Dose of Lyndsy

Want, want, want

2012-02-06T14:16:00.000-08:00

We all have lists of things that we want. Sometimes we write them down, sometimes they're in our heads. I'm not just talking about grocery lists here either. I'm talking about big life goals too. If we're not careful, these lists will make us crazy.

On any given day, there's a long line of things that run through my head about my life. An average day goes like this for me:

Morning-ish: Wake up. Realize I didn't get up with an alarm. Think, "Crap! I'm late for work!!!" Freak out briefly then remember I don't have a job. ACK, new wave of panic.

1. FIND A JOB BEFORE STUDENT LOAN AND CREDIT CARD PEOPLE ARE KNOCKING ON THE DOOR AND I AM FORCED TO WORK AS A "LADY OF THE NIGHT."

Afternoon: Search simplyhired.com and indeed.com and (ugh) craigslist for jobs. Fall into a state of despair over the lack of suitable jobs. Spy the bag of peanut butter M&Ms on the floor and begin consuming them at an alarming rate. Once hands are covered in candy-coating and stomach is rolling, realize how many calories I've just consumed and OH GOD...

2. REALIZE I HAVE TO STOP EATING CRAP AND START EXERCISING OR WILL BE A CHUNKY MONKEY FOREVER AND THE REST OF MY LIFE WILL BE SHIT

Later afternoon: Get on my bike and go for a ride to undo some of the damage from earlier M&M binge. Use feelings of self-loathing to power bike. Pass by good looking men also out exercising. Glance at them and remember

3. I AM SINGLE AND LIVING AT HOME WITH NO PROSPECTS. MUST HUNT ON INTERWEBS FOR SUITABLE MATE WITH WHOM I CAN PROCREATE

Evening: Showered and clean, sit around on interwebs looking for suitable mate. Chat with girlfriends online about lack of suitable prospects for person of my attractiveness level, or really any attractiveness level. Fall asleep sad and crying over lack of anything valuable in my life.

My car is 10 years old. My clothes aren't suitable for living in a place where the temperature rarely drops below 70 degrees. My feet are screaming for a pedicure. I'm sleeping in a twin bed on sheets I've had since I was 4. Yes, my life is full of win.

But the thing is, I'm in a house where my parents are supportive of my decision to quit a job that wasn't working for me anymore (mostly). My twin bed is surround by craft materials that I've used to make Valentine's cards for some really amazing people in my life; people who support me while my life takes a detour I didn't expect. Yes, I have student loans, but I also have a million college degrees that will eventually help me find a job that will keep me in M&Ms and on the internet. I may not be thin, but I'm relatively healthy - which is a blessing since it wasn't true this time last year.

The lists that run in my head are good because they keep me striving for more in my life. And I should be striving for more. But I let myself get bogged down by all the negative parts of my life. There's a fine balance there, and I don't do a great job walking the line. I need to take some time, every time I get hit by my list, to think of something positive so I can stay steady.

I also need to keep in mind that things happen when they're meant to. I'm not a particularly patient person. ("The hell you say, Lyndsy!" No really, I'm not. It's okay. I know it.) I want things to happen when I want them to happen and HOW I want them to happen. As though *I* really know best.

There are probably a million songs about not getting what you want, but the one that jumps out at me the most is Garth Brooks' "Unanswered Prayers." When I think about it, there are probably THOUSANDS of things I've wished and hoped for that never came true. And I am SO thankful they didn't (me rocking some Stepford Wife outfits, leading the PTA, all while dying on the inside). There were a few things that I MADE come true for me. The universe was pushing me one way, but I pushed my own way. And you know what, they ended rather poorly (me moving out of my boyfriend's house at 10 o'clock at night, fresh bruise on my chest, for example).

I can want and want and want as much as I like, but the reality is that it's a waste of energy. I need to push toward my goals; nothing comes to lazy people (except unwanted pounds). But I also need to remember that what I WANT and what's BEST for me may be two different things. If I open my mind to the possibility that there's something amazing out there for me, even if I haven't envisioned it yet, I may be pleasantly surprised.

Day 5: Yes, I made it

2012-02-05T08:59:00.000-08:00

When last we left off, I was trying to jump curbs in my car and fight off bedbugs at a Super 8. Perhaps because of the bedbugs, we were up REALLY early on Sunday to complete our trip. We were checked out of the hotel by 6:30am. Yeah, I don't usually know what that time of day even means.

After the night before and because of the early hour, Matt took the first driving shift. I got comfortable in the passenger seat and tried to stay awake. American Express finally seemed to catch on to the fact that I was traveling across the country and I had to get a call into them before I could fill up the tank.

Matt's morning was made when we saw a Dunkin Donuts next to the gas station. We'd been looking the entire trip, but they only became commonplace when we got to Florida. Matt pulled into the drive-thru and they took our order. We got to the window and a young guy leaned out for the money. He looked into the backseat and saw Orpheus' cage.

Guy: What is that???

Matt: It's a guinea pig [tone of "duh"]

Guy: That is a big rat.

Me: [Glaring at guy though he can't see me]

Our progress was steady until we hit Gainesville. Matt suggested I pull up the traffic layer on the GPS. I noticed a line of red ahead of us and then gray. I couldn't figure out why there was just NO traffic. We were directed off the highway and into the city to get to 441 and back on the freeway. Wildfires the night before caused a number of car accidents and I-75 was closed off in both directions. We passed areas where the fires were still smoking a little. VERY happy we didn't go through there the night before.

From there, it was smooth sailing. I dropped Matt off at home right around 3ish - the time he asked to be home. I got home around 4 and texted Matt to let him know I made it home and to thank him again for riding with me.

Me: Made it home. I can't thank you enough.

Matt: No problem. I would do it again. Just not tomorrow.

Me: LOL, or the day after :)

Matt: Or in your car.

Me: Agreed.

He's obviously crazy.

Day 4: I still hate Texas/My car IS an off-road vehicle

2012-02-01T12:18:00.000-08:00

Day 4 started with a delicious breakfast at Our Place in Fort Worth, Texas. It's Joanne's usual spot, and for good reason. Our server was a little off her rocker, but the food came out correctly so I won't slam her too much. I think the highlight of breakfast was watching Matt try to get the powdered sugar off his french toast, but stealth style. Joanne and I are chatting and then she's looking at him like, "WTF?" So I looked over, and there's powdered sugar flying off the table onto the floor and his phone. Joanne and I burst out laughing. Matt didn't see the problem.

Also amusing was Joanne finding a banana peel stuck to my bike rack. The day before, Matt had asked me to chuck his peel out my window since I was riding closest to the grass. I didn't get it very far and Matt actually thought it hadn't even left the car. With exaggerated confidence I declared that it had definitely cleared the car. Oops.

I don't intend to drive through Louisiana all that soon again. Matt got the morning shift for driving and we're cruising along at a nice 85mph since it's a 75mph speed limit there. Before, too long, there are some pretty blue lights flashing behind us. The state trooper asked Matt to STEP OUT OF THE CAR. Totally not how most states roll, so Matt's a little on edge. I'm sitting in the car for a while, wondering what the hell is going. I can hear pieces of the conversation - Matt's FL license, but the WA tags on the car, etc. Eventually the trooper comes over and asks if it's my car. Snappishly I tell him it is, and I had over my license and registration. He didn't even bother looking at my license.

The conversation between Matt and the Douchewhore lasts a few more minutes and I'm wondering if they're swapping recipes or something. Matt comes back, finally, and is frustrated as all hell. Apparently the first thing the Dick with a Radar Gun said was, "I'm going to give you a citation," and then proceeded to ask Matt where he was from, as though Matt would have ANY interest in chatting at that point. Ugh.

We stopped in New Orleans for dinner. It was HELLA crowded there. I guess a Saturday evening isn't a great time to make a pit stop there, but whatever. I popped into some tourist trap store and picked up a zydeco CD for my stepfather and some other stuff. We walked around looking at the restaurants in the immediate vicinity. Here's the thing, I'm not an adventurous eater. Spicy foods hit my tongue and I immediately want to expel them from my system. Some of the restaurants looked intriguing, but I wasn't about to chance it. Fortunately, Matt's not into spicy or unfamiliar foods either, so I didn't have to feel like a tool for suggesting the Hard Rock Cafe. It were delicious.

We hit the road again and drove as quickly as possible through Mississippi and Alabama. Those are great states to cruise through at night, not much to see. The night really isn't my friend though. Somewhere in Alabama we had to get gas, so I pull off the highway and decide to go to the big TA Travel Center station. I wait for oncoming traffic to pass, and then I go. *I* think I'm going into the gas station. Turns out, I was actually to the left of the driveway, on some grass. Didn't realize it until my car is flying over a curb. We landed with a thud and I looked up to see that I was actually in a gas station designed for SEMIS. I pulled into the closest parking space to inspect the damage to my car. While I'm sure he was pissed off at me, William Christopher doesn't seem to be any worse for the wear (except for the tumbleweed I pulled out of the grill...). Matt's just shaking his head and I KNOW he's dying to tell me AGAIN how he's a better driver than I am. At that point, I would probably have had to admit he was right...

After getting gas, I kept driving. No idea how Matt didn't force me into the passenger sit. We hit the Florida state line, and I started to crumble a little bit. At that point, it became real to me that I was actually moving back to FL. I'm crossing the border, in my car that's loaded down with my stuff. Poor Matt had no idea what to do while I was crying. We stopped at a seriously sketchy Super 8, sure we'd be carrying bedbugs back to South Florida with us.

Day 3: Thanks, Texas, but I'll pass

2012-01-31T07:27:00.000-08:00

The driving. Oh the driving. Our goal for Day 3 was to get to Ft. Worth to visit stay with a friend of mine. That meant getting through 2.5 states. Now, it's not like Arizona and New Mexico are HUGE or anything like that, but they aren't tiny either.

We set out pretty early (7am or so) so we'd make it before midnight. Matt got us checked out of the hotel and brought me a cup of delicious bacon for breakfast. That's right. A CUP of bacon. A-mazing! I obviously got the better end of the deal - he had a soft apple and an unripened banana. (Which seemed to love us. More on that later.)

When we hit the road, it was still a bit dark out. That didn't last long. As I was driving through some beautiful red rock areas, out of nowhere (NOWHERE, I say!), this giant orb rose into the sky. It produced a magnificent light and radiated heat. I was unsure what it was, having not seen it in so long. Matt informed me it was something called "the sun." Well, this "sun" was REALLY blinding. We pulled in for some gas (in the middle of empty space), and I bought a pair of cheap sunglasses. It was either looking like I was in a bad '90s movie or drive us off into the tumbleweeds. I added some peanut butter M&Ms to my breakfast here. It were wonderful.

Once my eyes were appropriately protected, the driving got much easier. The views we got in New Mexico and Arizona were gorgeous. It seems hard to believe that so much nothing could be so breathtaking, but it was. When the sun started to set in New Mexico, I wanted to pull over and take pictures, but that seemed inadvisable since there wasn't really a place to go besides the side of the road.

We finally crossed into Tex-ass (which is how I said it every time I saw a sign with "Texas" on it, pretty sure Matt wanted to beat me to death). The traffic backed up and the towns were totally po-dunk. We passed through Amarillo around 5pm and should have stopped there for dinner. Had we known what was coming, we would have. But, we thought it was too early and assumed we'd pass through another decently sized town. Ha.

