to cry the whole time.

Chloe, Dana, and I have now developed a system of signaling each other if something like that ever happens again. Chloe taught us the ASL signs for "help me" and "do you need help." I'm going to memorize that for future semesters.

Good thing today is not yesterday. Just a bit nervous...the lady is coming back today. I swear, if it's my turn to tutor, I'll fake sick or slip Chloe a note to pull the fire alarm at 20 minutes into the tutorial. Not that we'd ever pull the fire alarm. But it is often a muttered sentiment as one of us leaves the table to help particularly infamous writing students. 

don't want, can't have...

I don't want to write any more papers (especially dumb ones that are just busy work).
I don't want to read any more textbooks.
I don't want to get up early anymore.
I don't want to tutor papers anymore.
I don't want to go to school anymore.

I want to write poetry.
I want to read real books.
I want to get up when my body is done sleeping.
I want to not tutor.
I want to learn -- really learn.

And I really want to have time to paint my nails.

That would be grand.

finally figured it out...

For the past couple of days I've been feeling awful. Awful because I don't feel anything. And I don't understand it.

I've thought about it, and I think I know one of the reasons why I don't feel anything, and why I feel awful about it.

Because when I feel something, and I try to talk about it with certain people, I get shut down.

Because when I express my feelings and thoughts, my problems "could be worse." They "aren't as bad as what happened to me yesterday." My feelings and thoughts are "lacking perspective," "missing the point."

Because when I try and ask for help, I'm "doing really well already."

Stop it.

Stop ignoring me.

Stop comparing my problems to yours or to other people's.

Stop disregarding the fact that there are things in my life that are painful, things that break and re-break my heart, things that I feel I have lost.

Stop treating me like I don't matter. Because I matter just as much as you do.

Stop telling me that you'll be there for me and then yelling at me, ignoring me, or belittling me when I come to you.

Just stop it.

Take me seriously. It's the least that you can do. Honestly, it's not like I ask for much -- it's not like I ask for anything. Ever.

Maybe all of this is selfish. And it kind of is. You know what, though? I spend so much of my time worrying about other people and helping them, so much so that my own issues, my homework, my life, gets neglected. Why? Because I care. I make time.

But really. I am doing the best that I can. My heart is broken. I am broken right now. And I'm doing the best I know how to fix it.

When are you going to realize that?

"there's an app for that..."

It's an average day in your typical doctor's office. People are coming and going, some walking in looking sick, others walking out looking sicker. Each one has had their turn with the iDoctor -- and I don't mean the doctor who checks your eyes.

What's an iDoctor, you ask?

Well! An iDoctor is much like an electronic device, similar to an iPad, iPod, or iPhone. No, he or she isn't a robot or droid, or even a cyborg (heaven forbid the medical field takes that route), but they have a similar function: providing you with applications -- or pills -- for anything and everything you can imagine.

Stomach ache?

There's a pill for that.

Head pounding and throbbing incessantly?

There's a pill for that, too.

What about emotional or mental disorders?

Oh, sure. There are several pills for those -- which one would you like? How about trying one out to see if you like it? If it's not a good match you can cancel and try a new one.

See, like an iPad, iPod, or iPhone, the iDoctor has an easy solution for any problem you may have. That solution comes in all different shapes, sizes, colors, and functions, each in a different bottle with a different label. So simple! iDoctor gives you a pill, sends you on your way, and you're set to go! Whether curing boredom or curing a cold, the iDoctor can find any "app" you desire with the touch of a button -- he or she checks the proper "app" from the list and it's on its way, where it will arrive for your use in less than two hours after you swipe your plastic money card at the "app store," or in this case, your neighborhood pharmacy. AND -- you get refills.

Yep. No matter what you have, there's a pill for that.

Huzzah.

Although I may have outsmarted the iDoctor -- I don't think he has anything that can cure smart-aleck.

might explode...

Why is it so freaking hard for people to just take care of themselves? Why is it so FREAKING hard? If a doctor gives you a medication, TAKE IT (no one can call me out on this one because I have not missed a day in over two months, and even though it's NOT working, I'm STILL taking it because the doctor told me to). If you're hungry, EAT SOMETHING. If you hurt yourself, TAKE CARE OF IT THEN, not when it gets worse. If what you're doing is going to get you into trouble, STOP DOING IT.

