On Being Socially Awkward

Often I describe myself as "socially awkward." I like this description for me because it doesn't mean anything in particular. I am awkward in social situations. That is all. Because no other word seems to work perfectly for me.

My new boss thinks I am being vastly unfair to myself. "You are not at all socially awkward," she said. "You are really outgoing."

And the thing is that I am - I am a rockin' social butterfly, but I am also really shy and absolutely not outgoing. I don't like to step outside of my box and talk to people. I actually avoid it like the plague. I am an inside girl. I don't say "Hi" to my neighbors and I don't know any of the names of my kids' friends' moms. I don't gravitate toward social situations or have any real desire to do social things.

But once I'm there and I have met a few people and gotten rolling, I am a hurricane. I am talkative and story telling. I come to life. The problem isn't that social things are hours and hours of torture for me, it's that preparing for them and thinking about them is.

I get sick to my stomach and I start to make up reasons why I can't go. I've literally made myself sick before and then said how sorry I was that I couldn't make it, all while thanking pants that I couldn't go inside my head.

The worst part is that I don't know why I do this to myself. I've always said that I like individual persons, but I hate people en mass. And that's entirely true, but knowing that I like individuals should ease the stress of going and talking to them, shouldn't it?

And even once there and in my groove and having a good time, I will tend to avoid anyone new or less familiar. I will tend to crawl inside my own head and hide, trying to blend into the wallpaper or slipping off to the restroom for a inordinately long time.

This is part of the reason book club is so appealing to me. Book club does not equal socially awkward to me because I know all those people. I mean, sure, it's awkward for the first meeting and even now there is one woman in my book club who joined late and my weird crazy-pants head won't let me remember her name. I think, because then I could talk to her.

Book club - saving me from hermitage since 2006.

Finally Final

Everybody warned me about it. They said that once you get the final paperwork, it's like having it  happen all over again. It's the gut punch of finality. Of knowing, once and for all that you can't go back. They said that I would cry. They said that no matter what, it would hurt. I was prepared.

So, on a Friday night, when I saw the letter in my mailbox, I said a silent prayer of thanks that the kids weren't home. I went in the house and fixed a Coke. I opened the envelope. I read the words. I put it in the fireproof box where important things go.

And then I turned on the TV.

I didn't feel any of the things I thought I'd feel. I didn't cry. I didn't have the air knocked out of me. I didn't mourn all over again or feel abandoned or alone or even lonely. I was fine.

And then I started to worry. Maybe I have a problem. Maybe there is something wrong with me that's preventing me from feeling everything I'm supposed to feel. Maybe I'm numb.

The thing is that I have walked through this whole year-long process waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting to be devastated.

And I'm just not. That's not to say that I'm happy it happened this way or that this was always the way I wanted things or even that I'm indifferent about this trajectory I've found myself on.

I've had bad nights. Nights when I sobbed myself to sleep, waking up puffy eyed and tired all over again. Nights when I've blamed myself for every fight. Nights when I've blamed him for every fight. When I was younger, I feared dying alone. Over the years, that fear has dwindled, but now I find myself waking up at night worried about it all over again. Like the ribbon of my youth doubling back on me.

I've fought my demons. Wondering who I am and who I've let myself become. Drawing ever inward and isolating myself, then finding that there weren't many people left waiting when I finally emerged. I didn't read for three months. That's the longest stretch I've ever gone without picking up a book. I currently haven't crocheted since Easter. It's like I need a break from myself.

I've wondered, more or less constantly, if I could do this. If I was cut out to do this and found that the resounding answer was yes.

So, yes, I've suffered. And I've mourned. And I've gotten so angry... So angry I saw red and felt my heart beat in my ears. I've done all the things that I was supposed to do.

But I've always found the blue sky. I've always walked out on the other side and realized that even though I didn't want this life, didn't ask for this, it is far and away better than what I was trying to do.

Years ago, when I was crying and hurt and sharing with a friend what was going on, she said, "Don't be miserable. Don't stay if staying makes you miserable. It's not good for you and it's not good for the kids. Get out and stay out if that will make you a happier person. You will be a better mom when you feel like you can breathe."

I just shook my head because while I was miserable right that second, I didn't think I was usually miserable. I didn't really believe that to be the state of my life. Now, I know that I was. Now, I know how truly bad things were and how much that affected every area of my life.

The relief I feel now is palpable. It's a constant lightness. It's like taking off a loaded backpack. I didn't realize how much weight there was until it was gone.

