Girls and Boys

I sat behind the driver, M, on the way to the beach yesterday. Her, B, MB and I drove to Port Stanley to see J who was working at the bar on the beach. On our 45 minute drive the three took turns complaining about their boys.

MB complained that N made a comment about her weight and even though he apologizes shortly after he still says it, it hurts. His apologies sound cute and I feel that MB should just learn to smile it off. But I understand the pain every hurtful word brings even if it’s taken back. B explains that rather then doing something romantic for their one year he is taking her to the racetracks, she’d rather do wine sampling in Niagara Falls or stay the night in a hotel but there isn’t any compromise and she hates it. M is in a rough spot, her man has accepted a job in TO and the long distance is straining. She’s tired of trying and he doesn’t seem to be putting in an effort and she’s wondering if the new guy is worth a try. That’s even before J explained her bf’s attitude.

And I’ve never been more zen-ed out. I’m wearing my beige American Eagle capries and my white Indian style shirt with a sexy white tank top underneath, the lightness is soothing. I sit there and listen and bring up creative lines to match what the ladies have quoted their men as saying. My solution to their attitude problem is to withhold sex, however, I’ve tried that method of getting what I want and I’m normally the one who caves. But if you can and are upset with something enough, then it seems like a great idea. I don’t have boy problems, I don’t have a boy and the issues I have are minimal and will sort themselves out when the time comes.

One point of new information: B has explained that it was good that I got as sick as I did that one weekend because I helped her realize she still had feelings for G. I don’t feel like it was worth it though. Maybe some good came of my nausa but if she wanted to know her true feelings for him, I or anyone who’s ever heard her talk about her current and her ex G could tell her how she feels.

~

And you, what made you want to venture back into the whelm of my thoughts. Do I amuse you? Have I sparked a desire for you to know and want to be updated on my life? What is it that you want to know and why do you care? My times sitting with friends and hearing their problems have created a sense of apathy and now you’ve masked it with thoughts of confusion. I’m assuming it’s you, it may not be though, but that’s what’s on my mind. Don’t email me about it and don’t comment, do whatever floats your boat.

name

“When I saw your name, Martha, I pictured you as a 72 year old lady.”

I smirk. What else do I say to a girl who’s just insulted my name? I agree with her, my name is an old lady’s name, but to hear her comment on my name took me aback. I feel that a name is a personal thing. What if I do like my name, and then she said that, I’d have been really insulted. I’m sure by now you all know I dislike my name and for the reason that she noted but I only hate it more with comments like that.

But I smirked hiding the fact I was offended by her comment. I told her the story about the little girl named Martha on the Martha Stewart show and she agreed with me that the child will hate her name because of the association with Martha Stewart as soon as she is fully aware who she is compared to: old domestic women.

This girls name is Melissa. After discussing my name she noted that her name also is an older sounding name. I think I glared at her with a sarcastic/“don’t even go there” kind of look and she soon retracted her comment. There is nothing wrong with a name like Melissa. It’s common, but it’s a name that suits anyone at any age. I think that many people dislike their name. In the same way few people are content with their body, I think few people are content with their name. At least you’re not mistaken for a 72 year old.

As she was filling out the paper work she needed to know my middle name. She looked up at me from her computer screen almost horrified that since my mom gave me one old sounded name that she must also have given me a second old sounding name. When I said, “no, no, it’s Elaine” she signed with a sigh of relief.

Give me a break, I thought. I’ll be the one to make fun of and to be disappointed with my name.

Addictions

I have an addictive personality. I’m addicted to the sims, I’m addicted to the hottub, I’m addicted to watching Ellen Degeneres and I’m addicted to listening to the radio at night as I’m falling asleep. And now I’m addicted to checking my statscounter to see who and how often people are reading my blog.

