Do you hate Mondays? Are you having the worst day in the history of ever? I totally found your cure for the Monday blues, and it's Gotye's "I Feel Better." It's on the same album as "Somebody That I Used To Know," (It's an awesome song just over played and stop judging you guys!) which is completely amazing. So turn up the volume, press play, and get up and DANCE. Yep. Do it. No one is watching orjudging, I promise.
If you're following along at home, you'll recall that I got suckered into online dating by my two darling roommates.
By "darling" I mean they really are the best ever. For real.
And by "suckered" I mean they didn't really have to do any arm twisting.
ANYWHO. As I was saying, Saturday night we had a profile-making party which involved moderate amounts of booze to soften the blow signing up was doing to my ego. My roommates were awesome and helped me figure what to write on my profile.
My experience the past few days has been... EH.
I've messaged with a few guys. And most of the conversations have fallen into the same pattern. We'll connect over a couple of different topics for a little while, and then conversation will kind of...die out, for whatever reason.
And that's fine. I never expected to really connect with someone in the first week.
The thing I have issue with is the way this whole experience makes me feel. With every carefully worded message I send, with every sentence I construct for my profile, I feel as though I am writing an advertisement for myself. I feel as though I am trying to convince someone they want to buy me.
I haven't been on a date in, well, a hell of a long time, so I might have forgotten. Is dating in person like this? Is this a feeling that I've missed? Is the dating game all a big ad for yourself?
Or is this what life is, and I just missed the point? Every time you speak, every time you dress yourself, are you really just trying to convince someone that you're worth their time?
Maybe I'm just not cut out for online dating. I can't bring myself to quit after less than a week, though, despite the fact that I always feel like I'm trying to advertise myself.
So friends, have any of you tried online dating? What has been your experience with it? Good? Bad?
Somehow, my roommates managed to get me to agree to join an online dating site with them.
I'm not even that eager to go on dates, or enter a relationship. (Notice how I avoided using the word "desperate"? You all should be proud of me.)
Somehow I managed to get talked into an online dating profile-making party with them tonight. Yikes. I'm glad we have alcohol.
It's not that I'm looking down my nose at people who do online dating. I understand that in this internet age, it's super practical. And that sometimes, it's just hard to meet people. But there still feels something a little bit. . . I don't know. Last resort-ish about it?
And then there's the part where you eventually meet people from the internet who could be serial killers and rapists and generally bad people. SCARY. Not that I think my internet friends are bad people in disguise. . . Um. . . Anyone want to help me out of this hole?
Right. Back on topic.
I can think of several reasons why I shouldn't do this.
So why did I say yes?
Wish me luck friends. At least this makes for more blogging fodder.
As much as I wear judgy pants on this blog, I probably deserve some judging myself. But try not to judge me to harshly for the story I'm about to tell.
Last Saturday, I got off work from my awesome, part time job at Rung Boutique, aching for a beer. It had been the shittiest week I'd had in a long time. So I called my friend, we'll call her "A," and we made plans to get dinner and beer, as she'd had a long day as well.
A came over to my house, and we talked a few minutes about where we should go. After hearing her suggestions, we decided to go to a pub/bar/restaurant (Which shall remain nameless to protect the not-so-innocent!) that she had heard good things about, but which neither of us had been to before.
We ordered our beers, and perused the menu for far too long. Our poor, adorable waiter was so patient with us. A ordered a salad and I followed suit. While we waited, we chatted about work, and people who are pains in our backsides.
Finally our salads arrived, and we unwrapped our silverware. Giants must frequent said restaurant, because our forks were, indeed, giant-sized. As in, the size of my face. Literally, the size of my face.
See? I told you.The size of my face. Also, I took this photo.
It was all I could think about during our fantastic (despite pricey than expected) salads, as well as a to-die-for certain chocolate something with raspberry stuff on it.
It was halfway through dessert that I decided. I began to think of a certain former roommate of mine (You know who you are!) who obtained, through slightly shady methods a certain beer glass from the local pub. Just because she wanted it.