In short, don't be stupid. Stupidity is bad for you, and it's bad for everyone else in your life. I mean, you do have a brain. So use the dang thing.

I guess if this was just a one time thing, I wouldn't be so upset. But EVERY TIME I turn around, different people in my life have done something they shouldn't have or not done something they should have done, and it screws life up for them and everyone involved. I mean, come ON, people. How hard is it to think? And not just about how what you do effects yourself, but about how what you do effects others.

Think. Think before you act, or don't act -- contrary to popular belief, life isn't "all about me." Each of us must first do our BEST, and I mean VERY best, to meet our personal needs. It is not fair to expect other people to just drop everything and be there because we have something in our lives that we don't want to take care of.

Friends can only go so far. There comes a point where people can do no more.

That's just the way it is.

Phew. Got that out. Now I can go back to being normal (whatever that is).

life is still good...

I've noticed lately that the things I've been writing about have been

a) sad
b) depressing
c) negative
d) all of the above

If you circled "d" then you would be most correct.

After debating whether or not I should apologize, I realized that apologizing would be a little silly. Why apologize for being sincere about how you feel?

However, I do recognize that not all of life is as bad as it may seem. That and I'm trying to keep myself from being extremely irritated and frustrated with people. Short plug for being considerate: just do it. Please. Think about what you're doing and how it effects (affects?) others before you do it. Don't cut in line, rinse your dishes, stop at stop signs, say thank you, pull your weight as much as you can before letting someone do for you what you can do for yourself. Thanks.

Mini rant over. On to the next.

Last night I did something fun on a Friday night for the first time in awhile. I had planned to go to the gym after work, then make dinner, scrub the kitchen, clean my bathroom, read my book, and go to bed around 11:30. My plans totally changed when Linnea asked if I wanted to watch the last two episodes of Sherlock, season 2. How could I possibly say no?

We made a delicious dinner of chicken Parmesan wraps (Pinterest wins again) and cold watermelon, followed by kettle corn (yes -- I did eat a bag and a half by myself) and Snickerdoodles. Sherlock was delightful -- I was absolutely terrified during "The Hound of Baskervilles." I screamed at least four times. "The Reichenbach Fall" wasn't frightening, but it was very fun to be able to follow Sherlock's line of evidence. I was right with him every step of the case. Until, you know, Moriarty pulled that one stunt at the end (I may have screamed then, too).

A late night drive with Kala rounded up the festivities at about 2am. I took her with me when I dropped Linnea off at her home. Kala doesn't get out much, and she likes to go for rides in the car (and I was also glad to have her along to help me not imagine giant black hounds with red eyes tearing out of the bushes around the complex when I got back home).

Today was a good day, too. I woke up feeling very sad again, so I got dressed and went to work on the house. Bathroom scrubbed, kitchen counters and cabinets wiped down, floors swept and mopped, dishes done, laundry started, room straightened, meals prepped, stove top washed -- all in an hour and fifteen minutes. By then I realized I was hungry (that happens a lot now). Wash spinach and drain, rinse strawberries and slice, shred chicken, chop nuts, pour poppy seed dressing, toss together -- salad for eating! Let's just say it was delicious and I might make another tomorrow.

Work with Alyssa and Hannah was a blast. We got almost everything on Tracy's list completed (and mind you, there were about 20 items to do), accidentally ripped up the puzzle piece flooring with the weight of our candy laden carts, climbed up and down ladders hanging hats from the ceiling and stowing boxes of candy on shelves (each box weighs nearly 40 pounds -- carrying 20 of those up a ladder is quite the workout), and just worked hard in general. It's always great to have things to do during a shift, rather than standing around waiting for customers to come in and need help.