And sitting in my favorite chair, my big red chair, curled up with my favorite blanket, a Mason jar of Coke sweating next to me and my favorite show on the TV, I folded up the words that meant that it was really and truly over and, despite all the bad nights, the tears and angry screams, the half-baked revenge fantasies and headachey mornings, that was all I felt. The relief of knowing that it is truly, truly done. Forever done. Over.

Hallelujah.

Five Things on Friday - Bad Boys Edition

This will probably come as no surprise: I watch a lot of genre TV. Pretty much if it involves the supernatural, the future or zombies, I am all over that stuff. And while watching these shows, I find myself over and over again head-over-heels for guys that are not... well, nice.

Which led me to develop a theory. Because I love a good theory.

Good guys - the guys who are always kind, always do the right thing - will, given any set of events, do the right thing. What this means is that they will sacrifice anything, including but not limited to, the girl they love to save the world. That's just who they are. They may hate it, but they'll do it. Probably with a puppy dog face.

Bad boys - the boys who really don't care what you think and always do what serves them best - will, given any set of events, do what works for them and theirs. Which means that they will watch the ever-loving world burn to save the girl they love. They may hate it, but they may not. They don't really care about anyone else.

Which means that in real life, a bad boy is not such a great idea. I mean, unless you like chaos and self-centeredness. But, TV isn't real life.

The Five Best Bad Boys
(according to me, right now - I reserve the right to change my mind)

1. Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer, James Marsters) - Ah, there you are. I've missed you so. Seriously, you know when I fell for Spike? It wasn't when he fell for Buffy. Or when he began fighting on the side of good. It was when he came back to Sunnydale, chasing Drusilla. Spike was willing to do anything, including buddy up with the Slayer and her Slayerettes to win back his lady love. And even his back story, with his bloody bad poetry shows a man willing to go through pain and anguish and humiliation for love. Just love. Spike doesn't always make the right choice. Pants, he doesn't even usually make the right choice, but his intentions are clear, his motivations are un-muddied. Spike is just in this for true love. In whatever weird, twisted form it might find.

2. Cap'n Mal (Firefly/Serenity, Nathan Fillion) - The good captain of the Firefly class ship, Serenity, is arguably a very good guy. He risks everything to tell the world about the evil of the Alliance. He fights for what he believes in the war. But, he's also a very bad man. He steals, cheats and kicks people into turbines to send a message. He's not interested in anyone in the 'verse except his crew. And he's very choosy about his crew. Mal is a lot like Han Solo. Because let's face it, Han never cared about the Rebel Alliance, he only cared about Leia.

3. Logan Echolls (Veronica Mars, Jason Dohring) - Alright, let me just start by saying that I know... I know that there is nothing supernatural, futuristic or zombiefied about Veronica Mars. What I also know, though, is not a single solitary geek who didn't love some Veronica. I'm re-watching right now, on Soap.net. And, despite being horrified that I watch something that airs on Soap.net, it's so much fun. And I have fallen for Logan all over again. Also, Weevil is my boo. Logan is a great bad boy. He is truly awful, especially in the first season, but he will do anything, absolutely anything for Veronica. Even when he thinks he hates her. I'll never not cheer when he beats the cop car with a baseball bat just so he can be thrown in jail and try to kill the guy who tried to rape Veronica.

4. Daryl Dixon (The Walking Dead, Norman Reedus) - The man I most commonly refer to as, "My Post-Zombie-Apocalypse-Boyfriend," Daryl is really the only self-absorbed man in the whole series. The women, well, let's just say that Jessi thinks the women are an unfair portrayal. I'm holding out hope for Maggie. In any case, Daryl seems wholly uninterested in pretty much anything, only staying with the group for the small amount of protection it allows. He's not opposed to doing the right thing, as long as the right thing doesn't cause him too much inconvenience. Until Sophia disappears. Ah, how I love me a bad boy with a soft spot for kids. And he's totally badpants with that crossbow. Swoon.

5. Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries, Ian Somerhalder) - Can I just say that Elena chose wrong? Sure I can, it's my list. Damon may not be nice and he may not be her "epic love," but Damon is willing to walk through fire for her. And he's prettier. Seriously prettier. And if you have any doubts, ever, re-watch the episode where he and Alaric are in the tomb waiting for Ric to die. Damon is the one you want on your side when the end comes. Also, Damon brings up a good point about vampire bad boys - they can't turn evil. They're pretty close on the best of days, so what's the point. With Stefan, you are always running the risk of a lapse.