I’m not putting people to the test to see how often they are reading it, I merely thought it was a cool idea to see how many people read my blog. It’s interesting. But now I am plagued with curiosity. Am I amusing and people want to see what my latest thoughts are? Or are you bored at work and skimming your friends’ webpages until the boss gives you something better to do. I’m fine with it either way, I like you reading my blog and I hope that your enjoying the time you are wasting by sitting here reading my random thoughts.

My thoughts have been few lately. I have begun writing blogs about my disappointments with the show finale of Will and Grace or an episode of Deal or No Deal that made me laugh at the contestant, but I’ve never stuck with the thought long enough to feel I had a valid point and it was worth writing about it. Lately I’ve spent a great deal of time with the Sims. Yesterday I created a new family of Pierre and Paris Hilton. I’ve been working them hard to achieve the status of the other neighbours but I’m getting tired of the lack of options for the bedrooms and living rooms and running out of ideas for rooms.

Most of the people in my Sims neighbourhood have enough money to buy anything and everything and I can create large homes that fill the property but I don’t enjoy doubling up on furniture and I don’t like having rooms that they don’t go in. Often I have a spare bedroom that no one ever uses but it makes the house look real. Among other creative rooms I make Dance Rooms, Offices, TV rooms, and workout rooms.

So ya, until my job starts in 23 days I will most likely be addicted to the small things in life. After the 8 months of job searching I have gone through I am finally taking a break and not feeling bad about constantly applying for jobs or feeling guilty for not. I can’t stop though, this job is only for the summer and hopefully I’ll have something lined up for September.

Thanks for reading though.

bad person

The hunt for the mouse has been a on going process for a few weeks now. It started when I saw him run from underneath my door to into my closet. I cleaned my closet out, finding a great deal of mouse droppings and chased him around my room with an umbrella, a tall circular box and a roll of wrapping paper. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I did find him. I held the box hoping I could save his life by trapping him in it, but realistically the box was very narrow and my golfing skills aren’t that great.

The next night I put a mousetrap in my closet. Nights past and the bait was changed from cheese to peanut butter to m&m’s with no luck. But the mouse must have been smart because I noticed that the trap was constantly pushed away from the doorway. Last night I decided that maybe luck would change if I took the sticky paper (that was bought for the mouse hunt) and put it in my closet. To make it more attractive I put an m&m in the middle and placed it where I knew he often ran.

I was awaken by tiny chirps. I rolled over and over trying to block the sound. If I could be for sure that they were just from the birds outside like I prayed I would have been able to drift back to sleep. But my gut was telling me something else. I braced myself for the site of the mouse. Not that they are gross and ugly like a rat but I hate to see anything in pain or lying there dying. I switched on my lamp and sure enough there was a tiny mouse stuck in the sticky paper. I turned away not wanting to have to deal with the mouse but knowing that I have to be a big girl and calling my sister or brother in law would be kinda babyish. I ran downstairs to get my winter gloves then pulled on a sweater and picked up the mouse and the sticky paper.

As I was taking the mouse (and the paper it was stuck on) outside my sister offered her assistance. I took it willingly, not wanting to deal with the mouse myself. I attempted to take it off the paper but he wouldn’t let me. T’s only solution was to kill it. I couldn’t I said and looked deep in thought to what I could do to save it’s life.

“Well go to bed then,” she said and I listened. If she was willing to deal with it or leave it for Tom in the morning then that was better then me having to see if suffer any longer.

I feel bad, maybe I should have tried harder to get it removed from the sticky paper. I don’t know it’s final destiny I’m kinda glad its out of my room but don’t like the thought of it having to dye.

Emotions taking over

Today is one of those days where you want it to be over before it even began. Thoughts of sadness and anxiety plague you while your trying to be excited about you new job offer. And now you add fear to your long list of emotions.

Merely five minutes ago after I came home from my walk in the pouring rain I brought in the mail. I flipped through the envelopes not expecting mail but wishing for something to feel special. Loosely on top of the envelopes was a neighbourhood notice from the local Police station. It reads:
“There has been a recent rash of Break and Enters to residences in [my] area.”
“Thieves attend the front door of the residence and knocks; if no reply they attend the rear and smash windows and pry doors to gain entry”
“If you see a suspicious vehicle in the area please contact police immediately.”

