Category Archives: personal

Nobody writes about the second date…

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In these past 9 (almost 10) months, I’ve done a lot of reading about dating. I’ve perused a number of books, articles, online articles, etc., and I’ve noticed a trend.

No one writes about the second date.

They write about how to find dates. They write about how to get ready for the first date. They write about how to successfully turn that first date into a second date.

But after that? They skip ahead. Start talking about relationship issues. When to become exclusive. When to get physical. When to say “I love you.”

But why does no one write about that second date?

See, I have this sort of curse.

I don’t seem to have a problem getting dates. In fact, there have been times when I’ve been overwhelmed with first dates and have had to step back.

Usually, if there’s a first date and no second date, that’s my doing. Not always, mind you, but usually.

But the second date, well, that’s another story.

I’ve had a significant number of guys who, after a first date, seem very interested in seeing me again. So we make that second date. We go out, and have a grand time. Again, they seem very interested in seeing me again. Sometimes they even ask, “can I see you again?”

And then?

Nothing.

No phone call. No email. No polite brush-off. Just nothing.

They disappear.

Can anybody tell me where these guys are going? Is there some great vacuum into which these guys are pulled? Are they with all of the Other Socks, missing pens and earring backs that also disappear, never to be found again?

I tried desperately to research the topic, and what I found was a void.

No one talks about it. I can’t be the only one, can I?

More fork-stabbing inducing music…

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This one from Carbon Leaf – Paloma:

Chase the high ground – where you’d rather be
where you might be found
Face all aglow, to leave from here
to pack up and go
But it takes some time to get away
And you will have to build from what remains.
To run it takes the courage of a lamb
To love, the fierceness of a storm

Paloma you wonder if you’ll miss the thunder
And everyone’s staring but no one is caring for you now
Just spread your wings, latch on to the breeze
Just take the leap…and you’re free

Chase the higher ground – where you’d rather be
Where you might be found
This move may erase the troubles in your head
Or expose the absence of your soul
And so, it takes some time to get away
And you will have to tear down what remains
And I can’t stand for goodbyes
So hold on to me, or lead the way

Paloma you wonder if you’ll miss the thunder
And everyone’s staring but no one is caring for you now
Just spread your wings, latch on to the breeze
Just take the leap…and you’re free

Pace yourself when outrunning fear
Take cover when it’s dark
And keep an even keel
In your world you’re only a phone away
But in my world you’re too far to feel
And it may take some time to learn what’s real
And you may have to beg and borrow
And you will surely steal
Remember all those lonely sessions
Turned into yesterday’s lessons
To never forget love. To never forget love

Paloma you wonder if you’ll miss the thunder
And everyone’s staring but no one is caring for you now
Just spread your wings, latch on to the breeze
Just take the leap…and you’re free

Paloma you cry out you beg for connection
The dreams you seek are straight ahead in every direction
Now you’re free
Now that you’re free
Now that you’re free
You’re free

(emphasis mine)

ETA: I felt that I should add a brief explanation as to why this is here. While it has nothing to do with my current mood, it does fit in with a certain theme I have in mind right now. It’s time for me to do some writing, purge some inner demons. And I’m going to start with a soundtrack.

Mood swings

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I was in a foul mood yesterday. Everything was wrong. I was in such a foul mood, in fact, that I had to check to see if it could be explained away by PMS. (the answer was no.)

I hated my job. Even though I had received amazing compliments on a story I’d written that’s in the issue coming out this weekend. The subjects of the story were in the office, crying as they read it. They hugged me, thanked me profusely, asked if I’ve ever considered writing books.

This should have made me happy, right?

Instead, it just reminded me that this job is a placeholder, that I should be doing bigger, better things. I’m better than this job. I know I am.

Over the weekend, I had a wonderful time in Cleveland…so much so, in fact, that I said “I think I might seriously consider moving to Cleveland next year, if there’s nothing keeping me in Buffalo.”

But yesterday, I was feeling stuck. I was wondering if the decision to stay was the wrong one. I was wondering if I could be preparing my classroom right now, had I gone somewhere else.

I hated my tutoring job, and was feeling resentful that I have to do it at all.

I was feeling resentful of my younger brother, who has a great new job in his field.

Do you ever just want to scream “What about me? When’s it my turn? It isn’t fair!” and throw a three-year-old style tantrum?

That was how I felt yesterday.

How’s the weather?

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I can’t believe I forgot to talk about this…

You may remember that several months ago, I posted that my little brother was working at the same TV station as assboy’s brother-in-law. Little brother met him briefly, early in his employ there, but there was no indication of recognition. (For anyone who doesn’t know us, little brother looks a LOT like me. When he was in the musicals in high school and wearing stage makeup, his friends called him Erin.)

I didn’t really expect anything different. The BIL (weatherboy) is probably the most self-absorbed person I know.

Anyway, little brother heard that weatherboy and his wife recently had a baby. I said “If you run into him again, tell him I said congratulations.”

The week before little brother left to go to the new station, he did.

“Oh, by the way, my sister wanted to congratulate you and C on the new baby,” my brother said.

“Oh? Who’s your sister?

Little brother said the look on weatherboy’s face when he said my name was priceless.

Ah, to have been a fly on that wall…

Words

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Some days, I don’t quite know who I am. I’m having one of those days today.

Last night, I put up a post saying that I had nothing to say. While it is in fact true that those were all posts that I enjoyed reading, and I would love for anyone who’s out there reading to enjoy as well, I decided that it just wasn’t really me.

In those moments when I’m not sure who I am, I sometimes try to be other people. That doesn’t work for me, and one faithful reader and dear friend took me to task for it. And he was right.

