Shoelaces for Josie

Webster defines regret as feeling sorrow or remorse for an act, fault, disappointment - to think of with a sense of loss. I don’t like regret. I think it involves a lot of looking into the past and how is one supposed to enjoy today and have excitement about the future if you’re always looking backwards? Inevitably you’re going to fall into the hole right in front of you because you didn’t see it due to always looking back.

No, I don’t like regret but I’m afraid I am one of those people that tend to have a lot of them. Sometimes I fault my lack of thinking before acting. Sometimes I fault my inability to adhere to what my common sense tells me I should do and instead follow those stupid pipe dreams that always get you into trouble. It’s something I’m trying to change but it’s a slow process.

Just the other day (I find that I say the phrase “the other day” a lot and sometimes it means yesterday and sometimes it means two years ago), I was hit with a sudden sense of clarity. I realized that if I was going to be a person who regretted things then I wanted to have regrets for things I had done and experienced instead of regretting things I had never done. At least in regretting experiences, there is the opportunity to take a lesson from it and to maybe have a good story to tell after a few beers. But if you’re regretting something you have never done, all you have to surround yourself with are the “what if’s?” Those suck - they are empty, useless and make for horrible stories around the campfire. Granted, sometimes I find myself in some extremely stupid situations. I’m slowly coming to accept that is just how things are going to be for me.  

And that’s basically all I have. It’s Friday. It’s not a horrible Friday but there really isn’t too much hope of it getting any better and, in fact, has all the signs pointing to a downhill slide but whatever. At this point, I guess I’m just going to get on and ride because there just isn’t much else to do. You know? 

Today, someone I hadn’t talked to in awhile asked me what was new with my life. I sat there and thought for a minute and then realized that I really don’t do anything other than work. I sleep. I work. I work. I eat a little. I work. I work. I run. I sleep.  I like to work but that breakdown of my life made me realize that perhaps I fill too much of my time with work. But then I think about what I would be doing if I wasn’t working…I would go crazy and end up in an insane asylum. That’s not a good scenario. All-white rooms with no outlets scare me.

So, funny story. There is this guy who comes in and works out every day. He’s attractive. It was just the other day that I realized he was the same hot guy that works in the marketing office. It only took me a month to make the connection. All along I thought there were two people. But really it was an optical illusion and it’s just one person. Tricky.

In other sad news, Nick’s last day is tomorrow. I don’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe I’ll talk about it tomorrow. Maybe I’ll talk about it never.

I’m also hungry. I’m on a major toast kick right now. I love toast and, toast, I am not bashing you, but you just don’t stick in the tummy box for a substantial period of time - like 8 hours worth of substantial time.

Plain White T’s Hey There Delilah - check it out, brah.

Isn’t it funny how when you’ve looked forward to something or planned on something for quite some time that once the time arrives for it to actually happen, you don’t want to do it anymore? I’ve been planning leaving the Pond for a long time. I always just assumed I was leaving the Midwest. Now it’s going to be happening in about a month and I don’t want to leave. There’s obviously a specific reason for that. But I still don’t want to leave and that is just maddening. Don’t plan on things. Either they will happen or they won’t and either way, you’re going to be disappointed.

I like to think of myself as a spontaneous person. I don’t really schedule things. I only do that when I have to. I’m not really all that organized. Most structured people who plan things are organized as well. I live in a chaotic mess and while I don’t particularly thrive on it and enjoy it, it doesn’t bother me either. I have had to add structure to my life over the past four years. It becomes a necessity when you go to school full-time and work two jobs. Structure is an unfortunate by-product.

Then some times I wonder if I did schedule things and was organized that maybe the rest of my life would be - a little less messy, less chaotic, more in control - a life that moved along smoothly instead of all these ridiculous bumps and ups and downs. Maybe control freaks have the right idea. The more you have control over, the more you can structure your life which means the less freakishly outrageous surprises come your way. I love surprises. I hate surprises. It’s a difficult relationship really.

Whatev. As I just told someone, over the past year and a half I have learned to really be honest with myself and how I am. I will never have any more structure or organization to my life than is demanded by my professional life - or lives. I’m like a cat. Without the fur. And the annoying habit of getting underneath people’s feet. And being two-faced little jerks.

I don’t like cliches. They’re fake and trite and say a whole lot of nothing and waste everyone’s time. However, there are times when you just don’t know how to phrase something and a cliche is the only thing you can think to use to describe something. Because it’s Monday and because I’m completely unimaginative at the moment and in a complete funk, I’m going to use a cliche.

I’m going to take the bull by the horns and just tackle this situation. A more crude way of saying it and one that used to be said a lot by me and my old (read as no longer) friends was “go balls to the wall, kid.”  That’s what I’m going to do.

