the ex

Sometimes this song conveys exactly how I'm feeling, especially the chorus...

And while I know that I'm a fighter who's too busy to sit down and lament, I know it's okay to do so sometimes...

the break-up

It's not the break-up that's the hardest...

it's the period after the break-up.

This is not to say a break-up is easy.  It's not; especially when you still have feelings for that person.  However, I've resigned to believing it's just one of those things we have to endure.  People change, situations change.  And in this case, change sucks.

I don't understand how two people can be in a relationship for two years, and then in a period of one month (at least from what I can tell), determine that "I only like you as a friend".   Although I received reassurance that it wasn't because I was unattractive or had a crappy personality, the ego still took a hit.  It's pretty much par for the course when you get dumped - especially when it seems to have come from left field.

For better or worse, I am exceptional over-analyzing things.  And in doing so, I question my actions, wonder what I did wrong and if there was anything I could have done to prevented it.  While it's probably not good psychologically that I have gone back to re-read messages, I keep thinking  I'll find something I missed.  And when I find that "something", I'll be able to come to a conclusion.  It would have been a lot easier if I HAD a reason, an answer to the question "why?".  Ironically, I can't get an answer from a person who needs a logical answer for everything. 

Thus, I have my theories.   Being alone with my thoughts is not a good thing at this time, as it leads to speculations.  Since I was cheated on previously, my default is to think there is another woman - regardless of lack of anything to substantiate this.  There is also the "fright or flight" theory.  Of course, I could (and probably should) take it at face value and accept that we were just meant to be friends. 

That in and of itself is frustrating.  The other part is the "we'll still be friends and hang out and stuff" line.  Now, I know it's possible to be friends with your exes, as I am friends will all of mine (minus THE ex-hole).  And yes, I would like to "be friends and hang out and stuff". I realize the period after the break-up is less than two weeks in and it moving into the "friend zone" does take time.  There are moments where I wish we could just fast-forward to that.  Of course, I do have moments where I'd just like to kick him in the nuts (because it might make me feel better) but these surprisingly are few.

The hardest part is when realizing we were in contact daily for the duration (including when I was in Spain for two weeks in 2010) and suddenly that is gone.  Not to be morbid, but it's almost like someone you cared about died.  You miss them and they're no longer a part of your life.  And I feel there's not much I can do about it right now.

I just wish I knew the truth, the reason. Yes, the truth might hurt.  But the not knowing "why" hurts more.

three months....

I know y'all have been on the edge of your seat waiting for the three month update of my 2011 birthday wishes.  But let's face it....even if you haven't you're getting it anyway....

2011 Birthday Wishes (original):

• procure a MacBook - yes, I am asking for one for Christmas.  no, I will not likely get one.  however, these is money from the tax return.... 
• amp up physical activity - well, I found out where some yoga classes are - now I just need to get off my ass and go to them.  I've also gone on two bike rides (9 & 12 miles) despite not being on a bike in over five years.  of course, the timing would have been better if I discovered the biking in the spring instead of the fall.
• try to eat better - baby steps!  I have been eating more salads and soup for lunch (a sneaky way for me to get veggies).  but seriously, I love me some chicken wings.
• attempt to be culinary - now that I'm single again, I've been forced to cook again.  this usually translates as "empty contents of package into bowl, add water and microwave for five minutes".  at least I add veggies.
• embrace my curls - when my hair was long, I was good at doing this.  however, on Wednesday I got six inches hacked off.  the new style is not conducive to curls (read:  I don't like it curly with this style).
• beat my brother in "Words with Friends" - 13 August bitches!  sad part is I haven't won since.
• travel somewhere besides DC & Chicago - rumor has it I might be going to New Orleans in June.  I will go to NOLA dammit!
• see Wisco Gov. Scott Walker get recalled - this process has started in Wisco.  I know, I got my first volunteer phone call yesterday from United Wisconsin.
• increase social media knowledge - I'm still a geek. and since it's part of my job, they'll pay for me to go to seminars on this topic.
• engage in artistic endeavors - I take random pics with my iPhone (I love my iPhone) but that doesn't count.  the winter endeavor is to tile my "east side special" coffee table.
• continue to promote rjl creative -  this will happen...I know it.  when friends ask if you do freelance and refer their friends to you, that helps.  a lot.
• become involved with APBT & AmStaff dog rescue/advocacy - similar to yoga classes - I know where events are I just need to get to one.
• that my mom wins her battle with pancreatic cancer - her last treatment is today!  and she's has limited side effects so this is great...so far so good :)

