Tag Archives: loneliness

Caving Into Ardency: Please Advise!

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Match.com, select your race: black, white, Klingon

Is it, really?  (Photo credit: Nick Douglas)

I’m the type of person to notice trends.  Though I’m not referring to boldly mixing florals with stripes.  I’m referring to the kind that haunt blog posts, spill out of the mouths of passersby, litter the television, and turn up again in my dreams.  This constant repetition is begging me to pay it some attention… To match.com or not to match.com?

A fellow blogger said it best when she said she was alone, but not so lonely.  (Read her… she’s great!)  I could not have said it better, but like she also says, there are days when I wake up and wish I had someone with which to share my day.  If you are new to reading my blog, I’m on this man-made path to happiness, and I can already say that I am no longer feeling like I’m in a rut, and sometimes I feel that I should continue this road alone.  Though, I also remember that the right person should not deter me from my path.  I could use some companionship…In fact, sometimes I CRAVE that companionship.

I LOVE love.  Ew, did I really just say that?  I sound like a character on Grey’s Anatomy.

Song Beneath the Song

Even when I’m in the middle of surgery, I’m thinking about love.  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Fighting the urge to edit that out.  It’s me, whether I delete it or not (thus the “ardent” in “ardent and awkward”).  Besides, science says (I refer to science all too often) people are happiest when they have that companionship.  Whether I want to find that companionship in a romantic relationship or in a friendship is still up in the air for me.  I’m still new to Austin, and so busy that I barely see the light of day… so on-line may be my only hope for a connection.  I got home from school (I’m a teacher) at 8:00 P.M. the other day.  I have never worked so hard in my life.  I work at a school where there are extremely high standards for teachers, and the only way I can get all the work done (well) is to work ALL the live long day/night, and still, I have a never-ending laundry list.  This left me returning home from work on a Friday night with a debilitating migraine.  I spent the night in my large bed, by my lonesome, with a cold, soggy rag on my forehead, and a tall glass of sparkling water (my cure-all for nearly every ailment… cut my finger whilst cooking?  glass of sparking water).

88/365 Sparkling Water

It even looks like a miracle. (Photo credit: TF28 ❘ tfaltings.de)

How on earth does this leave me any time to make new connections in a new town?  I’m tired of not having a life outside of work.  And I’m all aboooot making changes now.  In the words of Dr. Phil, “How’s that working out for ya?” is buzzing in my ear every time I continue on this path of all work and no play, so that I might get a pat on the back from my boss.  I might get a thank you and a smile from one of my students.  But yesterday, one of them literally leapt out of my classroom as the bell rang shouting, “I HATE THIS CLASS!  WHOOHOO!”  I fought back tears.  He momentarily took away my vitality.  I practically spent the night in my classroom to make learning relevant and fun, and this is the response I get??

Why is this my vitality, again?

I’m sorry, I leak *woe-is-me* from time to time.  ”Digress” is my blog’s middle name.

I’ve already built a match.com website.  I’ve submitted a photograph, only to delete it, and then submit it again.  I think I’ve rotated this pattern nearly five times.  It just got approved for the sixth time, but I have not yet subscribed.  My stomach turns every time I so much as think about going on a date.  I love love, but I loathe dating.  Gross.  Awkward.  And I’m so picky that I often rule someone out because of a man-necklace or a tattoo with no meaning behind it.  On-line, people look even worse.  Know the difference between “their,” “there,” and “they’re”; the fact that you have ruled out “a few extra pounds,” even though that’s not me, makes me think you have impossibly high standards and care more about appearance than substance (yes, I realize I’m the pot, and I’m calling the kettle black… but men -or women- should not over accessorize!), and bathroom pictures of you with your shirt off are the opposite of attractive.  I’m an asshole.  I’m not new to dating on-line, but I’ve always felt more comfortable forging new relationships organically.  But am I just waiting for something to happen instead of making something happen because it’s scary, or am I validated in feeling this way?  Is it an excuse?  I tried it several years ago, and the result was the worst relationship I’ve ever had.  Though, this was to no fault of the dating website.  I could just do it to open the door and simply meet people in Austin without expectations, but that’s a little tough to do on a DATING website.  Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way?  It’s a rainy-indoors-day in Austin, and I’m full of questions…

Shoot… and two people just e-mailed me as I’m typing this, but I can’t read them because I haven’t subscribed.  What to do?  Readers, I’m in need of your advice!

And the Third One Was Just Right.

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This tree sits just outside my backyard.  As you can see, she seeks desperately for some company.  The person who lived here before me shoved a newspaper between the tree and a single post in the fence.  Whenever the wind blows with more urgency than normal, the post makes a terrible sound like an old door opening on its own.  Some days, I think she might break in through the sliding glass door, despite the efforts of the post and the newspaper.  Some days, I feel just like that tree.

That’s it.  That was all I was going to write.  I was about to hit the Publish key and walk away, but then I thought, “Wait, that’s not my voice.  That’s my temporary voice.  The one that sneaks up on me sometimes when I’m tired and thinks I am good at self-loathing.  So, I shut the lid of my laptop with fervor.  Not ever necessary, as I mostly keep it plugged in, but it always feels good, like slamming the door after huffing a silencing insult.  And you all know, that probably never happens to me.  Then, I turned on some Louis CK, poured a second cup of coffee, and now I feel better.  I feel differently about that tree.  Here is my edit:

This tree sits just outside my backyard.  As you can see, she seeks desperately for some company.  The person who lived here before me shoved a newspaper between the tree and a single post in the fence.  Whenever the wind blows with more urgency than normal, the post makes a terrible sound like an old door opening on its own.  Some days, I think she might break in through the sliding glass door, despite the efforts of the post and the newspaper.  Some days, I feel like telling that tree to shut the hell up.

And then I thought, wait, CK may have just rubbed off on me a little too much.  I don’t think that’s my voice either.  So I tried one more time:

This tree sits just outside my backyard.  As you can see, she seeks desperately for some company.  The person who lived here before me shoved a newspaper between the tree and a single post in the fence.  Whenever the wind blows with more urgency than normal, the post makes a terrible sound like an old door opening on its own.  Some days, I think she might break in through the sliding glass door, despite the efforts of the post and the newspaper.  Some days, I feel just like that tree, but when I do, I suppress the feeling by telling my subconscious, as well as the tree, to shut the hell up.

I think I need some more coffee.