New Years, resolutions, and reflections.

So I realize that it has been awhile since I last posted, and here is why.

I wrote this awesome post in the heat of a moment about dating, how my online trials tend to fail miserably and how last year i had a short romance that changed well everything. And then it disappeared. I had a lot of things open on my computer and I must have clicked out without saving because the next day I came to edit it and it had vanished. I decided then that it probably wasn’t a post that should be posted.

A good friend of mine over the break asked me some very pointed questions about my love life and whether or not I am happy with this aloneness I have been in.  And well this has made me reflect on my choices.

Last New Year’s I made three very specific resolutions in regards to my love life, mental wellness, and goals for the year. All combined it led me to focus on me, and what I needed/wanted out of life, and not get caught up in others (in a romantic sense). While this may sound very self-centered, I had very valid reasons for not wanting to commit in the year 2012.

 

1^st off I was absolutely positive that I was going to be moving out of the current state in which I lived in -> Georgia. Thus a romantic relationship would be facing a pretty large hurdle in only a few short months.

2^ndly I was convinced (and correctly so) that my little sister was going to get engaged/married soon, and would need me to be focused on her. Something that I really enjoyed.

3^rd, I became comfortable with being alone in all aspects, sleeping, eating, and just generally being alone. There is nothing better than ending your work day in your own apartment, with your own mess, and your own thoughts.

That being said my new New Year’s resolutions are as follows:

1: Loose some of this unhealthy-ness weight.

            Whether it be in body, emotionally, or even in friends.

2: Send more snail mail.

            Because who doesn’t love receiving real mail in this time of emails, texts, g-chat, twitter, and Facebook messages? Also this is a ploy for me to get mail besides bills, and credit card offers.

3: Become open.

            This means that I need to get off my ass and open myself up to more. As in dating. Making new friends.  And getting out of my apartment. I hope to be less content in being alone.

With that said I will gladly date any of the following people AND If you send me your address I will send you mail.

What is now living on my desk. . .

I love toys. And Elephants. So it was really no surprise that my last staff gave me a toy elephant as part of my graduation/ going away gift. (Along with some awesome bubbles that I plague unsuspecting staff members with. Hehehehehehehe)

Well I have some sad news. After a few months of hanging out on my desk and being groped by lots of people, little toy elephant has deflated.

 

I know it doesn’t really look like an elephant but it kept students and staff entertained and mesmerized by is squishiness. However to my surprise I wasn’t even the most upset by this apparent death. Oh no my coworker, who likes to visit every day lamented it for at least a week. He kept going on about how I have no toys now. (no one but me gets to play with the bubbles). So I caved and went shopping. And this ladies and gents is what I found.

 

 

 

A crazy haired duck that lights up when thrown. And has that requisite squishiness.

 

 

 

 

 

An owl, because that’s another animal I really like. It waddles, though not well.

 

 

 

 

 

Finger Puppets, I have named them panda and mouse respectively. (I know not very creative.)

 

 

 

 

And finally a creature that resembles a creepy crawly, but one I wouldn’t mind having as a pet. It too fulfills that squishy need people have.

Needless to say I also have a slinky, and a huge clothes pin. Just because. Let’s hope these live longer than my poor elephant.

What am I doing with my life?

Why student affairs?

Whining students, aggressively angry parents, and endless days doing absolutely nothing. This is my life.

I’m bored. My ass hurts, and I am tired of answering the same questions over and over and over again. .

 So why do you ask did I chose to be in this field?

Was it because of the cool office supplies?

Or the fact that to be comfortable I have to sit on this?

Not even close.

I had what you may call a typical freshmen year in college. Filled with a drug dealing roommate, a dirty suite mate, and very few friends. My resident assistant was so not helpful. By the end of the year she had been let go. Which having wanted to let go an RA myself, I realize she must have been a huge mess if the RD wanted her out before helping with move out, and closing the building. Which for you non res-lifers, is a long process with lots of drama, paper works, crying, keys, and soul searching.

