Priority Use

Whenever I don't eat enough protein I eat really bad things all day. Take today, for example. I've had no protein. As a result, my consumption has included a spoonful of peanut butter and some grapes for breakfast, 3 pancakes for lunch, some bread, chips and chocolate for snack. Ick. Ick. Ick. I feel very icky. All I had to do was eat some protein and I wouldn't have needed to eat crap ALL DAY LONG.

Crap! What am I doing?? I'm supposed to be doing homework. Damnit (ha ha, I don't know how to spell that word!). That's another thing about protein. Without it, I am easily distracted and forget what I'm supposed to do.

By the way, did anyone ever notice that protein doesn't follow the little diddy: "i before e except after c"?

Okay, homework it is. First, maybe I should check my mail. I hope the little fabric sample came. But, I hope Economist didn't. I'm not done with last week's. And, then I'll want to read it.

No. Homework.

Maybe I'm not really George. It's just that we just have a few similar characteristics.

By the way, speaking of living in the past, I saw Juan today and it made me feel really good. I sort of miss him. Well, I probably don't miss him. You know? Well, I miss something. Maybe he'll take me back. No, that would be a bad idea. At least we can go play tennis together--that's what he suggested today. And maybe go salsa dancing. That would be nice.

I'm supposed to be finishing my paper. But, I'm not. There's really no excuse for it having taken me so long. I mean months, even. But, now, all I have to do is type in my changes and I'll be done. Something that should have taken me about 45 minutes has now taken me about 2 hours. And, I'm not even done. Instead, I'm eating chocolate and looking at photos on facebook. The chocolate isn't that good, but the photos are.

I love photos. Mostly of people. Events. Things that were fun. I think I'm pretty good at not living in the past, but that doesn't mean I don't appreciate it. Photos, somehow, help me to appreciate it. Some of the photos were really funny. Well, the photos weren't funny, but somehow they made me laugh. It's like they made me feel connected all over again.

Okay, there's really no point to this post anymore. Plus, I am about to finish off my bag of chocolate. Yuck. I ate 2 $.99 bags of chocolate this week. It wasn't even good. That's the thing about chocolate--you can't eat a lot of the good stuff. If I had a box of, oh, I don't know, something good, I wouldn't be able to eat more than one or two pieces. But, I can eat an entire bag of Palmer Super Mix and Hershey's Solid Eggs in less than 7 days. Anyway, photos. They are nice.

Someone stole my socks from my gym locker. They were used, smelly and [likely] sweaty. I hate the idea of using the same things over and over again, but it's such a pain to bring new clothes every day. I saw a [seemingly] great idea a few weeks ago and decided to take note. So, I stuck each sock a bit out of the little air vents on the side of the locker so they would hang a bit. This way, they wouldn't get all bunched up with my shoes and water bottle. I did this with my sports bra too.

I came in the next morning and the bra looked as though it had been pulled out a bit more than how I'd left it, and my socks weren't there. Hmm. Okay. I thought maybe I'd just brought them home and forgotten.

Nope. They're not at home. Well. Someone stole my gym socks. They were actually nice socks, too. Short and white. With little cushy treads on the bottom. I really liked them.

What kind of jerky thief steals socks? Smelly, used ones? And umbrellas, for that matter. Who steals umbrellas? Jeesh. Sometimes I am really confused.

The grass is always greener, right? It's never how you want it to be--even if it's how you've wanted it to be.

I used to want to be attractive. Which isn't to say that I don't still want that. The type of attractive that symbolizes nothing buy superficiality and, oh I don't know, conceit? Well, not in a bad way. But, just good looking. Whatever. Anyway, someone from the gym asked me out the other day. He knows nothing about me--except that I go to the gym. We talked for about 5 minutes and he asked me out. Juan knew me for about, oh I don't know, 10 minutes before he asked me out. It's only happened twice, and already it's too much. I mean, it's flattering, sure. Love at first sight? Lust at first sight? That's not what sustains a relationship. And, I think I've had enough of these little lust trists. I want to feel connected--Eek! I'm getting deep. Mushy and deep.

I'd just like to think that someone finds me the least bit attractive to think that I'm a good person (ha ha...I'm sure that's what they're thinking). But, really, now I just want to be a good person.

Okay, this isn't being all that fair or truthful. I don't want to just be (superficially) attractive. But, I want to also be charismatic and happy and I want people to be attracted to my personality in all respects, as well. I want to be a person that people generally want to be around. The problem, I'm realizing, is that once people (guys) get to know me, they don't seem to want to date me. What's with that? Am I missing something here?