Hannah asked if she could come to my house after the shift was over. We ate cold watermelon and made chocolate milk with the Hershey's syrup I keep stowed away in the fridge. Kala kept us entertained with her old lady antics (she lacks manners in some cases), until we finally were laughing so hard we couldn't breath. Pretty soon we got to talking about how she's been doing lately, and then she started asking me questions about Garrett. Half an hour later I'd told her a lot of things I've been keeping back, and I felt badly that I'd spent so much time talking about myself. But she said something that made me feel really happy inside. She smiled and said, "I don't mind. I like to listen. It means that you trust me."

I do trust her. I trust her, and Alyssa, and Linnea -- they're coworkers, yes, but more importantly, they're my friends. We have fun, we have hard times, and we're there for each other when we need each other. And even if we don't need each other, we're there when we want company.

Things are okay. Life is still good. It's hard, and I'm still sad a lot and don't know why, but life is good. Walking through the parking lot tonight in the cool evening air, the night breeze sweet and fresh, the flowers curling into sleep, the stars peeking through the clouds, all I could think about was how good it feels to be alive.

"Remember today, little brother. Today, life is good." -Boromir, LOTR

today...

In the past 48 hours, I have had the following comments directed at me:

• "You're an idiot."
• "This is probably the crappiest job I have ever seen anyone do. It's just awful!"
• "Well, clearly you don't know what you're doing at all."
• "You are not helpful." 

What really bothers me about it all is that
1) I did the best I could with the directions I was given (which were given by the person(s) who gave me the directions in the first place),
2) actually, I do know what I'm doing -- the person who said that has no idea what is needed to complete particular tasks which take time and are a little difficult when there are other people needing my attention as well, and
3) helping a person who can't make up his/her mind no matter how many options I give is not my fault.

 In short, I'm feeling exceptionally self-conscious and awkward with everyone I come in contact with. I don't want to go back to the writing center. I don't want to go back to work. No choice though. And so I'm trying to give people the benefit of the doubt -- maybe they were having a bad day or they were frustrated with things, then took it out on me because I was there.

All of this makes me very glad that the rest of the day was good. My friend Corby took me to see The Avengers with him and it was quite enjoyable (you'll be seeing a review of it later on -- if Ann ever posts pictures to go with it, that is). Corby is one of the nicest, funniest, smartest people I know (and I'm not just saying that because he sometimes reads this blog). Not only that, but he bought me a peanut butter shake at Iceburg, and then we talked for a couple of hours about a bajillion (almost) things. It was great to spend time with a good friend!

Then the evening got better. I got a text message from Brady telling me that I'm awesome times a million in all caps with a smiley face. And my dog snuggled with me for a long time because she didn't want me to put her down. And I realized that school is almost over. And I heard this song on the radio:

 

 

Not so great day ended much better than I thought it would. Good, good, good.

 

door mat...

Some of you may know my middle name and think it fits rather well. Others know what I say it is and disagree with it. And others have no clue what it is.

Well. I will tell you.

Hi, my name is Georgie, and though the initial in the middle of my name is "K" my real middle name is Door Mat.

Don't believe me? You should believe me, because it is very much true. Try as I might to change that middle name, it takes time and money and knowledge, none of which I have at the moment (or in any upcoming moments, it looks like).

A lot of people walk all over me. Granted, not everyone does, but enough that it hurts and gets old. It doesn't always start out that way -- a lot of friendships have started out with mutual give and take. Then I start to notice that I'm the one doing most of (in some cases all of) the giving and getting little back. The more I notice it, the more afraid I get, and the more I begin to pull away. I give less because I get scared of being hurt more -- I put on a face of indifference when in reality it hurts, but I don't know what to do or say to fix it. Maybe it's because I expect too much of others. Maybe it's because I'm "loyal to a fault" and any little deviation from what I consider loyalty is painful for me, but it doesn't even cross the other person's mind as an issue. I don't know how to talk about it, though. Conflict, potential conflict, whatever of any kind is literally the stuff of nightmares for me. I hate it.

It's not fun being a door mat. It's not fun trying to stick up for yourself, either. When you do try, people are so used to you just laying down and saying "Here, step on me, and don't forget to wipe your feet on my face -- the carpet is more important, and the shine of soles of your shoes is just absolutely imperative" that they don't take a "No" or an "I don't want to" or an "I have an idea" seriously. Sometimes I wonder if people don't think a door mat person can even come up with anything close to the definition of an idea -- door mats can't think. They're simply there to be walked over and to scrape the mud off of the bottom of your shoes.

