CWA #1

Awhile ago, I announced that my mom had given me a book called “642 Things To Write About.” I had intended to start this earlier but nows a better time than never right? As mentioned in that post, you’ll know it’s a creative writing peace based on the title. I plan on just opening up the book and choosing the first topic I see. Some will be fiction some will be non, depending on the topic I suppose. Here we go…

Who people think you are, compared to who you know you are.

Wow. Jumping right in I guess. This is awfully tricky because it really depends on who the person in question is. People judge a book by its cover in all different forms. I could look at the cover of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone” and think it’s going to be a phenomenal book while my 70-something year old grandma could look at it and see a bad illustration of the greatest book series of her granddaughters generation.

A judgement that has stuck with me for a very long time is something my 10th grade best friend said to me. I enrolled in the Newfolden school district mid-9th grade year. I was quiet. I always am when I’m somewhere new, I know that for sure. It took me some time to warm up to the 25 or so people in my grade. Fast forward a good year or so, I became really close with a group in my class. Well, as close as you can be. See, being the new kid gives you some kind of exotic sense of “who is she?” But your face doesn’t pop up when childhood memories are reminisced or last years festivities discussed. They don’t know your deepest darkest secrets or who your first kiss was. They don’t always include you and when it comes down to basic instincts, they never fully trust you.

Regardless of all this, looking back they were some of the best people I had ever known. After a year or so of becoming friends and comfortable sharing my boring 16-year-old life with, my bestest friend at the time told me something I’ll never forget: “When you first came to this school, I thought you were a bitch.”

Nice, huh?

We went on to discuss her statement. It was nothing I said or did. I just looked like I’d probably be a bitch. It wasn’t a look I gave her (not knowing her) or the people I talked to the first day. It was just a “feeling” she had. I’ve always wondered what people thought about me, I think everyone does. But since that moment, I really think that I became more aware of that nagging wonder.

I’ve had about four best friends in my life. In chronological order: Kristi, Sam, Adam, and Chris. Kristi popped back in when we were in college. I moved from Roseau so we were disconnected and now, we’re disconnected because of well…life. But I still consider her one of my dearest friends. Even with our lives so different and going years without talking.

The other three still hold a huge piece of my heart too. Sam was my first and longest friend when I moved. We shared some of the literal best times of my life together. Nothing and no one could ever replace a friendship like we had. It was hard to “stay friends” when she left junior year and I decided to pursue college.

Then there was Adam. Adam pulled me out of my shell. He was wild and open. He would sing like no one was watching and not try to clean up because someone was coming over. He was confident and my confidant. We did everything together.

And same goes for Chris. Chris, my brother, and I were connected at the hip for some time but like every friendship, things change.

I wish I could have been one of those people who have had a best friend since kindergarten. Even as adults, be close. Meet up, go to each others bachelorette parties, travel together. All that jazz. But you know what? If that were the case, I might not have met the four that I did have.

Clearly, I’ve gotten off topic here. What I guess I’m trying to say is I have no idea who people think I am. And I have no idea how people decided they wanted to be my friends along the way. The only insight I’ve ever gotten was that I’m probably a bitch even though I don’t think I am.

I think that people think I’m reserved. That I’m quiet. I think that people think I’m a know it all or stuck up. I think people think that I think I’m better than them. I think people think I’m a fat slob. I think people don’t trust me or feel uneasy around me. I think people think I’m stupid for staying with Channing when I should have left.

I don’t think that anyone envy’s my life as I do theirs.

Who am I really? At 25 years old, I should know who I am, shouldn’t I? I should have lived and made more mistakes than I have. I should have traveled and gotten my bachelors and volunteered at a soup kitchen and partied harder and loved deeper. I should have experimented and dated more guys. I’m sure that’s what the “wondering me” would say. But it’s not about her. It’s about the “actual” me.