I want to get to know someone. I want someone to get to know me and have that all be fine and dandy. Happy ending with a nice little bow. This doesn't mean I want to get married to the next person who contentedly falls in love with my personality. Of course not. I just want to be with someone who has developed into something more. Okay, so initial physical attraction is great. I don't mind that. But, I also need some reinforcement on the other side. I need to know that what I am doing--what I am--is good for someone more than just me. Not because I need outside motivation. But, because it's good to know that I'm someone around whom someone else wants to be.

I have a feeling that I just did a terrible job getting my point across. I think I'm going to make some people mad. Or, at least I'll be a bit misunderstood. But (I sound like a broken record), I know what I mean. Sometimes I'm just not good at writing it.

I think I'm a George O'Malley:

Dependable. Good bedside manner. Relates well to others. Falls in love easily. Trustworthy and trusting. Strangely happy.

Lacks self-confidence. Is a punching-bag for others (but only from his--my--own doing). Confused.

I'm pretty sure that I believe in some sort of fate. Maybe fate, as a word, is too loaded. Serendipity? But, then, if fate is too loaded, serendipity is not loaded enough. What I mean to say, is that I often feel as though I'm some where, some time for a reason. To see something. To see someone. To hear something I've been needing to hear.

We went to Oprah the other day. Like, we actually went to Oprah. Everyone wanted a new car, or at the very least, a Louis Vuitton bag. Or, Brad Pitt. We wanted Brad Pitt (well, not Brad Pitt specifically, but someone cute and famous). Instead, the show was about women who hate themselves. It was really depressing. But, I think it was almost fated. I mean, I don't hate myself, really. But, I could definitely relate to some of the things that those women said. Especially this mom who smokes a lot. It just all hit home. And, it made me think. And, I couldn't explain it, or share how it made me feel with anyone. It was just for me.

Then, on Friday, I went to this conference and happened upon a women with whom I used to work. It's this organization that I didn't keep in touch with, but should have. And she told me to send my resume.

And, today, I didn't want to babysit, but I did. And, it wasn't even my weekend, but I had switched somewhere down the line, so it became my weekend. This mom's sister was there and she asked me what I was doing when I graduated and I told her PC. And, she said all of these amazing things that made me feel so okay about it all. It wasn't even that she said that much. It all only amounted to about 3 sentences. But it was really loaded.

This evening I was riding home from CVS and saw Juan (I only say his name because no one knows him and I can't remember what weird code name I gave him before). I never see him just walking. But, he was just walking. And, we talked. It wasn't good. It was actually bad. But, it all needed to be said.

So, I don't know if this is all meaningless. It might be that if you connect the dots you'll make a picture nonetheless. Even if a picture doesn't really belong. But, then, does it really matter? What's the big deal if the picture is purely a manifestation of arbitrarily connected dots? Thinking that things work out for a reason gives me inspiration to keep on trudging. It's not that I think there's this ultimate driving fate and the plan cannot be changed. I believe in self-realization and self-determination and all of that. But, I also believe that it isn't always exactly as black and white as it seems. I believe in something bigger than me. Even if, ultimately, it is just me. But, I believe that there is some side of sub-conscious me that knows more than I do. Perhaps this is getting too convoluted. Perhaps I am tired. Perhaps I've had a really strange weekend (too say the least). Whatever it is, telling myself stories makes it all seem to be okay.

One of the lightbulbs in my ceiling fan keeps going out and then turning back on again. It's very odd. I hope it doesn't burn out because I just donated my last lightbulb to fix the light in the entrance way and I don't feel like buying another.

But, even more than that. Today was really satisfying. Or, it had satisfying moments. Even though some jerk stole my umbrella and made me get soaked to the point of having two little wet marks perfectly placed directly on top of my chest, it was good. I spent the day reading and baking. But, not baking for me. Baking for people whom I love and being really happy to be able to do that. I'm so excited to have a family to cook for. I love when my dad gets excited about my cooking. I made him an apple streudel and he made me feel like the most important person on earth. It makes me feel so good to be able to give something special to people who mean so much to me. I may not be the best cook, but food, for me, is my way to share. I don't know if people realize that. But, I think that's how many lovers-of-all-things-food actually feel. Or, at least the people who create it. The people who receive it should know that the best food is the food that is cooked from the heart. It may sound cliche, but it is very much true. I don't cook for sustenance. I cook for emotion. Cooking, for me, is extremely personal. I would rather be naked in front of some people, than cook for them. Cooking, for me, is often when I feel the most vulnerable. I may not always fess-up. But, I bake. And, I think that might just be enough.