And I sit here in my undies because the rain soaked my pants and out of laziness I haven’t picked out another pair. What if someone comes and knocks, I now know it’s the thieves. Are they going to be carrying weapons or are they going to leave graciously when they realize that someone is here. Will they give me time to put on pants before they break my windows? Are they kids or are they older men who don’t see a weak looking girl a threat? I imagine they will come during the day when chances are that not many people are around and that means I have to be alert. As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs I am scared crapless of what could be lurking around my property and this memo only enhances my fears.

But thoughts of my move and my upcoming car purchase and my new job override some of the fear. I only will be living here a few more weeks and won’t have to deal with the notion that someone may attempt to break in. I will be in Ottawa supervising a group of young people for a program run by the MNR. I am stoked, thrilled to the bone that I have received such an offer. I feel that they future possibilities now for me are more towards what I want to do with my career. I dislike the fact that it’s such a short-term contract but extensions are possible and the foot in the door is key.

And today marks two years since my cousin past away. I know I should let her memories rest and the memories we share don’t contain too much of my childhood, but I miss her all the same. I dislike thinking that she had so much going for her in her life and it was cut short. I often think it should have been me, not to be morbid and suicidal sounding but she had a fiancé, she was a year into a nursing degree and was one of the nicest people you’d meet on the streets. I remember she hated having her picture taken and I remember her gladly doing anything for her dad whether it be helping him with his janitorial job or assembling his cigarettes. We went through the boy crazy phase together and enjoyed a lot of the same music. I remember vividly the last time we were together even though it’s going on 10 years ago. And I’ll keep those memories I guess.

A or B?

I lost the race. At Christmas my two older sisters and I had a bet going to see who would be employed first. K recently got her PhD in something relating to Hospital administration and J recently came here from England where she spent the past 10 years working in training and management in different restaurant chains and me, well you all may know, I just graduated from university with my bachelor of Environmental Studies.

I forget how long K was looking for, but shortly after Christmas she won the race. Her self-proclaimed job searching techniques paid off and her “I’m in between jobs” phase came to an end.

It was neck and neck with J and I. The one who hasn’t been in the country for 10 years or the one who has no skills and a crappy degree. I had been job searching since October and it only seemed fair to be rewarded first. But a few days ago she informed me that she had received two offers and would probably be taking the one with Swiss Chalet. Bonus I thought, free meals. But sucky too at the same time, I had been searching longer and wanted the offers first.

But at last I too have been given my two offers. I sit here, finally able to sit and focus thoughts into a blog after needing to go for a walk and settle down with a movie. Anyways, I sit pondering the best one to take.

A: Is a job close to home with a 37 week contract. But the pay sucks and it’s only a Job Creation Program with no benefits and no sign of renewal. Unless luck has it where the company hires me full time after the contract is up. The odds of that though are weak. This is a survery position which would lead me to the small world of land surveying or more time jumping from job to job, position to position.

B: Is a job not close to home with a 16 week contract. The pay is much better and is a job I’ve only wanted for the past 5 years. It’s a program put on by the government for youths to learn more about the environment and ways they can help preserve nature. I started my struggling career in this same program and I have been offered a position leading a group of teenagers around. The possibilities after the contract is done are endless in my mind. I’m not sure if I’ll be kept on and given more jobs but the experiences are greater and hopefully more leads will come about this job.

I think my bags are packed for Ottawa the 16 week job. We’ll see though, it all seems too surreal.

Dear Martha Stewart,

I watched your show today (May 15, 2006) and I was encouraged to write you because if someone can get special attention just because they have the same name, I’m due. I’ve had this name all of my 23 years and she’s only had it for 7. Okay, maybe I’m not named after you, but still.