Who's your favorite bad boy? Or are you firmly in love with the good guys (Angel, Piz, Rick and Stefan)? Also, is there an equivalent for the geeky guys? Good girls vs. bad girls? I'm interested if it works the same way. Sound off below.

How Hard is Too Hard

Let me start this by saying something I think is pretty obvious: I have smart kids, specifically, today, we are discussing the smartness of Brynna.

Brynna is a smart kid. She can pick up and read just about anything, and given ten minutes with nothing going on and she probably will. She's blown her first term reading goal out of the water and she's still got about 40% of the term to go.

She routinely gets perfect and near perfect scores on spelling, which is, to this day, the bane of my existence. Seriously, I am constantly trying to spell something and when I was her age, I considered it a banner day if I only missed a quarter of the words.

Science and social studies are non issues. She's never floundered even slightly in those subjects (because they are amazingly compelling to her and you don't get to do much with them in the early years around here).

And then there's math. I sucked at math. Until algebra. When I started doing algebra, suddenly things made sense and I never really struggled with math again. (As a non-math person. High school calculus was as far as I went, so you know, take that with a grain of salt.) But Brynna doesn't. She's good at math. She gets it, she doesn't struggle, she understands.

She is slow as molasses in a snowstorm in January.

This year, a great deal of emphasis is being put on speed and memorization in math. They have timed tests once a week on "math facts." I'm pretty sure math facts wasn't even a thing when I was in school. And the only thing I was ever asked to memorize was multiplication tables.

But once a week, Brynna has five minutes to answer 100 questions. Right now they are subtraction questions.

And she is really struggling with this.

And I'm working at making it better. From flash cards to cell phone games to car quizzes, I'm trying to give her the foundation to do this thing. Last night, as she got slower and slower and slower (and this is after like 5 minutes, not an hour and a half or anything), I heard her mutter, "Eight minus 6 is... is... nine? Yeah. Nine." My head went splodey.

I was trying to maintain my calm and explain to her that this is important.* She needs to get this. This is foundation and getting left behind now means always being a step behind. And she said, "You're pushing me too hard, mom."

And I stopped. I still haven't decided for how long.

Because when she was really working at reading and just not getting it, I pushed and I pushed and then I quit. And when I quit? She suddenly got it. All of it. In a big fat rush of getting.

And what is pushing too hard? Is it pushing too hard making her play math games every night? Is it pushing too hard giving her big scary goals (like getting 1/4 of the test done in the allotted time)? Is it pushing too hard to put the expectation out there that she's going to kill this and I won't take no for an answer? I don't know.

I try not to push her for two reasons. First, I know she's going to get it. And second, I know that she doesn't push well. She's a feet digger-inner.

So, what do you think? How hard is too hard?

*And I'm not at all convinced that it is. I get that having this stuff memorized now makes the more complicated stuff go quicker and smoother. I understand the purpose. I also know that I memorized this stuff through trial and error and doing it over and over again. I'm not sure that I "buy" the importance of memorizing math facts any more than I buy "sight words." But I have decided that as long as we are stuck in this system, we are going to make it work. Whether it means bending to the system or bending the system to us.

A Song that Makes Me Sad

I'm going to attempt to do this memey thing called 30 Days of Song. I will not post this every day, because oh-my-pants-I'm-bored-already. Instead I'll post once or twice a week, as I feel like. So there. I am unrepentantly stealing this from Jen O. at My Tornado Alley. She rocks. I'm not sure if she stole it from somewhere, but here we go. 

A Song that Makes Me Sad

The trouble with this one is that I really love sad music. Sad music makes me happy. Which means that it doesn't really make me sad. But whatever. There are lots of really great sad songs out there, but I think this is my favorite. "Anna Begins" is from Counting Crows album, August and Everything After, which was like a soundtrack to me in the 90's. And, let's face it, almost every song on the whole album holds a sense of sadness. And I love them all. But there's something about "Anna Begins" that has just always gotten under my skin. According to Adam Duritz, it's a song about falling in love when you never meant to, and I can see that.

But for me, the meaning of this song has always sort of moved and swayed with whatever was going on for me. Which is what makes it art (if you want me to get all philosophical about it), it's in the eye of the beholder.