Tonight I had the most amazing dinner with an amazing friend with whom I've lost touch. For weird reasons. Uncomfortable reasons. But, we're moving past that, and that makes me feel good.

Dinner was her initiative. Her plan. And, it was fabulous. The menu was great. And, then we watched cable. Food TV. It was amazing. But, I already said that.

I felt amazingly complete and satisfied after my meal. It was a good meal, don't get me wrong. But, the satisfaction was also dependent on the company. Knowing that I was with someone who knew me. Probably who knows me better than most people. I never was afraid to be open with her. I don't know why. Being open is such a mutual thing.

It's funny, really. There are certain people with whom I want to be connected. But, they've hurt me badly. Yet, I almost don't learn. I keep trying to go back. Because I don't like to give up. And, then, there are certain people with whom I am really connected, but I don't give them enough of a chance. So many people, really. Why is that? It's like being attracted to the bad boy when the good boy is right next door. Is it for the challenge? For the prize? It tends to work out for all the wrong reasons. And, I know this. So, I don't know why I continue to try.

Anyway, I'm going to turn this back to being simple-minded and un-profound. Here's what we ate:

Mixed greens salad with crumbled goat cheese, chopped apple and balsamic caramelized walnuts with a red wine-mustard vinaigrette.

Freshly-baked crusty French bread with herbed cheese spread.

Thick and tender lentil soup--perfectly salted.

Dark-chocolate dipped strawberries.

It was one of those nights that we so satisfying that I was actually happy to come home.

I agree with Maylea. Well, I agree with smiling. But, not necessarily for the same reason.

It's the weak smiles that I get that make me feel like things are okay. I mean, I know that I'm nothing special. I know I'm not hotter than any of the other unattractive squirrels around campus (not that I agree with that generalization). But, daily connections with strangers make me happier than anything. These connections make me feel like the world is okay. That people care, somehow, about me--insignificant me. A me that they know nothing about. But, a me with whom they're willing to share a platonic smile. I don't even kid myself to think that it's a matter of cuteness.

I was actually thinking that today.

I was on my bike riding through HP and loving every minute of it. Glancing around. Making eye contact. Smiling. It didn't matter with whom. Just a little connection. It made me feel happy and complete. More complete, almost, than with most of the people I actually spend most of my time with.

I love jogging more than most things. And, I think it is for this reason, alone. I mean, it makes me feel amazing and empowered and healthy and strong. But, more than that, it makes me feel connected. When I jog, I share smiles and nods and sometimes a few words with people in the streets. And, other joggers. For that one moment, the two or three of us are connected and there's something really warm and fuzzy about that.

When someone chooses to look the other way--left, right, up, down--when I pass by, I feel dejected. I know that it is their insecurity and not mine, but still. How is a person not important enough to get even a glance?

I know it means more than that. But, think of how you feel when someone takes the time to look at you?

Who knows if this makes any sense. But, it's something I've actually been thinking about a lot.

I find it amusing to consider the things that I remember.

My best friend in middle school and I were brushing our teeth one night. She didn't rinse her toothbrush after brushing, while I rubbed my fingers across the bristles under water in order to clean it. I commented on her not washing. I think I must have offended her. She commented on my rubbing the bristles. Apparently, that's not good for the brush.

So now I don't rub the bristles. And, I haven't since.

I still often think of that night, in my bathroom one night when we were only 12, when I'm brushing my teeth.

Here I am, waiting to go out. Waiting for my roommates to be girls. And, I very much don't feel like one. I don't even know how to put my own make up on. She had to help me. Pathetic and ridiculous. I like getting dressed up. I just don't know how to do it. So, I generally don't.

It took me about 15 minutes to put on my nothing-special clothes, and a bit of eyeshadow and lip gloss and I was "kiss of approval" done. Or, as done as done is going to be.

I don't have anything to match my necklace. If I wear this, then I can't wear that. Right? But, I don't really have any other options. I guess I need to develop a collection. It will happen over the years.

We were really excited to go out at first. And then we became old ladies.

"I have nothing to wear."
"Me neither."

"I'm tired."
"My head hurts."

"Did you hear it's techno?"
"How are we gonna dance to that?"

"Okay, well, let's just go."
"Yeah, okay. We can leave when we get there."

Well, here goes. Nonetheless, I'm quite excited. I just wish I knew how to be a girl god damnit!