initial thoughts

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind. ~ Dr. Seuss

 I wrote down my thoughts before we had "the talk" on Friday 28 October - just so I could be coherent and remember to say everything I felt I needed to.  Despite running on waves of emotion, I think I managed to stay fairly rational.  Perhaps I am showing signs of maturity after all.

========

I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any words Wednesday night.  I felt like I was hit with a ton of bricks and there’s really no easy recovery from that, plus I needed time to process the situation.  Then I got the message saying you picked up “some” of your stuff, but when I got home it appeared like “all” of your stuff.  There was the second ton of bricks.

Needless to say, I’ve gone through a myriad of emotions in the past couple days.  I’ll start with the one that’s easier for me to convey:  anger.  I was angry that you went into my apartment without me there to get your stuff for two reasons (both from my perspective) – 1) it violated my personal space, with things being as they are and 2) it implied that talking was pointless as your decision appeared to be made.  I understand that you wanted your stuff – and rightfully so – but the collection of it could have waited until we talked.  

I don’t know what to call the other emotion – a hybrid of sadness/depression/fear.  As probably know, I have quite a few insecurities – despite how I may appear in public.  So when I heard “not attracted to you in that way” (likely a paraphrase) I automatically revert to the thought “I am not attractive” and then the feelings of self-doubt sink in.  I know it’s something I have to conquer myself, but it’s my current frame of mind.  I’m sure this part of the reason that I didn’t eat dinner Wednesday night.  Either that or I exerted my energy crying versus getting off the couch to make dinner.

Yes, I cried.  A lot.  Why?  I was pretty much an emotional wreck.  I felt like my heart was ripped out and then stomped on.  And one of my greatest fears is being alone.  Kisses from Caye and sleeping with Poppy (my first teddy bear) helped, but can only do so much.

I probably should clarify what I meant when I said “I’m fine with the way things are”.  What I meant I was:  fine with being boyfriend/girlfriend, and not having to take our relationship to “the next stage” – whatever that is.  I know that our friends “nosiness” (read: asking questions about our relationship) was stressful for both of us, and that neither one of us really knew how to deal with/communicate how we felt about it. However, I really hope the nosiness did not play a factor in your decision.  I also knew you needed space (and that you relish it somewhat), so I wanted to give you that.  In hindsight, we probably should have talked about this earlier.  

This next part you may not want to hear, but I need to tell you.  I still have feelings for you beyond friendship.  (This would also explain the crying.) What I do know is that I simply enjoy being with you, even if it is just watching TV.

However, I’d rather have you as a friend than not have you in my life as all.  Besides, every Packers fan needs a Bears fan to rip on.

big foot

As a child, I remember my brother and I making fun of the shoes Dad wore.  I must clarify here.  Dad rarely ever had "normal" gym shoes (read: white or black colored).  No, they always seemed to be some hideous green (and I like green) or a blue/yellow combination, similar to that of the LA Rams NFL uniforms in the 1980s.  These were really the ugliest gym shoes I've seen in my life.

Now, Dad never claimed to be fashion forward - and indeed, he wasn't. He also found it entertaining to embarrass me and my brother, and almost anyone he could.  Thus, we just chalked it up to him being a fashion idiot and wanting to embarrass his children whilst wearing "clown shoes".