I think she may grow up hating her name for much of the same reasons I do, but even more having to be compared to you. I dislike how every famous Martha is a wife, (Martha Washington) or a domestic bombshell, like you and the Martha in the Bible who was more anxious to have her house clean then to see Jesus. It seems like if we are named Martha we should have expectations to be a great wife or a fabulous craft maker. That pour Martha on your show today has to grow up knowing she is named after the domestic Goddess and that her parents, by naming her that, have expectations that she may one day succeed like you have done. However, in today’s modern world, she may want to be as far from domestic as possible and may prefer eating the tv dinners rather then making a delicious bunt cake. Kudos to you though on the devilled eggs, they looked wonderful.

I will pretend to like me name though if it means getting to meet you. I think you’re too confident and arrogant and in that way I disrespect you. The only reason you are famous is because you have brought so much ease to today’s women in the kitchen and because you have gone to jail for trying to cheat the system. I think you have fabulous receipts and decorating ideas, but I don’t enjoy the personality you portray during your show. Rather bonding over the use of your products, like Sally Fields the other day, if I meet you I will bring up the fact that my nickname as a child was also Little Martha but not because that was my mothers name. How degrading is it though, being the ‘little’ one in the big Martha’s footprints?

Although with a letter to you it seems appropriate to update you on my latest domestic attempt. I’ve been making a quilt since November 2005 and am in the process of assembling the top layer. I’ve separated the 30 patches and have sewn them into 6 strips but am struggling to match the strips together. It is a process that has taken me a few weeks longer then I expected but I think I may have finally adjusted strip #6 to the target length. Tomorrow I will most likely be sewing the two remaining strips to the rest and then will begin to sew on the borders. It’s an exciting project for me, because I have no domestic talent and with the completion of this queen size quilt I will have proved the right to be named Martha.

From one Martha to another.

* I am most definitely not going to be sending this letter to her but it’s written now and it may as well be blogged.

the frog

I was the last to see the frog alive.

The story begins with my walk down the road. I haven’t been for a walk in a while but it seemed like a nice activity to start my boring Sunday of laziness. I walked down the drumlin and walked along the road through the woods. It’s a marshy area and always echoes a flock of ducks that are never seen. Robins and bugs consume you. If your not swatting a million bugs from your face, you’re busy watching the Robins pluck worms and fly from tree to tree.

Sometimes I see flattened snakes on the road surrounded by their guts and when I walked the other way for a change, I saw a dead sparrow lying peacefully on the edge of the road. But today was different. In the distance I saw a lump of dark on the road, I thought of what it could possibly be: a mouse, a lump of dirt, a dead bird. But as I approached it, it was a fully alive frog sitting on the road. It seemed at ease with me passing it and I hesitated poking it with my foot. I’m supposed to be eco-friendly and poking at innocent frogs is very juvenile, but the thought crossed my mind. I passed it wondering why it had chosen to hang out on the road but continued my walk telling my self all about my adventures in England and how I got lost in Liverpool Street Station and how I met my Australian buddy Chris at Madame Tuesadues and how my next trip will be to Spain or something like that. But in the distance I heard a man cutting grass and to avoid interaction with people I decided that I had walked far enough and turned around.

My thoughts proceeded to wander and before I realized I was back to the frog again. This time it was surrounded by it’s blood and guts. I wasn’t aware of what vehicles had passed but obviously the road wasn’t a good place for it to hang out.

songs

When I go home to Aylmer, I normally walk into an empty house. Mom and dad are at work and my brother and sister are still in school. Its normally a Friday afternoon and I normally come home from Hamilton with S. there are two things I usually settle in with. I’ll set my bags in what once was my room, enter my mom’s room and get my mail and then turn the radio on in the lliving room and open the bills, checks, and personal mail that have been sent to Aylmer since the last time I was home.

Lately, I’ve gone into my mom’s cd collection and found my two favourite albums of hers: Women of Country and the Best of Dolly Parton. How can I be bitter or upset when either of those two start playing? There was a time when I found a great deal of comfort in the songs. Now, I just love the words and messages that belt out of these great artists mouths.