This spurred me into applying for the RA position myself because I wanted to help other students like my RA never did for me.

 By the end of my college career I realized that I had gotten more enjoyment through my Resident Assistant job than my internship in NY City. Thus I went on to grad school for Counseling, with a concentration in Student Affairs. I have moved to GA and now to New Orleans, and will definitely be moving again. (Though not any time soon).

While there are some issues with my job, I must say that I am enjoying living in this city, and the people that I am meeting. But it all comes down to the fact that I like to help students.

Next for me? I really want to teach. (which I have wanted to do in some form since 1^st grade, when I wanted to be a nun teacher. Yea the whole nun thing isn’t going to happen) I want to teach college students. That means another few degrees, Like an MBA, and then a PHD. Just a heads up. :D

Proclamations mixed with alcohol, and a dash of emotions.

Here is a heavily edited accounting of another incident in which I thought that the cops were going to be called. .  This one involves my twin brother, my sister, my other sister (my best friend), my new step sister, a random 13 year old girl, a hookah, lots of alcohol and well ME!.

                A little back history, my twin and I are not on speaking terms. Meaning I do not speak to him. And here is the shortest version of why:

                He thinks with his small brain, and chooses girls who are either

A)    Crazy

B)     Pathological liars

C)     Obsessive

D)    Hates all other females

E)     Almost always all of the above. . .

Because of this tendency in the past year and a half Ron has gotten married to a girl who wanted a divorce a week later, then faked a pregnancy, the a miscarriage and moved back to Hawaii. After a few weeks living in marital bliss even buying a puppy, the crazy up and leaves. Out of the blue.

                Well of course my sisters and I said a big ole “TOLD YOU SO!”

But all was forgiven because well he was going off to a war zone and that shit is scary. Over the four months Ron spent in the sandy dessert, I sent him a few care packages and our relationship was becoming better. I even spent 7 hours at an airport just to see him after he got back. The he starts to talk about his newest plan. Moving to Texas to be a plumber. A job he lined up through a girl he met online. (s/n not on any dating site but on tumblr. Which says A LOT) After many conversations and deep thought I realized his little member was thinking again. And we had a HUGE MASSIVE fight in which I am pretty sure I told him he should just stop telling people he has a family because he doesn’t really care about us anyways. Ladies and gents, this was after a very stress filled few months in which I was job searching and after my brother bailed on me multiple times, breaking a few promises. All because he was glued to his phone, chatting with Texas.

Well Texas didn’t work out. SURPRISE!! Shock gasps and awe. NOT.

This weekend was the first time I had seen my twin since all of this went down. And needless to say I was (and am) still salty about the whole shebang.

Back to last weekend: Within 20 minutes of being in the car with Ron, Tori offered me meds out of fear that I was going to crash the car just to maim Ron, who was trying to back seat drive.

That night after lots of drinks and dinner, a group of us were huddled around the counter when out of nowhere Ron states

“I’m taking Tori’s advice and staying single for a while.” Excuse me? Whose advice?

Remember this post about advice the good bad and the ugly?

Yeah everything I kept saying for YEARS!!!

 I hit a level of angry that quite frankly I haven’t hit since a boyfriend had to tackle me to the ground to prevent me murdering the very same brother. After a lot of “fuck you’s” and aggressive posturing I managed to calm down. Mainly it was because my sister Tori distracted me with the offer of smoking Hookah.

So the younger sect of the wedding party (those listed above) trek out to the porch. After talking about a bunch of raunchy things trying to get Ron, the only guy there to leave, we accidentally scared of the 13 year old. Finally Ron LEFT!!! Thus commenced 20 unadulterated minutes of girl talk, where we gave advice on lots of random things. Alas it did not last. You see we are a bunch of LAZY girls. So we called Ron back to get us more drinks. He then stayed.

In the middle of a particularly nondescript story, Tori interrupts me and says hold on this is going to be good.