Lyrics | Counting Crows lyrics - Anna Begins lyrics

Day 1 - Your Favorite Song - White Blank Page
Day 2 - Your Least Favorite Song - Barbie Girl
Day 3 -  A Song that Makes You Happy
Day 4 - A Song that Makes You Sad (today)
Day 5 - A Song that Reminds you of Someone
Day 6 - A Song that Reminds you of Somewhere
Day 7 - A Song that Reminds You of a Certain Event
Day 8 - A Song that You Know All the Words To
Day 9 - A Song that You Can Dance to
Day 10 - A Song that Makes you Fall Asleep
Day 11 - A Song from your Favorite Band
Day 12 - A Song from a band you Hate
Day 13 - A Song that is a Guilty Pleasure
Day 14 - A Song that No One Would Expect you to Love
Day 15 - A Song that Describes You
Day 16 - A Song that You Used to Love but Now Hate
Day 17 - A Song that You Hear Often on the Radio
Day 18 - A Song that You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Day 19 - A Song from your Favorite Album
Day 20 - A Song that You Listen to When You're Angry
Day 21 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Happy
Day 22 - A Song that you Listen to when You're Sad
Day 23 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Wedding
Day 24 - A Song that you Want to Play at your Funeral
Day 25 - A Song that Makes you Laugh
Day 26 - A Song that you Can Play on an Instrument
Day 27 - A Song that you Wish you Could Play
Day 28 - A Song that Makes you Feel Guilty
Day 29 - A Song from Your Childhood
Day 30 - Your Favorite Song at this Time Last Year

I Need a New Uniform

Last week, The Ex and I took the girls to the book fair. You know, that thing where the school uses guilt and 2 freakin' weeks of kid window shopping to force you to spend a fortune, because it's books and you can't say no? Yeah, that thing.

Anyway, we took them and went together and were all co-parenty. Because we strive to be good parents, even if we aren't married. Because we want to present a united front. Because something-something about that class on divorced parenting we took.

And it was fine. You know, mostly fine. There were books and we each bought some for our kids and yes, he bought them both books that I said I wouldn't buy because they needed to get things that were enjoyable beyond once. Because I'm a curmudgeon. Always.

But, here's the thing. We've done this co-parenty gig a couple of times now, and what always strikes me as terribly uncomfortable is running into people. We ran into this guy with whom we graduated high school and he was all chatty and friendly and there we stood, near each other, nodding and smiling and then he left and we left and no one ever said anything about the fact that we were divorced.

Because why would we?

It didn't come up. And it seems overly bizarre to say, "Hey, yo. I know we are both standing right here in front of you and all, but we are no longer of the married type. We dissolved our matrimonial union and now we are just here together because we are both parenting these kids. That is all."

But it also seems bizarre to me that at the end of this little convo - off he walked assuming that we are still together.

And, I don't know how to explain why this is a thing that I care about. I barely know this guy now. Beyond we once took Bio together and he tortured the craziest teacher in the school for fun and now has a kid that goes to the same school as my kid - I got nothing. His opinion or knowledge of my relationship status (to parlay a FB term) has no bearing on my life whatsoever.

In fact, with relation to Facebook and it's personal questions of doom... I turned off my relationship status completely. It doesn't say that I'm married, divorced, separated or considering moving to Ireland because the guys there are probably still jerks, but at least they talk all pretty. I turned it off, because it occurs to me now after years of happily proclaiming myself married, that it's none of anyone's pantsing business. (Says the woman with a blog. Well, you know, if you want to know the intimate details of my life, you should probably just click that link in my timeline and come read said blog.

So, why, oh why do I want people I run into to know what's going on in my life?

I think it's just because it seems disingenuous. I feel like a big ole liar standing there next to someone I used to be married to and letting someone think I still am. It's not that I want to share every detail with the world. It's just that I don't want to lie to anyone either.

I need a t-shirt. Maybe one that says, "Marriage is for suckers," or "Lovin' Livin' Alone."

In the meantime, I'll be at every school event, over there, rolling my eyes and looking uncomfortable.

Five Things on Friday - Vampirism Sucks Edition

I'll take the bad one. I have a whole theory on that.
I'll share it sometime.

You may know that in addition to being a true believer in the forthcoming zomboalypse, I am also vampire crazy.

When I was in middle school, I read a little series called The Vampire Diaries, and fell madly in love. (It did not stand up particularly well. I re-read it a couple of year ago and it was not stellar.) But, luckily someone else fell in love with this as a kid and grew up and made a TV show about what it could have been.

It took me a while to catch on, because I tend to be late to the party and I am behind. Last night, I was catching up, via re-run and it occurred to me that if there is one thing that all vampire media agrees on, it is that there are some serious downsides to being a vampire.