I’m so tired of playing games. I’m so tired of people tip-toeing around situations and saying things in a round-a-bout way without ever really addressing the situation. People just need to come out and say stuff. If you’re pissed off, say it. If you’re happy, say it. If you like someone, tell them. Feeling things out and testing the waters is okay for about two minutes. Then you just need to take a deep breath and cannon-ball into the middle of everything. It’s scary. It’s messy. But it gets results and it can be a hell of a lot of fun if you’ve got perspective.

If you’ve got perspective. Sometimes I struggle with that. Sometimes I get caught up in the stupid stuff, the little stuff, the things that never could and never will make a difference. And now I don’t even know what I’m saying. Sometimes I can feel myself talking, I can hear words coming out of my mouth, but I have no idea what they are or what they mean or where they came from.

No, I’m not crazy. I’m just - me. 

Yeah, the title has nothing to do with anything in this blog. That’s the beauty of it. 

So I was sitting in a bar last night when this guy comes in and orders a pitcher of beer and a large pizza. Did I mention he was by himself? I felt bad for him, almost to the point that I was going to go up and say hello. But I didn’t. Still - a whole pitcher of beer on a Thursday night? What kind of life is this dude leading? Alas, who am I to judge.

Today is just one of those days where I don’t have a whole lot to talk about. I talk about baseball a lot and last night’s destruction of a team is something I’d really like to forget (20-0 in the third inning - *cringe*). The weather is crappy out and besides, I’m 22 - not 60, I’d really like to put off the inevitable weather-topic talk for at least another 30 years. It is Friday but there’s only so many different ways you can say that Fridays freaking rock.

On a completely unrelatd note, I applied for blogging jobs. Some related to sports, some related to music. I gave them this blog address so if you’re reading this and looking for a blogger - well - I’m pretty awesome at what I do and that’s really all I have to say about that.

Baseball tonight and tomorrow…get excited! 

So this is what it feels like to jet-set. To just pick up your life, walk away from your job, hop a plane and go to the other side of the country for a couple days. I think I like it.

For those of you who don’t know, I flew out to Allentown, Pennsylvania, for an interview this week. (Hence the sad absence of blogs.) It was a rather random occurence and a quick trip with long hours and little sleep but it was definitely an experience. I surprised myself, really. I found my way around well. I don’t think I looked like the Clampetts in Beverly Hills and I accomplished what I set out to do: I got offered the job. 

One of my friends this morning asked what I would be doing if I were to take this job and I put it as eloquently as possible. “I would be using my skills if I took this job.” Yeah, that’s pretty profound.

In my travels (and my six hours of waiting in the Atlanta airport) I had the opportunity to do a lot of people watching and I was witness to many fashion blunders. Some were ridiculously painful. One of the best though was this old dude that had on imitation alligator shoes. And they were green. They really looked like baby alligators sticking out beneath his pants. I wanted to reach over with a Sharpie and draw some eyes and a mouth and then it would have been complete. Number two on my list was this woman who, to put it bluntly, obviously had gotten a boob job. She was tiny, her waist was super small and she had the unfortunate skinny-legged jeans on and then WOW. Holy boobage. She looked like she was going to be pulled over by the weight of them. I don’t know how she manages to cart those around with her all the time but she looked like she was pretty proud of them. Her skeazy-esque husband/playmate looked pretty proud too. Number three on my list is just a general notation of something good (one can’t be negative all the time). The bermuda short style is happiness when you’re in an airport in the middle of the summer. People are actually covered instead of wearing the tiniest, skimpiest pieces of jean scraps they can find. It made my six hours a little less painful.

So that’s my story. I will tell the story of my confiscated toothpaste later. I love my imagination but I also am very grateful for the common sense I was bestowed with as well. It keeps my imagination where it belongs: in my head. 

No longer are the movies just the movies. That stuff really happens in real life. Check out my list of super cool stuff below!

* A bird crapped on my head yesterday

* Also yesterday, my best friend got engaged - think My Best Friend’s Wedding and you’ll get the whole picture

* I did not call my father for Father’s Day on purpose

* Tomorrow, I fly to Pennsylvania at 5:45 in the morning - ouch

* I played Texas Hold’em for three hours Saturday night and lost

* It was only Monopoly money

* I am going to learn Italian

* I did not send a card to my father for Father’s Day - also on purpose

* I watched five guys drink 11 pitchers of beer on Friday night and I think they all lived

* On the same night I flirted with a boy

* Also on the same night I talked to a cop I used to intern with, the Evil Chicken story will come later

* I took photos of a marathon and lots of people in short shorts -

* I almost called my sister to make sure she called her father for Father’s Day so I could feel less guilty

* I pulled my arm lifting weights and now it feels like it is falling off

* Baseball tonight, get excited! 

