TGIF...right?

What a mixed emotions kind of day. Really empowering, university-wide kettlebell event today got the heart racing and definitely led to some team bonding in the office.

But rather than bask in the glow of a Friday evening well deserved, I find myself worrying over a package of sentimental items that has yet to arrive.  Now in all fairness, it was 2-3 day shipping and today was the 3rd day.  But it's more the irreplaceable contents that has me feeling so angsty.  Broncos swag from, among other things, my first trip to Denver.  And the Broncos logo that I made in Woodshop.  That is without a doubt one-of-a-kind and I desperately want it to arrive in one piece.  I try to remind myself that the box is just filled with stuff and that while I might want it, things are only so important.  Intangible things are worth far more.  So I'm trying to focus on this, trying to tell myself that worrying isn't going to change the whereabouts of the package so I'll just have to hope that it shows up soon.

Because I've got so many other things that I could dwell on instead.  Dreaming of a dear friend who alludes to the fact that there could be something more.  What the fuck brain?  I think it's because I was reading Book 2 of the Hunger Games and the whole "Gale-Peeta-Katniss" triangle must have wormed it's way into my subconscious.  But really, that's so distracting.  And confusing.  And I can't even begin to describe how I feel about it because it's so totally outrageous.  And did I mention confusing?

Then, with someone else, I feel like we're walking this very fine line between friendly banter and beating around a very dangerous bush.  To be honest I'm really not in a position to be picky when a decently attractive, single male presents himself at my Amazonian feet.  Seriously, don't tease a caged animal.  But the whole thing just seems so very strange.  Because maybe I would go for that (him) if the opportunity arose.  Maybe.  Assuming it does.  Which I kinda hope it doesn't.

I'm so very antisocial these days.  It's pretty shameful if it didn't seem like something I liked.  I don't want to go out after a long week.  I want to go back to my apartment, lock the door, and enjoy the fact that I don't have to wake up at 4:45AM the next morning.  So while my social life curled up and died a long time ago, I'm not overly broken up about it's passing.  Sure, I wish I wasn't lonely.  But I love just curling up with a book and reading the night away.

Which brings me to my final point, since I'm feeling so very wise.  I'm beginning to wonder if this is a point in my life where I need to be single.  Because I feel as though I'm on the cusp of realizing a great deal about myself if I give myself the opportunity.  I'm semi-independent.  I don't need anyone to help me pass the time.  I've got my main man Rudi for whenever I want to get out and see the world.  And I'm finally recognizing that I really don't want someone in my life just for the sake of being in a relationship.  That's worked out so well in the past after all.  And with each and every end to those relationships, I've added a little more wisdom to my soul.  I know what I want a little bit better, I know what I'll never stand for, I know what I deserve, and I know what makes me happy.  But that's surely not the end to things.

Amazons can't waste their time on mere mortals.  Maybe I have high standards.  But maybe society's standards aren't high enough.  You want me to settle?  Hell no.  So up your game and bring me your best.  Because I'm cocky enough to know that I should have to settle but humble enough to know that I need to woo you too.

So please form an orderly line and wait your turn.  And let me see what society has to offer.  But I'm in no rush.  You see, I brought a book with me so I'm quite content to wait until the right one comes along.

bis bald.

Feelings almost 6 months later

I came to the realization a week or so ago that it had been 5 months since the break up.  The break up that was preceded by a talk months earlier that set the stage for things to come.  In all honesty, that little chat late one Saturday night was far worse than the actual break up.  I saw the split coming; the writing was on the wall.  The talk.  The talk came at me from way out in left field and bludgeoned my heart to smithereens.

So I realized that it had been 5 months since I sat at Greenlake with my all-of-a-sudden-ex where we bawled our eyes out at the sad reality.  And it was really sad.  It was tragic to think that all of the memories had culminated in the heartbreaking realization that it wasn't going to work out.  Heartbreaking for me at least.  I can't speak for the other party.

But when I realized that it had been 5 months, I got this strange feeling inside of me.  Strange, because it didn't make me sad to think about how that was the last time I was in a relationship.  In fact, it filled me with pride that I had triumphed over that heartbreak.  And that I'm doing okay for myself these days.  I mean I think I speak for all of us when I say, I sure do wish I had a hunky man and sprawling mansion and money piled sky high.  That would be nice.  But here I am with what I've got.  And it's okay.

I've learned a bit more about what I want.  Looking back I can see all the things that didn't work for me; I can recognize what I will and won't choose going forward.  And I won't be naive in thinking that I know someone well after just one year.