I wish I weren't so afraid to say what I want. I wish I weren't so scared of offending someone or coming across as bossy and controlling. I don't want to be bossy and controlling. Neither do I want to be ignored or have what I want pushed aside -- or have people think that I really don't want anything. I'm the girl who just does what others want -- I watch movies I don't feel comfortable watching, I do activities I don't want to do, I eat food I don't like, I do things that make me extremely anxious or that bore me, I say things that I really don't believe, I don't say anything if it disagrees with a friend's opinion or belief -- I just do what I'm told. Any little fight I put up generally gets ignored anyway, so I give up pretty easily.

Finding a balance between outright rude or bossy and being a door mat is so hard for me. I hate anything remotely close to conflict. Unfortunately, that makes me very good at the cold shoulder. I'm so afraid of a fight or an argument that I just shut down, pull back, and avoid people that I feel anxious about. That's no good, either. It's just as hurtful, if not more so, than simply piping up and saying, "Um, excuse me, but would you please take into consideration my feelings, rather than only thinking about what you want? Yeah, thanks. I'd appreciate it."

doesn't make sense...

I'm very upset at myself right now. I'm very upset at someone else right now, too. So feel free to read this post or not. It's very much a vent.

Dear person,

Why do I miss you? Seriously. I have no reasons whatsoever to miss you. You lied to me, you used me, you threatened me, you abused me. The very idea of seeing you gives me feelings that range from anger to fear to pity for the way you are. But mostly I'm afraid. Why am I afraid? See reasons listed in the beginning of this paragraph.

How could you profess to care for me so much and then treat me the way that you did? Why on earth did I think for a second that you told me the truth? You told me that you loved me. What you showed wasn't love. You placed yourself in a position where you could use your knowledge of my life and our friendship to use me and to control me. You had power, and you enjoyed it.

It was easy to tell; I could feel it when we were together. When you came back into my life after almost a year away, you were different towards me. I was afraid to be alone with you. I was afraid to talk to you. I did anyway, but I never felt safe with you anymore.

My experience with you has set me back so far. I was already scared of any sort of relationship. Then, though, I wanted one. So I took a chance on you. Even you know I'm not a risk taker. You were the biggest risk of my life. Thank heavens I didn't rush in and play for the highest stakes; I'd be way worse off. What we had couldn't even be considered a relationship. It was an almost relationship. For me, though, it was a huge, huge risk, and let me tell you--the return wasn't worth it.

Now I'm to the point where I'm so frightened of a repeat experience that I don't even want to consider a relationship. Now, men are handsome, nice, and friends. There isn't an active desire for anything more than friendship. Even the friendships I have made have come about through extreme caution. It's as though I have to put every man through some sort of test before I can trust him. Perhaps that isn't a bad thing, but it isn't a very healthy thing. Then the second my feelings start to change, I look for ways to shut them down. I actively seek ways to turn romantic feelings back into plain old friendship. Why? Because I'm terrified. What happens if he is as good a liar as you are? Obviously I'm easily deceived, and maybe the next guy will actually follow through on his threats. I don't know, but maybe.

What am I supposed to do, though? I'm not very big. I can't run very fast. I'm not very strong. You made all of those things very apparent to me. Thanks for that; now I'm aware of my physical weakness compared to the opposite gender.

So tell me. Why do I miss you? I shouldn't miss you. Why is it so difficult for me to keep you out of my mind, and out of my dreams, and out of my heart? Why do I wish that things could be different? I don't understand this. I don't understand how I can be so frightened of you and at the same time want you around so badly.

I don't need you. Why do I think that I need you?

I'm faced with all of this evidence of how unkind and uncaring you were. It's as plain as the noon day sun on a cloudless day. Which is why I don't understand why I miss you. I don't understand it at all. I never thought I'd say this, but I would very much like to erase you completely from my life. After everything I gave you and all of the love I showed you, you just used it all to hurt me. I'm not saying I didn't do anything wrong at all. Right now I don't care very much about that though. I'm the one who walked away with the emotional and mental damage. You're the one who went to the girlfriend you forgot to tell me about and got comfort from her. How nice for you to have a back-up plan. Or was I your back-up plan?

