Boyfriend and I are spending the day together.

If we live to see our anniversary (tomorrow), I'll let you know how that goes as well. 

Before I begin, let me briefly discuss how wonderful of a girlfriend I am. Wednesday is my "day off," in this sense of the word, "day off" means the day when I don't have classes, but get caught up on the pile of work that has somehow amassed since Monday. It's also my day to sleep in a re-charge, since I probably haven't slept for more than 3 or 4 hours a night since the previous Wednesday. Wednesdays are amazing. Wednesdays are mine. This morning, I drove out to Ranson at 8:30 so boyfriend could take his car in to the shop. Since he has no transportation, or work today, he is here until we can go get his car. He likes ESPN, I like reading the British classics to the tune of MTV and VH1. You can see where the problems lie. 

However, I'm a great girlfriend and since our anniversary is tomorrow, I will read my British classics to the tune of some thing on MTV that is for current college football players entering the draft. It reminds me of the auctioning off of race horses, actually. 

Let's see...last night was the State of the Nation. I'm not sure what the difference is between the State of the Nation and the State of the Union, but, I am fairly certain Nancy Pelosi was wearing a pea-green Snuggie, a few shades darker than the green one advertised on the commercial. New goal: become Speaker of the House so I, too, can get a custom-made Snuggie and have it be totally acceptable on national television. 

I didn't catch the whole thing, I watched long enough to get excited about the promised education plan and scan the room for people falling asleep. We, then, went to Tony's for Fat Tuesday cheese fries to serve as a post-pancake supper dessert. My Lenten sacrifice to give up fast food and eat one fruit and one veggie each day is totally necessary now. 

Life is starting to calm down, so I'm embracing it...not entirely sure how long it'll last. 

My friends watch "The Happening," and I hide under a blanket

You read that right. My friends, Kelly and Andrew, as well as my boyfriend, John, decided a good afternoon activity after a delicious lunch at the Blue Moon and coffee at the Lost Dog would be to watch M. Night Shyamalan's "The Happening."

I'm not a big fan of scary movies. I can handle the occasional psychological thriller, but Mr. Shyamalan has reduced me to hiding in my favorite chair with my lap top, underneath my favorite quilt. First and

foremost, I know the movie isn't over yet, but Shyamalan appears to have trusted a bitter Mark Wahlberg with the fate of the world and his family. Given my choice of 1990s white rappers to run for the hills with when some crazy toxin is causing people to end their lives, Marky Mark wouldn't be my top choice. Halloween is right around the corner (read: tomorrow!) so I suppose there's nothing more terrifying than an ex NKOTBer (wayyyy back before Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch) trying to save a large portion of the North Eastern population, meeting America's creepers on the way.

Tomorrow is Halloween, which is exciting. My debut costume last week was the moon with John as the sun to compliment me. Tomorrow night I'll be a magician with John as my deck of cards and I'll head out Sunday as Icarus, John keeping his sun costume. 

I should get back to Mr. Shyamalan and Marky Mark's vision of the end of days now. Don't take candy with razor blades tomorrow, kiddies! 

Terror in Dating

While at work today, I needed things to think about, and actually found some sort of inspiration in a friend of mine who is going through a bit of a rough spot currently. 

So, I'm writing about it. She gave me permission, no worries. 

Two friends of mine recently ended a pretty long term relationship. Along with the troubles that accompany any ended relationship, my friend is also now thinking about re-entering the dating world with a vivacious attitude that only recently single girls really ever have. It's cute, but when I see her going through this, between the stresses of dating and the excitement of being a new, single woman I can't help but feel bad for her. 

I really hope John is the one for me at this point, because I really don't know what I would do without him or what I would do if I was suddenly faced with the thought of, ick, dating.

We don't realize it after it's happened...it being...you know...those awkward strings of first meetings when two people are deciding how they feel about one another. (I'm leaving this completely gender neutral, I'm straight, but not narrow, folks) In fact, as I explained to my friend tonight it seems that my generation has tried to eliminate the stress put on the word dating by using the word in a completely different context. 

Now, dating has been replaced with hanging out. Hanging out being those first few meeting points where to prospective relationship participants. In the past, the term hanging out took a lot of stress off of being around a boy I was attracted to. It was easy to say I was just hanging out with someone, going for a cup of coffee or a bite to eat, just as I would with a close friend or relative. It didn't bring along too many questions of kissing and hugging and baby making, until, of course, we get to the subject of payment. (To be explained later)

My mother has told me that my hanging out is her generation's dating. That dating was something people did when they were testing the waters of mutual attraction. Courting, to bring it back even further. While my mother's generation went steady my generation dates or is together. We're all just terrified. 

Semantics aside, hanging out becomes questionable as soon as wallets, cash and debit cards are pulled out. Early boyfriends never really forked out the cash for any dates, so in December of 2006, the following conversation had with my roommate came as a bit of a shock to me. 

Roommate: So, what did you guys do this afternoon?

Clueless me: We had coffee at the Lost Dog, walked around town for a bit in that bookstore and then had dinner at Blue Moon. 

Really? Who paid?

Well, we each paid for our own cup of coffee...

Oh, not a date.

What? He bought dinner. 

THAT WAS A DATE. 

Had I any idea that the mere thought of this poor boy pulling out his wallet to pay for my quesadillas would bring up questions as to my status with or without him, I would have made him put it back immediately. As soon as he signed the receipt for our meal, it was my duty, as a girl, to question his every move towards me thereafter. 

Here lies the biggest problem with dating. Thinking.

When it all comes down to it, maybe choosing suitors for your child when they are born isn't too terrible of an idea. I mean, I'm all for the idea of marrying for love and finding someone who completes you, blah blah blah, but had I trusted my parents judgment on my relationships I could have kept myself out of some major issues. Not that they didn't try. My parents mean well, and in the grand scheme of things most of their decisions that they have helped me make have really benefitted me. (Save, of course, when my mom suggested I read 1984 by George Orwell for my sixth grade science fiction project. I was just starting to grasp democracy, and here she is making me read a satire of a totalitarian society...I enjoyed it much more in high school) Their picking of a suitor would have helped with a lot of sleepless nights and hindsight is 20/20 moments. Parents mean well. 

Or, I'm just incredibly lazy, and think too much about this. (But, I already saved my ass on saying that earlier)

Either way, dating has either become something way more stressful than it should be or always has been. I still wish all my vivacious single friends all the luck in the world. That scene isn't for me. 

Thanks for reading

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good: 

• Wing night at Tony's...$4.50 pitchers and great friends
• Talking to the HR woman for Washington County Public Schools and learning I can start subbing as soon as my screening clears (in two weeks!) 
• Telling my manager at LHBP that I'll need to limit my hours there when I start subbing
• My kitty attacking my boyfriend's lap top case
• My boyfriend in general

The Bad:

• Our district manager came in today. I didn't greet her. I got in trouble
• Spending 7 hours putting away bras and not really having customers
• Closing on aforementioned wing night
• Not being too sure what I'm getting into with this subbing business

The Ugly: 

• My parents left yesterday. I miss them.