We got to Childress, Texas and couldn't take it anymore, we had to eat. We'd eaten so much fried and fast food, that we wanted something different. So we chose Pizza Hut. On a Friday night. Whoops. We tried to order it for carry-out, but they told us it would take 45 minutes so I told them we'd eat-in instead. The girl took forever to understand my order - 2 personal cheese pizzas and an order of cheese sticks isn't really that challenging of an order. When she'd finally gotten it, I picked a table near the back that looked like it had been cleaned in the last week or so. Matt expressed concerns about the safety of the car and my bike decided we should sit near the door. HE picked a table that was coated in I don't know how many people's lunches and dinners. As I went to set my arms down on the table, he screeched out, "DON'T TOUCH THE TABLE!" Like that was somehow really going to be an option.

We looked around and were sort of appalled. The salad bar was gross looking and there were croutons or something all over the floor around it. No one ever came to wipe off our table either. We watched people come and go, and I thanked whatever powers I believed in at the time that that place wasn't my hometown.

They finally brought our food and asked if we wanted silverware. The waitress brought back plastic forks. That's it. A KNIFE might have been helpful. We didn't try to push our luck with her. I started eating, and almost immediately regretted it. The personal pan pizzas aren't even that big, but I didn't finish mine. We paid and got back in the car. Within 30 minutes of being back in the car, I felt sick. About the same time, Matt looked at me and said we were never eating there again. My agreement was rapidly granted.

We finally rolled into Ft. Worth around 10:45. I don't know that I've been happier to get somewhere. I loved catching up with Joanne since I hadn't seen her in over a year and a half. And, it was really nice to sleep in an actual bed.

Friday was a loooooooooooong day.

Day 2: A great place to hide a body

2012-01-27T21:12:00.001-08:00

We made a very important decision upon waking up: Screwthe Pacific Coast Highway. We’d had nothing but low-to-no visibility, so thewhole point of traveling on it was lost. We got in the car at the hotel andpulled up Google maps on our phones. We told it to take us to Vegas the fastestway. Unfortunately, because we’d already come so far, we had to continue on thePCH. We did finally make it over to I-5 and had relatively smooth sailing.

I also had some little nuggets of joy. First one – when Iopened the car door to load my bags, an odor wafted out at me. I knew there wasno way I could ride for a whole day with the smell, so I started toinvestigate. I sniffed all around the car, but couldn’t identify it. Then Irealized what it was. My nail polish was in the trunk, in a plastic case.Apparently the plastic isn’t strong enough to contain the odor. Rather thansuffer, I threw it away in the hotel room. Fifteen bottles of nail polish –gone, a casualty of the road.

When I went to shut the trunk after taking out the nailpolish and filling the space with something else (my car is COMPLETELY packed),I went to shut the trunk lid. Turns out, the trunk didn’t really need my help.It came flying down ON MY BOOB. I have a nice welt and bruise to prove it. JOY.

The next bit of fun came when we stopped at the gasstation to fuel up before heading out for the day. I was walking around to theback of my car to get to the gas tank. A homeless man was standing behind mycar, staring at my bike. I thought he might be considering stealing it, so Isaid hi. His response was, “My Specialized Flyer bike was nicer than yours.”And then he walked off. Fucker.

It nearly gave me a panic attack to hand over the keys,but I just couldn’t drive after a while. My neck was 85 kinds of tense and Ijust couldn’t do it anymore. I asked Matt not to kill us. He said he wouldn’tmake any promises.

At one point, we were having conversation and I wasmunching on some blueberry Jelly Belly. Not much else to do in the car when you’redriving at 90 miles an hour a high rate of speed. I responded to him and lookedaway. When I looked back over at him, he was laughing uncontrollably. I askedhim what was so fucking funny, but he wouldn’t/couldn’t answer. Apparently Ihave a slight problem with spraying it instead of saying it. I’d totally spitjelly bean on his face. I told him I was just trying to share the jelly beanswith him and that I was hurt he was laughing at my offering. The bastard.

As the night descended upon us, we got to thinking aboutVegas and whether we should continue to Vegas or just head toward Dallas.Knowing that we wouldn’t get in until at least midnight pushed us towardskipping it. I also learned that I might not be the world’s best pet mother.Matt was the one who asked if Orpheus would even be allowed in the hotel if westayed at a place on The Strip. I looked back at my baby, sitting in his cage,staring at me as though I’m forcing him endure the most horrific experiencewith this trip (not surprising, since Matt feels the same way). I made the harddecision and said, “Well, he can probably sleep in the car.” Matt at looked atme as though I’d grown a third head and I also got the sense that if he everhas children of his own, I will not be allowed to go within 500 feet of them.He said I lack maternal instinct. I stared at him blankly, but ultimately wedecided to bypass Vegas and re-routed ourselves straight to Dallas.

We got pushed onto some really odd state roads and endedup going through a place called Nipton. The road to Nipton is dark, scary, andprone to flooding. If you were looking for a place to bury a body where NO ONEwill ever find it (as long as you bury it deep in the ground), that is theplace. I pointed that out to Matt. I was a bit freaked when he turned to me,smiled like Heath Ledger’s Joker and said, “I was just thinking that.” Therewere very few cars and it was PITCH BLACK. It was the darkest 31 miles of ourlives. There were no gas stations along the way and we were just shy of pushingthe car to the gas station ourselves. No cell signal meant I wouldn’t be ableto call for roadside assistance either.

We took a brief drive along the historic Route 66,humming the son to ourselves. Yes, we know we’re dorks. We made it to the hotelin Kingman, Arizona for our earliest check-in yet – 10something

Quick re-cap of the trip so far:

Times Matt’s told me that I need to re-set my lady cycleto match his: 2

Times Matt’s asked “Are we there yet?”: 3

Times Matt’s denied that he volunteered to do this drivewith me: 15

Highest elevation point: 7,355

Times Matt has said he’s a better driver than me: 7,5007,501

Times Matt’s threatened to kill me and leave my bodysomewhere: 10gajillion

Times I’ve been thankful he’s riding with me: How many hourshave we been driving? At least once an hour.

Day 1/2 and Day 1: Visibility, what's that?

2012-01-26T07:53:00.000-08:00

We spent the first day and a half playing a little game I like to call, "Where'd the road go?"

When Matt and I set out on our fantastic adventure, it was dumping rain in Seattle. It had taken a little longer than I expected to get on the road (I need to learn to pack less for a trip, my car is stuffed), and we didn't leave Seattle until almost 7pm. We stopped at the Claim Jumper in Southcenter before truly beginning our adventure. The rain didn't let up in the time we ate. It dumped on us all the way to Vancouver, Washington, where we stopped for the night. Hours and hours of rain. I was excited at the idea that it would clear up the next day and we'd have gorgeous views. Ha.

We started the next day by driving 15 or so miles in the wrong direction. I'd been through the Portland area a few times, so I had a vague understanding of where we should be to head to US 101. We reset the map, and sure enough, going the wrong way.

I wish I could say the driving got better, but frankly, it did not. We had SERIOUS visibility issues the whole day. Fog would descend upon us, forcing me to reduce our speed to a crawl. We had ZERO views.

It wasn't all that bad...until night fell. We finally crossed the border into California sometime in the early evening (after stopping at some agriculture checkpoint. The woman could see the cage in the car and asked what kind of pet I was carrying. She let Orpheus through. He told me if she'd said no, he would have bitten her and run to a pre-decided rendezvous spot. I'm sure the plan would have worked).

We drove through a few boring towns and then got onto the Redwood Highway. I will say this about that drive: It is dangerous and treacherous. It was dark. There was HEAVY fog. There were steep grades. I'd have my foot off the pedal, cruising down the hill and then all of a sudden, FOG! A SHARP TURN. Brakes slamming, turning, WHEE. Fuck.

Here's the other thing: There is NOTHING on the PCH. Nothing. It took forever to find a place to eat - both at lunch and dinner. Lunch ended up at a place I'd been to before, which was pretty good and thankfully did not make sick to my stomach. Dinner was HOURS AND HOURS later, because again, there was nowhere to eat that didn't look like it was infested with roaches and assorted diseases. We finally stopped at a place called the Lost Coast - a brewery. It was also pretty good - my turkey sandwich and fries didn't seem to want to kill me.

We decided to press on, assuming we'd be able to stop in an hour or so. We are funny people like that. Assuming there are decent places to stay along a well-traveled highway. Fuck that. We ended up driving another THREE hours before stopping in a place called Willits, California. More hours of dense fog, rain, and sharp curves. I have never been on a more nerve-wracking drive in my life. Fuck me.

Finally too exhausted to go on (or so we thought), we almost stopped in a place called Laytonville around 11:15, but when we went to pull into one of the "inns" we noticed it was a bit sketch, so I did a U-turn in the empty highway to go back to the other one. I ended up making a FULL DONUT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY because there were some seriously skeevy people hanging out in front of the other "inn." We drove on.

We are both foolishly hoping that today is better. Travel guides, please smile upon us today.

One Hell of a Ride

2012-01-23T14:59:00.000-08:00

My time in Seattle is drawing to a close. Tomorrow I begin the road trip that will take me back to the land of the Evil Day Star (read: Florida).

Yeah, that's right. I'm DRIVING back to Florida. Matt, the brave soul, flies in tomorrow to take the ride with me. And my sweet little guinea pig, Orpheus Offenbach. Five days, two people, one guinea pig, one car. Should be...interesting. Especially since Matt informed just yesterday that he gets a bit crazy (and not in a good way), when cooped up in the car for a while. Gee, perhaps he could have mentioned this to me SOMETIME BEFORE NOW. Oh well.

We plan on stopping somewhere in Oregon tomorrow night, Vegas on Wednesday night (yeah right, we aren't getting there by then), Dallas on Thursday, New Orleans on Friday, and being home on Saturday. Hahahahahah. So not going to happen.

I'm hoping to get some great pictures along the way and I'll post them here. It's not every day you get to make this kind of drive. Also, it's not like you WANT to make this kind of drive all the time. I know William Christopher (my car) isn't really thrilled. He'll be 11 years old this May, and I think he'd rather I put him on a truck and shipped him. Oh well.

Wish me luck! (And pray that Matt and I don't kill each other. I mean, if someone was going to kill me, they should have done it before I did all the packing...)

Testicular Drag: A PSA

2012-01-22T00:30:00.000-08:00

I'm here today to talk to you about something that affects all of us - male or female. That something is testicular drag (TD).

Yes, everyone, I AM talking about a man's testicles. I'm going to assume that everyone knows what the testicles are and the purpose they serve. (For those who don't know, please go to Wikipedia.)

What isn't often spoken about is testicular drag and the way it affects the men in our lives. Perhaps the best thing I can do is to talk about some of the symptoms of testicular drag.

Inability to think clearly when a scantily clad woman walks by
Inability to think at all when sports are on television
Inability to understand and speak about simple emotional concepts
Failure to provide the correct answers to questions, even after being told repeatedly what the correct answer is
Inability to admit error (especially seeking out directions when clearly lost)

Perhaps the most egregious symptom is mansplaining. Not familiar with the concept? Allow me.

From urbandictionary.com:
delighting in condescending, inaccurate explanations delivered with rock solid confidence of rightness and that slimy certainty that of course he is right, because he is the man in this conversation.

Even though he knew she had an advanced degree in neuroscience, he felt the need to mainsplain, "There are molecules in the brain called neurotransmitters."

Another definition, perhaps clearer (from Karen Healey's blog):
Mansplaining is when a dude tells you, a woman, how to do something you already know how to do, or how you are wrong about something you are actually right about, or miscellaneous and inaccurate "facts" about something you know a hell of a lot more about than he does.

(She awards bonus points for the man explaining how a woman was wrong about something being sexist.)

We've seen the symptoms. I'd wager we all know someone who suffers from this terrible affliction. But how does it happen? Testicular drag is quite simple: The force of gravity on the testicles pulls energy away from other important activities in man's body - particularly brain function. This provides a simple, yet compelling, explanation for the nonsensical comments and activities of men.

