As crazy and compulsive as it sounds, I feel like I lost June. I’m not sure what happened, but it was like I skipped straight from May to July. Part of the time was eaten by moving, part by multiple house guests. Most of it was eaten by work, or worrying about work. And that’s just not acceptable.

In an effort to instill some sense of peace, happiness, and love for my fellow man back into my life, I’m going to backtrack a little bit. Remember that whole “Maturity May” thing, where I made a list?

I know, you are so shocked. I made a list. How… extraordinary.

crickets

Aaanyway, the list helped. The list made things happen. I need another list, y’all.

1. Reduce the amount of refined sugar in my diet. It is summer. It is reasonable to assume that I will eat a donut upon arriving to work early every Sunday morning. It is not reasonable to eat four, followed by two coffees and a bagel with cream cheese. That’s not reasonable. I’m going to not do that during July.

2. Submit my resume to at least four quality employment opportunities per week. This week: two down, two to go.

3. Throw my boyfriend the best damn 30th birthday party of all time! There will be wiffle ball! And an egg-and-spoon race! And food!

4. Get a car wash. I’ve had my car for three years. I will not tell you how many car washes I’ve had during that time, because you may die of horror. For the record, though, the number starts with “z” and ends with “ero.”

5. Cook a decent meal twice per week. All. Month. Long.

6. Bring lunch to work three times a week.

7. Get my new budget squared away.

8. Most importantly, stop wallowing. I’m in an unfortunate situation, yes. But I have a brain, and enough sense to get out of the situation. I have a timeline, and I have friends to help me. It is time shut up and put out, as it were. We’re making it happen, people!

Erm… we still don’t know about New York. If he goes, I go. I’ll keep you posted.

I had heard about the Horse Whisperer for a few years before I met him. For a long time, people would refer to “Pete’s friend, Dave,” sharing stories that gave almost no insight into this mystery man’s personality. After we moved to San Francisco, my ex became fairly good friends with the Horse Whisperer, often disappearing for hours on end to attend some sporting event with him. Due to all the stories, and due to the context of my ex-boyfriend’s friendship with him, I formed numerous ideas on what he was like, including:

- A pothead
- A major flirt
- Someone I would not particularly like

Ha. Hahahaha.

ahem

For the record, zero of those things are even remotely true.

Finally, about a year and a half ago, we found ourselves at the same bar. One thing that you really should know is that I’m not good in bars. I’d go so far as to say I hate bars. I feel entirely overwhelmed by the number of people there. If I don’t know anyone, I feel lost. Depending upon my mood, I may not even make an effort to meet people. I’m not a bar girl. Yet, there I sat with a group of friends. I knew two people at the bar, and they were chatting with one another, catching up on old times. I found myself seated next to “Pete’s friend, Dave.” And holy mother of lord, the man was charming. I flirted my little ass off for about two hours, loving every minute of it. I ignored everyone else at our table. I was shameless.

I added him as my Whyspace friend about three hours later. We started emailing about two days after that.

On day ten, I asked him out. Technically, I didn’t make it clear that it was a date, but I said, “Hey, I have these two tickets to a show and I can’t find anyone to go.” And he said, “I’ll go with you!” And I said, “Great!”

And then he canceled. And THEN I found out that the girl sitting next to him at the bar? The really nice, cute girl I’d met about ten minutes before he arrived? Oh, right. That was his girlfriend.

After that, I kind of turned off my antennae as far as the Horse Whisperer was concerned. I knew without a doubt that I wouldn’t be able to be “just friends” with him, and I’d had enough of being a masochist as far as boys were concerned. We continued emailing, and it always put a big smile on my face, but I made an active decision to not be attracted to him. I didn’t see him for six more months. It took me that long to give him my phone number, as well. And, after he and his then-girlfriend broke up, I ignored his three attempts to ask me out. Ignored, people. Responded to the email and never answered the question. THREE. TIMES!

This is all to say that:

After our first date, I kind of didn’t think it would go anywhere.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, I thought he was a ridiculously nice guy. I had a nice time. But it really took me a few dates to remind myself that yes, this was someone that I’d really wanted to get to know. It took me even longer to get over the “girlfriend/no girlfriend” situation. And I still occasionally have issues with the fact that he and my ex are pals. But when I think of our history together, I usually forget about that first week or two of being unsure.

So when did I “know” that I wanted it to go somewhere? It took a while, to be honest. I’d been jerked around by a few too many guys, and I didn’t trust my judgment anymore. A few weeks in, he bought me a toothbrush, and it rocked my world. A few weeks after that he went to New York, and I missed him. It took me a month and a half to call him my boyfriend. And the “L-word” didn’t happen for about two months more.

