2012:Year of Lyndsy

Some (okay, all) of you are probably laughing at the title of this post. I know, I know. I ALWAYS think it's the Year of Lyndsy. But if you'll remember my last post, 2011 clearly has NOT been my year.

As bad as 2011 was, I will not let it ruin 2012 for me. What happened in 2011 is going to stay in 2011. More so now than any year I can remember, I want to take this new year opportunity to shed that which doesn't move me forward anymore. 2012 is going to be about progress, no matter how small that progress is.

I'm going to set some goals for this year. Some are specific, some are not. I don't know if the specificity or lack thereof will make them more attainable. I've made goal lists before, but I've never gone back to see which I accomplished and which I didn't. I'm going to print this list off and attach it to the back of my apartment door, so I have to look at it every day. As I get things done, I'll cross them off.

I am going to give myself credit for progress I make on things, particularly if they're longer term goals. Progress IS an accomplishment, in and of itself. A lot of us have a tendency to focus just on achieving the ultimate goal. If we approached life like that, we'd only be satisfied at our death. Who wants to live life just to die?

Without further ado, here's the list for the Year of Lyndsy.

1. Edit my 2011 NaNoWriMo novel.
2. Finish 2 novels (one I've already started, one I'll do during NaNoWriMo 2012)
3. Keep in touch with people better (by email, phone, or handmade card)
4. Stop eating shit food and get back on track with my fitness progress
5. Stop swearing
6. Laugh at #5
7. Stop making fake goals
8. Blog with more regularity (I found someone else's blog with questions, so that should help)
9. Take more photos (I bought myself a new camera, should probably use it...)
10. Get out more with old friends and continue making new friends
11. Get impregnated by a member of a roving dance troupe
12. Learn some discipline in the maintenance of my space (old crap has to go)
13. Remind myself to quit making fake goals
14. Pay off a credit card
15. Begin a serious Zen practice
16. Approach every day with a positive attitude
17. Bake more (I'll need volunteers to eat the stuff)
18. Attend a live concert
19. Return my library books on time (I'm sick of paying late fees)
20. Make efforts every day to return the blessings in my life to my friends and family

21. Work on looking my best - the outer reflects the inner

Some of these things shouldn't be on a goal list - I should already be doing them. I know you all think I'm perfect, but I have to grudgingly admit that I'm not. I'm hoping that by writing them down I'll remember my commitment and actually do them.

If any of these interest you and you'd like to have some part of it, let me know. I'm happy to ship baked goods (making no guarantees on their quality when they reach you), I'd love someone to go Zen with me, and I'd like to see those of you I haven't seen in a while. I've spent a lot of time holed up in my apartment by myself and it's time to break out of that. I don't want to feel rushed to get things done, but I want my life to feel full. When this time rolls around next year, I want to look back on 2012 and be proud of what I've done.

I may be calling 2012 the Year of Lyndsy, but it's not my year at the expense of anyone else. If you've got goals for 2012 and I can help you achieve them, let me know. We can all grow together.

To 2012!

The New Year

How it got to be mid-December I have no idea. But when this time of year rolls around, I can't help but think about New Year's Eve. Normally I don't celebrate New Year's Eve. I hole up and try not to think about it. I usually see the new year as nothing more than an extension of the past year with nothing to be excited about.

Last night I was at a Meetup event and the group is planning a New Year's Eve celebration. I mentioned my general hatred for New Year's and one of the members offered a different perspective. He blathered on for a minute, but the point of his rambling was to note that if nothing else, you can acknowledge the passage of time.

I rarely occasionally respect what he has to say, so I gave it some thought. I've decided that I will celebrate this year, for two reasons.

First, in a lot of ways, 2011 really sucked. And I don't mean a little. It sucked like a whore on Valentine's Day. I hit the trifecta of awful - abusive relationship, back surgery, and stress at work.

But, I made it through all of that. I learned a lot about myself and relationships, I'm much healthier than I was last year, and I've taken a leap and left my job without actually having one lined up. It was a year of scary lows, but also great highs.

Second, next year is going to be very different than this year. As I mentioned above, I gave notice at my current job. I've been interviewing with a company for a while, with a final interview next week. The job would challenge me and help me grow professionally. In a lot of ways, I think it's like my dream job.

If I don't get an offer, I'll be packing up and heading back to Florida. While I don't love the idea of living in Florida (and the oppressive heat and humidity, not to mention the creepy crawlies), being closer to my family will be mostly nice (I hope). Three of my cousins are getting married in May and June and I'd like to make those weddings without spending 48 hours and $1500 on plane trips to do it. No matter which way things go, I see it as a win/win for me. Win/win situations are rare, but they're nice.

So, in celebration of surviving some awful shit and moving on to new things, on December 31st, I'll be partying like it's 1999. (And yes, I realize this is 2011, but we all know I'm not cool enough to celebrate anything newer than 1999.)

May the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows.

Sadie Hawkins in Real Life

I never actually attended a Sadie Hawkins dance, but it's my understanding that the whole point is for girls to ask guys, instead of the other way around. The question I have is whether you can use in this real life, at times where it's not specified that that's the way it's supposed to be.

I want to start by saying that I really do feel bad for guys. There is a lot of pressure on them when it comes to relationships. Society has told us that it is the man's job to pursue and eventually ask the woman out. We've also been trained to believe that if a man doesn't ask us out, he's not interested. One line I hear over and over is, "Well, if he really liked me, he'd ask me out." I always respond that the same could be said in reverse, but the counter is, "It's his job to do the asking." Huh? When did it become someone's job?

What women seem to forget, or maybe they just don't know, is that men may have been forced into a role where they have to do the asking, but that certainly does not mean they enjoy it. Most of my male friends tell me how much they hate doing it. They get nervous, afraid they're going to say the wrong thing and ruin their chances. Sometimes, if they really like a woman, they won't even bother trying because it's too frightening.

Women get to hide behind the veil society wears so they rarely have to put themselves out there first. We think we are by flirting like crazy and dropping hints. But, let's face it, men are dense. You could be wearing a t-shirt that says, "I like you, Evan," and Evan would think you meant someone else. So really, we're not risking anything.

Dating is a complicated, nasty mess. If you're doing it right, you're extremely vulnerable. No one likes to put themselves out there and get rejected. But we all know it has to happen at some point in your life. A good friend of mine once told me that someone's lack of interest in me doesn't actually say anything about me. At first I argued against that. "Of COURSE it does! There is something wrong with me or he would like me!"

The more I thought it though, the more I realized he was right. There have been tons of men I wasn't interested in dating, but there wasn't anything wrong with them. They just weren't for me. Once I got used to that idea, the less being rejected bothered me. I'm not for everyone. (In fact, I'm not for most people. I really ought to come with a warning label.) I'm not saying I look forward to opportunities to be rejected, but if I expect to be treated like an equal in a relationship, I have to be willing to assume some of the risks.

I'm tired of women blathering about how they want equal rights and treatment, but when it comes time to make the first move, they cower behind the idea that the man has to take the chance. Please. Put on your big girl panties and act like a grown-up.

That just leaves one question: Men, do you want us to make the first move?

The things that really matter to me

I had a complete shit day today. I won't get into it here, but we'll just say it sucked. A lot.