Ron then gave the proclamation that turned an okay night into a night I will never forget. He is in a platonic relationship! They cuddle, watch movies, and occasionally make out!!! SINGLE MY ASS! That is a relationship my friends! I then proceed to call my mother from down stairs and well the rest is a bunch of drunk platitudes and mini conferencing that every person has experienced at least once.

The night ended with me proclaiming I am the most normal, and sadly the most sober. The latter I am still not sure is entirely true. This stirred another intense debate among my family, of which Erin was disqualified on a technicality, (she probably is the most normal, but sadly is adopted.) and Tori was out because she is getting married at a young age, which most of society frowns upon. To make up for it I am sure that she will be the most normal given 10 years of marriage.

I am pretty sure the few neighbors that were in Nags Head that evening did not appreciate us all hollering at each other. But hey isn’t that a normal night at a beach house?

Bridezilla? Or frustrated with incompetence?

I seriously thought that I was going to go to jail this past weekend back home. MULTIPLE times. What does that say about my weekend home? Only that it was epic, and one that I will remember with a certain fondness for many years.

The first instance I thought that I was going to be handcuffed and dragged away was at David’s Bridal. While a part of me in convinced that the women are used to verbal abuse, I still felt that my sister was going to take it to the next level and starting slinging fists.

Here is why:

8 weeks ago Tori went dress shopping (without me) and feel in love with a gown. She went in to try it on but they only had it in the unreasonably small size of a 4. She didn’t care she wanted it. She then went through the process of getting measured. My sister being a very fit and healthy woman is a size 8. A size that many women would kill to be. Cue to this past weekend.

Wanting to have that “moment” with each other I waited patiently outside the fitting room for her to be laced, hooked and zipped into the many accruements that go along with a dress. After 20 minutes, I started to get worried. I heard muttering, and well angry protestations. After another 10 minutes and apparently another bustier, Tori came out, and man did she look drop dead gorgeous. Only she didn’t look happy, instead she looked like she was about to murder someone. WHY you ask?

The dress didn’t fit, more it wouldn’t zip.

After about 30 minutes of back and forth and requesting to speak to the store manager who was one of the women who assured my sister that she was “a perfect size 8” I decided to take matters into my own hands. Especially since Tori had made it very clear she was not ordering a size 10 to take in.

First I saw that the slip, which is this huge bell skirt that goes up to just under the breasts wasn’t zipped all the way. It didn’t fit, and because of this the dress would zip over it! I unhooked it pulled it up and zipped that dress up in two shakes!

We then privately had our moment since no one was anywhere to be seen! I called back the store manager and explained the problem; she then had the seamstress take my sister back to the dressing room to get a bigger slip.

20 minutes later my sister was storming back out, spitting out FUCKS every other word, I seriously thought she was going to hit the seamstress trailing behind her. She stopped in front of me and said “Tricia Zip it again.” After taking off the slip (Tori said it was too hot and not needed) the lady still couldn’t zip the dress!!!

Ladies & Gents, the dress was zippable, it was tight but it did fit. And after I zipped it again, we were there for another 20 minutes talking about bustling. Needless to say after we got out of there both Tori and I were agitated.

We have decided to have our moment on her wedding day, not surrounded by women whose only purpose in life seems to be incompetently pushing for more alterations than necessary; this was also evidenced by a few other disgruntled customers back in the fitting rooms. FYI.

So yeah, that coupled with a very drunk family and some very interesting proclamations I spent the whole weekend just waiting for someone to call the cops. :D

This is what it has come down to. .

What I do in the confines of my office.

Let me be very honest here, over the past two years of my life I ran a facility that was not only larger than this one, but with more complicated office dynamics, student staff drama, and all in “20” hours a week. I put 20 in quotes because that was more like the suggested number of hours you should spend in your office, when in reality some weeks it was closer to 50, and others closer to 10. Just depends on the week.