Sadly, there is no cure for testicular drag. The only relief we'd be able to get from TD is for men to acknowledge there is a problem and seek out guidance from those not afflicted. They could learn ways to communicate more effectively and find value in other activities (i.e. shopping and gardening). Sadly, many will not even acknowledge TD exists and will use mansplanations to divert us away from the issue.

For those of you who encounter a man who's suffering an acute episode of TD, the key is to remain calm. Remember their affliction. Speak slowly, using small words. Offer visual clues to guide them (keeping your cleavage covered completely). Mostly importantly, we have to understand their limitations and adjust our expectations accordingly (read: lower them). By following these steps, we'll all be able to live with our men a little more easily.

This PSA was brought to you by your caring friends at Dose of Lyndsy. Please feel free to comment with your thoughts, concerns, or questions. A support group will be created shortly.

I'm beautiful, and so are you

2012-01-19T23:39:00.000-08:00

If you lost 60 pounds, you'd be beautiful. - Lyndsy's mom

You'll never get an attractive man to marry you unless you lose weight. - Lyndsy's mom

Someone like that wouldn't be interested in someone your size. - Lyndsy's mom

It's been years since my mom said those things to me, and they still sting when I read them. And I guess they should. They're terrible things to say. Bless her heart, I know she was trying to help me. She wants me to be happy and she truly doesn't believe that people who overweight can find love with attractive people or probably succeed in life at all.

I'd been thinking about this post for a while, but for some reason, I delayed writing it. Then, two days ago, I got a Facebook chat message from a friend, "I hate being single lol." I responded with a laugh and asked why. I got this response. "Lol idk. Like I'm too shy to say anything to guys. My mom makes me self conscious to ever say anything," and it broke my heart, but I could understand where she was coming from (see above quotes).

Our mothers come from the same twisted line of thinking that beauty is about what you look like on the outside, especially size (perhaps it's genetic - our mothers are sisters). I don't know what's happened in their lives that makes them think this way, but I feel so bad for them. The pressure on them to comply with this ridiculous notion of beauty has to have been immense.

My mom would occasionally try to argue it was about my health, but I know that wasn't really it. And if it were about my health, she really shouldn't have been saying it. We all know how we feel when someone says something like that to us. We end up feeling worse about ourselves, which leads to us engaging in whatever destructive behavior got us to the point we're in. When my mom said that to me, I didn't immediately head to the gym. I went to the closest McDonald's and supersized whatever I was eating. Hardly going to help the weight issue.

Most of you know I don't believe in coincidence. A few days ago I had a wonderful phone conversation with a man who recommended the movie What the #$*! Do We Know?! I started it, but it was late and I couldn't focus enough to watch it (it's mind-bending shit about quantum physics). I forgot about it. Then today, someone mentioned it on Facebook, so I queued it back up. Here's the lack of coincidence: Part of the movie is about how our negative thoughts and attitudes affect our chemistry. With continued negative thinking, we re-wire our brains and it impacts our reactions to things and makes it harder to have a better response. That's a horrible summary of it, but the point is this: The longer we bombard our bodies with negative attitudes, the harder it is to break out of it.

Huh. So, by drilling it in to us that we're fat and no one will love us, these moms are actually helping perpetuate the condition. Oops, probably not their intent.

What's worse is that it's based on bullshit. First of all, my mom premised her statements on the mistaken belief that she and I define attractiveness the same way. We definitely do not. (No offense to my dad or stepdad.) Second, she assumes that everyone subscribes to her warped view that physical attractiveness is the most defining factor of what attracts people to relationships. If a guy does that, he and I aren't likely to be compatible anyway.

What people are attracted to is sexiness. Sexiness is about confidence. A friend in college told me that, but I didn't believe him at the time. But look at Queen Latifah. I dare someone to tell her she isn't attractive. Look at Seal. His face is crazy scarred and he's married to Heidi Klum and they have tons of babies (read: even more sex). I could go on all day with examples, but jeebus I've already gone on for a while.

I spent years being screwed up by my mom's bullshit about my weight and other things (school loans, use of the word "douche"). After a while though, I could see it was all crap. I was DATING. As a fat girl. Guys liked me. And I wondered why and it killed things for me. But then I had to think about they could possibly like and I started to see that I'm funny as hell. I've got a heart of gold. I'm smart.

All of us have gifts. We need to spend more time cultivating them and less time worrying about what's "wrong" with us. Chances are good, nothing's actually wrong with any of us.

Suck it, Disney

2012-01-17T09:53:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to see Beauty & the Beast 3D. I think movies belong in theaters, and I'd only ever seen it on video when I was babysitting. How I got a 4-year old boy to watch it is beyond me. Whatever, not the point.

I love Disney stories. This one is no exception. HOWEVER, while I was watching the movie, I realized that Belle falls in love with the Beast in like 3 days, tops. I couldn't believe it, but as I sit here thinking about it, that's really what happens. She goes from being miserable at giving up her life to saved her dad to being in love with a BEAST in under a week. Right.

A lot of other fairytale Disney movies are the same way. Aurora from Sleeping Beauty is awakened by a kiss from a guy who's only ever really heard her singing (he's clearly hoping her coma-induced haze will prevent her from seeing just how tiny his penis really is). Jasmine and Aladdin share an amazing night on a magic carpet (read: vibrating bed at a motel) and she's all gaga for him. After that, he fakes who he is to get her to pay attention to him. Not at all a recipe for disaster. I guess he gets points for saving her from that pedophile Jafar and the guards after she's thieving whore. At least in The Little Mermaid Ariel and her guy spent some time together before getting married. Of course, there's something creepy about crabs singing to you to kiss the girl (you'd think crabs would be an indication to stay AWAY from someone). Cinderella only meets Prince Charming at the ball and all of a sudden he's all over town trying to find the foot for the slipper. (Methinks he just wanted the other slipper for himself. Glass was certainly his color.)

So, let me get this straight: If I go for a ride, get lost as all get-out arriving at some ugly dude's house (hey, he's got personality), as long as I bring along ~~an STD or two~~ a singing animal posse, ~~get him to make the O face~~ take him on a "magical ride," and ~~pretend to be something I'm not~~ act sweetly, I'll wind up happily ever after?

Or, how about this. That isn't at all how it works. I've given this a lot of thought over the last few ~~decades~~ years. From my experience and the experiences of my friends, when people fall all over each other at first, syrupy sweet and doe-eyed, it tends to lead to a few things - divorce and single parenthood, not so much happily ever after.

I always believed that falling in love was supposed to come first. That's what you see in all those Disney movies. You fall in love and then work out the rest (though we never get to see what Cinderella looks like at 40, her three screaming kids, and Prince Charming sitting around watching sports on TV. Just saying).

What I've come to see is that it doesn't have to be that way. I always felt like there was something off with me because that felt wrong. (Yes, I know, there IS something else off about me. Shut it.) I've always been most attracted to my guy friends. You see each other at your best (Why yes, I can take a shot from my boobs) and your worst (I didn't really mean to get so hammered on half a gallon of Captain Morgan that I threw up in your toilet for 12 hours). And, after all of that, you STILL want to be with that person. That's a shitload of trust right there. And trust is sexy.

Look at When Harry Met Sally. They didn't even LIKE each other when they first met. They were friends for years before they romance really bloomed. There was the great (who doesn't love a woman faking an orgasm at a family diner?) and the bad (Meg Ryan snotty and sobbing is just gross). Sure, they weren't all crazy and syrupy about it, but I think they were still in love.

What this has all really taught me is that online dating and I probably can't be friends. It's geared toward the Disney-style romance. You chat with someone for a little before you meet them. (If it's eHarmony, they've matched up on 29 dimensions of whatever, so you can trust that it's a good fit. Um, yeah, that led me to an abusive POS. Thanks, eHarmony. Fuck your compatibility matching. But I digress.) Then, you go on a date! And it's supposed to be wonderful!

But there's all this pressure. You're on a DATING site. The point is to meet people to DATE. As you get older, there's more and more pressure to find someone and SETTLE DOWN, and sort of quickly. It's almost like it turns into some kind of business negotiation - what you're willing to do, what you're not, does it work for the two of you? Each of you is playing a role, putting your best foot forward in hopes of keeping the other attracted to you. I don't play so well at this game. I don't dress up for dates (showed up to one in an Oscar the Grouch t-shirt), I say whatever's on my mind, and reveal perhaps too much information about myself.

I don't want the artificiality. I want to know the good, the bad, and the ugly. How else can I decide if I want to spend the rest of my life with you? If you're going to turn like bad cheese after we get married, I'm going to hate you and I will sue for false representations and intentional infliction of emotional distress on top of divorcing you and taking half your shit.

I'm kidding. Mostly.

The problem is that it's hard to meet people these days without using a dating site. But I hate the pressure. It all feels icky. I'd rather be single than endure it. Is all hope lost?

Who knows?

Maybe I'll one day find myself surrounded by singing squirrels, rabbits and butterflies and run smack into my own ugly-on-the-outside-but-beautiful-on-the-inside Prince Charming and we'll ride off into the sunset in pumpkin carriage pulled by horses that don't poop.

My Memories Suite - A giveaway!

2012-01-16T12:00:00.000-08:00

I love to take pictures. A lot. I even get in a few now and then. When Joanne and I traveled to Ireland in 2009, I took over 1000 pictures. Yes. I took over A THOUSAND PICTURES. I just couldn't stop. (The inside of every church looks the same after a while. Kept taking pictures anyway.) When my mom and aunt came to visit in July 2010, I kept snapping photos. Of flowers. Of our food. Of us. Of...random stuff.

The problem is, I never do anything with them after I upload them. They just sit on my computer. Every now and then when someone comes over, I make them look at them with me. But that's rare. I've never really been the type to print pictures. Not sure what it is.

So, when I was given an opportunity to review some digital scrapbooking software, I got pretty excited. FINALLY a chance to do something with my pictures!

And I'll say, My Memories Suite is totally awesome. Below you'll find some of what I've been able to do. Those of you who are more creative than I am will no doubt be able to make more amazing scrapbooks than I have.

The really nice thing about the software is that it's set up to guide you through all steps of creation. You can use one of their templates or you can create something from scratch, which is what I chose to do.

You start with the background, add your photos, text, word art, embellishments, shapes, calendars, imprints, etc. It gives you all sorts of options for color, add-ons, and placement on your page.

You can create a scrapbook like I've been working on. Or cards. Or videos. WITH SOUND! You can NARRATE your album! I've always believed I should have a personal soundtrack and with the My Memories software, you can make it happen in your pictures!!

Now here's the best part - I'm having a GIVEAWAY! All you have to do is go to the My Memories website and leave me a comment on my blog or on Facebook and tell me which scrapbooking kit is your favorite. I'll throw everyone's names in some random generator I find on the interwebs and pick one lucky winner on January 23rd!

Want to know what else is pretty awesome? Even if you don't win but want the software, I've got a code that'll get you $10 off the software AND $10 in the store so you can buy kits! Not a bad deal. To take advantage, use code STMMMS7010 when you check out! (Copy and pasting is probably the best way to take the code.)

For great ideas on what you can do with the software, check out their blog, Facebook page, and Twitter!

Moving. Sucks.

2012-01-09T23:34:00.000-08:00

I recognize that I'm stating the obvious here, but holy shit, moving sucks. A lot. My apartment looks like a tornado blew threw it on the best of days. But somehow it's worse now. I have a lot of my crap in boxes and still it looks like some kind of boot camp exercise.

No one has ever accused me of being graceful and an apartment that's basically booby trapped is no place for someone like me. I've already slammed my knee into something hard enough to bruise it. I've tripped over more shit than I count. When I was trying to get something off the wall, I just about broke a toe.