Part of what made the suckage seem so bad was that I had a great afternoon/evening yesterday. I rushed home from work to get the mail (which was late) because results had been mailed out for the comprehensive exam I had to take to test out of my master's program. Fortunately I passed and won't need to take any of the three sections again. This was particularly good news since I would also have had to enroll in a class to re-enroll in the program since I hadn't taken a class in four quarters.

After I got that news, I went out with a new meetup.com group. I can never tell how those are going to go. I always wonder why I do it. From the outside it looks like you're gathering together a group of people who aren't cool enough to find friends in real life and expecting fun to come of it. Seems like a total fail.

However, for the most part, it really does turn out pretty well. Last night was an exceptionally good time. A group of 20 and 30somethings, most new to the area. One couple was from my hometown in FL, which almost no one has ever even heard of!

I also met some really awesome ladies. I don't usually/often get along super well with women, but we had a blast and I think we scared the shit out of a guy who was sitting near us. I even exchanged contact information with them and intend to follow up (rather than pulling a Seattle Freeze on them. Those of you from the South or Midwest don't understand this concept: It's saying you want to hang out with someone, but then never actually doing it. Over and over again.)

Then I roll into today, and all the high of yesterday just disappears. I thought seriously about running away to a foreign country, never to be heard from again.

But then I thought about everyone who's reading my novels and wants more.

And then I thought about everyone who reads this blog and has told me that it's helped them in some way.

And I realized that I want to finish the novel and write more. And I want to keep blogging. And that I can't just hide from the utter shit that is life sometimes.

This year has sucked. Back surgery, abusive boyfriend, not knowing where I'll be. But when you run from something, it always has a way of sneaking up on you, like a raunchy sex tape. (And we see where that's gotten Ms. Kardashian.)

So I'm still here. Fighting the good fight. Hoping I've got enough in me to make it to the next round.

People who don't love music are soulless

I love music. I'll listen to just about anything. I skip opera, but I have a little of everything else. I can go from country to rap to classical in one car ride. I mean, how do you turn off a song called "Trashy Women"? I rap hardcore with Eminem and I twang with Randy Travis. I go to another place when I hear the 1812 Overture.

I associate songs/artists with the people and time periods of my life. The soundtrack from An American Tale is one of the first things I really remember listening to. And  it was a record. My very own. My dad didn't really want me, his klutzy 5-year old, touching his record player and definitely not HIS records. Not that it stopped me. He had Michael Jackson's Bad album and every time I could when he wasn't home, I put it on. Years later I told him about that and he told me he knew I was doing it. Lies.

I used to dance around our basement to Flashdance songs (not that I'd seen the movie) and had serious arguments about the lyrics to Hip to be Square (I still don't like admitting I was wrong about them). I learned to love Reba McEntire and Billy Joel from my best friends in high school. To this day, Billy Joel is still one of the best concerts I've seen.

Music changes my mood, sometimes for better and sometimes worse. I should be ashamed to admit this, but I tear up a little when I hear Bella's Lullaby from the Twilight soundtrack (I bought both the score and soundtrack to the first movie). Music is just part of my being.

I rambled on about that for a reason: I don't get people who don't love music. A friend of mine recently wanted to hook me up with a friend of hers so she put us in touch by email. He and I emailed for a while, but things stalled out for me when he told me that he had maybe 10 songs on his iPhone. Now, I know those don't hold all that much music, but only TEN songs?!?!? You canNOT be serious.

I got to thinking about it and I started to wonder if there's something wrong with me. I mean, from my end, I sort of wonder if people who don't love music lack souls. Music IS soul. Sometimes it's the only way to express yourself. How can someone NOT LOVE MUSIC??

Is it weird that someone's lack of love of music is a dealbreaker for me? I mean, it's not like people who don't love music are all junkies gunning for my valuables. Or pedophiles. Or some other awful thing. I'm sure they're perfectly nice people. But I just don't understand it.

And it begins!

National Novel Writing Month is underway! I'm not feeling as well as I'd like today, so I'm not sure I'm going to hit my word count for the day. I have 1171 words right now and I might be spent for the night. I can easily make up the 500 words on another day.

What's good is that I'm amused by my story so far. I'm rarely amused as I write and even going back with minor revisions I'm chuckling. I've sent it to the person on whom the character is based and she sent me a text message to tell me that she was literally LOLing.

Victory is mine!

The Big 3-0

Mariska Hargitay (Detective Benson on Law & Order: SVU) is on the cover of More magazine this month with the quote "My life began at 30 and took off at 40." I'm starting to think my life might be trending the same way.

I didn't think much of turning 30. No panic attacks. No excitement. To me, age is arbitrary. It tells you only that someone's been around for some length of time. I used to think age was a big deal. I had PLANS and they all related to my age. By 21 meet the man of my dreams and get engaged. By 25 have at least one kid and a rocking career. By 30, take over the world.

None of that has happened. I'm 30 and I'm single - never been married. I don't have any kids. If I have one in the next 9 months, run into hiding because we're about to have another Immaculate Conception and you know that means the end of the world if *I* am the bearer of that child. I don't have a career, I have a job.

For a while, the fact that I had apparently failed at my life bothered me. No, I didn't get engaged in college - I barely dated anyone. I haven't been married - but I've been engaged twice. Of course, it was to the same guy and he turned out to be an abusive ass. I don't have any kids, but sweet God, I have no idea how I'd been feeding them if I did. My plans for world domination might be proceeding, but if I told you that, I'd have to kill you.

However, when I focus on what I have done, I'm pleased with my life. I moved all the way across the country, to a city where I knew only one person. I graduated from law school when I was 25 and was recruited to work on a death penalty case. When we got the conviction and death sentence, I was 28. How many 28 year-old lawyers can say that they played a significant role in a capital murder case?

I started a master's program while working on that case and went to school full-time while we were in trial, working 80 hours per week. I completed the coursework for my MA and a certificate in crime analysis just after turning 29. I took the comprehensive exam to complete the MA this October and expect to graduate in December, just 3 months after turning 30.

I took my first trip out of the country and I can't wait to go again. I have no idea why I hadn't wanted to trek out before 2009, but I'm so glad I finally went. (In case you're reading this, thanks Mom! She funded the trip.)

By pretty much any standard, My 20s were a productive time. I believe I was meant to do all of it. But in a lot of ways, it didn't feel like my LIFE. It's been like playing a sport or an instrument because someone else told you to, rather than you doing it because you're driven to do it. I took ballet lessons  for 8 or 9 years because my mom wanted me to. I did it, but you could tell my heart wasn't in it.

And now, at 30, I'm making my life happen rather than waiting to see what comes to me. I'm deciding what I want and striving for it. I've met a lot of people and experienced a lot of shit over the last 10 years and it's all influenced who I am today. I love myself more now than I ever have before and that's obviously a big deal.

The thing is, my life couldn't start until I loved myself enough to live it.

On writing

National Novel Writing Month is set to start in a couple days and I am STOKED. Finally have the general plot of the book planned out. I need to spend some time this weekend working on developing the main character, but that shouldn't be too hard.

The character is based on a friend of mine from my days at UF and I gave her the basic rundown of the story. Her responses (via text): "omg I am so pathetic," "I'm an asshole. It's true in real life too," and ":)." It's a pretty classic storyline, but it's a classic for a reason. My focus isn't really the story, but the characters. That's what people really want - good characters.