Perhaps I should also mention that Dad wears a size 14-15 shoe.  Of course, as a kid, you don't comprehend that it might be a pain to find a shoe in that size - you just think "I have to be seen with him wearing THOSE shoes".  Thankfully Mom wore a much more "normal" size 9 women's shoe - at least her shoes were acceptable.  This also meant I had a chance of not being a big foot.

In all honestly, I still did have a slight fear of wearing "clown shoes".  I wore a size 10 when I was nine years old, and I was maybe 4 ft 8.  Eventually, I grew a little over a foot in total and then a size 10 didn't look ridiculous on my frame.  Although finding that size can prove to be a pain, as I went to a DSW in Maryland and there were on four size 10s in the whole store.  I was also told by a vendor in Valencia, Spain I had big feet - never mind that I was at least a head taller than him.  WTF?  But I've resigned to life with a lesser shoe variety and some random "big foot" comment.  After two decades, you just deal.

Until Mom decides to tell me that your feet literally grow for the rest of your life.  Really? That can't be....or I was really, really hoping it couldn't be.  Then a couple weeks later, my right big toe begins hurting me when I wore my gym shoes.  I figured it was just an ingrown toenail and took care of it.  The annoyance continued.  I needed new gym shoes anyway, so I head to the store.  Try on the size 10.  Sure as shit, that's the issue.  My stupid feet have grown into a size 11.  With my big foot shoes in tow, I head to a (less painful) fitness camp.

First, I hate it when Mom is right - even if it's something as trivial as a shoe size.  Second, finding a 10 was hard enough.  An 11?  That's a bitch and a half.  You really have to take what you can get - and hopefully, they'll be somewhat fashionable, comfortable and not totally butt-ugly.   Third, I have some idea of what Dad went and still goes through shoe-wise.  LA Rams shoes were probably the only option he had back in the day.  

Thankfully, the internet has wonderful sites that carry size 11s.  I know, I have to start replacing my vast (ha ha ha) shoe collection.  However, my feet better not grow anymore.

Maybe that's why I'm not a fan of shoes. 

hi camp, i've missed you!

On Saturday, I returned to what we, in the Wisconsin-Upper Michigan Kiwanis family, refer to as "one of the happiest places on earth" - Camp Wawbeek in Wisconsin Dells. 

Camp Wawbeek is an Easter Seals camp designed for children and adults with physical, developmental and cognitive disabilities.  I first because acquainted with Camp (as it is affectionately called) as a college sophomore and a member of the Marquette CKI club.  CKI attends Camp every fall and spring to close the camp for winter and open it for summer, respectively, by performing various projects from cutting wood to cleaning out the pool to raking leaves to....well, you get the idea.  

I had pretty much made a yearly (if not more frequent) pilgrimage to Camp since then; that is until my "resignation" as CKI administrator.  After 2.5 years,  I decided to return to Camp, and subsequently, my K-Family involvement

I learned two thing upon my return to Camp:

• I don't miss being CKI administrator.  I believe it was something I already knew, but sometimes that reality needs to smack you in the face.  Yes, I enjoyed my time in that position, but it sure was nice to be able to go and bask in the specialness that is Camp without the responsibilities (namely being in charge of 100 some college students and operating on a caffeine IV with minimal sleep).  I came to do some service, attend a Foundation meeting and socialize - and then I left.  I also was able to take in the fall colors and enjoy the calm quiet of my rural surroundings.  I love my concrete jungle, but once in a while I do embrace a change in scenery.
• I did miss being involved in the K-Family in both the social and service aspect.  I reconnected with people I hadn't seen in 2.5 years.  Granted I've communicated with them via e-mail for WIUM KDF business, but that's not quite the same.  We call it K-"Family" for a reason; I literally felt like the "long lost cousin" at the board meeting (by those who I've known before).  And speaking of board meetings, I strangely missed them.  I know, I'm weird.  But I guess it's kind of like being a Cubs fan; once it's in your blood it's near impossible to get it out.  Although, I did forget one aspect - people like to "volunteer" you for positions.  Thus, I am now Marketing Co-Chair for the Foundation.  Yikes!