Who am I really? I’m a 25-year-old woman trying to figure my life out. I’m a bitch but I’m only a bitch to people who actually deserve bitchiness. I love hard and fall even harder. I’m a thinker. I’m an observer. I stumble over my words because I don’t know what I want to say but I know how to write it. If you mean the world to me, I’ll put your needs ahead of mine. Always. I’m a bad tipper because I expect excellent service. I lack empathy. I wish I had access to that deep socket in my brain to empathize with homeless people or women who regret last nights hook-ups but I don’t. I love children and want to be a mother. I love to write but feel that it’ll never get me anywhere. I’m quiet in settings I’m not comfortable in. I don’t trust very many people but I expect people to trust me. I strive to be someone who my brothers look up to but I don’t think I’ve done a very good job of that. I know I’m a good person and that I care too much. I know that I am smart but I know I’m not the smartest. I believe in third, fourth, and fifth chances. I know that my family and boyfriend are the most important things in my life. I know that I focus to much on wishing my life had been different instead of appreciating the life I have. I know I’m fat and it makes me hate myself. Like really, really hate myself. I know that my size and the way I look deter me from being the person I am inside. It prevents me from being the outgoing girl I once was. It puts a road block directly in front of me. I don’t go out and meet people because I’m bigger than a mini-cooper.

I know a lot about myself but I don’t always know who I am. I’m not who I think I am because of what I am. I don’t know if I’ll ever really know who I am. Who are you?

Impressions.

Impressions are everything. They give the people around an unspoken but open door to judge you by the way you’re acting. Or not acting. The more and more I observe impressions of others, the more I wonder what people see in my own impressions.

The obvious and most easy impression to understand is probably happiness. There’s definitely a difference between being content and happy but I’m talking about the full-blown happiness segment of a facial impression. Smiles, laughter, joy, glee. It’s all found on the face and it gives us all a pleasant and warm feeling deep in our guts.

On the other hand, I’m currently putting out into the world a quiet demeanor on this fine Friday which I happen to think is the most difficult impression to dissect. When someone is quiet there are so many different impressions that could be misconstrued when observing said individual.

Quiet could mean anything from being tired to being angry to sad. The list goes on. Unfortunately, I’ve noticed more times than not that when I personally am quiet, some assume that I’m purely pissed off.

Although that definitely isn’t something to rule out. My quietness today and most times when I’m quiet at work is because I’ve had enough and it’s just not worth dealing with. Sure I’m a little “pissy.” Why wouldn’t I be? It’s hard to thoroughly enjoy yourself in an environment where there is a difficult subject constantly in your bubble. Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do. I enjoy being around most everyone in the office. However, when a mosquito bites you, that annoying itchy feeling doesn’t seem to go away for a long time.

So, back to impressions. Knowing that I’m being judged by my impression makes me want to try harder not to judge so many people by the impression that they put out into the world. Maybe they are quiet because they had a tough week or because their basement is flooded from a recent storm. Maybe they are quiet because they are just plain tired, being up with a newborn all night long. Maybe they haven’t gotten their morning coffee yet. Or maybe, they are just sick and tired of dealing with you.

Dark Side Of The Moon.

I can definitely tell a full moon is in the air. I think I read earlier that it’s tomorrow or over the course of this evening. Whichever, it’s effecting people more than usual. Yesterday, it was so difficult to shine forth a positive attitude when everywhere you turn, you run into a wall of emotional distress by a being of the Y-chromosome.

Today is no easier. Don’t choke on your chips or anything but  I actually got my ass out of bed and hit the gym today. I wanted to start off on a good note. Something clicked and I just did it. I felt groggy and gross and tired and stiff but I did it. Hold your applause because it’s only day one.

Other than that positivity, the rest of the day has been bizarre. I’m not as focused as I usually am. I’ve totally spaced on normal every day things and just about everything and everyone that I come in contact with today is either extra frustrating or I’m lacking a severe amount of patience.

Tidbit: If you know who this is and what relevance it plays into this post than we might just be best friends.

Tidbit: If you know who this is and what relevance it plays into this post than we might just be best friends.

I went home on my lunch break fully intending on making some Shakeology and just relaxing for two minutes but as soon as I got there, I turned around and went back to work because I was so frustrated (for no reason at all). Instead of starting an argument out of thin air, I avoided it by turning around and leaving. And of course, now I feel bad about that.

I wish this damn moon would just pass so everyone’s swing dancing emotions can go back to normal including mine.

Update: I just read my horoscope of the day and it ironically reads as follows: You might want to defer any interaction with certain people. You often suppress your anger and it easily could be triggered. Unexpected demands at work or from others could send you into a tizzy. Treat yourself as a fragile object today. Tonight: Not to be found.

I Am A Social Hobbit.

Does anyone know what a social hobbit is? I’ve brought it up in random conversation over the last few years and I always get stopped mid-sentence. “Wait, what?” No matter how I explain it, you won’t get it. Some kind of made up, weird way of thinking term I’m sure you’ll conclude. A social hobbit could be someone that internalizes things. Someone that is not being social in a social setting. It could mean the crabby kid in the corner or your dad on the couch at Christmas when he doesn’t want to play a board game. In 10th grade, my best friends name was Sam. I don’t know when exactly or what was going on in our lives but at some point, sometime in that year, the term social hobbit was coined by her. History lesson of the day, folks. Spread the word.