I’ve always been an “instant chemistry” kind of gal. While I suppose we had chemistry in that first moment at the bar, I think my relationship with the Horse Whisperer has been the exception to every preconceived notion I ever had on love. If we’d made lists of the things we wanted in partners, I don’t know that we’d match one another’s list. To say that he exceeded my expectations is too simple. I think it would be more accurate to say that he changed my expectations, completely and to the core. It took a lot of open-mindedness on both our parts, but I’m so glad we didn’t walk away because it all seemed complicated, or odd. I’m not sure what the conclusion of this post should be. Sorry, Stefanie! I just thought I’d share this very convoluted story as a way of saying: yes. At some point you will “just know.” But sometimes it takes a little while.

Boy, it made me feel really nice remembering all of that!

I’ve been overwhelmed by things that should be discussed, and have therefore discussed none of them. A quick list of bullet points:

1. My boyfriend has been offered a job in New York. It’s a great job. We’re freaking out.

2. I may have a career plan in the works.

3. I’m starting to feel a little bit baby crazy.

4. I haven’t slept through the night in over two months. Not only am I exhausted, but I’m also flipping out about the fact that I am a freak who doesn’t sleep.

5. After months of not pulling out my eyelashes, this past week has seen a rash of eyelash-pulling.

6. Last weekend, I had a houseguest who clogged my toilet four times in 72 hours.

7. Also, my shower faucet exploded off the wall, sending water shooting out and all over me and the rest of the bathroom.

8. I ran three full-day workshops this week, totaling nearly 1,000 kids.

9. My teaching artists, the people I hired to perform at these workshops, were supposed to show up with eight teachers. They showed up with two.

10. I’ve been a little stressed out. Just in case you couldn’t tell.

11. I’m working on getting my internet set up at home. Still. As soon as that happens, I’ll be back in full force. In the meantime, I finally caught up with most of the 457 entries in my feed reader. Good times!

I have run three workshops in three days.

For 950 or more children.

I am officially feeling dead.

I’ll write more when I have recovered. At the moment I’m on my third glass of wine, and I am feeling absolutely zero pain. It. Is. Good.

In the meantime, watch this:

Mary made an excellent point on my last post, about how I set goals to be less hard on myself and then get annoyed when I don’t accomplish them. Case in point: my last post, which is “password protected.” Incidentally, if you want to read it, the password is “albatross.” The post is essentially me losing my shit over having to clean up after other people… again. And then, having written and published it, I felt bad about it and slapped a password on the top. Because, you know. I like being nice.

I think having expectations of ourselves is a good thing. I’ve spent many years of my life dealing with people who have no personal code of conduct, nor any sense of responsibility for themselves. And let me tell you, I infinitely prefer people who are a little hard on themselves. At the same time, however, I wonder when it is that we all developed this sense that nothing we do will ever measure up. Does TV have something to do with it? Is it watching shows about people who are inordinately successful? Or maybe it’s the increasingly high expectations of college admissions: anything less than a perfect GPA, fourteen extra-curricular activities, and a business you started on the side makes you a scrub at the tender age of 18. Maybe it starts when you’re younger, when you strive for a smiley-face on your paper instead of nothing at all. I don’t know when it starts, exactly, but it has been a hard habit for me to kick.

I crave validation. I desperately want someone to see that I’m working like a maniac and say, “Hey, you know what? You’re doing just fine. Thanks for doing what you do. And thanks for doing it without anyone paying attention.” While I don’t think that this is an unreasonable desire, I also don’t think it’s at all realistic in my current situation. I think I need to get the hell over my bad self and start making my proverbial hay where the sun shines… elsewhere.

I’m reading this amazing book at the moment, The Anti 9 to 5 Guide, which is showing me the ways that I can create a true career for myself while looking at my current situation as a stepping stone and a way to make ends meet. Even though I’ve been touting this concept for a while, seeing it in writing gives me some hope. While I think that I am even less suited to sitting in front of a computer than most, I’m starting to see the ways in which this experience will eventually add up into something greater.

Now, this isn’t to say that I find it acceptable that I had to wash other people’s dishes this morning… again. Nor do I find it appropriate that no one has said a word about it, despite the fact that the absence of the festering pile is glaringly obvious. I’m going to try and give myself permission to be irritated by these facts. But I’m also going to refuse to allow other people to define my identity today as The Lackey. Today I choose to be someone who is making my way in a truly enviable city-of-residence. I choose to remember that I technically “run my own business” teaching flute lessons. I choose to identify myself as someone who is thinking outside the box. And I choose to let it go for the rest of the day, and make a valiant attempt to let it go for the rest of the week.

Oh! Hi! I remember you!