Now I will say this: I don't hate you. I just wish I could go back to the day I met you and walk away. That would have been the smart thing to do. Looking back I can see how naive I was. From day one, you had me right where you could play your hand the best. You immediately had the advantage, for I didn't know the rules of the game. I didn't even know we were playing.

irritated...

I'm irritated with a lot of things right now. I was trying to compose a post in my head that would be cheerful and upbeat and positive, but everything came out sounding cynical and sardonic and rude. So I'll just be straight up and admit it: I am irritated.

I'm irritated with some people's lack of consideration for others. I don't know why some people think it is okay to blast their music in their cars late at night while parked outside after a party on a street full of families with young children and elderly couples, all of whom are trying to sleep.

I don't know why some people think it is okay to steal from stores and companies, even if the item you're taking is only worth a few cents. I don't know why some people find it perfectly fine to talk up the company dress code then turn around and wear one of the most immodest costumes in the store for the sake of advertising.

I don't know why some people can act in the name of the Lord one hour, and then the next hour spend time in the company of Satan, then go back to acting in the name of the Lord.

I don't know why some men find it perfectly fine and natural for them to intimidate and frighten and threaten women. I don't know how a man can think it's okay to use and hurt a woman because she's smaller and not as strong as he is, or that it's funny or "cute" when she flinches away from him so he keeps doing it for his own entertainment.

I don't understand. I know I shouldn't let any of these things bother me so much. I should just let them go and move on with my own life. None of these are things that I can control. I'll never be able to control the actions of others, or how those actions effect me. And all the same, I still get irritated. Now I'm not only irritated with others, I'm irritated with myself for being irritated with others.

On the bright side, I went to Zupas with my friend Coty and then we watched "Tangled". I never, ever, ever get tired of "Tangled". It's one of the happiest things to ever come into my life. Never get tired of Zupas, either. And it's hard to get tired of the company of a good friend, who loves you even when you're irritated. Another bright side: my first non-training day at work went well! I'm mostly in charge of the costume wall, which is just my kind of thing. I love costumes! Mine is super cute, by the way. I'm very much excited by it. Getting to dress up in a costume at work? Awesome!

Time for bed. Maybe some sleep, or at least some rest, will ease this annoying irritation. Or make it worse because my mind always jumps into overdrive at night. Or not, because I'm exhausted! I love having a job! It makes me tired!

you're an unpleasant surprise...

Aries strikes again. And this time, he has officially struck out.

When I got out of the shower today I noticed that there was a text from Aries on my phone. He was wondering if I was at home. Yes, why, I said, knowing that he probably would invite himself over. Which ended up happening. I was home alone, so before he could tell me he was coming over I called in backup. Ruthie told me she could be there in half an hour, shortly after Aries would arrive.

He and I didn’t talk about anything. Ruthie deflected the one time the subject came up, when Aries started off by asking me if I still hate him. I told him I don’t, and he said, “Well, you sure made it sound like you do. Seeing as you pretty much told me to go jump off a cliff.”

I never. Ever. Said that. Or anything like it. When I told him so, he said that yes, you did, and then Ruthie broke in loudly saying that she couldn’t find the last two pages of her script for the play she is in. I was very glad she did that, because I was pretty sure any conversation Aries and I started would end very badly. Which kind of happened anyway. After he left, he texted me. All day long I’ve been fighting between anger and heartbreak.

He asked me if I still like him. Here’s where I lied. I really do have feelings for him. Still. Even though I shouldn’t. But it’s not safe for him to know that. If he knows, then he won’t let it go. So I lied. I told him no. Ruthie said it was for the best, too. Then he said he'd wasted my time. I told him he hadn't. Another lie, this time halfway. It was good to see him. At the same time, though, I was wishing he’d never come. While he was sitting there, I just wanted him to leave. It’s impossible to feel safe with someone you don’t, and can’t, trust. It’s hard to be with someone who you are afraid of.