I have some bad news though - I won't be able to blog the story. Since I hope to publish it one day, I can't publish it before then. Makes sense - why would someone publish a book in hard copy that they want people to buy when people can find the book for free? However, I don't object to sharing the story.  If you'd like to read it as I go, email your email address to doseoflyndsy@gmail.com (or leave me a note on Facebook) and I'll send it to you as often as you'd like it (daily, weekly, when it's done, whatever). I expect to be writing daily, though some days may be heavier than others. On average, to complete 50,000 words in 30 days, I have to write 1,667 words/day. I expect that my story will actually end up somewhere in the neighborhood of 75,000 words, so I'll be aiming more for 2,500 words/day.

Perhaps I should give you a little background... This book is the first in a three-book series. The three books revolve around a small group of friends - three women who met in a class their senior year of college and a male friend of one of the girls. Each book will involve all three women, but focus on only one of them. Tracie is up first (mostly because my real life friend told me that she still reads my first NaNoWriMo attempt (she was a character in that one too) so I told her I'd make her the star of this one). I mentioned to another friend that if she wasn't careful, I might turn her life into a story and she said she'd be okay with that, so Alexia is book two. Since my ego is mighty, I am the basis for the character in the last book. Raeqwanda promises to be an interesting character!

I need to backtrack for a minute here and explain what's really driving me to write. I've always wanted to make some kind of difference in the world. I used to think that it meant I had to do something HUGE. But I couldn't figure out how. I also love movies and books. They give you a chance to escape to another place for a few hours. Usually, you walk away from the story feeling better, hopeful, or maybe just thoughtful. For years I've wanted to add to the already huge list of escapes.

Every now and then, as you know, I'll stop blogging for a while. Inevitably when I do, I'll get a Facebook message from someone who says, "Miss your blog!" and I'm spurred into writing again. I've even had people tell me that I write what they're feeling and they're glad I'm brave enough to say it, since they aren't about to put it out there for the whole of the internet to read.

I'm always floored when I get these messages. 1. I am ALWAYS shocked when someone tells me they like the blog - since I don't really think people read it that much. A lot more people read than I thought. 2. I like that my utter lack of shame helps other people feel less alone. The only consistent "career" goal I've ever had in my life is to help people. And I find out I'm doing it! And I didn't know it!! 3. My ego loves being fed.

I read a lot of chick lit and I love most of it. But some of it just irritates the hell out of me. Confessions of a Shopaholic (and following novels) by Sophie Kinsella is just that type. They're really unrealistic. A shopaholic who gets responsible through deceit and out of necessity, and then meets an incredibly wealthy man who enables her to shop like a nutter. Um, really? I know there's a place for it, but I like to read something that's going to lift me up and seem possible in my life. And that's what I hope to write.

I want characters you could know in real life, who might even be us. Who you think, "That is SO *insert name here.*" Who help you sort things out in your own life by what they go through. Essentially, I want to take my blog and make characters out of it.

Will I find success? Only time will tell, but I expect it'll be an amazing adventure!

Giving it a go

A while ago, I posted about talent and how I wished I were a good writer.

Since then I've decided that I AM a good writer. And that it's what I want to be when I grow up. I've decided to take my writing seriously and see if I can get published. My first attempt is going to get jump started by NaNoWriMo this November. Thirty days, fifty thousand words. Totally doable. I completed it in 2005, but haven't really tried since then. Shitty Novel was a hot mess, but it was fun.

As is my way, this year's attempt will be posted online for everyone to...enjoy. If you're so inclined, you'll be able to read it here. It won't be the edited version, so don't expect anything glamorous. I'm probably an idiot for posting it online like that, but hey, you know how I roll.

I intend to treat writing like a second job. I've discovered that I have a really hard time writing from my apartment with the shiny internets at my disposal so I'll be heading to locations unknown after work to write during the week. If inspired, I can probably write about 3,000 words in 2 hours.

I've gotten a lot of encouragement to do this and I really appreciate it. I don't have the confidence in my writing that other people seem to, but I hear that's common for writers.

Me, a writer? Who'da thunk it?

Decisions, decisions

Everyone reaches at least one point in life when a big decision must be made. Oddly enough, when I moved to Seattle back in 2005, it wasn't much of a decision. It felt like the right thing to do, so I did it.

Now, six years later, I am so frustrated with my life it's almost been unbearable. The big problem has been that I haven't been able to find a job that will work for my life. The cost of living here is pretty high and from law school and my master's program, I owe an astronomical amount in student loans. The job market here sucks.

For years people have asked me when I'm moving back to Florida, and in response I just repeated my mantra, "I'm not leaving, I love it here." But my financial situation has gotten to the point where I have to consider leaving the state. It's been hard for me to accept, but last week I got there. So when my lease is up in 6-7 months, I expect I'll be moving.

What I find interesting is that once I opened my mind to the possibility of leaving Washington, I realized I wasn't sure I'd stay here even if money weren't an issue. It was a pretty shocking realization. For as right as it felt when I got here, it just doesn't feel that way anymore.

I moved out for the mild weather, some gray skies, and the gorgeous summers. We haven't had a summer in two years. Last winter it snowed so much I couldn't go out. Some of the things I like the most about living here - being able to walk downtown from my apartment - would change with a long-term relationship and kids.

I've had a challenging time making new friends. Many of the people here are so passive-aggressive and full of shit that you can't really get to know anyone. There's even a name for it - The Seattle Freeze. You'll hear, "Oh yea, we should totally get together!" and then you never hear from them. Ugh.

Through the ebb and flow of life, a lot of the people I was very close to have moved to other places, are planning to move other places, have gotten on with their lives and families and our contact is diminished, or we've parted ways because I'm cutting dead weight out of my life. I end up feeling alone a lot.

As any reader of this blog knows, my success with dating out here has been minimal. Its' been great that I was dating, since I didn't do that much before I moved out here, but good grief. I think for as West Coast as I like to believe my approach to life is, my personality is very East Coast. These West Coasters just don't quite know what to do with me. I intimidate the hell out of them :)

So, I think it's time to go find my next adventure. I think this has been coming for a little while, but I've resisted it. You can only resist change and growth for so long before the universe steps in and forces you to accept the challenge. I believe that the challenge will bring me all the things I want for my life - Mr. Lyndsy, mini-Lyndsys, and a challenging and rewarding career.

It's been an interesting, trying, and amazing six years. I feel like I've grown a lot since I moved out here. I think I needed to move out here to do something on my own, make my own decisions without being influenced by my parents and family. I'm a stronger person now than I was when I arrived. More than ever before in my life, I like love who I am. To become this person, it's taken everyone who's been a part of my life here. So, to all of you here who are reading this, know that I'll miss you, but without you the rest of my life and all the happiness in store for me wouldn't be possible.

The only question left to answer - where do I go?

Tampons, anyone?

I've spent a good portion of the last few weeks laid up. My back's been quite the bitch of late, and the chiropractor I've been seeing, Dr. E, told me that the worst thing I can do is to be vertical. Yes, I was commanded to be horizontal. (Had the directive come from anyone other than Dr. E, I would have assumed he was hitting on me. But Dr. E is so sweet and innocent I half expect to see him skipping with a lollipop in his hands.)

Lazing about hasn't been so bad. In the last couple weeks, I've read 8 or 9 books, finished season 6 of Bones, and been put to sleep and given weird dreams by an audiobook. Yes, my life is non-stop excitement. I ordered a small plot of astroturf and am looking forward to its arrival so I can sit and watch it grow.