I have tons of boxes already packed. I'm trying to be careful about how much I pack into each one since I have to be able to pick them up and lug them down three flights of stairs to my car. (BTW - the next time I tell you I'm moving into an apartment building that doesn't have an elevator, stab me.) What's awesome (and by that, I mean NOT awesome at all) is that my back has started to bother me. I unearthed my back braces and do believe I'll be sporting one, if not both, of them until I'm done with the packing and moving.

My car is a whole other thing. It's filled. With crap. I don't even know what's in there anymore. There's a giant pink blanket covering the back seat with stuff peeking out from underneath. It looks like I live in there. And I know I have to get it all emptied out so I can get boxes shipped out and then pack it up for the trip, but the thought of doing it makes me want to cry.

I want to skip all of the crappy parts about moving and just be on the road. Where's the fucking moving fairy when you need her?

Hard Learner

2012-01-08T23:45:00.000-08:00

I'm what you'd call a hard learner. I get my mind set on something and it can take a bit to bring me to my senses. I keep pushing for something, even in the presence of evidence that suggests I ought to be seeking out another course.

For a while now, I've been saying that I'm waiting for my life to start. I kept doing whatever I thought I could to get it jump started, but to no avail. In conversation today, someone pointed out that life never really starts. It's just going on and on. I recognize that to be true, but I see a difference between having a LIFE and living.

I've done some amazing things in Seattle. But a few months ago, I recognized that it was time to move on. I'm missing depth in my life. I still feel like I'm biding my time until something else happens. Unfortunately, it's been like that for a while. The frustration that comes from that isn't tenable in the long run.

Soon after I decided it was time to go, I was approached by a recruiter and began interviewing for a job at a tech start-up here in Bellevue. The position initially seemed promising. My initial interview was arranged rather quickly. At that interview I was told that the next phase would be starting within 1-2 weeks. Things turned to shit quickly after that.

I went almost a month without hearing anything useful. Then I did another interview with a newly hired consultant. It took over a month after that to get the next set of interviews set-up. It was a series of interviews with 4 people at the company and one with the consultant, starting at 1pm and ending around 5pm. At 10am on the morning of the interviews, I got an updated job description. They changed it to a manager position and added a bunch of job duties they knew I wasn't familiar with. The interviews seemed to go well, but two more weeks went by before I had a final interview with the CEO. He promised a decision the following week and asked if they could start the background check process. The following day, he called to tell me I was their top candidate. He also asked to complete a drug screening and background paperwork THAT DAY so that they'd have all the information they needed to make a decision. Yes, after them dicking around for three months, I had to rush around.

The following week, at 7pm on the day the decision was due, instead of being given an answer, I was told they needed more time - through the next week. I told them I wasn't sure I could continue to be a candidate for them. I emailed the next day and told them I would still ike to be considered. The CEO wrote back and told me that they would absolutely continue to consider me "as a finalist" and told me to "Have a good new year's, meanwhile..." At 7pm on the very last day they told me they would take, I received an e-mail telling me they'd decided to hire another candidate. Seriously? Fuckwads.

Along the way, I'd had misgivings. Some were about the financial solvency of the company. Others were about the man who'd be my boss. I was told to expect trouble, that his way of doing things was causing some tension in the company. Additionally, he seemed overly concerned with how bored I would be. This told me a couple things. There was some miscommunication about the work they'd be asking me to do. My would-be boss thought one thing and others in the company thought another. Also, it told me they probably had NO idea all that needed to be done, but wasn't currently being done.

And still I persisted in the interview process. At one point, I told myself, "Well, at least it will be a way to stay in Seattle." Um, hello? Taking a job to stay somewhere is oftentimes just plain stupid. Misery in your job just causes misery in the rest of your life. No amount of money can make up for that. Besides, I'd already realized that my time in Seattle needed to come to a close.

The biggest indicator that something wasn't right was that I started rationalizing what was going on with the interview process. I was making excuses for why things were taking so long and why it was so hard to make a decision. What I could never rationalize though was the way they handled it. It was completely unprofessional. It defied logic. I won't say that it's an indicator of how they handle all aspects of their business. What they're familiar with, they seem to do very well. However, as a tech start-up, they're bound to encounter a lot of the unfamiliar as time presses on. Trying to navigate that with those people would have been a nightmare. It didn't take me long to see that not being hired was a blessing.

But really, it never should have gotten that far. When the process went sideways early on, I should have walked away. I'm still working through why I didn't. I think some of it is that endings are hard, even if they are for the best. I have people I love here, and not living close enough to just drop by and see them makes me sad.

I like Seattle. The weather is mostly moderate, I live in a central location, it has amazing views, and offers tons in the way of outdoor activities and travel. These things aren't enough to endure more frustration and feeling lost and alone. I can visit friends. I don't take advantage of the views and outdoor activities now, and that's unlikely to change in the future.

I've become independent here, and I worry that moving back home will cause me to lose that independence. I'm not the same person I was when I left Florida, and I don't know how my family and friends there will deal with the person I am now. I love who I am and I don't see changing just because it ruffles some feathers. I just don't want to deal with a lot of conflict around it.

Whatever concerns I had about moving back to Florida, I didn't leave myself a lot of options. When the interview process started, I told myself (and anyone who would listen) it was that job or I was heading back. I painted myself into a corner. After I was notified that I didn't get the job, I kicked myself for trapping myself. Now I'm quite glad I did. I needed this push to start on the next part of my journey. I need to move on. More that that, I'm excited about the adventure that awaits.

It's hard to see this chapter of my life come to an end, but there are more chapters to come. All that I've learned over the last 6 years will only serve to benefit me as I move forward. I have confidence I've never before known and it's enabled me to remain relatively calm through the end of my last job and the interview ridiculousness. I'm ready for whatever comes next, even though I have no idea what it is.

2012:Year of Lyndsy

2011-12-14T20:26:00.002-08:00

Some (okay, all) of you are probably laughing at the title of this post. I know, I know. I ALWAYS think it's the Year of Lyndsy. But if you'll remember my last post, 2011 clearly has NOT been my year.

As bad as 2011 was, I will not let it ruin 2012 for me. What happened in 2011 is going to stay in 2011. More so now than any year I can remember, I want to take this new year opportunity to shed that which doesn't move me forward anymore. 2012 is going to be about progress, no matter how small that progress is.

I'm going to set some goals for this year. Some are specific, some are not. I don't know if the specificity or lack thereof will make them more attainable. I've made goal lists before, but I've never gone back to see which I accomplished and which I didn't. I'm going to print this list off and attach it to the back of my apartment door, so I have to look at it every day. As I get things done, I'll cross them off.

I am going to give myself credit for progress I make on things, particularly if they're longer term goals. Progress IS an accomplishment, in and of itself. A lot of us have a tendency to focus just on achieving the ultimate goal. If we approached life like that, we'd only be satisfied at our death. Who wants to live life just to die?

Without further ado, here's the list for the Year of Lyndsy.

1. Edit my 2011 NaNoWriMo novel.
2. Finish 2 novels (one I've already started, one I'll do during NaNoWriMo 2012)
3. Keep in touch with people better (by email, phone, or handmade card)
4. Stop eating shit food and get back on track with my fitness progress
5. Stop swearing
6. Laugh at #5
7. Stop making fake goals
8. Blog with more regularity (I found someone else's blog with questions, so that should help)
9. Take more photos (I bought myself a new camera, should probably use it...)
10. Get out more with old friends and continue making new friends
11. Get impregnated by a member of a roving dance troupe
12. Learn some discipline in the maintenance of my space (old crap has to go)
13. Remind myself to quit making fake goals
14. Pay off a credit card
15. Begin a serious Zen practice
16. Approach every day with a positive attitude
17. Bake more (I'll need volunteers to eat the stuff)
18. Attend a live concert
19. Return my library books on time (I'm sick of paying late fees)
20. Make efforts every day to return the blessings in my life to my friends and family

21. Work on looking my best - the outer reflects the inner

Some of these things shouldn't be on a goal list - I should already be doing them. I know you all think I'm perfect, but I have to grudgingly admit that I'm not. I'm hoping that by writing them down I'll remember my commitment and actually do them.

If any of these interest you and you'd like to have some part of it, let me know. I'm happy to ship baked goods (making no guarantees on their quality when they reach you), I'd love someone to go Zen with me, and I'd like to see those of you I haven't seen in a while. I've spent a lot of time holed up in my apartment by myself and it's time to break out of that. I don't want to feel rushed to get things done, but I want my life to feel full. When this time rolls around next year, I want to look back on 2012 and be proud of what I've done.

I may be calling 2012 the Year of Lyndsy, but it's not my year at the expense of anyone else. If you've got goals for 2012 and I can help you achieve them, let me know. We can all grow together.

To 2012!

The New Year

2011-12-14T17:54:00.000-08:00

How it got to be mid-December I have no idea. But when this time of year rolls around, I can't help but think about New Year's Eve. Normally I don't celebrate New Year's Eve. I hole up and try not to think about it. I usually see the new year as nothing more than an extension of the past year with nothing to be excited about.

Last night I was at a Meetup event and the group is planning a New Year's Eve celebration. I mentioned my general hatred for New Year's and one of the members offered a different perspective. He blathered on for a minute, but the point of his rambling was to note that if nothing else, you can acknowledge the passage of time.

I ~~rarely~~ occasionally respect what he has to say, so I gave it some thought. I've decided that I will celebrate this year, for two reasons.

First, in a lot of ways, 2011 really sucked. And I don't mean a little. It sucked like a whore on Valentine's Day. I hit the trifecta of awful - abusive relationship, back surgery, and stress at work.

But, I made it through all of that. I learned a lot about myself and relationships, I'm much healthier than I was last year, and I've taken a leap and left my job without actually having one lined up. It was a year of scary lows, but also great highs.

Second, next year is going to be very different than this year. As I mentioned above, I gave notice at my current job. I've been interviewing with a company for a while, with a final interview next week. The job would challenge me and help me grow professionally. In a lot of ways, I think it's like my dream job.

If I don't get an offer, I'll be packing up and heading back to Florida. While I don't love the idea of living in Florida (and the oppressive heat and humidity, not to mention the creepy crawlies), being closer to my family will be mostly nice (I hope). Three of my cousins are getting married in May and June and I'd like to make those weddings without spending 48 hours and $1500 on plane trips to do it. No matter which way things go, I see it as a win/win for me. Win/win situations are rare, but they're nice.

So, in celebration of surviving some awful shit and moving on to new things, on December 31st, I'll be partying like it's 1999. (And yes, I realize this is 2011, but we all know I'm not cool enough to celebrate anything newer than 1999.)

May the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows.

Sadie Hawkins in Real Life

2011-11-14T21:50:00.001-08:00

I never actually attended a Sadie Hawkins dance, but it's my understanding that the whole point is for girls to ask guys, instead of the other way around. The question I have is whether you can use in this real life, at times where it's not specified that that's the way it's supposed to be.

I want to start by saying that I really do feel bad for guys. There is a lot of pressure on them when it comes to relationships. Society has told us that it is the man's job to pursue and eventually ask the woman out. We've also been trained to believe that if a man doesn't ask us out, he's not interested. One line I hear over and over is, "Well, if he really liked me, he'd ask me out." I always respond that the same could be said in reverse, but the counter is, "It's his job to do the asking." Huh? When did it become someone's job?

What women seem to forget, or maybe they just don't know, is that men may have been forced into a role where they have to do the asking, but that certainly does not mean they enjoy it. Most of my male friends tell me how much they hate doing it. They get nervous, afraid they're going to say the wrong thing and ruin their chances. Sometimes, if they really like a woman, they won't even bother trying because it's too frightening.

Women get to hide behind the veil society wears so they rarely have to put themselves out there first. We think we are by flirting like crazy and dropping hints. But, let's face it, men are dense. You could be wearing a t-shirt that says, "I like you, Evan," and Evan would think you meant someone else. So really, we're not risking anything.