So I don’t have internet at home yet. I’m kind of shocked, frankly, by how much I tend to accomplish in a day without internet! Be that as it may, I’m planning on rectifying that situation as soon as possible. I miss y’all! I’m also in the midst of my Season, the part of my job that requires more energy than I can maintain for long periods of time. I love this part of the year, and there will definitely be sharing in the future. But today I’m kind of drained and a little bit moody. While pondering a solution, I decided to review my New Year’s resolutions. I know this might not seem exciting, but we’ve passed the halfway point, and I’m feeling like I need a “refresher.” So, without further ado:

1. Stop taking it all so personally. I will not let my job, my weight, my mother, or my finances define who I am. - HA! Hahahaha! Not so much. In fact, yesterday I burst into tears because the Horse Whisperer ate my last piece of bacon while my back was turned. And yes, I blame the exhaustion. I don’t generally cry over meat.
2. Respect my stress level. I will not overschedule myself so much that I lose control of my brain or my attitude. - Again… not so much. While I’ve managed to turn down gigs on occasion, I am still working seven days a week. This is lame.
3. Put the clean dishes away. And put the dirty ones in the dishwasher. This will make me a happier person. - HOLY CRAP YES! I’ve been really good about this! My new apartment doesn’t have a dishwasher, but I’ve been making steady progress on putting things away when I use them!!!
4. Take my clothing to the drycleaners. Then wear the stuff that has been relegated to the “drycleaning bag” for the last year, or throw it out. - Dude, I totally did this!
5. Enjoy my body for what it can do, not what it looks like. - Work in progress. I will say this: I’ve worried about this a lot less than in previous years. And I haven’t been consciously dieting for the first time since I was like six years old.
6. Get out of the city for a night, at least three times. - I have been to Florida and Shelter Cove!
7. Read a book every month. We’ll see if I can manage this this year. (The irony, of course, is that I’m a terribly fast reader. I really only need to dedicate one afternoon a month to this in order to make it happen.) - Not so much.
8. Dance more. - I’ve been dancing twice!!!
9. Drumroll please: This year, I will not bounce any checks. - People. This was unrealistic. But? I have only bounced one. That’s AMAZING.
10. Cultivate playing opportunities. Have a recital, start a chamber music group, play in public as often as possible. - I’ve really sucked at this. Partly because I still haven’t gotten my flute fixed.
11. Start writing for real. Write short stories, long stories, poems, whatever. Just write. - Yes! I’ve done this! Good!
12. Go hiking! Go camping! Go outside! - Still a work in progress. I’ve made several plans, all of which have fallen through. Oh well!
13. Wear more silk. - One must actually own silk in order to wear it. And if one does not own silk, one must procure silk. In other words… not yet.
14. Throw out the crap in the top of my closet that hasn’t moved since November of 2005, the day that I moved into this humble abode. - YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS! I threw out so much crap during the move!!!
15. Create a functional living arrangement that makes me feel peaceful and happy. - I love my new apartment. I’m almost done with the official “move in.” Then there will be pictures. So happy.
16. Replace the damn curtains. I’ve hated them for two years. - Moot point.
17. Ride my bike through the Presidio. - Sold the bike. Took a walk in the Presidio. Does that count?
18. Address the issues with my job in a mature, proactive way. Solve the problems or figure out an alternative plan. - Working on this.
19. In 2008, I will stop pulling out my eyelashes when I am stressed out. (You thought you knew all the weird shit about me already, didn’t you? Surprise!) - I have made immense progress on this front. Granted, the places where my eyelashes are growing back in look like bushes. I may have done too much damage.
20. Buy a decent set of dishes, one in which the plates and bowls all match. - I DID THIS! And I love them. I definitely want more, but I have four matching large and four matching small plates!
21. Stick to my budget. It’s not as tight as I think it is, and if I batten down the hatches for one more month, I think I’ll have finally fixed all the mistakes from 2006. No, seriously. It has taken over a year. - Done!
22. Did I mention that I’m not going to take it personally? Yes? Well, I think that one merits noting twice. - … ‘Nuff said.
23. Give myself time in the morning to feel pretty and relaxed. - I’ve been great at this recently! Taking part in Mission: Put Together really helped!
24. Increase my expectations of the world around me. Refuse to accept epically bad behavior, just because I can handle it. Expect more, expect better. - I feel like I’ve made progress on this, which is really the only way I can quantify it.
25. Give more to the world around me. Volunteer, live a “greener” life, appreciate all the good things in the world, share more. - I’ve been composting, I’ve volunteered a few times. I’ve laughed a lot.
26. Invest energy in being happy. - I think so!
27. Accept accountability. Learn to recognize when I am responsible for specific events, and when I am not. When I am responsible, I will treat my own actions with the utmost care. When I’m not, I will let it go. - I think this will be a lifelong struggle for me, but I feel like I’m a little more aware of it these days.