Obviously I needed to get out. So I got back on meetup.com and have been venturing out. Tonight was a movie meetup: Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Whether you have any interest in this movie, you should go see it. It was far better than I expected it to be, even after being told by a few people who'd seen it that it was worth watching. Never before have I cheered so much to watch a bunch of damned dirty apes beat the shit out of people.

After the movie, the group of us went to Tap House Grill for post-movie discussion and debauchery. (Ok, not so much on the debauchery...) As I frequently do when confronted with a new group of people, I whipped out my Dose of Lyndsy business cards. Back when I expected to go to BlogHer, I had 6 sets of business cards made. Why 6, you ask? Well, I couldn't decide which card design I liked the best. Turns out, I'm shit at selecting good fonts. They're all basically unreadable. Except for the original card design, as seen below.



Totally readable. However, it has a flaw I never saw until it was pointed out to me tonight by one of the moviegoers. As he held up the card, he said,"And this one makes it look like you sell feminine products."

Totally awesome, because well, I'm sure none of us can imagine anyone better suited to selling feminine products than me, nor could we imagine a forum better than Dose of Lyndsy to do it.

That said, anyone fancy a wad of cotton to jam in your bajingo?

The External

I am who I am. I don't know when I stopped making apologies for it, but I have. I have friends and family who love me. And if someone doesn't like, doesn't understand, or doesn't care for me, that's their situation.

That's not to say that I don't process it, I do. I find the way people respond to me interesting, maybe even fascinating. Both the good and the bad. I think this is largely due to the fact that I don't think I see myself the same way other people see me.

Years ago in high school, I'd irritated a friend of mine. I don't know what I'd done to upset him, nor do I have any idea the exact context of the conversation anymore, but at some point he said something to the effect of, "You're very magnetic and people are drawn to you whether they want to be or not."

Fast forward several years. Seated in a car late one night in a Wal-Mart parking lot with a very close friend, I grilled him about why he hadn't let me into his life. He looked at me, dumbfounded at my accusation. I'd heard from a mutual friend that he suffered terrible depressive episodes. I'd always thought we were close, but how close could we possibly be if he didn't share them with me? When I pushed him on this, he responded,"Don't you get it, Lyndsy? I don't feel that way when I'm with you. You're my high."

Not too long after that, I got into an argument with a guy who was a friend of mine. We were sort of close at the time, but hadn't known each other for long. I'd spent some time working on student government stuff at the University of Florida, but most of my time was dedicated to helping a friend of mine achieve his various goals. My friend scolded me for never doing it for myself, that I should have been the one running for office, leading the student senate. I just laughed and relayed the story to another friend of mine, expecting him to join in. My friend calmly replied (with only a slight bit of exasperation), "He's right."

Move forward another few years. I flew home from Michigan to surprise my grandmother at her 75th birthday party. (Try not to mention I've divulged her age the next time you see her.) She wanted to take her birthday as an opportunity to share her thoughts, feelings, and memories about all of the kids and grandkids present. She wasn't expecting me so she didn't have any remarks prepared. But when she got to me, she said, "And Lyndsy. Well Lyndsy was just magical. Everyone loved Lyndsy."

I've been a terrible student since high school. I put forth the minimal effort to get through a class, and still have met with reasonable academic success. Throughout all of my education, only two professors have called me out for my lack of effort. One flat out told me that he was disappointed in me, had heard remarkable things about me, and that I'd failed to meet his expectations. He *knew* I wasn't touching my potential. Another really just expressed frustration with the fact that I wasn't doing more to exercise my intelligence. Yes, he'd given me As, but he knew the work was far beneath what I was capable of.

The point of this isn't for me to chronicle what an incredible individual I am. That's obvious. All kidding aside, and frankly, in spite of what I've laid out above, I never saw any of those things about myself. I had friends in high school, but didn't feel particularly "magnetic." I had no idea I could impact anyone so much as to make them forget, even for a little while, how upset they were about something.

Someone I met in law school once said I confused him, because for all the ego I displayed, I somehow still had a poor concept of myself. He couldn't understand how I walked around every day, a complete contradiction.

And now I sit here wondering how and why it is that I don't see these things about myself.

In some ways I'm sure it's a great thing I don't. Could you imagine the ego monster I would be if I did? I'm sure we can all think of someone in our lives who does have a grasp on their...powers...and abuses them.

It also makes me wonder how many other people so blatantly ignore some of the best parts of themselves because they don't trust and internalize the good things people say about them. What they might be missing out on in their own lives because of it.

Which makes me wonder what *I* might have been missing out on. I firmly believe that if you have a gift, you have a responsibility to exercise it for the betterment of the friends, family, society at large. If what others have said about me for over 10 years now is really true, I've squandered something very valuable.

I've always felt very isolated from the people around me. Trapped in a world where no one understood me. Slogging through days and years, searching desperately to find some kind of connection to someone else. In writing about this though, I'm coming to believe that it wasn't other people who didn't understand me, but rather me who didn't understand myself. I am who I am, but who am I?

The Ultimate Threat

I'm a big advocate for the idea that you can learn lessons in life from just about anything that happens. But sometimes the lessons come at you, and you have to change your perspective to be able to see the benefit of something that's gone "wrong."

As you all know, I've had a battle going on with my weight for years. A struggle with weight presents a few different issues:

1. Health - I have a severely herniated disc at the L4-5 level, and a bulging disc at the L5-S1. I'm sure my body would appreciate carrying around less weight. Not to mention things like diabetes, high blood pressure, etc.

2. Self-image - How big you are doesn't really affect your attractiveness to someone else. It's really about personality. If it was all about size, only thin people would ever find love, and we all know that isn't the truth. Knowing that intellectually just doesn't change how it makes you feel. You wake up, get ready for the day, see yourself in the mirror and just think, "Ugh."

3. External image - It's unfair but inescapable, a lot of people think heavier people are lazy, unathletic, unattractive, sloppy, etc. Some of the time it's true. But not always. I played flag football, and not too poorly, at my heaviest weight. I was out hiking with friends. People have found me attractive at a variety of weights.

For a long time, my poor self-image has kept me from really being happy. But recently I've had some experiences that have made me realize I'm a lot more comfortable with my body than I think I've ever been. I've finally made it to the point where I have a good self-image. I wear tank tops, and not infrequently. That's right, my flabby arms are out, doing their double-wave, getting some sun. And I don't care what anyone else thinks.

I won't mention the other experiences in detail (this blog only has a Mature rating), but some involved dating that just didn't work out. And any time a potential relationship doesn't work out, it's a bit of let-down, whether there was real potential there or not. However, I was strutting my stuff proudly and loving it. Even with Pudge along for the ride. (He'd say hi to you all, but I'm punishing him for existing.) So yeah, it didn't work, but I got the chance to see how much I've grown in terms of my self-image.

The irony of it all is that as soon as I had this realization, I made the decision to make a more concerted effort to lose weight. (Yes, that is how my process works. I decide to take an action before (and sometimes instead of) actually taking the action.)

As noted above, my health is a paramount concern. If I can't get my back to get itself in order on its own (with chiropractor visits, drugs, and rest), I'm looking at having more surgery. It wasn't particularly fun the first time around, and I'm willing to do just about anything to avoid it again.