Dating is a complicated, nasty mess. If you're doing it right, you're extremely vulnerable. No one likes to put themselves out there and get rejected. But we all know it has to happen at some point in your life. A good friend of mine once told me that someone's lack of interest in me doesn't actually say anything about me. At first I argued against that. "Of COURSE it does! There is something wrong with me or he would like me!"

The more I thought it though, the more I realized he was right. There have been tons of men I wasn't interested in dating, but there wasn't anything wrong with them. They just weren't for me. Once I got used to that idea, the less being rejected bothered me. I'm not for everyone. (In fact, I'm not for most people. I really ought to come with a warning label.) I'm not saying I look forward to opportunities to be rejected, but if I expect to be treated like an equal in a relationship, I have to be willing to assume some of the risks.

I'm tired of women blathering about how they want equal rights and treatment, but when it comes time to make the first move, they cower behind the idea that the man has to take the chance. Please. Put on your big girl panties and act like a grown-up.

That just leaves one question: Men, do you want us to make the first move?

The things that really matter to me

2011-11-08T22:18:00.000-08:00

I had a complete shit day today. I won't get into it here, but we'll just say it sucked. A lot.

Part of what made the suckage seem so bad was that I had a great afternoon/evening yesterday. I rushed home from work to get the mail (which was late) because results had been mailed out for the comprehensive exam I had to take to test out of my master's program. Fortunately I passed and won't need to take any of the three sections again. This was particularly good news since I would also have had to enroll in a class to re-enroll in the program since I hadn't taken a class in four quarters.

After I got that news, I went out with a new meetup.com group. I can never tell how those are going to go. I always wonder why I do it. From the outside it looks like you're gathering together a group of people who aren't cool enough to find friends in real life and expecting fun to come of it. Seems like a total fail.

However, for the most part, it really does turn out pretty well. Last night was an exceptionally good time. A group of 20 and 30somethings, most new to the area. One couple was from my hometown in FL, which almost no one has ever even heard of!

I also met some really awesome ladies. I don't usually/often get along super well with women, but we had a blast and I think we scared the shit out of a guy who was sitting near us. I even exchanged contact information with them and intend to follow up (rather than pulling a Seattle Freeze on them. Those of you from the South or Midwest don't understand this concept: It's saying you want to hang out with someone, but then never actually doing it. Over and over again.)

Then I roll into today, and all the high of yesterday just disappears. I thought seriously about running away to a foreign country, never to be heard from again.

But then I thought about everyone who's reading my novels and wants more.

And then I thought about everyone who reads this blog and has told me that it's helped them in some way.

And I realized that I want to finish the novel and write more. And I want to keep blogging. And that I can't just hide from the utter shit that is life sometimes.

This year has sucked. Back surgery, abusive boyfriend, not knowing where I'll be. But when you run from something, it always has a way of sneaking up on you, like a raunchy sex tape. (And we see where that's gotten Ms. Kardashian.)

So I'm still here. Fighting the good fight. Hoping I've got enough in me to make it to the next round.

People who don't love music are soulless

2011-11-02T22:16:00.000-07:00

I love music. I'll listen to just about anything. I skip opera, but I have a little of everything else. I can go from country to rap to classical in one car ride. I mean, how do you turn off a song called "Trashy Women"? I rap hardcore with Eminem and I twang with Randy Travis. I go to another place when I hear the 1812 Overture.

I associate songs/artists with the people and time periods of my life. The soundtrack from An American Tale is one of the first things I really remember listening to. And it was a record. My very own. My dad didn't really want me, his klutzy 5-year old, touching his record player and definitely not HIS records. Not that it stopped me. He had Michael Jackson's Bad album and every time I could when he wasn't home, I put it on. Years later I told him about that and he told me he knew I was doing it. Lies.

I used to dance around our basement to Flashdance songs (not that I'd seen the movie) and had serious arguments about the lyrics to Hip to be Square (I still don't like admitting I was wrong about them). I learned to love Reba McEntire and Billy Joel from my best friends in high school. To this day, Billy Joel is still one of the best concerts I've seen.

Music changes my mood, sometimes for better and sometimes worse. I should be ashamed to admit this, but I tear up a little when I hear Bella's Lullaby from the Twilight soundtrack (I bought both the score and soundtrack to the first movie). Music is just part of my being.

I rambled on about that for a reason: I don't get people who don't love music. A friend of mine recently wanted to hook me up with a friend of hers so she put us in touch by email. He and I emailed for a while, but things stalled out for me when he told me that he had maybe 10 songs on his iPhone. Now, I know those don't hold all that much music, but only TEN songs?!?!? You canNOT be serious.

I got to thinking about it and I started to wonder if there's something wrong with me. I mean, from my end, I sort of wonder if people who don't love music lack souls. Music IS soul. Sometimes it's the only way to express yourself. How can someone NOT LOVE MUSIC??

Is it weird that someone's lack of love of music is a dealbreaker for me? I mean, it's not like people who don't love music are all junkies gunning for my valuables. Or pedophiles. Or some other awful thing. I'm sure they're perfectly nice people. But I just don't understand it.

And it begins!

2011-11-01T20:11:00.000-07:00

National Novel Writing Month is underway! I'm not feeling as well as I'd like today, so I'm not sure I'm going to hit my word count for the day. I have 1171 words right now and I might be spent for the night. I can easily make up the 500 words on another day.

What's good is that I'm amused by my story so far. I'm rarely amused as I write and even going back with minor revisions I'm chuckling. I've sent it to the person on whom the character is based and she sent me a text message to tell me that she was literally LOLing.

Victory is mine!

The Big 3-0

2011-10-30T01:28:00.000-07:00

Mariska Hargitay (Detective Benson on Law & Order: SVU) is on the cover of More magazine this month with the quote "My life began at 30 and took off at 40." I'm starting to think my life might be trending the same way.

I didn't think much of turning 30. No panic attacks. No excitement. To me, age is arbitrary. It tells you only that someone's been around for some length of time. I used to think age was a big deal. I had PLANS and they all related to my age. By 21 meet the man of my dreams and get engaged. By 25 have at least one kid and a rocking career. By 30, take over the world.

None of that has happened. I'm 30 and I'm single - never been married. I don't have any kids. If I have one in the next 9 months, run into hiding because we're about to have another Immaculate Conception and you know that means the end of the world if *I* am the bearer of that child. I don't have a career, I have a job.

For a while, the fact that I had apparently failed at my life bothered me. No, I didn't get engaged in college - I barely dated anyone. I haven't been married - but I've been engaged twice. Of course, it was to the same guy and he turned out to be an abusive ass. I don't have any kids, but sweet God, I have no idea how I'd been feeding them if I did. My plans for world domination might be proceeding, but if I told you that, I'd have to kill you.

However, when I focus on what I have done, I'm pleased with my life. I moved all the way across the country, to a city where I knew only one person. I graduated from law school when I was 25 and was recruited to work on a death penalty case. When we got the conviction and death sentence, I was 28. How many 28 year-old lawyers can say that they played a significant role in a capital murder case?

I started a master's program while working on that case and went to school full-time while we were in trial, working 80 hours per week. I completed the coursework for my MA and a certificate in crime analysis just after turning 29. I took the comprehensive exam to complete the MA this October and expect to graduate in December, just 3 months after turning 30.

I took my first trip out of the country and I can't wait to go again. I have no idea why I hadn't wanted to trek out before 2009, but I'm so glad I finally went. (In case you're reading this, thanks Mom! She funded the trip.)

By pretty much any standard, My 20s were a productive time. I believe I was meant to do all of it. But in a lot of ways, it didn't feel like my LIFE. It's been like playing a sport or an instrument because someone else told you to, rather than you doing it because you're driven to do it. I took ballet lessons for 8 or 9 years because my mom wanted me to. I did it, but you could tell my heart wasn't in it.

And now, at 30, I'm making my life happen rather than waiting to see what comes to me. I'm deciding what I want and striving for it. I've met a lot of people and experienced a lot of shit over the last 10 years and it's all influenced who I am today. I love myself more now than I ever have before and that's obviously a big deal.

The thing is, my life couldn't start until I loved myself enough to live it.

On writing

2011-10-29T12:24:00.000-07:00

National Novel Writing Month is set to start in a couple days and I am STOKED. Finally have the general plot of the book planned out. I need to spend some time this weekend working on developing the main character, but that shouldn't be too hard.

The character is based on a friend of mine from my days at UF and I gave her the basic rundown of the story. Her responses (via text): "omg I am so pathetic," "I'm an asshole. It's true in real life too," and ":)." It's a pretty classic storyline, but it's a classic for a reason. My focus isn't really the story, but the characters. That's what people really want - good characters.

I have some bad news though - I won't be able to blog the story. Since I hope to publish it one day, I can't publish it before then. Makes sense - why would someone publish a book in hard copy that they want people to buy when people can find the book for free? However, I don't object to sharing the story. If you'd like to read it as I go, email your email address to doseoflyndsy@gmail.com (or leave me a note on Facebook) and I'll send it to you as often as you'd like it (daily, weekly, when it's done, whatever). I expect to be writing daily, though some days may be heavier than others. On average, to complete 50,000 words in 30 days, I have to write 1,667 words/day. I expect that my story will actually end up somewhere in the neighborhood of 75,000 words, so I'll be aiming more for 2,500 words/day.

Perhaps I should give you a little background... This book is the first in a three-book series. The three books revolve around a small group of friends - three women who met in a class their senior year of college and a male friend of one of the girls. Each book will involve all three women, but focus on only one of them. Tracie is up first (mostly because my real life friend told me that she still reads my first NaNoWriMo attempt (she was a character in that one too) so I told her I'd make her the star of this one). I mentioned to another friend that if she wasn't careful, I might turn her life into a story and she said she'd be okay with that, so Alexia is book two. Since my ego is mighty, I am the basis for the character in the last book. Raeqwanda promises to be an interesting character!

I need to backtrack for a minute here and explain what's really driving me to write. I've always wanted to make some kind of difference in the world. I used to think that it meant I had to do something HUGE. But I couldn't figure out how. I also love movies and books. They give you a chance to escape to another place for a few hours. Usually, you walk away from the story feeling better, hopeful, or maybe just thoughtful. For years I've wanted to add to the already huge list of escapes.

Every now and then, as you know, I'll stop blogging for a while. Inevitably when I do, I'll get a Facebook message from someone who says, "Miss your blog!" and I'm spurred into writing again. I've even had people tell me that I write what they're feeling and they're glad I'm brave enough to say it, since they aren't about to put it out there for the whole of the internet to read.

I'm always floored when I get these messages. 1. I am ALWAYS shocked when someone tells me they like the blog - since I don't really think people read it that much. A lot more people read than I thought. 2. I like that my utter lack of shame helps other people feel less alone. The only consistent "career" goal I've ever had in my life is to help people. And I find out I'm doing it! And I didn't know it!! 3. My ego loves being fed.

I read a lot of chick lit and I love most of it. But some of it just irritates the hell out of me. Confessions of a Shopaholic (and following novels) by Sophie Kinsella is just that type. They're really unrealistic. A shopaholic who gets responsible through deceit and out of necessity, and then meets an incredibly wealthy man who enables her to shop like a nutter. Um, really? I know there's a place for it, but I like to read something that's going to lift me up and seem possible in my life. And that's what I hope to write.

I want characters you could know in real life, who might even be us. Who you think, "That is SO *insert name here.*" Who help you sort things out in your own life by what they go through. Essentially, I want to take my blog and make characters out of it.

Will I find success? Only time will tell, but I expect it'll be an amazing adventure!