I fell in love with an artist named Skeeter Davis. The chorus is repeated so often, you start believing the words.

Ah-uh, um um,
Gonna get along without you now
Got along without you before I met you
Gonna get along without you now

Although she also sings The End of the World and it too relates how I felt way back when. She’s so cute and juvenile sounding its impossible not to love this song.

Why does the sun go on shinning
Why does the sea rush to shore?
Don’t they know?
It’s the end of the world,
Cause you don’t love me anymore.

Why do the birds go on singing?
Why do the stars glow above?
Don’t they know?
It’s the end of the world
It ended when I lost your love.

I wake up in the morning and I wonder
Why everything is the same as it was
I can’t understand
No I can’t understand the way life goes on the way it does

Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don’t they know?
It’s the end of the world,
It ended when you said good-bye.

I could go on with songs from Women of country, but then there is Dolly’s album that is heaven in a cd. Songs such as Coat of Many Colours, When I sing for him, The bargain store and Lonely Comin’ Down that make it impossible to be upset or emotional and the joy of her voice eases every pain.

I woke up this morning in a strange dream.
I looked into the mirror and a strange thing.
Then I looked for you, but you could not be found.
Then I felt the lonely coming down.

I walked across the railroad to the edge of the train
Saw the imprint on the pillow where you laid your head
The presence of you still lingers all around
Once again I felt the lonely coming down

Then I felt the lonely drifting down my face
As I realized no one could take your place
I wondered where the love had gone
That you and me had known
Then again I felt the lonely coming down

I wondered where the love had gone
That you and me had known
And again I felt the lonely coming down

I could go on for a lot longer addressing my favourite songs.

I hate endings...

And I hate not getting closure. But closure for me doesn’t exist. I ponder the what-if’s and the why-nots for what seems like an eternity. I dream about bumping into who ever I liked when I was fifteen and what I would say to them now. Would they like what they saw? Are they worth waiting nine years to see again and to think about the whole time?

Ø I hate how I have to wait a summer of Thursdays to find out what happens on The Office with Pam and Jim.
Ø I hate how I saw him and didn’t say anything and then I think he read my blog and even though I promised not to write about him again, I did, and he saw it.
Ø I hate how yesterday was my cousin’s birthday and she would have been 22 and in seven days it’ll be two years.
Ø And I hate how I’m conflicted with relationships. How I really want to see what he’d be like as a boyfriend and how I would like to invite him as my date to a friends wedding but I have doubts that my heart will remain with it.
Ø I hate that these weddings I have to go to are consuming my summer and what little money I have and I hate how I’m attending these weddings as a single person and even if I bring a date or meet someone there, I’m still that single person attending the weddings of friends and sitting at tables where the people are all dating or married.
Ø And I hate that Will and Grace is going off the air. I loved that show.

Before you read this and picture me very bitter and angry at the world because Jim kissed Pam and not me. Stop, I’m not bitter, just tired and venting and have listened to Dolly Parton and my mom’s Women of Country albums too frequently lately.

I walked away

I checked the time before I entered the mall. He goes there frequently for lunch before he heads to work, but it was 3:00 on a Thursday he’d obviously be at work. I had no reason to worry.

I walked through the mall with one thing on my mind: cheap prices at Walmart. I walked past many stores that I would go in if I had money to spend and I walked faster then if I was there with someone. And I didn’t look around, I wasn’t going to be there for more then 30 minutes and had no reason to dilly dally.

But as I was walking back through the mall, my eye caught him and proceeded with many thoughts. I knew it was Mark, but for some reason my heart jumped to the desire to get to know him, he looked good, and I love a man who enjoys a nice cup of coffee with a book. This guy proceeded to get up from his chair and put his headphones in his ears. Did he see me and was he ignoring my presence or did he actually just decide to get up as I passed by. When I realized I was in the presence of someone whom my heart once longed for I sank, my heart stopped and my feet sped up. Then I thought that all was probably well and he’d greet me with a smile if I approached him. It had been a few months and a few settling emails since. But I proceeded to walk. I did turn though with the intention to greet him. My mind told my heart that he’s a buddy I haven’t seen for a while and wanted to catch up but my heart then told my mind that he once told me to walk away.