The other reason is more in line with my ego. I want to be the ultimate threat: Smart, sexy, funny, unbelievably generous and caring, AND OBJECTIVELY HOT. It'll make me damn near perfect. And as tough a title to hold as Ms. Perfect would be, I'm sure if anyone can do it, it's me. I am ready to claim my crown.

...and the horse you rode in on!

For those of you who know me in person or have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that I'm no stranger to George Carlin's 7 words you can't say on television. I guess, if we're going to be all "accurate" about it, I'd have to say that the 7 words and I are more like regular bedfellows.

For me, it all began at a young age. When I was two, my parents asked me if I wanted KFC, and I apparently replied, "Yeah, f*cking chicken!" My mom was horrified and wondered what kind of people she was leaving me with during the day. (Best part is that I probably learned it from her. "F*ck you and the horse you rode in on!" is one of her favorite expressions. Pretty sure she was dropping the F bomb at other times.)

Apparently cussing like a sailor means I can't be considered a lady. (And piss off to anyone who's laughing because they think there are LOTS of other reasons we wouldn't call me a lady. It is not unladylike to sit with my legs open while wearing a skirt and to belch with the force of a galloping herd.) I just don't see what the big damn deal is. They're words! Just words! We assign their value. If I wanted to, I could probably turn "sweetpea" into a bad word.

And let's face it, there are times where the F word is the only thing that provides adequate release. Like this morning, when some stupid chick who was paying absolutely no attention to the road tried to change lanes INTO MY CAR. I looked over at her as I was swerving away and the only response to her open-mouthed, idiotic stare was to say, "WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING???" Somehow I don't think, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" has quite the same effect or ring.

Or, like on Saturday, when the bottle of Vitamin Water rolled out of the shopping cart and onto my foot. "Well oh dear, that hurt a bit!" isn't the same as "Bitch shitf*cker asshat that hurt!"

So really, why do we care? What's the deal? I mean, yeah, it's a bit horrifying when kids flip you the bird or tell you screw yourself. But that's only because parents spend 13 years telling their kids not to do it and it sort of works. At least until middle school when kids learn more innovative phrases than their parents will ever know.

Perhaps we should focus instead on teaching time and place for all the fun words? Maybe if his parents had done that, Dick Cheney wouldn't have told Senator Leahy to go f*ck himself while in a public forum...

Ladies, you disappoint me

I have a friend for whom I have quite a bit of respect. I met him in law school and I find him quite intelligent, definitely attractive, and totally hilarious.

Those are all very nice things, but what I respect him for more is his brutal honesty. He's an asshole with women, unashamedly so. And I respect it, because what he does works for him, and really quite well. The fault lies with the women who let it happen.

I hear that you're not supposed to blame the victim of something, but anyone using even the smallest bit of sense would see just how absolutely full of shit he is and call him on it. Instead, women flock to him as though he is the second coming. Why shouldn't he eat it up?

Lest you think I am being overly dramatic, allow me to provide you with a few examples.

Example 1: The goldfish
My friend had a conversation with a woman in a bar that went like this:

Woman: I have something I have to tell you...
Him: What? Are you a man?
Woman: No...I'm...married.
Him: I have a goldfish.
Woman: (confused look) What does that have to do with anything?
Him: I'm sorry, I thought we were talking about shit that doesn't matter.

What happens next? He gets laid.

Example 2: The apple analogy
My friend is out with his buddy and his buddy's girlfriend. His buddy is regaling his girlfriend with stories of my friend's assholic debauchery. Girlfriend pipes up and tells my friend that it may be a hard climb to get to the top of the tree, but that the perfect apple that's up there is totally worth it. My friend thinks for a moment and responds: I certainly understand your sweet little analogy. However, I look at it a bit differently. Those apples on the lower branches and on the ground? The ones I don't have to bend over backwards working for? Well, anywhere between 1-50% of those apples are just as good and perfect as the one at the top. So, if I eat all of the perfect part of those apples, then discard them, and pick up another apple to eat until the bad part is gone, to the point where I am just as full and pleased as if I ate the perfect apple, but without all that work, what is the difference?

His buddy about loses his shit laughing uncontrollably while girlfriend stares open-mouthed, speaking only to tell him he's the devil.

What happens next? Girlfriend tries to hook my friend up with one of her friends.

Example 3: The big "O"

My friend is at a bar with his buddies and after a short time, they are surrounded by attractive ladies. As my friend is wont to do, he turns the conversation to sex. One of the girls, likely the ugly one (there's always one), goes off about how men can't tell when a woman is faking it. My friend, unable to control himself, just bursts out laughing. The girl, not understanding my friend at all, asks if he's laughing because he thinks he can tell when a woman is faking and believes that all the women he's been with have TRULY orgasmed. Wiping the tears from his eyes, my friend says, "Not at all, sweetheart. I think it's hilarious that you think I care."

What happens next? Friend of ugly girl finds this hilarious and hooks up with my friend. Is probably left unsatisfied, but what did she expect?

I wish that he were the only guy I've met like this, but I went to college with a guy who worked his way into a girl's pants by coloring with her and watching Disney movies. REALLY? A COLLEGE-age man, coloring and singing with Ariel?

So seriously ladies, let's get it together. If we'd raise the bar just a little bit, these assholes would have to step it up. Men play to the level of their competition. Let's give them a run for their money.

Oh, and by the way, I'm an asshole

Idle hands ARE the devil's workshop. Whoever said that must have been talking about boredom and online dating sites. When I have nothing else to do, I fall back into my old habit of shopping for Mr. Lyndsy.

What's astounding is just how amazing, caring, laid-back, and funny everyone on these sites is! Apparently, snowboarding, fishing, and hiking are THE hobbies of Pacific Northwest men. They're all incredibly active and living a semi-healthy lifestyle full of granola.

Not only that, but they are going to be there for you. Supportive to a fault. All while maintaining an impeccable work/life balance. Work hard so they can play hard.

Someone kill me now. They're all damn BOTS I tell you! BOTS!

Perhaps this is what I get for moving out to the granola capital of the world. A bunch of hippies who are all into natural living and eating right all the time. Right, because Starbucks pays its baristas enough to buy that crap.

Not to mention the fact that the weather here is usually too shittastic to engage in the majority of the listed hobbies. We have approximately 4.27 days of decent weather here, but you can bet your ass they're overrunning the waters and mountains to get their sporty fix. OR, they're spending those days THINKING about being outside and active.

What I'm really looking for is a profile that says, "And you know, sometimes I'm an asshole." Someone who is a REAL person. I get that this is our opportunity to put our best foot forward, but if we're all putting forth these ridiculous idealized versions of ourselves, we're all going to wind up sorely disappointed. I try to go into these things with lowered expectations and somehow I am STILL let down. (Anyone remember Mr. Boogers???)

I'm thinking about changing my eye-catching tagline-thing to: Looking for someone who isn't a nature-obsessed granola bot. Think it'll work?

In case you were wondering...

I'm still doing really well. I had an interesting conversation with someone recently about how my life appears to be a roller coaster, with lots of highs and lows. The concern is that I'm racing toward another low.

I'm happy to report that it's been over a month or so and I'm still feeling good. And not in the sense that my life has taken some crazy turn and I'm about to be launched into oblivion. Nothing major has happened. I have the same job I've had for 10 months, I'm not dating anyone, I haven't lost much weight (if any). I'm just waking up each day believing that it's going to be a great day. Sure, things go wrong, but I try to see the whole day instead of just the irritating bits.