Some times I just wish I could remember things. I’m smart. I have common sense. I’m not some simpleton walking around with a minimal number of brain cells but the truth is that I struggle to remember certain types of things. Like names of people and how I know them.

I was at a baseball game a few nights ago when this lady calls my name and asks how I’m doing. I sit down and we chat. Obviously she knows who I am - it would be rude to not have a friendly conversation just because I have no idea who she is. I recognized her. She looked familiar. I knew I was supposed to know her. Yet I could not place her. I ran through the past four years of my life trying to drop her into a category: did she work at the university? the nursing home back when I worked there? was she a professor?  Finally I placed her as a university employee but I still don’t know her name. She knows all about me - that I graduated, that I work for the paper, my name - my whole life basically. Awesome, memory. Thanks for being a real tool and not coming through in the clutch when I needed you.

Speaking of seeing people, I stopped by the farmer’s market yesterday morning on my way home from work (5:30 a.m. to take pictures of a marathon is not my idea of fun - especially after celebrating a birthday with adult beverages the night before. Ouch.). And I’m perusing the dismally small amount of produce when someone calls my name. I look up. Sweet mother of Frank it’s Geraldine - my old supervisor from when I used to work at the nursing home. She’s kind of a shiftless sort. She once asked me, a broke college kid, for gas money so she could get back and forth to work. She paid me back in one dollar bills.

So Geraldine and I had a heart-to-heart. I ask her what she’s up to these days and she tells me she got fired in November. Then she tells me that her supervisor got fired as well and is now working as a stock person at Wal-Mart. She said it with malicious glee but I failed to see where Geraldine had any ground to stand on in her superiority since I can’t really see that she’s doing much besides trying to make a living at the farmer’s market. Then she tells me that another one of our old co-workers might still be working there but her husband died in a car crash.

After making my pity purchase of a tiny loaf of bread for $1.50, I walked away thinking to myself that a lot of days, my life is something you’re supposed to read about in books and magazines. 

I have finally accepted something about myself. I can’t leave situations alone. I can be faced with a situation and know and fully realize that it is not going to turn out the way I dream yet I still have to step up to the plate and take my swing at it. Why is that?

For instance, at this point in time, there’s a certain person of the male species that I have an old-time crush on. It’s fun having crushes. It is a point of distraction and helps pass away the time. Now I know that nothing will ever come of this crush. I know I shouldn’t even try to talk to him because it just is not going to work out. What’s the point of trying to make something of nothing? And, yet, because of my aforementioned personality *flaw* I can’t walk away from this situation without touching it. So I’m probably going to talk to him and I’m probably going to muddy the waters and make everything even more awkward but will I walk away with never saying anything? No. Of course not.

Damn the personality that gets me into trouble. Some day I will have to grow up and not make things worse for myself. I try and tell myself that I learn things from each situation, that I become a bigger and better person, a stronger person and a more complete person. I don’t know if that’s true but sometimes I have to tell myself things to make myself okay with my life and that’s how I rationalize poking the bear on a daily basis.  

Last night I went to a high school baseball game to take some pictures - nothing out of the ordinary. It’s something I do five or six days out of the week. Yesterday, it was hot though. It is summer after all. When did that happen? So I wore capris and little tank. Because it was hot. And I was hot - temperature-wise.

As I was standing there taking pictures, however, I began to wonder if I was too…for the lack of a better term…”slutted out” for my job. Now, don’t get me wrong. I was by no means wearing anything inappropriate. I was wearing capris! But the looks I was getting from these high school boys - well - I might as well have been wearing a thong bathing suit. I realize they’re boys. High school boys. Some of them in 8th grade. By the way, when did high school boys get so old? By the time today’s high school boys are juniors and seniors, they look like they’re in college. What happened to life in the past four years?

Why is everyone in such a hurry to grow up? It’s really not that amazing. So when you grow up you can make your own decisions, you can stay up as late as you want and you can drink a lot of beer. But you also have to pay the consequences of drinking a lot of beer - like falling off ledges, vomitting at work the next night and failing exams because you drank instead of studying. And the consequences of staying up really late - sleeping through class, falling asleep at class or work, acquiring those really uncool dark circles around your eyes. And the consequences of making your own decisions - making the wrong one, failing to research it adequately, agonizing stretches of trying to make the decision and ulcers. So why is everyone in such a hurry to grow up? Today’s 13-year-olds are the 18-year-olds of my time. And I’m not old. 

So the point of this story is that when it became slightly cooler than 80 degrees last night, I went to my car and got my long-sleeved T-shirt to put on. Granted, it said “Beaver Police” on it but at least I was covered and only showing a bit o’ leg to those old-looking high school boys.