Giving it a go

2011-10-23T19:08:00.000-07:00

A while ago, I posted about talent and how I wished I were a good writer.

Since then I've decided that I AM a good writer. And that it's what I want to be when I grow up. I've decided to take my writing seriously and see if I can get published. My first attempt is going to get jump started by NaNoWriMo this November. Thirty days, fifty thousand words. Totally doable. I completed it in 2005, but haven't really tried since then. Shitty Novel was a hot mess, but it was fun.

As is my way, this year's attempt will be posted online for everyone to...enjoy. If you're so inclined, you'll be able to read it here. It won't be the edited version, so don't expect anything glamorous. I'm probably an idiot for posting it online like that, but hey, you know how I roll.

I intend to treat writing like a second job. I've discovered that I have a really hard time writing from my apartment with the shiny internets at my disposal so I'll be heading to locations unknown after work to write during the week. If inspired, I can probably write about 3,000 words in 2 hours.

I've gotten a lot of encouragement to do this and I really appreciate it. I don't have the confidence in my writing that other people seem to, but I hear that's common for writers.

Me, a writer? Who'da thunk it?

Decisions, decisions

2011-08-28T11:32:00.000-07:00

Everyone reaches at least one point in life when a big decision must be made. Oddly enough, when I moved to Seattle back in 2005, it wasn't much of a decision. It felt like the right thing to do, so I did it.

Now, six years later, I am so frustrated with my life it's almost been unbearable. The big problem has been that I haven't been able to find a job that will work for my life. The cost of living here is pretty high and from law school and my master's program, I owe an astronomical amount in student loans. The job market here sucks.

For years people have asked me when I'm moving back to Florida, and in response I just repeated my mantra, "I'm not leaving, I love it here." But my financial situation has gotten to the point where I have to consider leaving the state. It's been hard for me to accept, but last week I got there. So when my lease is up in 6-7 months, I expect I'll be moving.

What I find interesting is that once I opened my mind to the possibility of leaving Washington, I realized I wasn't sure I'd stay here even if money weren't an issue. It was a pretty shocking realization. For as right as it felt when I got here, it just doesn't feel that way anymore.

I moved out for the mild weather, some gray skies, and the gorgeous summers. We haven't had a summer in two years. Last winter it snowed so much I couldn't go out. Some of the things I like the most about living here - being able to walk downtown from my apartment - would change with a long-term relationship and kids.

I've had a challenging time making new friends. Many of the people here are so passive-aggressive and full of shit that you can't really get to know anyone. There's even a name for it - The Seattle Freeze. You'll hear, "Oh yea, we should totally get together!" and then you never hear from them. Ugh.

Through the ebb and flow of life, a lot of the people I was very close to have moved to other places, are planning to move other places, have gotten on with their lives and families and our contact is diminished, or we've parted ways because I'm cutting dead weight out of my life. I end up feeling alone a lot.

As any reader of this blog knows, my success with dating out here has been minimal. Its' been great that I was dating, since I didn't do that much before I moved out here, but good grief. I think for as West Coast as I like to believe my approach to life is, my personality is very East Coast. These West Coasters just don't quite know what to do with me. I intimidate the hell out of them :)

So, I think it's time to go find my next adventure. I think this has been coming for a little while, but I've resisted it. You can only resist change and growth for so long before the universe steps in and forces you to accept the challenge. I believe that the challenge will bring me all the things I want for my life - Mr. Lyndsy, mini-Lyndsys, and a challenging and rewarding career.

It's been an interesting, trying, and amazing six years. I feel like I've grown a lot since I moved out here. I think I needed to move out here to do something on my own, make my own decisions without being influenced by my parents and family. I'm a stronger person now than I was when I arrived. More than ever before in my life, I ~~like~~ love who I am. To become this person, it's taken everyone who's been a part of my life here. So, to all of you here who are reading this, know that I'll miss you, but without you the rest of my life and all the happiness in store for me wouldn't be possible.

The only question left to answer - where do I go?

Tampons, anyone?

2011-08-14T00:14:00.000-07:00

I've spent a good portion of the last few weeks laid up. My back's been quite the bitch of late, and the chiropractor I've been seeing, Dr. E, told me that the worst thing I can do is to be vertical. Yes, I was commanded to be horizontal. (Had the directive come from anyone other than Dr. E, I would have assumed he was hitting on me. But Dr. E is so sweet and innocent I half expect to see him skipping with a lollipop in his hands.)

Lazing about hasn't been so bad. In the last couple weeks, I've read 8 or 9 books, finished season 6 of Bones, and been put to sleep and given weird dreams by an audiobook. Yes, my life is non-stop excitement. I ordered a small plot of astroturf and am looking forward to its arrival so I can sit and watch it grow.

Obviously I needed to get out. So I got back on meetup.com and have been venturing out. Tonight was a movie meetup: Rise of the Planet of the Apes. Whether you have any interest in this movie, you should go see it. It was far better than I expected it to be, even after being told by a few people who'd seen it that it was worth watching. Never before have I cheered so much to watch a bunch of damned dirty apes beat the shit out of people.

After the movie, the group of us went to Tap House Grill for post-movie discussion and debauchery. (Ok, not so much on the debauchery...) As I frequently do when confronted with a new group of people, I whipped out my Dose of Lyndsy business cards. Back when I expected to go to BlogHer, I had 6 sets of business cards made. Why 6, you ask? Well, I couldn't decide which card design I liked the best. Turns out, I'm shit at selecting good fonts. They're all basically unreadable. Except for the original card design, as seen below.

Totally readable. However, it has a flaw I never saw until it was pointed out to me tonight by one of the moviegoers. As he held up the card, he said,"And this one makes it look like you sell feminine products."

Totally awesome, because well, I'm sure none of us can imagine anyone better suited to selling feminine products than me, nor could we imagine a forum better than Dose of Lyndsy to do it.

That said, anyone fancy a wad of cotton to jam in your bajingo?

The External

2011-07-31T00:46:00.000-07:00

I am who I am. I don't know when I stopped making apologies for it, but I have. I have friends and family who love me. And if someone doesn't like, doesn't understand, or doesn't care for me, that's their situation.

That's not to say that I don't process it, I do. I find the way people respond to me interesting, maybe even fascinating. Both the good and the bad. I think this is largely due to the fact that I don't think I see myself the same way other people see me.

Years ago in high school, I'd irritated a friend of mine. I don't know what I'd done to upset him, nor do I have any idea the exact context of the conversation anymore, but at some point he said something to the effect of, "You're very magnetic and people are drawn to you whether they want to be or not."

Fast forward several years. Seated in a car late one night in a Wal-Mart parking lot with a very close friend, I grilled him about why he hadn't let me into his life. He looked at me, dumbfounded at my accusation. I'd heard from a mutual friend that he suffered terrible depressive episodes. I'd always thought we were close, but how close could we possibly be if he didn't share them with me? When I pushed him on this, he responded,"Don't you get it, Lyndsy? I don't feel that way when I'm with you. You're my high."

Not too long after that, I got into an argument with a guy who was a friend of mine. We were sort of close at the time, but hadn't known each other for long. I'd spent some time working on student government stuff at the University of Florida, but most of my time was dedicated to helping a friend of mine achieve his various goals. My friend scolded me for never doing it for myself, that I should have been the one running for office, leading the student senate. I just laughed and relayed the story to another friend of mine, expecting him to join in. My friend calmly replied (with only a slight bit of exasperation), "He's right."

Move forward another few years. I flew home from Michigan to surprise my grandmother at her 75th birthday party. (Try not to mention I've divulged her age the next time you see her.) She wanted to take her birthday as an opportunity to share her thoughts, feelings, and memories about all of the kids and grandkids present. She wasn't expecting me so she didn't have any remarks prepared. But when she got to me, she said, "And Lyndsy. Well Lyndsy was just magical. Everyone loved Lyndsy."

I've been a terrible student since high school. I put forth the minimal effort to get through a class, and still have met with reasonable academic success. Throughout all of my education, only two professors have called me out for my lack of effort. One flat out told me that he was disappointed in me, had heard remarkable things about me, and that I'd failed to meet his expectations. He *knew* I wasn't touching my potential. Another really just expressed frustration with the fact that I wasn't doing more to exercise my intelligence. Yes, he'd given me As, but he knew the work was far beneath what I was capable of.

The point of this isn't for me to chronicle what an incredible individual I am. That's obvious. All kidding aside, and frankly, in spite of what I've laid out above, I never saw any of those things about myself. I had friends in high school, but didn't feel particularly "magnetic." I had no idea I could impact anyone so much as to make them forget, even for a little while, how upset they were about something.

Someone I met in law school once said I confused him, because for all the ego I displayed, I somehow still had a poor concept of myself. He couldn't understand how I walked around every day, a complete contradiction.

And now I sit here wondering how and why it is that I don't see these things about myself.

In some ways I'm sure it's a great thing I don't. Could you imagine the ego monster I would be if I did? I'm sure we can all think of someone in our lives who does have a grasp on their...powers...and abuses them.

It also makes me wonder how many other people so blatantly ignore some of the best parts of themselves because they don't trust and internalize the good things people say about them. What they might be missing out on in their own lives because of it.

Which makes me wonder what *I* might have been missing out on. I firmly believe that if you have a gift, you have a responsibility to exercise it for the betterment of the friends, family, society at large. If what others have said about me for over 10 years now is really true, I've squandered something very valuable.

I've always felt very isolated from the people around me. Trapped in a world where no one understood me. Slogging through days and years, searching desperately to find some kind of connection to someone else. In writing about this though, I'm coming to believe that it wasn't other people who didn't understand me, but rather me who didn't understand myself. I am who I am, but who am I?

The Ultimate Threat

2011-07-29T23:48:00.000-07:00

I'm a big advocate for the idea that you can learn lessons in life from just about anything that happens. But sometimes the lessons come at you, and you have to change your perspective to be able to see the benefit of something that's gone "wrong."

As you all know, I've had a battle going on with my weight for years. A struggle with weight presents a few different issues:

1. Health - I have a severely herniated disc at the L4-5 level, and a bulging disc at the L5-S1. I'm sure my body would appreciate carrying around less weight. Not to mention things like diabetes, high blood pressure, etc.

2. Self-image - How big you are doesn't really affect your attractiveness to someone else. It's really about personality. If it was all about size, only thin people would ever find love, and we all know that isn't the truth. Knowing that intellectually just doesn't change how it makes you feel. You wake up, get ready for the day, see yourself in the mirror and just think, "Ugh."

3. External image - It's unfair but inescapable, a lot of people think heavier people are lazy, unathletic, unattractive, sloppy, etc. Some of the time it's true. But not always. I played flag football, and not too poorly, at my heaviest weight. I was out hiking with friends. People have found me attractive at a variety of weights.

For a long time, my poor self-image has kept me from really being happy. But recently I've had some experiences that have made me realize I'm a lot more comfortable with my body than I think I've ever been. I've finally made it to the point where I have a good self-image. I wear tank tops, and not infrequently. That's right, my flabby arms are out, doing their double-wave, getting some sun. And I don't care what anyone else thinks.

I won't mention the other experiences in detail (this blog only has a Mature rating), but some involved dating that just didn't work out. And any time a potential relationship doesn't work out, it's a bit of let-down, whether there was real potential there or not. However, I was strutting my stuff proudly and loving it. Even with Pudge along for the ride. (He'd say hi to you all, but I'm punishing him for existing.) So yeah, it didn't work, but I got the chance to see how much I've grown in terms of my self-image.

The irony of it all is that as soon as I had this realization, I made the decision to make a more concerted effort to lose weight. (Yes, that is how my process works. I decide to take an action before (and sometimes instead of) actually taking the action.)