I think part of it is that I've finally managed to feel a confidence in myself that I haven't had in years, if ever. I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my own skin, stretched out as it may be by the pounds that refuse to leave me. The joy I feel comes from the inside now, instead of being dependent upon someone else.

Quasi-related to all of this, I'm also going to make myself get back into blogging more regularly. I really enjoy it - it's a great outlet for me. What exactly I'm outletting I'm not sure (yea, I realize that isn't a word), but it's fun all the same.

I hope all of you have been well, and I look forward to your continued worship.

Why, hello there.

Well crap, it's been a long time since I've been here. I've felt like I haven't had anything to say. Which is odd, in my opinion, because I feel like I should write when things are going well and I'm happy.

But, in spite of my happiness, I'm feeling a bit stifled. I know I need to make some sort of career change. I just don't know which way to go.

I also realized not that long ago that I want my piercings back. In college I had my tongue, nose, and eyebrow pierced. I'll skip the eyebrow this time, but I want my nose and tongue pierced again.

I had to take out my ear piercings when I had surgery and the holes closed up a bit on me. I'd like my four cartilage piercings back, also the tragus and potentially the rook as well.

I'd also like a tattoo or two. I've designed one I'd like, and I'd also like a yin/yang symbol.

However, any line of work I've been a part of doesn't really allow for them, and one of the big things I'm considering DEFINITELY doesn't allow for it.

Ugh.

Anyway, I'm sure I have the solution to all of this somewhere inside of me, I just need to quiet my mind down so I can hear myself say it. But, we all know how loud I am :)

Herpes Music

Is it just me, or has music declined recently? I'm not even sure what I mean by recently. I just know that I tend not to turn on the radio now if I can help it, unless it's some form of oldies station. I used to enjoy finding new music on the radio.

But let's face it. We're addicted to Herpes Music. You know what I'm talking about. The sound that's catchy, but it's crap. Just a heaping pile of hot dung. But you find yourself singing and bouncing along anyway.

In case you're having trouble understanding what I mean (or are in a severe state of denial about how terrible your taste in music really is), I'll help you out. Below I've provided a list of some current Herpes Music:

1. Ke$ha - ANYTHING she does. Tik Tok, Blow, We R Who We R, Dinosaur (We won't even talk about her stage name. A dollar sign. Really?)
2. Katy Perry - Extraterrestrial, California Gurls, Peacock
3. Kanye West - Stronger
4. Lady Gaga - Monster (What does this song even mean??)
5. Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Diddy/Prince? - Coming Home

I just sort of generally despise Kanye. Not sure if it's that I find his music offensive and talentless or that he generally seems like a drunken douche, but the idea of him just makes my skin crawl. I promise I wouldn't sleep with him if he begged me. The chance that he could maybe possibly impregnate me is just too much.

But with the others, I really enjoy the music. I work out to it. I chair dance to it at work. I drive with it on loudly, "singing" along. (I put singing in quotes because I'm quite certain what I do does not qualify as singing under any circumstances.

I know that these people don't represent ALL new music. They just seem to be the most popular and what's on the radio when I do turn it on. I can sort of feel my IQ dropping as I bop along.

Of course, when we combine the music with reality TV, I'm pretty sure that we'll be crawling around on our knuckles before too long.

Get Sexy Campaign

I've been thinking a lot about my Battle of the Pudge/Countdown to Sexy. I feel pretty good about how things have been going for me so far, but I've decided that I've been confusing some concepts that are really quite distinct things.

Weight loss and fitness are great things. Don't get me wrong. I'm feeling better, less tired, all of that good stuff. However, sexiness doesn't necessarily have anything to do with weight. I know we've all seen an overweight man or woman, and still thought, "Hot damn! He is SEXY." And we all know skinny/thin people who don't feel sexy. So obviously it's not really about weight or looks.

Someone in college (coughcoughRichycoughcough) once said to me that sexy is an attitude - that it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with physical appearance. I looked it up in the dictionary, and sure enough, it's about exuding sexuality.

I feel like one's ability to exude sexuality comes from confidence. You feel good about yourself or your abilities and you can't help but let that flow out of you. And as it flows out of you, other people pick up on it and are then attracted to you. Pretty simple really.

Weight happens to be one of my weak spots (for ridiculous reasons) and getting control of it makes me feel confident. (I also like getting leered at by random men.) For other people (read: thin people), it may come from other things. Getting control of your finances. Rock climbing. Baking a cake without burning down your kitchen.

I will continue to focus on my Battle of the Pudge, but I feel like adding some other things in there. Reminding myself of things I'm good at. Trying things I've always wanted to, but have been too intimidated to do. I'm looking forward to myself.

Battle of the Pudge (Round Two)

Welcome to Battle of the Pudge (a.k.a. Countdown to Sexy).

Back in 2009, I lost about 60 pounds on Weight Watchers. I think it's a decent program, but it got frustrating because I wanted to add an exercise component. When you add exercising to dieting, your scale tells you one thing but your body tells you another. Weight Watchers is based entirely on your weight (shocker, given the name).

At the time, I figured I'd just run with it and dropped the exercise component. Fast forward a year and a half, and I've found the weight again. I think Weight Watchers is probably designed that way on purpose. You have to keep going back to their product to continue to achieve success.

Well, this time around, I don't have a scale and I'm not going to buy one. I'll know if I'm doing the right thing by whether pants that used to fit do so again.

To reach my goal I'm trying a few things:

1. Eating less. This one's pretty obvious. I'm trying to keep myself from snacking too much between meals and I'm trying to make sure my meals are reasonably sized.

2. Avoiding crap foods. I won't do this all the time, but my regular trips to McDonald's are no more.

3. Adding some exercise in at least 5 days per week. I try to at least walk for 30 minutes and I will now be availing myself of the gym available at work.

4. Not eating past 7pm. This one came from a friend at work. I'd heard it before, but had really put it out of my head since I love evening and late-night snacking.

We'll see how I do with all of this.

I'd like to thank K-Man for the motivation to do this again. K-Man's gotten himself in some incredible shape and I'm a bit jealous. Nothing like someone else's hotness to motivate you.

The Eternal, Universal Truth

Yes, I am about to reveal the secret so many have searched for. It's really quite simple, if you get down to it. But for so many, it needs to be something so much more complex and mystical.

I once read somewhere, "Truth is simple. Complexity represents the force of one's ego." I can no longer find where I read that. Googling only reveals someone's MySpace page, and while I'm sure "April" supports the idea, I doubt she is the origin of the expression.

The point, my friends, is this: The Truth of Life, the Ultimate Truth, is Love.

A lot of people see Love as something complex and confusing. But that's only true because we twist it and contort it. A man once said to me that he finally understood unconditional love being with me, because he was willing to overlook my faults to stay with me. He was using that as a stab at me because I was in the process of breaking up with him because I could no longer take his abuse.

That isn't unconditional love, or love at all. It's manipulation.

Love is really quite simple. Sometimes you have to strip off the fear you wear to let it shine in its true glory. But it's not the Love that's complicated, it's the layers we pour over it to protect ourselves.

Love just exists. We don't even really know what it is. It's a feeling that you can act on. It's our desire to see something succeed outside of ourselves, when we get no benefit from it. It doesn't require language. It transcends ethnicities, nationalities, gender, and religions.

Love knows no barriers. It's never too late for Love.