The thing is, I’ve been going through some things lately that for one reason or another are inappropriate to post in this forum. (It’s true, readers. I don’t share everything. Some things are just too personal…that’s what good old pen-and-paper journals are for.) But then I get stuck. I’m at a loss. I have nothing to say here, and I hate that…for, as I’ve mentioned before, it’s the fact that people are reading, the fact that people come here and come back, that makes me want to keep going.

And so I’m afraid…I’m afraid that if I post nothing, the people won’t come back. Call it a funk, call it bloggers block, call it whatever.

I deal in words…in my private life, in my (ahem) professional life, in my hopeful career(s). It’s scary to be a writer without any words. Because if I don’t have any words, I don’t have any idea who I am.

Today is one month until my birthday. I look at it with a mixture of anticipation and dread. On the one hand, I’m ready to leave my twenties behind. On the other, what lies ahead for me? Will I find that great job? Get published? Fall in love and have babies? Will I be the best me that I can possibly be?

I need to pick up, take charge, stop being driven by insecurity and fully embrace ME.

I am: twenty-nine and counting.

I am a teacher. A writer. A journalist. A daughter. A sister. A friend.

I am highly emotional. Empathetic. Insecure. Underemployed. Shy. Fiercely loyal to those I care about.

I hate to lose. I hate hurting people. I can’t stand having people angry with me.

I am terrified of bees.

I hope for the best, but often expect the worst.

I’ve had my heart broken twice, and my spirit broken once.

I love to dance. I can’t sing, but I wish I could.

I can’t wait to have a classroom of my own.

I am emotionally high maintenance.

I still believe in true love.

Forget regret…

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or life is yours to miss. 

I am a new and improved erin-go-blog. The old me was cautious and afraid to take risks. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my (almost) 30 years of life, it’s that risks are necessary.

It’s much more likely you’ll regret the chances you didn’t take than the ones you did. The unfortunate side to this is that not all stories have happy endings. And that’s a part of the risk…it’s impossible to know how things are going to turn out. Sometimes it will hurt, and that truly sucks.

But the one thing I do know for certain is this–you don’t get a happy ending by being afraid to even try.

I’ll take potpourri for $200, Alex

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Weekend…we had a lot of fun. Curtis is a great guy, and I’m very glad I got the chance to meet him!

Feel free to email me if you want to know anything more…

It’s kind of a strange day…some might remember that back in, oh, November, I was inspired to email the college boyfriend, K. I wanted to say hello, see how he was doing, and basically let him know that I wasn’t harboring any bad feelings.

He wrote back. Today.

The short version of the story? He found God. And got married. I think in that order, but I’m not quite sure.

Can I get an “Amen”?

One of the best things that has happened to me the last few years is that I’m now a born-again Christian. That’s been the most life altering thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s a long story how that happened, so I won’t go into too much detail, but God really put me in a position where I could only depend on Him and He’s come through like I could never have imagined. You might think I’m off my rocker, but that’s okay…so does my family.

Huh?

He said he wanted to respond to my email, but wasn’t sure if it was “appropriate.” Huh? Oh, and he also said that his wife probably wouldn’t be thrilled that he was writing to me. Again, huh? My guess is that he confessed all of his past “sins” to her before they got married. 😉

It’s a little bit funny

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Life.

How is it that things don’t always work out the way you thought they would? It isn’t right, and it isn’t fair, and as much as you wish you could change it, you just can’t.

Jumble of emotions

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Anxious, excited, nervous, terrified…

My way-out-of-town guest comes to visit tonight. I am freaking out, just a little bit. Tonight, the abstract becomes reality. The voice on the phone, words on the page, become a real live person.

Whoa, Doc. This is heavy.

School’s out for summer

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While working at one of my substitute teaching jobs, I had cafeteria duty. I watched the kids doing the high school thing…boys being stupid. Girls being catty. Boys and girls flirting. Etc. Etc.

I remarked to the teacher I was on duty with that, “You couldn’t pay me enough to go back to high school.”

“Really?” he said. “I’d go back in a minute.”

I smiled politely and ended the conversation.

I didn’t have a horrible high school experience, I suppose. It was pretty much normal. Well, there was the emotionally abusive ex-boyfriend who consumed the better part of it. There were nasty girls in the class above mine who wanted me dead. Well, maybe not dead, but definitely suffering…and suffer I did. I shed a LOT of tears my junior year.

I was reading a recent post over at Stephanie’s blog about prom that got me to thinking about those girls.

See, I was on the cheerleading squad. My mom was advisor to the junior high cheerleaders, and acted as a judge during tryout time. Near the end of my sophomore year, tryouts were held for the varsity squad. A group of these girls, who would be seniors in the fall, were trying out. They hated me. Loathed me. Despised me. But, knowing that my mom would be (partially) holding their little cheerleaderly fates in her hands, they put on a good face.

Not that I didn’t know better. Mostly.

See, I was naive enough to believe that one of these girls (Micky) could be trusted. I thought that we were, in some small way, friends.

A group of these girls had a class with Stephanie. She overheard them talking shit about me one day, and told me. I made the mistake of thinking I could trust Micky and asked her about what was said. (You know, I don’t even remember what it was that was said…) I thought that it was in confidence. I didn’t think she’d tell anyome.

Micky, of course, told them all.

The next day, Holly (the most dramatic of all drama queens) came up to me all weepy and apologetic.

“I don’t know what you heard, but I would never say those things about you.”

Or something like that.

Meh. Whatever.

I felt terrible about this. Horrible. Steph, if I never apologized for being such an idiot, I’m sorry!

And like I said, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back to high school…