The arrival

I've been waiting for this day for over a month now. I've tried to bring it on by my own means, to inspire it to appear, but it would not come. I found it today though.

This day is the day the emptiness arrived. All the choices in the last month that should have brought guilt but didn't. All of the moments that should have been frightening but weren't. All of the happiness that was mediocre and unimportant. It all crashed in today.

And I am alone. And that's just fine.

25 and single.

I don't know what crawled into the air this weekend, but the world seemed overly consumed with the fact that I am, have been, and will continue to be 25 and single. I don't know how many times I had the conversation about my current relationship status and why it is the way it is, but I do know that it was way beyond 1 time too many.

This is disconcerting for me, for a few reasons. First and most certainly foremost, I do not believe it to be odd that I am 25 and single. In fact, I find it relatively normal. It's not as if I am closeted away and refusing relationships right and left. I am a very active dater. I just haven't found anyone I would like to love. Is that really all that bizarre?

Second, my father has cancer. Granted, I have only just received this news, but I am not particularly comfortable with starting a relationship when I know that I may not have time for said relationship in the upcoming months, because I am at the hospital fighting for my father's life. Not to mention the emotional instability that accompanies this current familial malady, I am just not the girl who leaps into a serious relationship when my relationship with my father is so serious.

Third, I find that I make a fairly fabulous single woman. I am on it. I know me. I know you. I know this world. I've got this. Granted I fall apart every once in a while, but I am human. Who can blame me?

Lastly, and possibly most importantly there is this guy. We will call him GI Joe. I hate that I am this girl, so keep this one under wraps for me folks (this is hilarious because I know that this is the internet and the internet is even worse at keeping secrets than I am!), but I am kind of secretly falling for this guy in Afghanistan. He comes home in a few months and we will see what it all is then, but I only have the capacity to invest real emotions in one man at a time, and at this particular time I am choosing him. Maybe because he is far away, but mostly I think because he is wonderful. But I could be wrong. I guess we'll all find out later.

I think the thing that bothers me most is when people do 1 of 2 things. Some like to tell me that they are okay with me being single and that it is my choice and even if I am still single at 45 they will still love me and be okay with my life choices. There are only three letters for that and I will give you 1 guess at what they are. I am sorry, but who do you think you are? Seriously, I am single, not diseased. Why is being single at 25 (25! I'm not even old yet?!) a social faux pas? And to insinuate on top of this that I am somehow more alone than I would be if I married... ugh. I am an individual no matter how I relate myself to those around me and in that sense my self will always be my responsibility. I don't get to give away my self care when/if I get married, to some man who will inevitably screw it up, no matter how much I love him.

The second option some men in particular like to take is to tell me that they hope that our relationship is keeping me from seeking something lasting and meaningful with a future husband. I will freely admit that I am a HUGE fan of casual dating. I love it. I love to go out and have fun and forget about all the things that really matter and spend time with some one that, in the long run, just doesn't matter. But then they inevitably have the condescension to tell me that they care about me and are worried because they might be keeping me from forming a real relationship. I want to smack them. As if I need a real relationship, but somehow their relational responsibilities are less than my own, or somehow completed in some different way. I don't even understand this one, but it is completely conceded.

All of this to say, that I am 25 and Single and I am still waiting to understand why that is a bad thing? Especially if I am not unhappy with my current state? Any explanations would be welcome.

Sein oder nicht Sein

To be or not to be... that is the question.

I hate waiting to know what is going to happen to my father. For the last six weeks we have been to doctors, xrays, appointments, DSHS offices, and filled out more forms than I can even remember, to find out if he has cancer. On Wednesday they found the tumor. On Monday they will biopsy it to see what kind of tumor it is, although the doctors are fairly confident that it is larynx cancer. They don't think it has spread, but it may have. They will probably take out all of his lymph nodes so that it won't spread. He may lose his vocal chords completely and get a box to talk through. My poor father will then be even more poor.

With my Uncle I was ready to fight. I put on my boxing gloves and said "Bring it on". Not so much this time. I know I will fight, but this time I feel battle-worn. My heart and body are already battered, but that does not stop my diligence and determination, for this all must be done. And so I will fight, even though I would rather curl up in my grief with a cuppa' and watch Anne of Green Gables.

Remarkably true and definitely false

Sometimes I have to tell stories to myself. I can't help it. I am that weird girl that totally talks to herself all the time. Today my co-workers even called me an Ave. Rat, and I understood why they would say such a thing. I also have a very large tendency to sing, All. The. Time. In college I earned myself the nick name "Constant Karaoke". Anyway, the point here, the operative portion of this paragraph, if you will, is that I tell myself stories, that are simultaneously remarkably true and definitely false.

If you have read the final Harry Potter book, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows", you may be able to picture what I am talking about. At the end of the book Albus Dumbledore (who is, by the way, dead), says to Harry, "Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?" Well I can tell you why it is not real. Because it is not happening in real life, but somehow, my stories are very real to me. Does this make me crazy? Quite possibly. Does this make me entirely too full of imagination. Why yes. Yes it does.

So here is my story today. I hope that you enjoy it as much as I have. It's thrilling, enchanting and entirely too much fun.

Once upon a time there lived a girl of magnificent beauty who sang Beatles songs with rapaciousness. Her voice sought the ears of all those lonely in the world and brought sunshine and warmth to their faces. There was, however and most unfortunately, a caged dog that lived within some of those who portrayed a happy life, that would be loosed at the very sight of our girl. Those caged dogs would growl and bark and snarl and snap in every effort to steal her sunny disposition and take it home for their very own. The girl was mostly bold in facing the dogs. She felt her fear most certainly, but her stubbornly set jaw would not allow her to cower. She would look that dog straight in the eye and giggle a most endearing giggle, just to get under his skin. She would skip on her way and leave the beast tethered to it cage. But on occasion one of these dogs would break free from it's leash and chase her down. He would chew on her shoulders and bite at her ears forcing them to bleed. For days after one of these sad encounters she could not hear her own voice... and the Beatles would slowly cease to make sense on her lips. One day, in a most shocking turn of events, she met one of these loosed dogs. He ran her down, and her feet, already mangled from meeting with too many loosed dogs as of late, would not carry her quickly enough. Her soul was weary from being beaten so many times in a row, and she felt anger quickly rising. She turned on the dog, ready to face him. She fired her most snarky remarks and let him have the full force of her fury. Then, quite without expectation, a darling and loyal puppy came loping by. He stopped and watched momentarily while the girl fought the wild animal. The puppy walked up, and the wild animal shied away entirely, leaving the scene in a mass of confusion. Where did such happy puppy's come from? The sadness in the puppy's eyes belied his young age, but the girl did not see the maturity in him. She saw only his cuddly exterior. Not until the puppy stood by her side and walked her home and into the light of the morning did she realize that not all dogs are wild beasts. Not all puppy's are hyper nuisances. Sometimes they are just right for a walk home. At the end of the walk, the puppy left her with a smile and nod. She was glad of his company, but still more glad of the sunshine he restored to her beaten frame.