As noted above, my health is a paramount concern. If I can't get my back to get itself in order on its own (with chiropractor visits, drugs, and rest), I'm looking at having more surgery. It wasn't particularly fun the first time around, and I'm willing to do just about anything to avoid it again.

The other reason is more in line with my ego. I want to be the ultimate threat: Smart, sexy, funny, unbelievably generous and caring, AND OBJECTIVELY HOT. It'll make me damn near perfect. And as tough a title to hold as Ms. Perfect would be, I'm sure if anyone can do it, it's me. I am ready to claim my crown.

...and the horse you rode in on!

2011-07-19T18:04:00.000-07:00

For those of you who know me in person or have followed this blog for any length of time, you know that I'm no stranger to George Carlin's 7 words you can't say on television. I guess, if we're going to be all "accurate" about it, I'd have to say that the 7 words and I are more like regular bedfellows.

For me, it all began at a young age. When I was two, my parents asked me if I wanted KFC, and I apparently replied, "Yeah, f*cking chicken!" My mom was horrified and wondered what kind of people she was leaving me with during the day. (Best part is that I probably learned it from her. "F*ck you and the horse you rode in on!" is one of her favorite expressions. Pretty sure she was dropping the F bomb at other times.)

Apparently cussing like a sailor means I can't be considered a lady. (And piss off to anyone who's laughing because they think there are LOTS of other reasons we wouldn't call me a lady. It is not unladylike to sit with my legs open while wearing a skirt and to belch with the force of a galloping herd.) I just don't see what the big damn deal is. They're words! Just words! We assign their value. If I wanted to, I could probably turn "sweetpea" into a bad word.

And let's face it, there are times where the F word is the only thing that provides adequate release. Like this morning, when some stupid chick who was paying absolutely no attention to the road tried to change lanes INTO MY CAR. I looked over at her as I was swerving away and the only response to her open-mouthed, idiotic stare was to say, "WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU DOING???" Somehow I don't think, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" has quite the same effect or ring.

Or, like on Saturday, when the bottle of Vitamin Water rolled out of the shopping cart and onto my foot. "Well oh dear, that hurt a bit!" isn't the same as "Bitch shitf*cker asshat that hurt!"

So really, why do we care? What's the deal? I mean, yeah, it's a bit horrifying when kids flip you the bird or tell you screw yourself. But that's only because parents spend 13 years telling their kids not to do it and it sort of works. At least until middle school when kids learn more innovative phrases than their parents will ever know.

Perhaps we should focus instead on teaching time and place for all the fun words? Maybe if his parents had done that, Dick Cheney wouldn't have told Senator Leahy to go f*ck himself while in a public forum...

Ladies, you disappoint me

2011-07-18T21:14:00.001-07:00

I have a friend for whom I have quite a bit of respect. I met him in law school and I find him quite intelligent, definitely attractive, and totally hilarious.

Those are all very nice things, but what I respect him for more is his brutal honesty. He's an asshole with women, unashamedly so. And I respect it, because what he does works for him, and really quite well. The fault lies with the women who let it happen.

I hear that you're not supposed to blame the victim of something, but anyone using even the smallest bit of sense would see just how absolutely full of shit he is and call him on it. Instead, women flock to him as though he is the second coming. Why shouldn't he eat it up?

Lest you think I am being overly dramatic, allow me to provide you with a few examples.

Example 1: The goldfish
My friend had a conversation with a woman in a bar that went like this:

Woman: I have something I have to tell you...
Him: What? Are you a man?
Woman: No...I'm...married.
Him: I have a goldfish.
Woman: (confused look) What does that have to do with anything?
Him: I'm sorry, I thought we were talking about shit that doesn't matter.

What happens next? He gets laid.

Example 2: The apple analogy
My friend is out with his buddy and his buddy's girlfriend. His buddy is regaling his girlfriend with stories of my friend's assholic debauchery. Girlfriend pipes up and tells my friend that it may be a hard climb to get to the top of the tree, but that the perfect apple that's up there is totally worth it. My friend thinks for a moment and responds: I certainly understand your sweet little analogy. However, I look at it a bit differently. Those apples on the lower branches and on the ground? The ones I don't have to bend over backwards working for? Well, anywhere between 1-50% of those apples are just as good and perfect as the one at the top. So, if I eat all of the perfect part of those apples, then discard them, and pick up another apple to eat until the bad part is gone, to the point where I am just as full and pleased as if I ate the perfect apple, but without all that work, what is the difference?

His buddy about loses his shit laughing uncontrollably while girlfriend stares open-mouthed, speaking only to tell him he's the devil.

What happens next? Girlfriend tries to hook my friend up with one of her friends.

Example 3: The big "O"

My friend is at a bar with his buddies and after a short time, they are surrounded by attractive ladies. As my friend is wont to do, he turns the conversation to sex. One of the girls, likely the ugly one (there's always one), goes off about how men can't tell when a woman is faking it. My friend, unable to control himself, just bursts out laughing. The girl, not understanding my friend at all, asks if he's laughing because he thinks he can tell when a woman is faking and believes that all the women he's been with have TRULY orgasmed. Wiping the tears from his eyes, my friend says, "Not at all, sweetheart. I think it's hilarious that you think I care."

What happens next? Friend of ugly girl finds this hilarious and hooks up with my friend. Is probably left unsatisfied, but what did she expect?

I wish that he were the only guy I've met like this, but I went to college with a guy who worked his way into a girl's pants by coloring with her and watching Disney movies. REALLY? A COLLEGE-age man, coloring and singing with Ariel?

So seriously ladies, let's get it together. If we'd raise the bar just a little bit, these assholes would have to step it up. Men play to the level of their competition. Let's give them a run for their money.

Oh, and by the way, I'm an asshole

2011-07-15T00:07:00.000-07:00

Idle hands ARE the devil's workshop. Whoever said that must have been talking about boredom and online dating sites. When I have nothing else to do, I fall back into my old habit of shopping for Mr. Lyndsy.

What's astounding is just how amazing, caring, laid-back, and funny everyone on these sites is! Apparently, snowboarding, fishing, and hiking are THE hobbies of Pacific Northwest men. They're all incredibly active and living a semi-healthy lifestyle full of granola.

Not only that, but they are going to be there for you. Supportive to a fault. All while maintaining an impeccable work/life balance. Work hard so they can play hard.

Someone kill me now. They're all damn BOTS I tell you! BOTS!

Perhaps this is what I get for moving out to the granola capital of the world. A bunch of hippies who are all into natural living and eating right all the time. Right, because Starbucks pays its baristas enough to buy that crap.

Not to mention the fact that the weather here is usually too shittastic to engage in the majority of the listed hobbies. We have approximately 4.27 days of decent weather here, but you can bet your ass they're overrunning the waters and mountains to get their sporty fix. OR, they're spending those days THINKING about being outside and active.

What I'm really looking for is a profile that says, "And you know, sometimes I'm an asshole." Someone who is a REAL person. I get that this is our opportunity to put our best foot forward, but if we're all putting forth these ridiculous idealized versions of ourselves, we're all going to wind up sorely disappointed. I try to go into these things with lowered expectations and somehow I am STILL let down. (Anyone remember Mr. Boogers???)

I'm thinking about changing my eye-catching tagline-thing to: Looking for someone who isn't a nature-obsessed granola bot. Think it'll work?

In case you were wondering...

2011-07-14T22:46:00.000-07:00

I'm still doing really well. I had an interesting conversation with someone recently about how my life appears to be a roller coaster, with lots of highs and lows. The concern is that I'm racing toward another low.

I'm happy to report that it's been over a month or so and I'm still feeling good. And not in the sense that my life has taken some crazy turn and I'm about to be launched into oblivion. Nothing major has happened. I have the same job I've had for 10 months, I'm not dating anyone, I haven't lost much weight (if any). I'm just waking up each day believing that it's going to be a great day. Sure, things go wrong, but I try to see the whole day instead of just the irritating bits.

I think part of it is that I've finally managed to feel a confidence in myself that I haven't had in years, if ever. I'm starting to feel more comfortable in my own skin, stretched out as it may be by the pounds that refuse to leave me. The joy I feel comes from the inside now, instead of being dependent upon someone else.

Quasi-related to all of this, I'm also going to make myself get back into blogging more regularly. I really enjoy it - it's a great outlet for me. What exactly I'm outletting I'm not sure (yea, I realize that isn't a word), but it's fun all the same.

I hope all of you have been well, and I look forward to your continued worship.

Why, hello there.

2011-06-07T21:57:00.000-07:00

Well crap, it's been a long time since I've been here. I've felt like I haven't had anything to say. Which is odd, in my opinion, because I feel like I should write when things are going well and I'm happy.

But, in spite of my happiness, I'm feeling a bit stifled. I know I need to make some sort of career change. I just don't know which way to go.

I also realized not that long ago that I want my piercings back. In college I had my tongue, nose, and eyebrow pierced. I'll skip the eyebrow this time, but I want my nose and tongue pierced again.

I had to take out my ear piercings when I had surgery and the holes closed up a bit on me. I'd like my four cartilage piercings back, also the tragus and potentially the rook as well.

I'd also like a tattoo or two. I've designed one I'd like, and I'd also like a yin/yang symbol.

However, any line of work I've been a part of doesn't really allow for them, and one of the big things I'm considering DEFINITELY doesn't allow for it.

Ugh.

Anyway, I'm sure I have the solution to all of this somewhere inside of me, I just need to quiet my mind down so I can hear myself say it. But, we all know how loud I am :)

Herpes Music

2011-04-23T00:23:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or has music declined recently? I'm not even sure what I mean by recently. I just know that I tend not to turn on the radio now if I can help it, unless it's some form of oldies station. I used to enjoy finding new music on the radio.

But let's face it. We're addicted to Herpes Music. You know what I'm talking about. The sound that's catchy, but it's crap. Just a heaping pile of hot dung. But you find yourself singing and bouncing along anyway.

In case you're having trouble understanding what I mean (or are in a severe state of denial about how terrible your taste in music really is), I'll help you out. Below I've provided a list of some current Herpes Music:

1. Ke$ha - ANYTHING she does. Tik Tok, Blow, We R Who We R, Dinosaur (We won't even talk about her stage name. A dollar sign. Really?)
2. Katy Perry - Extraterrestrial, California Gurls, Peacock
3. Kanye West - Stronger
4. Lady Gaga - Monster (What does this song even mean??)
5. Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/Diddy/Prince? - Coming Home

I just sort of generally despise Kanye. Not sure if it's that I find his music offensive and talentless or that he generally seems like a drunken douche, but the idea of him just makes my skin crawl. I promise I wouldn't sleep with him if he begged me. The chance that he could maybe possibly impregnate me is just too much.

But with the others, I really enjoy the music. I work out to it. I chair dance to it at work. I drive with it on loudly, "singing" along. (I put singing in quotes because I'm quite certain what I do does not qualify as singing under any circumstances.

I know that these people don't represent ALL new music. They just seem to be the most popular and what's on the radio when I do turn it on. I can sort of feel my IQ dropping as I bop along.

Of course, when we combine the music with reality TV, I'm pretty sure that we'll be crawling around on our knuckles before too long.

Get Sexy Campaign

2011-04-22T19:07:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about my Battle of the Pudge/Countdown to Sexy. I feel pretty good about how things have been going for me so far, but I've decided that I've been confusing some concepts that are really quite distinct things.

Weight loss and fitness are great things. Don't get me wrong. I'm feeling better, less tired, all of that good stuff. However, sexiness doesn't necessarily have anything to do with weight. I know we've all seen an overweight man or woman, and still thought, "Hot damn! He is SEXY." And we all know skinny/thin people who don't feel sexy. So obviously it's not really about weight or looks.