Again, he told me to have a nice life and that I won't be seeing much of him anymore. For some reason, I started to cry. For all of two minutes. Then he said this: “And I’m not shallow enough to stop seeing you because you don’t like me. It’s because I disagree with how you dealt with things.”

*cough*

ExCUSE me? How I dealt with things? Yes, I made my share of mistakes. But for him to have the nerve to say something like that when he knows for a fact that he manipulated and used and hurt me is infuriating.

Now I don’t know how I feel. Furious, yes. And at the same time, I feel crushed. I feel guilty and hurt and terribly alone. I shouldn’t feel guilty. The guilt is misplaced. I feel it anyway, though. Even while I was working, sometime it would hit me and I’d cry.

Jordan was right. It was a bad idea to talk to him. A really bad idea.

I hope he stays away. It’ll be so much easier to get over if he just leaves. This leave and come back and leave and come back and leave again thing is too hard to deal with. I just want him to leave. I’m so scared of him now. This has always been my worst fear, ever since I was little, to get into a mess with a boy who was abusive. And every time, it's my fault. To Aries, it's always my fault.

Work was good for me today. The AF snowie has a TV, and I spent all afternoon cleaning the shack and watching PBS. I had no idea that they have “The Brady Bunch” reruns on PBS!! It totally made me happy. As did watching "America's Got Talent", "The Voice", and an episode of "Avatar: The Last Airbender". Not to mention "America's Funniest Home Videos". There were a couple of times when I was laughing out loud...good thing no customers were there!!

$16.58 in tips made me happy, too. And pistachio snow cones don’t taste anything like pistachios. Just sayin’.

there's a problem, officer...

So yesterday I was driving my dad’s car, which has temporary license plates. They are expired. Problem: we can’t get the real plates because we have yet to get the title from California. My brother gave us the car, and it was registered under his name in California. He didn’t have any reason to change it until he gave it to us. We’ve been trying to get the title from California for nearly 6 months.

As with everything government in California, it takes forever. I explained the situation to the officer, and showed him all of the paperwork to help my explanation. He took the papers and my license, went back to his car, and starting running the info through a computer. Usually this only takes five minutes. But no. He took fifteen. So I’m sitting there on a busy road with my window down (I didn’t know how long he would be, and the car has windows that you crank open or closed by hand, and sometimes it sticks) in the pouring rain getting soaked. I was trying not to cry because I was embarrassed to see people I know driving by—I was two blocks from my house. TWO.

The officer came back and handed me a ticket to sign, saying that there were two problems: the first was a warning for the expired plates. Not my fault. It’s California’s fault. We’re doing the best we can to get the plates, like calling them every week. Each time they’ve said that they sent them, then check the records and say, “Oh. Well, we thought we had. We’ll get them to you by the end of the week.” 6 months of that. Not my fault! The second: he wrote me a ticket for not being insured.

This first made me want to just jump off a bridge, and second (I never use this word, but I’m going to now) pissed me off. No insurance? He had the stupid insurance papers in his hand!! I am insured for every vehicle my family owns. I was there to sign the papers that are on file.

When I got home I was furious and threw a slight temper tantrum (and my keys). Then, of course, I started to cry. I was soaking wet, humiliated, angry, scared, and exhausted. The ticket instruction include a court summons thing, and a huge (and as of yet unknown) fine. It’s not even my fault, and half of the charge is wrong!! My dad looked it up with our insurance agent, who said that the cop is either an idiot or is an idiot. I guess he just made a mistake, but I’m mad enough to call him at least a halfwit. That’s a pretty dumb mistake to make, especially when he was holding my freaking insurance papers.

That was part of my Sunday. It was stupid.

contradiction...

A friend once looked me squarely in the face and very seriously said, "Georgie, you are a walking contradiction."

Well. I could have told him that. Because the truth is, I really am. For example:

There's this guy. Yes, a guy. It usually is. This one you know about, but for the sake of my heart I am not going to type his name. Any dang way, there's the guy. He's one of the best friends I've ever had in my life. And you know what? I've been avoiding him.