There's also nothing better than Loving. Nothing makes a person feel freer, more alive. If you think back in your life, I'd imagine what you'll find is that your happiest times are those where you've made someone else feel the Love you feel for them.

I feel like we don't Love enough these days. On a global or specific level. We're so busy trying to get wherever we're trying to get that we forget to stop and Love those around us. To just feel that for humankind. We've stopped being thankful for the feeling of Love. It's not something we should take for granted. It's a gift. A very precious gift.

And if we spent more time giving the gift, we might spend more time receiving it. Then, maybe we could finally reach the heights that seem so far out of our reach. Together we can accomplish so much more than we can individually, but we all want the recognition that comes from accomplishment.

What we don't see is that we're searching for the wrong kind of recognition. We want Love, but settle for achievement of goals that probably won't matter in a few months' time.

Spend some time today expressing your Love for someone else. How you choose to demonstrate it is up to you. The point is just to do it. Just let go and show it. And ride the high that comes with that. Then do it again. And again. Until it's just part of you.

I miss college

A few of my cousins are in college now - one at my alma mater. I have to say, I'm incredibly jealous.

I had a blast at the University of Florida. What should have been a three-year experience took four. The advisors tried to get me to graduate after my third year, but since my full ride was still in place for the fourth year, I declined their kind offer.

Classes were something I did off and on (mostly off), but I was really involved with on-campus activities. I did the Dorm Geek thing for three of the four years, and though I hope to never share a bathroom with 50 women again, I have to say it was a remarkable experience.

I led groups, created events, worked with a budget - all things I'd never done before. I met an incredible number of people. I ran for student government. I lost, but I did it.

I helped a close friend run for student body president. A TEN THOUSAND DOLLAR campaign. Also a loser. But I've never worked harder for something. It was my job to keep him in line, make him show up to things on time. I was only brought in because the party (yes, the student government PARTY) didn't think anyone else could. It was a crushing loss, but we all shared it together.

I think the thing I loved the most about college was that I had no idea what the hell I was doing with my life. But back then, I didn't feel like I had to. I was there to explore, to grow. The point wasn't the end result, but rather the journey.

Now that I'm out in the real world, I feel pressured to figure out what I'm doing with my life. I'm almost 30. I have a law degree. I've almost completed a master's degree. And because I've acquired almost another two degrees, I have to work to pay for it. The time for exploration is over.

And that makes me sad.

Feeling good

I have to say, I'm feeling pretty good right now. As any reader of this blog knows, the last few months have been a bit tough. Abusive boyfriend, back surgery, moving around. It's just a lot to handle.

Today was a really great day. Lately I've had some great times, but they may have been induced by painkillers and muscle relaxers. I've had my back pain flare up on me, so I've been back on the pills and I've been feeling pretty light.

I had an appointment to get an epidural steroid injection. I poked some fun at the doctor (he went to Ohio State University - hates the Gators since we stomped them in two sports in one year...) and I think it encouraged him to cause me pain. I actually asked him at one point, "Why would you do that to another person?!?!?!?" He was amused. I was not.

But yeah, even before I had some pain meds, I was having a great day today. I really feel ready to get my life back and just really enjoy the shit out of it. I have plans to go take photos with someone since I haven't done it in ages. I'm not an expert by any means and I really only seem to photograph slugs and other insects. But I'm stoked to get back into it.

I'm also back on the online dating scene. And oh how I've missed it. Some of the people out there are just off the map. Just totally out there. My dad always told me there's someone for everyone, but I have to seriously question that. I know we've all met someone and just thought, "Um, so yeah. You're going to reproduce one day?" (Britney Spears, not that I've met her...)

I've been told that the dating sites are a numbers game, sort of like photography. Every photog will tell you that to get one good shot, you have to take 100. Online dating isn't that different. You send a bunch of emails and see what works. I'm sure I'll have some great stories :)

At any rate, more than before, I really feel like I'm getting back to being Lyndsy again. I missed her.

Until it happens to you

I went on a posting hiatus a while back, appeared for one post, and disappeared again. If you've followed my blog, you know that one post was me exclaiming joy at my pending nuptials. I was out-of-my-mind happy at that point. Because I was in denial.

My nuptials have been called off, I've moved out, and in a matter of weeks, that chapter of my life will be closed.

Back then, I didn't see this coming. Not even a little bit. I was so sure that he was Mr. Lyndsy. I would have bet everything on it. In some ways I did. I took a job where I didn't make enough to really sustain me on my own. I got rid of a lot of my furniture. Bedding. Why not? I wouldn't need it again.

My mom tried to warn me that I should leave myself a back-up plan. I wouldn't hear it. I knew what I was doing. Don't tell her this, but my mom was right. I know she was trying to be practical about it, she wasn't trying to doom my relationship. But I wouldn't hear it.

Not too long into it, I started to have feelings that something was off. I brushed it off as us adjusting to me living with him. As time went on, things didn't improve. I chalked it up to the holiday season. Everyone's a little stressed then, right? The holidays came and went and still nothing changed. In fact, things got a bit worse. But, the beginning of the year is hard for him for personal reasons. I figured, "I'll just wait some more."

Until finally, I couldn't wait anymore. It was just too much. And it was something small that brought it all crashing down. I didn't get a Valentine's Day card.

I realize that Valentine's Day is a commercialized holiday designed to generate retail revenue. It wasn't really the card that did it. It was the reason no card was given, "I felt like crap all day."

Valentine's Day falls on the same day every year. From the time we got together until it ended that day, there were many, many days to buy a card. But the fact that he couldn't put himself out, for just a card, really struck me. And then I got to thinking about all the little things I'd let slide.

The weekend getaway we'd just taken where I paid for everything except two meals (to the tune of $400). The Christmas present that was originally a gift for himself, delivered with, "Since I didn't really get you anything for Christmas..."

And I also thought about the times I wanted to go see my friends. When I brought it up, I got, "Oh, I guess I'll just go see a movie by myself then." I'd ask which movie and it was always something I wanted to see. Even if I didn't stay home, he wouldn't go see it.

All the times I'd been talked to like a child - "Is there a reason you left the light on in the other room?"

The "Please don't talk to your friends about our relationship," which turned into, "You talk to them and never me." Untrue, but designed to sting.

Perhaps the worst, but somehow easiest forgotten on my end, the unprovoked kicks to the chest that left a bruise.

I saw these things, knew something was off, but stayed anyway. I used to wonder why people would stay in a situation like that. It's so obvious from the outside that something is desperately wrong. Now I know why.

You're made to believe it's you. I believed I wasn't doing enough. If *I* were somehow better, he wouldn't behave that way. We could be happy.

What I didn't know was that nothing I could say or do would matter. It wasn't me. I allowed it to happen by not standing up for myself, but I wasn't the source.

The important thing now is that I'm out. I've learned from it. I've grown. I feel relief.

I feel free.

And soon I will feel happy again.

Next stall, if you please

We all have pet peeves. Mine seem to revolve around the public restrooms.

If you've been a faithful reader of my blog, you know one of my big pet peeves is hand-washing in a public restroom. I get totally creeped out when someone leaves a public restroom stall and bypasses the sink on their way out.

There are lots of explanations why someone may do that. May have just been adjusting clothes, may have tried to go and couldn't, blah blah blah. Don't care. Whether you pissed on your hands or not, if someone is in the bathroom with you, WASH THEM.