On top of doing pretty much the same job I am now, I also took a full course load that included up to 9 hours of class, 10 -15 articles, 3-5 chapters, and at least one paper due every week.

Needless to say this semester, my VERY first one without ANY classes à

I am BORED, BoReD, bored, bOrEd. Seriously. So what do I do to pass double the hours they want me to spend in my office. . ??

Well I do what any person who sits at a working computer would do all day. . . SURF the INTERNET!. .

And here are some sites that I have found are interesting, funny, and at times REALLY relevant to what I do.

Related to my job/career:

Student Affairs

Being a "First Responder"

Res Life FOR Life

What my Staff is like

Blogs that speak to me personally:

ARRGGGGHHHHH

Sorta Kinda How I FEEL

Things I read just for FUN!:

HAHAHA this "kid"

I feel smarter already

The address of this site says it ALL

Any ways, I try to stay off Twitter and Facebook while in my office. But Tumblr is my newest addiction.

Other things I do while in my office:

            Make paper ART ( putting my origami skills to work )

            Write lists ( like ToDo, grocery, and budgets )

            Organize my paperwork ( for the bazzilionith time )

 

AND  I occasionally have a dance party ( but only when Pandora plays a good song )

 

Advice --> the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

     My sister said something very interesting to me the other night. In between “mouth breather” tirades, conversations with her dogs, and  random jokes she mentioned that she doesn’t really know me as being a part of a relationship. Which in our case is true because we really only became super close after my last seriously long term boyfriend and I split. Though there have been a few forays into the relationship world since then none of those has lasted past a few months. And none of those men even got near to meeting my crazy family. This precluded her asking me advice about a few issues arising in her relationship. (nothing that will derail the awesome wedding coming up)

     So why is it that all of my friends, coworkers, residents, and that random girl at the grocery market all come to me for advice on relationships that I feel I have no real basis to help them with.  Well apparently I am a good listener. And a good advice giver.

     A part of my frustration stems from the ever increasing bizarreness that my twin brothers dating life has taken on.  From an early age he has always dated what I lovingly term “CRAZIES”. Seriously there was the one girl in high school that insisted on talking to me on the phone to a) make sure that he didn’t have another girl at the house, and to b) tell me to be nicer to him.  Then there was the girl that lied about her age and he ended up arrested! Oh and the clincher the one who convinced him to marry her at a courthouse wedding in Hawaii then a week later, after flying back to the Midwest, called him up and stated “I don’t want to be married anymore.” The last episode in this ever increasing depressive series was the girl he had never met in person express valid points about his friends and thus incited him to break up with her.

     A comment my dad once made a few years ago while my twin was living with him left me and my sister utterly confused and slightly nauseous. He said “your brother is never without a female companion, and every so often that female changes. Unless he isn’t sleeping with her” Just thinking about our brother in that light led to a few gags.

     But so far only one girl has managed to stay just friends with him, and her name is Pat, short for Patricia, which I am eternally grateful for.  (Can you imagine if your brother got together with a girl with your same name? creepy)

 (this is how I imagine my twin on a date)

   Of course throughout all of this I have always been the one that my lovely twin called, and asked advice. Well no more. I have given up giving advice where it isn’t heeded.  I mean come on what better advice is there then the awesome clichés “love will happen when you are not looking for it”, “don’t rush into things”, and my favorite “stop thinking with your little brain.”

   So back to everyone coming to me for relationship advice. Well I have a secret to confess. I love giving advice. Yup that’s right this girl right here is a bonafide Leo who just loves to mask instructions on how to better your life in the ever asked for “advice”.

    Looking at it, I realize that my sister comes to me for advice about her relationship, not because I have a stellar track record, but because I know her. Like so well that I can tell you that at this moment she is nodding her head. (because as a devoted sister she reads these posts despite being a non facebooker or tweeter)

     Thus I will still be doling out advice about all things. Even if I my experience with them are minimal or fast receding into poor memory.  But just to be clear this is how I feel about unwanted advice given to me. .

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