I have my reasons. I really do. All of them are rather pathetic and lame, but they boil down to one thing: I care way too much about him, and I know for a fact that all he wants with any girl is friendship. Because I care so much, I'm scared that I'll do something that will mess up the comfortable friendship that we have, and so I'm trying to keep contact to a minimum. Which is hard to do, seeing as I've kind of been adopted into his family (my friend's father always introduces me to family members, friends, and his Bishop as his adopted daughter).

And so I "avoid" my friend. Yet, somehow, life manages to throw him into my path in the most unexpected ways imaginable, and it drives me crazy. Yesterday I saw him from my car, where I was sitting at a red light and he was turning left in the intersection. The day before his mom posted family pictures right at the moment I logged onto facebook so there he was, tada! Today...ugh. Today he came to my younger sister's concert with his mom. He walked into the room and I was so surprised that I ducked behind my mother and hid my face in my hands because I could feel myself blushing.

Now, here's the contradiction: I'm trying so hard to avoid him and keep from seeing him anywhere, in real life or online. Then when I do see him, or we end up spending some time together, I never want to leave. We don't even have to talk, like today. We just stood next to each other after the concert, but I didn't want him to go. I mean, first when he walked in the room I was screaming in my head, "WHAT the HECK are YOU doing here?!" Then during it, "Please, don't look at me." Then halfway through the concert, "Look over here and say hello! Just notice that I'm here!" Then at the end? "Don't go. Please. Don't go. Just...don't do it."

Ugh.

Funny thing about the concert, did you know that I just happened to wear the sweater that he really likes because "all of the colors bring out your eyes and make your hair look redder"? I honestly didn't know he was going to be there, and if I had, I wouldn't have worn this stupid sweater. He noticed it. I know because his mom commented that the blue in it makes my eyes look lighter and he said, "Yeah, that's what I told her when I saw her wear it for the first time back in February." He remembered that...I'm torn between being frustrated and being giggly.

So when I don't see him, I'm agonizing over it because I miss him and I'm trying not to. But when I do see him, I first wish he was somewhere else and then I don't want him to ever leave. Excuse the dramatics, but when I got into my car after everyone had said good-bye after Meghan's concert it was all I could do to keep from putting my head down on the steering wheel and just cry. Drama.

I wish I could just banish my feelings. Friends and family say it's normal and that it's not a bad thing. Well. I'm too mixed up and too scared to keep these feelings. I'm afraid I'll do something really stupid and mess things up. I've done it before. I don't want to do it again.

"I'm a walking contradiction." I should make myself a T-shirt and put that on it. Then on the back I could write, "You've been warned."

Again, excuse the drama. I don't want to be a drama queen, I promise. At least I've kept the hysterics to the minimum. I mean, what? Hysterics? Please, I'm SO over that. Heehee...

plot hole...

Do you have any idea how frustrated I am right now? Probably not, and what's even MORE frustrating is that I cannot vent in detail about why I am frustrated because most of the world has not yet seen or heard details about the new Pirates movie.

Can you say plot hole? No...more like can you SHOUT plot hole.

At least to me there was a plot hole. A SERIOUS plot hole. Involving (quite possibly) THE HOTTEST couple Disney has EVER created.

I'm freakin' out. Either I missed something, or I missed something, because I sure missed SOMETHING. My question (or the shortened version of the question to avoid spoiling it for you):

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FREAKIN' MERMAID?!?!?!?
Other than that, it was a pretty good movie. Fun, rollercoaster ride of emotion and adventure, clever, outlandish and impossible deeds done by the infamous Jack Sparrow (who does come up with all of that stuff? it's really impossible), very fun. And slightly scary at some parts. Oh, and one scene? HOT. Like, seriously. It should be illegal to have a moment (or in this case, multiple moments) that hot in a Disney film. And it wasn't even like, BAD. It was just hot. You've been warned.

But seriously. Freakin'...gah. I wish there was a way to type out a Rapunzel pitched scream of frustration, but there's not. So just imagine me screaming in a very high pitched squeakish sort of way and you'll have it.