Over the weekend, I was able to cross off one of my bucket list items: A Pub Crawl. Considering that the only time I’ve ever gone “out” since my 21st birthday three years ago had been the creeper infested dive bar in Thief River a few times – this was the Hollywood party of parties in my short lived inexperienced bar life. I guess I had gone to The Hub in Fargo and been to a few concerts but I never did the whole drink until you blackout thing. By the time I turned 21, I was out of college and barely making it paycheck to paycheck so I really didn’t have the opportunity I guess you could say but that’s a whole other story.

Anyways, it was a great time. Our goal was to reach all 10 bars on the list by 6:00 PM so naturally we started at 11:30 in the morning. Believe me, it’s nothing to brag about! I went with some co-workers and a few of them also brought friends along. I won’t bore you with the classic alcohol induced stories but I’ll chalk it up to a good experience. It really was a great time. I met new people, everyone out and about was so warm and welcoming. I’m sure that the green beer helped with the unusual amount of friendliness but nevertheless, I enjoyed it.

IMG_4932

I didn’t get sloshed. I started coming down with a cold on Friday so I knew that I didn’t want to go all out. I wasn’t interested in spending $100 on booze and was conscious of the fact that I was downtown on a Saturday so I wanted to be aware of my surroundings. I found myself asking my inner voice if that’s weird. Was I being overly conscious? Am I really becoming an old maid because I don’t want to live like the world is my oyster? Deep down I was worried that I’d lose my keys, wallet, and ID. I was worried that my phone would die and I wouldn’t be able to call a taxi. I was worried that I’d spend more money than I wanted to. I was worried that I’d drink until I passed out cold.

None of those things have ever happened to me so why was I so aware of it? Through reflection from my first and probably only pub crawl experience, I had to remind myself that I’m more of an observer than a participant. Although I had a wonderful time I felt like I was on the outside of this secret invisible sheet of people. It brought me back to feeling like I was the outsider that got invited to the popular kids party.

It was almost like watching the huge party scene in The Great Gatsby. You felt like you were there but you really weren’t. You were just watching it from someone else’s point of view. It’s odd isn’t it? I wonder if this is a thing; if other people think like this. In a screwed up way, this has always prevented me from truly fitting in. I’ve had so many great moments and people in my life but I’ve always overanalyzed and over-thought every single detail of every single thing.

Somewhere inside it’s actually quite amazing. My mini-me hiding deep in my thought center keeps me safe but it also limits how I act and react in a social setting. I should visit with my mom and see if she had ever noticed this when I was a child and/or how I acted when I was in groups with other children.

All in all, I think it’s pretty cool that I crossed off a bucket list item even if some people had done so within hours hitting their big 21. Even though I doubt half of the people will remember the shy girl hanging around on Saturday night; I’ll never forget any of them. Their lives remind me of those having the time of their lives. Living in the moment, loving life, and experiencing everything. Kudos to being memorable!

Are you an observer or a participant? I’d love to hear your thoughts and feedback!

Music Guru.

losing-your-marbles-colorfulrDriving on the interstate with the music to the max and the roads dry is one of the most relaxing moments in my hectic, stress filled life. If you ask me on any given day, I won’t be shy about how much I hate driving. But there’s a difference between driving in town and driving on the open road. I dislike just about everything about my daily commute. I drive twice as much as I need to for reasons that I don’t really want to go into detail about and I’m just so impatient that I turn into a wild mess when getting around town.

AD8E69F3

However, when you throw me on the interstate, I’m good to go. I could drive on it for hours and hours provided that I have a good set list on my iPod, no construction, and the left lane is free. Fill my tank and I’ll put the pedal to the metal.

I visited my brother Nick in Fargo on Saturday. My trip was short which makes me sad but we always make a point to do some driving around town and he updates me on his current play list. He’s my music guru. Heck, he’s probably the influence for 99% of the music I’ve ever listened too. We took a stroll downtown and he showed me around to a couple places his roommate and him have gone. We browsed around in a pretty sweet antique store and reminisced about the “antiques” from the late 80’s and early 90’s. It’s crazy to see that the stuff we played with, in what only seems like a couple years, is nearly two decades old. Man, we’re getting up there!