Of course I looked back. But I walked away. I wonder if he saw me either time I walked past him, I wonder what he thought. Did he gringe, did he hide behind his book or did he even care. I wasn’t dressed to impress, but I would have if I knew I’d see him. I would want him to know that he can still have my heart and I’m still single and if he wanted a second chance I’d be there. But I walked away.

What a night!!

I rested my head against the back of the drivers seat as my friends and I were driving away from the “ladies laugh night.” I had drank too much, that was all of a sudden evident. The drink tickets cost $3 for one or 7 for $20. For some reason you always think that there is a deal when they sell more at once. I should have realized that then, I was still sober at that time. I was disappointed with the night. The comedians were lame men who weren’t told that it was an all ladies event and gave their normal routine. The pole dancer seemed bitchy and thought that our 2 minutes of learning to shake our ass was going to get us far and the other lady… well, I actually don’t know why she was there or what she was talking about. I think she was telling us to strip, that’s what the next day conversation implied anyways. I don’t recall her story, I either was in the bathroom chatting with my new friend, chatting with the lady beside me or had had too much to drink at this point and my memory was fading faster then I could finish whatever beverage I was working on.

But I remember holding my head against the back of the drivers seat and thinking that the drive back to Mel’s seemed a lot longer then it should have. I don’t like motion when I’ve had that much to drink. I wondered how I was going to get out of the car when we got to Mel’s and inside into the basement. I wondered if I was maybe actually finally going to forget something that happened while I was drunk. I wondered if I was going to pass out in the car and if the girls could carry me back into the house, or what they would do with me. And I wondered again why the trip was taking so long to get back to Mel’s. I had too much to drink and just wanted to go home.

So with my head leaning against the back of the drivers seat I realized that we were on our way to St. Thomas to party more. I knew then that I was going to ruin the fun night the ladies were bound to have. They were going to have to shorten their dancing time because I refused to go into the bar, I was going to sleep in the back seat no matter what they felt about it. It was when we parked that Jill had wondered why I still hadn’t lifted my head. She asked if I was okay and I remember shaking my head, my headache and the dizziness consumed me and I didn’t have time to tell the ladies to go and enjoy their time because I had made up my mind that I was going to sleep in the car. Instead, that’s when I puked. I cupped my hands and made sure I didn’t get it on the floor of the Honda.

I have a fondness of Honda’s and more then anything now I want a Civic, my heart will break if I have to settle for something else. For some reason I have standards in every aspect of my life. Dancing in a St. Thomas club is also something that I have standards against doing.

So with my puke in my hands and my head still against the seat I heard the words “don’t puke in the car!!” and as those words left Darla’s mouth I puked again. This time it spill over my hands and I couldn’t hold it anymore and puked again and again on the floor of the Honda. Then, I was pulled outside and placed on a rock where I proceeded to puke again. I was cold and really wanted to sit back in the car, but for reasons a sober person understands I wasn’t allowed back. I was reassured that I wasn’t going to die because both Michelle and Darla were nurses. However as I puked and held my stomach and my face away from the gravel I wondered why I wasn’t put in the Bockus position. With the two years of frosh training I had, I felt I should put myself in the bockus position, but I was with two nurses, they’d help if I needed it.

Apparently while I was recovering in the parking lot my friends on a mission to get me a glass of water. Like every good mission there are obstacles. This poindeckster was named Becky. She’s the reason we went dancing in the first place. She thought that since she looked so damn good she wanted to go show her ex-boyfriend what he was missing. (Becky, he cheated on you because he’s a loser and you’re a loser for thinking that holding on to him is going to bring him so much pain and regret for cheating on you.) I don’t know the whole story about the mission, but for some reason Becky had no concern that I was puking and was annoyed that she had to leave early and that she missed her chance to see her ex. She looked good she thought and needed to prove to the town of St. Thomas that she was somebody.