A HUGE thank you to my friend Julia for making it possible for me to go see the movie tonight, and another thank you to all of my wonderful LDC friends who let me go with them. It was so great to see everybody. We really can't stay away from each other...we're all addicts, I guess.

a little somethin' called grajeeayshun...

Yep. I done did it. I grajeeayted.

It's kind of cool because it's my second graduation in less than a year. In 2010 I graduated from high school. Two days ago I received my Associate's Degree (AS). Both times I graduated with High Honors. I don't know how that happened. In high school, I worked for it. In college? I didn't even know until the alumni coordinators told me I needed to buy high honor cords. "Why?" I asked them. "Um...well, you have a 3.9 and that means you have high honors. Do you not want to get the cords?" They were only five dollars, so I got them.

I also didn't know what sort of degree I was getting until the day of graduation. There are different types of Associate Degrees. I never learned that in high school! Mine's an Associate of Science in University Studies (aka they lumped me in with all of the other people who didn't know what they wanted to major in so just took everything to fulfill basic general eduaction requirements). So there I was with my black gown made out of recycled soda bottles, my dorky graduation hat, my honor cords, my green university neck hanger thing (they never told us the name), my black University College tassel, and a bad case of what-the-heck-am-I-supposed-to-be-doing?! Oh yes. I was graduating from college.

I felt less dorky once I was surrounded by other people wearing those caps. I don't know why they chose caps like that for graduation ceremonies. They don't look very cool. But I guess it's better to look scholarly than it is to look cool. Unless you're Justin Bieber or Lady Gaga. Then you can wear whatever you want and make money, no diploma needed.

Okay, so it wasn't that bad. I just felt super out of place and awkward. I didn't know anyone around me, which was very different from high school graduation. I think that was the weirdest part, not graduating with any of my friends. I'm one to two years ahead of most of them when it comes to college degree requirements, so when I am halfway through or done with my Bachelor's Degree my friends will be receiving their Associate Degrees. I'm excited for them, more than I was for myself. Graduations have never really seemed like a big deal to me. It's just what you do. You go to school, get a degree, go back to school, get another degree, and so on. Ever since I was a kid, school and getting degrees have been the big deal at my house, even moreso than politics. My parents, mom especially, have talked up college since I was probably three. So graduation? It's just another requirement.

It doesn't help that my mom got really mad at me after my convocation was over. I interrupted her without meaning to because I thought she was finished speaking. Apparently not. I don't know what it is with my family. Everything ends in a fight that mom starts and finishes by walking off to her car and driving off. That kind of ruined the entire day.

HOWEVER! There were some really good things about the day. I'll list the highlights:

1. Being found by a lady in my neighborhood who was also graduating. She let me stand in line with her and her friends, so when we were actually walking I wouldn't be by myself.
2. Matt Holland, President of UVU, gave an incredible speech. It was awesome because it felt like he was talking directly to me. It was exactly what I needed to hear, addressing all of my fears and concerns. In short, his speech said that it is critical to move forward with your life, and you have to do it despite things being imperfect. "You cannot wait for the perfect set of circumstances." It was really great.
3. Cafe Rio for lunch!
4. I don't know if this could be called a highlight because it was very scary, but I was put first in line to walk in the processional for convocation. I never lead any lines, because I'm usually the shortest or almost shortest. The tall people are always in the front, haha! Both of the girls behind me were tall. I was standing between them, but the usher came over to us and said that it looked really weird to have two tall blondes separated by a short brunette, so she moved me to the front.
5. I got a text while people's names were being read (yes, I had my phone on). It was from Jason. Here's the conversation:

Jason: "Are you graduating right now?"

Me: "Mhmmmmm!"

Jason: "In the UCCU Center?"

Me: "No, in the PE courts."

Jason: "Shoot! We're at the wrong graduation!"

I literally laughed out loud when I read that. I was so glad that they'd even made an effort to come. And guess what else? They brought me flowers that they picked from their own garden. Tulips, red and yellow ones! They're so pretty. If my camera hadn't broken during the ceremonies I would have taken a picture. I'm glad I kept the receipt with the warranty on it!

So yeah. The day was interesting.