It’s interesting to me, these relationships that we develop with people through writing. If you are anything like me, you blog because you find that writing allows you to express yourself. Maybe, like me, you have a hard time getting your point across in the spoken word. Despite this, our writing allows us to communicate how we’re feeling, what we’re thinking, and who we are. I’m pretty picky about the kind of writing I enjoy. I dislike the snarky tone of many internet writers, but I feel like I’ve found a niche community of people who are honest about their lives and their thoughts. I love finding people to whom I can relate, and once such a person has been found I look forward to the next chapter of their lives. I consider you my friends, my confidantes, my sounding board for decisions. Hell, I met the Horse Whisperer once and we emailed for six months prior to our first date. I trust writing. I trust the truth of someone’s voice in writing. Frankly, I trust many of you more than I trust people I meet on a day-to-day basis.

I recently discovered that someone I met a few months ago and did not like at all is the selfsame person who has written several things that I’ve really enjoyed. This was a real shocker to me. I’ve had a really challenging time reconciling the person I’ve enjoyed reading with the Real Live person, someone who I found entirely inconsiderate and self-centered.

(Before you freak out and think that this person might stumble upon this entry and feel hurt… don’t. Despite having met me three times, and despite the fact that we’ve shared two meals, this person still does not even know my name. In fact, the last time we met, this person talked about herself for the solid 20 minutes that we shared the back seat of a car. At one point, I said something essentially agreeing with her, and she told me that I had clearly misunderstood her, because that wasn’t what she’d meant. And looked at me like I was a bug. I think she was discussing cheese? Yeah. Even if she stumbled upon this page, I’m 100% sure that she’d never EVER dream that this was about her. Wow. I can be a real bitch sometimes, eh?)

The thing is, even among the people I read daily, there are a few who I just know are real friends. I don’t read anyone with whom I doubt I’d get along. This discovery, however, has made me pause. What if you and I finally meet and discover that we have nothing in common? What if I drive you completely crazy? What if you think my in-person dorkiness is irritating, instead of hilarious? What if we’re wrong about one another, what if we’re not actually the friends we assumed we would be? It’s an odd thought for me, someone who considers writing to be a more “honest” method of communication. I’ve had good experiences meeting kindred writers in person, and I’m sure this particular circumstance was only an exception to the rule. Be that as it may, as many of you prepare to head to San Francisco for BlogHer, I’m suddenly faced with a moment of panic.

Ultimately, I’ve given this incident an unfair amount of weight in my psyche. If I’m really honest with myself, I know that this person’s writing usually had me on edge just a little bit. There was always a self-important tone that bothered me a little bit. But I’m curious: have you ever experienced something like this?

I try to love all of the earth’s creatures. I capture and release spiders, I tolerate the existence of snakes and slugs. After many years in the South, I can honestly say that giant cockroaches don’t make me want to vomit anymore. Do I like them? No. But do I tolerate them? Sort of.

There is a notable exception to this zen-like attempt to commune with nature: People, I hate pigeons. I HATE pigeons. I cannot convince myself that pigeons are useful, likable, or otherwise necessary parts of nature. From where I’m standing, pigeons are disgusting. They poop everywhere, follow me around begging for the scraps from my sandwich. They are aggressive, disgusting, and dirty. They don’t supply a valuable link in the food chain, so far as I can tell. They don’t help pollinate things. They don’t eat bugs that would otherwise infest a garden. They are just… viral.

I had never seen a pigeon until I moved away from home. I know that sounds utterly ridiculous, but it only fuels my conviction that pigeons shouldn’t exist in nature. Growing up in the country, far from any urban center worth mentioning, pigeons were nowhere to be seen. Mourning Doves, their close cousin, abounded, but no pigeons. Suddenly I moved to South Carolina, to a campus on which the pigeons, the squirrels, and the cockroaches battled it out for campus dining hall scraps… and lunches bravely consumed in the open. It was all-out war, and the university attempted to get a leg up with the purchase of several peregrine falcons. I’m not exactly sure how it turned out, but a lifelong disdain of pigeons was “hatched.”

I’m hilarious. I know.

All of this is leading up to the fact that it is pigeon nesting season in San Francisco. A large nest has been built right outside the Horse Whisperer’s door, and each time we go in or out there’s a mad scramble to avoid the dive-bombing birds as they protect their nest full of shrieking babies. The entire stairwell is coated with a thick layer of pigeon excrement. It couldn’t possibly be any more disgusting. Then, this morning, I walked into our office and opened the door to our trash area. Sitting on the floor, looking as innocent as could be, was a lone pigeon egg. My little heart did a flip. How sweet, how pristine this little egg appeared. It had a smoother shell than a chicken egg, and was about half the size. And as I stood there, staring at it, my boss spotted it and took it away. I’m not sure what he did with it, but I am about 99% sure that the egg will not be hatching.

I hate pigeons, but I felt for that little egg. I’m not sure what I would have done if left to my own devices. I can’t imagine destroying the egg, though I don’t necessarily think it was a bad decision.

What do you think?