So, I present:

Five Reasons Why Being Undead would Truly Suck Pants

1. High School - Apparently, all vampires look like teenagers. I'm not sure if this is just because bloodsuckers are drawn to siring teenagers or if it is some magic of the curse. If so, you know, that might balance everything out. Because also... All vampires are hot. Anyway, they all seem to keep going back to high school. Over and over again, all these creatures of the night, check into their local high school and matriculate. They go to dances, they buy prom dresses, they date high schoolers and they deal with the never ending gossip. I'm telling you, high school wasn't that much fun, I am totally not interested in centuries of it.

2. No Daylight - This is probably why they are all so broody. They are all suffering from SAD. It does, in fact, make you short tempered, irritable and depressed. The next time you are watching a vamp being all "Woe is me, I've got immortality and am drop-dead gorgeous, but I have to eat rats if I don't want to kill my friends," just imagine how much good some vitamin D might do 'em.

3. Bad Boys vs. Good Guys - Which brings me to the whole broody vampire vs. might kill you at any second vampire. There is no middle ground. I'm not sure that anyone has ever properly explained why there are no just ordinary vampires.

4. Chaos - I kinda get why being in the middle of the supernatural community might make your life a little more hectic, but I often wonder what exactly is up with the sheer cloud of chaos that seems to follow vampires. Is there ever a normal day when you are undead or it is all battling ancient foes and rescuing your human significant other for the 9 millionth time?

5. Never-ending Stream of Exes - When you're going to live forever, you tend to either pick significant others who are also planning on kicking off next century with a bang, or you make them that way. Which means that in a couple hundred years, you've established a pretty major pack of exes. But you would think that maybe some of them would want to steer clear of you and wouldn't follow you to whatever small town you are currently occupying. I guess not, though. I kinda get that, too. The lack of photography means that since Facebook stalking your exes is out, you might as well get your hands dirty and see what 16 year old your ex is currently sipping.

So, yea or nay to a lifetime of high school drama and depression? I'm pretty sure I'm out, even it would mean a pretty major makeover.

A Dream is Just Something Else to Worry About

Once upon a time, a million-billion (or you know 4) when I started blogging, I started following other people's blogs. Because you know that old adage about read more than you write and something-something-something.

Anyway, a lot of the people I was reading at that time packed up one weekend and went to this mysterious land of amazing called BlogHer. And I thought, "That sounds like fun. Maybe next year I can (furious google sounds)... Holey Pants! I could go to ComicCon for that." (Because even in my head, I'm a huge geek.)

In any case, for years now, I've listened to all the wonderful reports back from all the wonderful conferences and sort of whimpered in my cheerio's. Because I wanna go.

I wanna meet all these amazing people in that list over there -------------->
I wanna have a weekend where I am all blogger all the time.
I wanna have a good excuse to make business cards for my blog.
I wanna commune with all the other voices out there and get advice and learn from people and stuff.
I wanna hang with people who are amused by the same things I am.

And, I am. I'm going to a conference. To be specific, I'm going to a Non-Conference, because I'm cool like that.

I've been thinking about it for months, really and I registered, but I still had a little bit of out room. Today, I bought a plane ticket and that was some serious stuff. Now, I can't wiggle out. Now, I'm going. I'm going to meet a million cool people and see some beautiful gardens and find out just how crazy a blogger party is.

And, so today, the day I purchased the ticket to the big flying tube, I'm stressed. And, like many, many people before me, I'm going to do what I do best with stress. I'm going to ask you to fix it. With your advice and witticisms and maybe even calming shoulder stroking. I'm basically a feral cat when I get worked up.

1. Prepare to laugh - I haven't flown since before 9/11. Not because I was scared, but because I have had no where to go. I hear it's scary now. I understand there are naked pictures and I have to decant my shampoo into thimbles and I think there's something about shoes. Tell me what I need to know about flying in the 21st century, please.
2. What should I wear? There's conferency things and party things and it's all casual and mediocre and all, but I don't want to look like a shlump. But I also don't want to look like the crazy woman in a 80's pantsuit.
3. What do you put in a carry-on? It seems like a big deal, but in college I put all my books and my CD player, so I'm not sure that I even really need one... I mean, I'll have the gigantic purse of doom, but do I need another bag with me on the plan? Should this be my what-if-my-suitcase-goes-to-Bora-Bora-bag? Do I fill it with underwear and toothpaste? 
4. What should I be stressed about that I have completely forgotten? I'm sure there's something, like how I always stress really hard about remembering my toothbrush and then I get somewhere and I'm missing something equally important like my pajamas, or house keys. I'm guessing I won't need my house keys, though.