And there it was. I wanted the giant fork. Not to use it. Just to have it.
I may or may not still have the fork in my possession. Okay, I'll just be honest. This is just between us friends, right? It's not like this is on the internet for everyone to read.
I do still have the fork, having slipped it ever so coolly into my purse before paying the check. To be fair, A and I were nice, and left good tips. Partly because of the fork. But also because TIP YOUR SERVER YOU GUYS. AND YOUR BARISTA. But seriously, tip your barista.
I do sort of feel bad. Because, you know. God says don't steal.
But that's what writers do. Stuff happens to us, and we write about it. But I really don't want to.
My grandmother, my mom's mother, passed away early this morning, and I don't know what to say about it.
When my grandfather died in 2011, I tried to say something, and I sort of did, but still not really.
I know that this should feel different from when Papa died. His was sudden and unexpected, and I'm still very angry about it at times. Grandma's health had been declining for a long time. She had been slowly fading away from us for a long time.
I should be happy that she's with Jesus, that she isn't suffering anymore, all of that stuff that Christians say to make themselves feel better.
But I still want to stop feeling things and crawl into bed and sleep forever, just like when Papa died. Maybe that's just how I deal with death. I just don't want to think about it.
Or really anything bad, come to think of it. I'd like to believe that sleep, wine, chocolate, and episodes of Doctor Who will make everything better. But that's like putting a band-aid over a bullet hole and expecting the bleeding to stop.
I know that at some point I'll have to stop and feel this, think about this. But, like a true procrastinator, I'll do it later. For now, I'll pretend that sleep, wine, chocolate, and episodes of Doctor Who will make everything better.
Today's music comes from a musical with puppets. Yep. Puppets.
Avenue Q is about young people struggling to live in New York City. Except they're puppets. Most of them.
However, Avenue Q is not Sesame Street. It is NOT for children. It has a habit of saying all of the funny things we aren't supposed to think are funny, because they're so irreverent. If you're not easily offended, I suggest you check it out.
While this musical has a habit of being completely shocking, there is this sincerely honest and heartbreaking little gem, "There's a Fine, Fine Line," in which Kate Monster is breaking up with her boyfriend, Princeton.
This is my favorite song from the musical, because, well, there's all of the feels it gives you. Anyone who has ever experienced the end of a relationship can relate to this. Sometimes you just need to be sad for a while. Otherwise why would we watch shows like Doctor Who or read books like The Fault in Our Stars?
I'm an emotional slob, friends. But I kind of love it.
What's your favorite song this week? Share a link to it below!
Am I alone in this? I can't be the only person who finds their skin crawling every time this sound enters their ears.
I realize this is partly me wearing my judgy pants because I studied music and theatre. I pay attention to the way people speak, probably more than the average bear.
But honestly? I just don't care. There's a reason why they try to break you of saying it when you take a speech class. It's ugly.
So let's recap:
-"Uhhhh" and "Ummmm" are the worst sounds in the world.
- They're not actual words, despite the fact that people try and use them in place of speaking real words.
-It is the auditory equivalent of a mud puddle.
-I wear judgy pants, and I judge you when you say "uh" or "um."
I feel this way about New Year's resolutions. People make promises to do things, lose weight, go to church, read books, do X, Y, and Z, most of the time with good intentions. Often times people make resolutions because everyone else is doing it, because it's expected, etc. Not because they actually want to change.
Resolutions at New Year's are one of those things that I'm opposed to on principle, like pet names and Twilight. But still, every year, I find myself making a mental list of things I want to change, things I want to do better at, more of. This year is no different, and this year, this blog is on the list.
I want to be a better blogger. I really do. I want to post more regularly, more often, about better topics. I want to be more involved in the blogging community. I want a better design for my blog, because, well, yeah... I want to care about this.
So bloggy friends, any tips for me on how to be a better blogger? I feel as though I could use all the help I could get.