Overall, it was great to be back in the loop again. And thanks to Diane, Jan, Janet, Paul, Pierski and of course, Ken for welcoming me back with open arms.  I can guarantee it will not be 2.5 years before I visit again!

a 9.11 perspective

9/11 is to us as to what JFK's assasination is to our parents.  As our parents can immediately answer the question - "Where were you when JFK was shot?", we can do the same for "Where were you when the Towers were hit?".  

I remember the day vividly.  It was a gorgeous, sunny day, highs in the 70s with a slight breeze. - a day perfect for playing hookie.  But alas, I had to attend a training at Children's Service Society of Wisconsin (this was back in my non-profit/social service days).  Before I left my office, I already knew about the first tower being hit, but chalked it up to a mechanical malfunction.  The reality of a terrorist attack on US soil was far-fetched at 8:00 am CDT on 11 September 2001.  During the drive over the second tower was hit but I was listening to a CD - probably one of the few oblivious Americans at this point.  I walked into CSSW and then I found out about the Pentagon.  I recall the receptionist asking, "Are you ok, because you just turned white."  I responded with, "My parents live just outside DC" whilst thinking "Holy shit my mom works at Navy."  

Upon recovering from the shock, I was actually pissed.  How dare anyone attack the city of my birth and the metro area where my family lives?  What the hell did we do to deserve this?  After my minute internal tirade, I tried to call my parents via cell - to be greeted by the Gene Mueller (the radio newsguy) telling me that all cell service was shut off into DC as it might trigger another attack.  I proceeded back to work, still somewhat dazed.  

Then I read an e-mail from my mom:  "Both towers were hit.  The Pentagon was hit.  We are running on generators.  They are evacuating all non-essential personnel.  We're shaken, but I'm ok." 

This began my six-hour attempt to reach my parents via land line.  Finally, at 3:30 CDT, I got a hold of my mom.  Still shaken, but still ok. 

On that day, the reality of feeling safe on our home soil had been shattered. And the public wondered if we would ever be safe again.

Yes, the TSA has stepped up airline passenger protocol in an effort to ease our minds.  While I think we probably should have been showing an ID to fly in the first place, not being able to bring a larger than 3 oz bottle of contact lens solution is a little drastic.  I understand the theory and what the TSA is trying to do, but let's face it.  If a terrorist really wants to smuggle an explosive or weapon on an airplane, they will find a way to do it - it just won't be as easy.

Yet in global comparison, America was and still is a safe country.  Car bombs don't go off.  There isn't violent unrest between neighboring nations.  Our water and food supply is generally parasite free.  We don't face the penalty of death for having different beliefs.  In the grand scheme, we are a fortunate nation. 

Ten years later, we continue to honor all those who perished in the attacks - from the first responders at what is now Ground Zero to the passengers on Flight 93 to the victims of circumstance at the Pentagon.  In a sense, it could referred to another "day that will live in infamy".  And while I don't think we should forget the events of that day, the media (as it sometimes has a tendency to do) went a little overboard.  I don't think that makes me any less of a citizen of this country for thinking that.  

However, it has been said (numerous times on Sunday and leading up to that day), that 9.11 brought a sense of patriotism and unity to the country.  I'd like to believe so but sadly,  I don't think it has.  Sure "God Bless America" is now sung at sporting events all around the country.  Singing this anthem doesn't make one automatically patriotic as sitting in a garage doesn't automatically make you a car.  There are still people out there who believe all Muslims are responsible for the events of that day, even though the reality is it was a group of radical extremists using religion to further their propaganda, as sick and hateful as it may be.  The same goes for Christian extremist who claim to act in the name of God.  That doesn't sound like unity to me.  

Once we are able to accept differences in others (i.e. race, creed, accent, religious beliefs, cultures, sexual orientation) and learn from these differences, only then will we even be able to begin on the path to a true United States of America.