It's obviously their call if they want everyone to look at them like they have no sense of personal hygiene. I can't even say I blame them. I have almost no confidence that the sinks in public restrooms are even clean. In that case, just bring some hand sanitizer and use it while others are watching.

The other huge pet peeve I have is when I'm in the restroom, by myself, lots of stalls open, and someone comes in and gets into the stall right next to me.

In any public restroom I use frequently, I have a favorite stall. It's typically the first one in line, closest to the wall or door. I think I read somewhere (on the internet) that that is the least frequently used stall. True or not, what that translates to in my head is that it's bound to be the cleanest.

So I get it if others have a favorite. I know they have to go, obviously I do too. That's why we're in there. But please, don't be all up in my personal space. I'm having a moment of personal reflection, and you're disturbing my chi. Just slide on down to the next stall and we'll both feel better.

Talent

From dictionary.com: Talent - noun - a special natural ability or aptitude.

From Dose of Lyndsy: Talent - noun - that thing that makes other people do things better than I do them and that makes me want to hit them.

For the most part, we all know talent when we see/hear/read it. Talented people just convey it better than people who aren't talented. When I listen to old Whitney Houston albums, she makes the hairs on my arms stand up (in a good way). Listening to William Hung makes me wish I were deaf. You just know the difference.*

Talent's all well and good...when you enjoy your talent. Unfortunately for me, that's not the case. I'm a talented student. My fellow law students hated me for it. There they were, hunched over their textbooks until their vision doubled, while I sat in my dorm room making awful-looking homemade cards and painting wooden boxes. But yeah, I'm not a student anymore.

I'm also a talented lawyer. I didn't do it for long, but someone I trust, and who would know talent if he saw it, told me I am. Awesome...but being a lawyer sucks.

This is not to say that talent is everything. Even if you are talented, you still have to cultivate the talent. Tiger Woods looks great at tournaments, but he also practices every day, for hours and hours. Whitney Houston didn't just walk into a recording studio, belt out a few tunes and leave.

However, working up your talent is much easier than starting from scratch with something and struggling from there. I also believe that you can tell the difference between the product of someone who's talented and someone who's worked their way to proficiency.

I say all of that to lament the fact that I am not a talented writer. When I was looking for a job, people kept asking me what it is that I want to do, what I like to do. I said I didn't know what I really liked to do, and as for the job, didn't care, as long as I make enough money to live and enjoy the people I work with. Looking back, I just think I didn't know. I do now.

I've spent the last two weeks on the couch, recovering from back surgery. As much as I love Netflix, there's only so much Murder, She Wrote and Bones I can watch. So I took up an old hobby - blog stalking. What struck me more than anything else is that there are some SERIOUSLY talented bloggers out there.

I read a lot - books, blogs, magazines. Each medium has a different set of challenges. I think being an interesting, intriguing, decent blog writer has to be one of the hardest things to do. If you've bought the magazine or you're sitting in a doctor's office too bored to even count the ceiling tiles, you'll probably read most of it, even if the article doesn't catch you right away. I don't think we expect books to excite right from the beginning. There are hundreds more pages to read most of the time. The really thrilling stuff is locked in the middle somewhere. If a blog doesn't catch you right from the start, clicking away takes almost NO effort.

I want to be one of those interesting bloggers. I want people I don't even know to read my blog and want to come back for more. But for me, it's going to take work and a lot of it.

*Art may be the one exception to this. I remember an episode of Murphy Brown (Sweet God, I'm getting old), where Murphy claimed that her 4-year old kid could paint better than the artists whose exhibits she was viewing. She turned it into a challenge. She had her kid paint a picture and then placed it in an exhibit. For the most part, the art critics walked by and commented that it looked like a child painted it. One critic stopped and commented that perhaps on the surface it looked like that, but if you looked into the depths of the work, you could see the soul and meaning, and blah blah blah. The rest of the art critics bought on that and in the end, all declared what a masterpiece it was.

About Me

This is the part of blogging I'm not very good at. Trying to describe me is like trying to explain what a sunrise is like, words can only get you so far. The rest you have to experience on yourself.

Oooh, I like that. I'm an experience. Think of it this way: You're a trailer park and I'm a tornado. Yeah, it's like that. I'm intense, almost too much to handle. If you're not careful, my personality will envelop you completely. I have an opinion on almost everything and I like to think I'm right most of the time. I probably have an overblown sense of entitlement (not my fault, I'm a Millenial) and it matches nicely with my supersized ego.

I love school, can't seem to stop going. I have BA in Political Science from the University of Florida (Go Gators!), and since that's not really worth anything, a JD from Seattle University. To avoid paying on those law school loans (I could have had a small condo), I decided another degree was in order. Enter MA in Criminal Justice, also from Seattle University. And no, I have no idea why I need an MA in Criminal Justice when I have a law degree.

All my degrees landed me in the exalted position I have today - administrative assistant for a large company. No, that's not code for anything. The best part about that is that I had to talk them into letting me have an interview! I love my job and the people I work with. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters. I've spent enough time working in places that steal your soul. When I'm ready to sacrifice my soul to the devil, it'll certainly be for something more than a job that pays peanuts and where the people treat you like you're expendable.

When I'm not working I spend time harassing the man I love. He's crazy enough to let me live with him and his daughter. We have a blast and I have no idea how he still tolerates me. It probably has something to do with the fact that I can eat most of a Texas donut by myself. I know that would do it for me. Turns out, he was a bit abusive.

The harassment doesn't stop with him, it extends to my friends as well. I love them dearly because they too continue to put up with me. I also love them because they keep my ego inflated by telling me just how addictive and awesome I am. Much easier than paying people to do it.

I pretend to be crafty and I live to force my creations upon other people. (See friends as noted above). I'm thinking about venturing into a homemade card-making business, but who knows? I never really finish anything I start. I love card games, movies, books, and all the other crap everyone says they love. Except feet.

I started this blog back in 2006 as a way to vent my frustrations about some of the people in my life who were giving some serious grief (No, seriously, it's Swiffer, not SwifTer. Read the package. Can't do that? Good thing reading isn't fundamental to your life. Oh, what's that, you want to be a lawyer? No, they don't read. It's okay). It's gone through several lives since then and will probably always be a work in progress. (Did you like that split infinitive? the excessive use of commas?)

I blog because I truly enjoy it. I get a place to just let loose without really worrying about what anyone else thinks. You don't like what I'm saying? Don't read it. I don't care. When I don't blog I feel emotionally constipated. There's no Immodium for that. The only cure for that is MORE COWBELL more blogging.

I hope you enjoy yourself. If not email me at idontcare@notarealsite.com.

My Alter Ego

I was enjoying an episode of Bones last night (Season 4 - Mayhem on a Cross) and there was some discussion about alter egos. It made me start wondering what MY alter ego would be like.

I see alter egos as the people we would like to be if we didn't feel constrained by the social rules we feel apply to us. I'm sure other people have different definitions of what an alter ego is, but that's what I'm running with.

Of course, for me, figuring out who your alter ego is, and what that person is like, is only the first step. The real question is how to bring my alter ego to life.

I thought about this for a while and it dawned on me...my blog. It should have been obvious, but hey, I'm medicated these days.

A good friend of mine, understanding what I mean by alter ego, wondered how it is that I could be MORE me than I am now. I say, wait and see.

Welcome to the new Dose of Lyndsy!