I've got new hobbies: I like to go to UW soccer games and cheer rambunctiously.  I like to sit in a park with some lunch and enjoy the quiet, while observing the ducks.  I rekindled my love affair with books and it's getting pretty torrid.  I like to hike and feel the burn in my quads as I venture through nature.

And I can feel pretty pathetic sometimes.  That nasty part of the mind always breaks through now and then.  And when it does, I want to throw all these realizations out the window.  I want to drop the bar to ground level just so that I may have someone to keep me company.  And that's when I tell myself: well, aren't you being a little picky?  A little too picky maybe?  You can't have your cake AND eat it too, you know.

But I can.  And I want to.  And I will.  Because eventually that voice is pushed back into the recesses of my skull and I pick up that bar and I place it back at its appropriate level.  And I vow that certain standards have to be met.  Will be met.  This isn't supposed to be easy.  Nothing worthwhile is easy.  And I take comfort in the fact that stick to these standards.  Because the scared girl from California, that first arrived at UW in the fall of 2009, didn't have those standards.  Didn't respect herself enough to say no to the things that weren't perfect, rather she said yes to everything in the hopes that the loneliness would be chased away.

I hate being single.  I hated from the moment I was dumped by my first boyfriend.  It was an awful abyss and I couldn't escape it fast enough.  Each month that passed me by was a biting reminder that I had yet to find someone who liked me.  It was a measure of how utterly unlikable I was.  Because isn't it?  "If you don't have someone, there must be something wrong with you."  That's what I told myself.  And the mistakes that kind of thinking leads to is evidenced by my relationship history.

I still hate being single.  That will never change.  But what has changed is how I perceive the passing of time.  I almost see it as a badge to display proudly.  "Look at me world!  Look at these standards that I have!  Look at that bar that shall not be lowered.  I will not settle for anything less than my Prince Charming riding up on a dapple grey Percheron to sweep me off my feet and carry me back to our estate in Bavaria!"  Too much? Well you get the idea.  So when the beginning of February rolls around, I can look at my calendar with satisfaction that it's been 6 months and the bar is still in place.

Amazons are picky...and rightfully so.

So I can already imagine the flack that I could/will get for this.  But I'm going to say it anyways.  Because it's how I feel.  And my mother taught me that feelings are neither right or wrong; they're just feelings.

Amazons should not have to date outside their fitness level (unless they want to).  And quite frankly, saying this makes me feel like a bitch.  But in my head I can rationalize this by saying that:

• if I bust my ass to look good, you should too.
• if I watch what I eat, you should too.
• if I strive for having toned muscles, you should too.

 Go ahead: label me something nasty.  Say I'm a bitch, that I'm superficial, and that it's the content of your heart that counts.  Your heart does count.  As does your personality.  Quite a bit actually.  But I would argue that it's a very good indicator of your personality if you are slovenly, or lack self-control, or don't see the error of your ways.  Because you're going to make yourself sick from excessive weight and lack of exercise and I don't need to be your mother. #bitch


I'd like to acknowledge the fact that many people are works in progress.  What you are today isn't an indicator of what you will be tomorrow.  I was, as a child, quite overweight.  I purposely don't look at photos of myself from my childhood because I'm so upset by what I used to look like.  That being said, I don't want to try and fix someone.  They will resent me for not being happy with who they are and I will be miserable because I won't be happy.

I will confess that it's hard finding out someone is out of shape after learning they have a decent personality.  Because how do you casually walk away from that after clearly hitting it off to one extent or another.  Then...WHAMMO!

"I...uh...met someone else." Really?  When did that happen?

"I'm...well...I'm just not feeling like we're clicking..." Oh?  I thought we were.

"Here's the thing, now that I know what you look like, I'm not attracted to you anymore."  WHAT?  You're such a BITCH!
"Yes, I know."

What's an Amazon to do?

• Lie?  No.  Never.  At least not when you can totally avoid lying.
• Be honest? Welp...if you're a cold-blooded bitch I guess you could.  I'm a bitch but I don't want to give someone a complex.  I just want to kind of walk slowly backwards and pretend this didn't happen.
• Say nothing and fade into the background.  Sigh.  I've got balls so that's not something I do with any frequency.  Because it's shit to be on the receiving end of that.  Most of us know that from experience.

I guess in a situation where those are the only options I'd opt for Lie. Keep it vague.  Keep it short.  Dear god, please don't ramble.  I don't normally advocate for dishonesty but you could say something like "Hey, I've enjoyed talking with you but things have changed for me and blah blah blah.

We make no apologies.