Finally as we pulled out of the parking lot and I had let it all out of my system we were off. I had a bucket in my lap while Steph convinced me to continually rinse out my mouth with the water they had stolen from the bar. The last thing I remember Becky saying that night was “Wait, stop the car!! There’s Gord. I have to show him how hot I am and what he’s missing! Stop the car, we have to go back to the bar!!”

What a loser, I hoped I puked on her.

better this way

“It’s better this way,” I say to stop him from expressing anymore of his feelings. I knew where it was going as we sat on the log stretching across the river. But for some reason I didn’t expect it. I liked what we were. We were friends who managed to overcome the ‘I hate you’ phase after the break up. He was so sweet to me when I needed a friend and I knew that he needed a friend as well so I tried to be there for him in return.

When we ended I was to a point where I was fed up with only being second on his priority list. Every thing else was number one. I knew he loved me as much as he was capable of, but that wasn’t good enough. I wanted more and didn’t think I needed to settle. We were Marg and Homer, and who wants that when being Will and Grace is better.

So I broke his heart again. But realistically I just haven’t helped his heart move on. It’s still holding on to me because I’m still in sight. He said the words “I probably would have asked you to marry me” and so I thought probably? We did date for a year and apparently you know within the first 6 months if you want to marry the other person. I told him that and I said that if he didn’t know by now, then it wasn’t meant to be. I told him that it wasn’t what he did, and that I was happy single. I didn’t really lie but I wasn’t exactly true. There are so many things he could have done, but that would have only prolonged what was bound to happen. We are both better suited for someone else out there but I care for him and hate the thought that he’s hurting.

So I sit here, contemplating if there is a better way of letting him down, wondering if I should have walked away back in October, and wondering how he’s feeling. It is better this way but it’s out of my hands now.

The Dating Resume

Here is another blog inspired by The Independent Woman’s Guide to Life. It’s great having something to go to for inspiration again. This time I was reading the book on my back porch. I thought that maybe the title of the book would lead people, especially attractive attainable men to the notion that I may be reading a self-help/psychology type book preparing myself for a lifetime of Independence. I’m not. This book is about a girl and her adventures post university: the dating and the jobs.

Gina, the main character is interested in a man and has begun spending time with him. She calls it her interview period and even suggests that resumes should be exchanged. Of course she didn’t tell Paul, her interest, but she merely imagined the ease that it’d bring to dating. And so I began thinking about the idea of my dating resume. And what/who I would include in it. I don’t put my painting experience on my resume and so I wouldn’t include the meaningless and time filling dates and crushes. But then, what counts as meaningless? I’m sure that every relationship has made me grow so then do they all qualify for a place?

I’ve probably learned something from all/most of my dates so then do I put the good/progress experience like Mike, Matt and Gaven or do I put stuff on there that implies I’m still confused and rather then learning, I’ve declined and still wondering why not like Tyler or Mark. And then if your presently interested in someone do you admit it or do you leave it off, like the part-part-time turkey car giver that only you and a few close friends know you have.

Do you indicate all your experience or just relating to what you are looking for? Like if you want a long lasting companionship do you only put your serious ones on there or if you only want a fling do you include your single dates? And then what if mid-fling you decide that you’re interested in a little more. Do you change your resume and resubmit it or do you use your work experience to build this from a part time fling to a career?

See, this is why I’m single. I spend too much time in contemplation about the small insignificant details and don’t just let things happen. I have too many part time flings on my resume, which shows I have minimal experience for the long haul. However sometimes it’s not the men who are turning away the long haul and it’s my lack of motivation pulling at the plug.

I’m in resume and cover letter writing mode so I may just write one for the heck of it. Maybe I’ll post it, maybe not.