Someone in college (coughcoughRichycoughcough) once said to me that sexy is an attitude - that it doesn't necessarily have anything to do with physical appearance. I looked it up in the dictionary, and sure enough, it's about exuding sexuality.

I feel like one's ability to exude sexuality comes from confidence. You feel good about yourself or your abilities and you can't help but let that flow out of you. And as it flows out of you, other people pick up on it and are then attracted to you. Pretty simple really.

Weight happens to be one of my weak spots (for ridiculous reasons) and getting control of it makes me feel confident. (I also like getting leered at by random men.) For other people (read: thin people), it may come from other things. Getting control of your finances. Rock climbing. Baking a cake without burning down your kitchen.

I will continue to focus on my Battle of the Pudge, but I feel like adding some other things in there. Reminding myself of things I'm good at. Trying things I've always wanted to, but have been too intimidated to do. I'm looking forward to myself.

Battle of the Pudge (Round Two)

2011-04-17T18:34:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Battle of the Pudge (a.k.a. Countdown to Sexy).

Back in 2009, I lost about 60 pounds on Weight Watchers. I think it's a decent program, but it got frustrating because I wanted to add an exercise component. When you add exercising to dieting, your scale tells you one thing but your body tells you another. Weight Watchers is based entirely on your weight (shocker, given the name).

At the time, I figured I'd just run with it and dropped the exercise component. Fast forward a year and a half, and I've found the weight again. I think Weight Watchers is probably designed that way on purpose. You have to keep going back to their product to continue to achieve success.

Well, this time around, I don't have a scale and I'm not going to buy one. I'll know if I'm doing the right thing by whether pants that used to fit do so again.

To reach my goal I'm trying a few things:

1. Eating less. This one's pretty obvious. I'm trying to keep myself from snacking too much between meals and I'm trying to make sure my meals are reasonably sized.

2. Avoiding crap foods. I won't do this all the time, but my regular trips to McDonald's are no more.

3. Adding some exercise in at least 5 days per week. I try to at least walk for 30 minutes and I will now be availing myself of the gym available at work.

4. Not eating past 7pm. This one came from a friend at work. I'd heard it before, but had really put it out of my head since I love evening and late-night snacking.

We'll see how I do with all of this.

I'd like to thank K-Man for the motivation to do this again. K-Man's gotten himself in some incredible shape and I'm a bit jealous. Nothing like someone else's hotness to motivate you.

The Eternal, Universal Truth

2011-04-07T22:50:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am about to reveal the secret so many have searched for. It's really quite simple, if you get down to it. But for so many, it needs to be something so much more complex and mystical.

I once read somewhere, "Truth is simple. Complexity represents the force of one's ego." I can no longer find where I read that. Googling only reveals someone's MySpace page, and while I'm sure "April" supports the idea, I doubt she is the origin of the expression.

The point, my friends, is this: The Truth of Life, the Ultimate Truth, is Love.

A lot of people see Love as something complex and confusing. But that's only true because we twist it and contort it. A man once said to me that he finally understood unconditional love being with me, because he was willing to overlook my faults to stay with me. He was using that as a stab at me because I was in the process of breaking up with him because I could no longer take his abuse.

That isn't unconditional love, or love at all. It's manipulation.

Love is really quite simple. Sometimes you have to strip off the fear you wear to let it shine in its true glory. But it's not the Love that's complicated, it's the layers we pour over it to protect ourselves.

Love just exists. We don't even really know what it is. It's a feeling that you can act on. It's our desire to see something succeed outside of ourselves, when we get no benefit from it. It doesn't require language. It transcends ethnicities, nationalities, gender, and religions.

Love knows no barriers. It's never too late for Love.

There's also nothing better than Loving. Nothing makes a person feel freer, more alive. If you think back in your life, I'd imagine what you'll find is that your happiest times are those where you've made someone else feel the Love you feel for them.

I feel like we don't Love enough these days. On a global or specific level. We're so busy trying to get wherever we're trying to get that we forget to stop and Love those around us. To just feel that for humankind. We've stopped being thankful for the feeling of Love. It's not something we should take for granted. It's a gift. A very precious gift.

And if we spent more time giving the gift, we might spend more time receiving it. Then, maybe we could finally reach the heights that seem so far out of our reach. Together we can accomplish so much more than we can individually, but we all want the recognition that comes from accomplishment.

What we don't see is that we're searching for the wrong kind of recognition. We want Love, but settle for achievement of goals that probably won't matter in a few months' time.

Spend some time today expressing your Love for someone else. How you choose to demonstrate it is up to you. The point is just to do it. Just let go and show it. And ride the high that comes with that. Then do it again. And again. Until it's just part of you.

I miss college

2011-04-07T22:23:00.000-07:00

A few of my cousins are in college now - one at my alma mater. I have to say, I'm incredibly jealous.

I had a blast at the University of Florida. What should have been a three-year experience took four. The advisors tried to get me to graduate after my third year, but since my full ride was still in place for the fourth year, I declined their kind offer.

Classes were something I did off and on (mostly off), but I was really involved with on-campus activities. I did the Dorm Geek thing for three of the four years, and though I hope to never share a bathroom with 50 women again, I have to say it was a remarkable experience.

I led groups, created events, worked with a budget - all things I'd never done before. I met an incredible number of people. I ran for student government. I lost, but I did it.

I helped a close friend run for student body president. A TEN THOUSAND DOLLAR campaign. Also a loser. But I've never worked harder for something. It was my job to keep him in line, make him show up to things on time. I was only brought in because the party (yes, the student government PARTY) didn't think anyone else could. It was a crushing loss, but we all shared it together.

I think the thing I loved the most about college was that I had no idea what the hell I was doing with my life. But back then, I didn't feel like I had to. I was there to explore, to grow. The point wasn't the end result, but rather the journey.

Now that I'm out in the real world, I feel pressured to figure out what I'm doing with my life. I'm almost 30. I have a law degree. I've almost completed a master's degree. And because I've acquired almost another two degrees, I have to work to pay for it. The time for exploration is over.

And that makes me sad.

Feeling good

2011-04-05T23:38:00.000-07:00

I have to say, I'm feeling pretty good right now. As any reader of this blog knows, the last few months have been a bit tough. Abusive boyfriend, back surgery, moving around. It's just a lot to handle.

Today was a really great day. Lately I've had some great times, but they may have been induced by painkillers and muscle relaxers. I've had my back pain flare up on me, so I've been back on the pills and I've been feeling pretty light.

I had an appointment to get an epidural steroid injection. I poked some fun at the doctor (he went to Ohio State University - hates the Gators since we stomped them in two sports in one year...) and I think it encouraged him to cause me pain. I actually asked him at one point, "Why would you do that to another person?!?!?!?" He was amused. I was not.

But yeah, even before I had some pain meds, I was having a great day today. I really feel ready to get my life back and just really enjoy the shit out of it. I have plans to go take photos with someone since I haven't done it in ages. I'm not an expert by any means and I really only seem to photograph slugs and other insects. But I'm stoked to get back into it.

I'm also back on the online dating scene. And oh how I've missed it. Some of the people out there are just off the map. Just totally out there. My dad always told me there's someone for everyone, but I have to seriously question that. I know we've all met someone and just thought, "Um, so yeah. You're going to reproduce one day?" (Britney Spears, not that I've met her...)

I've been told that the dating sites are a numbers game, sort of like photography. Every photog will tell you that to get one good shot, you have to take 100. Online dating isn't that different. You send a bunch of emails and see what works. I'm sure I'll have some great stories :)

At any rate, more than before, I really feel like I'm getting back to being Lyndsy again. I missed her.

Until it happens to you

2011-02-24T21:19:00.000-08:00

I went on a posting hiatus a while back, appeared for one post, and disappeared again. If you've followed my blog, you know that one post was me exclaiming joy at my pending nuptials. I was out-of-my-mind happy at that point. Because I was in denial.

My nuptials have been called off, I've moved out, and in a matter of weeks, that chapter of my life will be closed.

Back then, I didn't see this coming. Not even a little bit. I was so sure that he was Mr. Lyndsy. I would have bet everything on it. In some ways I did. I took a job where I didn't make enough to really sustain me on my own. I got rid of a lot of my furniture. Bedding. Why not? I wouldn't need it again.

My mom tried to warn me that I should leave myself a back-up plan. I wouldn't hear it. I knew what I was doing. Don't tell her this, but my mom was right. I know she was trying to be practical about it, she wasn't trying to doom my relationship. But I wouldn't hear it.

Not too long into it, I started to have feelings that something was off. I brushed it off as us adjusting to me living with him. As time went on, things didn't improve. I chalked it up to the holiday season. Everyone's a little stressed then, right? The holidays came and went and still nothing changed. In fact, things got a bit worse. But, the beginning of the year is hard for him for personal reasons. I figured, "I'll just wait some more."

Until finally, I couldn't wait anymore. It was just too much. And it was something small that brought it all crashing down. I didn't get a Valentine's Day card.

I realize that Valentine's Day is a commercialized holiday designed to generate retail revenue. It wasn't really the card that did it. It was the reason no card was given, "I felt like crap all day."

Valentine's Day falls on the same day every year. From the time we got together until it ended that day, there were many, many days to buy a card. But the fact that he couldn't put himself out, for just a card, really struck me. And then I got to thinking about all the little things I'd let slide.

The weekend getaway we'd just taken where I paid for everything except two meals (to the tune of $400). The Christmas present that was originally a gift for himself, delivered with, "Since I didn't really get you anything for Christmas..."

And I also thought about the times I wanted to go see my friends. When I brought it up, I got, "Oh, I guess I'll just go see a movie by myself then." I'd ask which movie and it was always something I wanted to see. Even if I didn't stay home, he wouldn't go see it.

All the times I'd been talked to like a child - "Is there a reason you left the light on in the other room?"

The "Please don't talk to your friends about our relationship," which turned into, "You talk to them and never me." Untrue, but designed to sting.

Perhaps the worst, but somehow easiest forgotten on my end, the unprovoked kicks to the chest that left a bruise.

I saw these things, knew something was off, but stayed anyway. I used to wonder why people would stay in a situation like that. It's so obvious from the outside that something is desperately wrong. Now I know why.

You're made to believe it's you. I believed I wasn't doing enough. If *I* were somehow better, he wouldn't behave that way. We could be happy.

What I didn't know was that nothing I could say or do would matter. It wasn't me. I allowed it to happen by not standing up for myself, but I wasn't the source.

The important thing now is that I'm out. I've learned from it. I've grown. I feel relief.

I feel free.

And soon I will feel happy again.

Next stall, if you please

2011-02-06T12:13:00.000-08:00

We all have pet peeves. Mine seem to revolve around the public restrooms.

If you've been a faithful reader of my blog, you know one of my big pet peeves is hand-washing in a public restroom. I get totally creeped out when someone leaves a public restroom stall and bypasses the sink on their way out.

There are lots of explanations why someone may do that. May have just been adjusting clothes, may have tried to go and couldn't, blah blah blah. Don't care. Whether you pissed on your hands or not, if someone is in the bathroom with you, WASH THEM.

It's obviously their call if they want everyone to look at them like they have no sense of personal hygiene. I can't even say I blame them. I have almost no confidence that the sinks in public restrooms are even clean. In that case, just bring some hand sanitizer and use it while others are watching.

The other huge pet peeve I have is when I'm in the restroom, by myself, lots of stalls open, and someone comes in and gets into the stall right next to me.

In any public restroom I use frequently, I have a favorite stall. It's typically the first one in line, closest to the wall or door. I think I read somewhere (on the internet) that that is the least frequently used stall. True or not, what that translates to in my head is that it's bound to be the cleanest.

So I get it if others have a favorite. I know they have to go, obviously I do too. That's why we're in there. But please, don't be all up in my personal space. I'm having a moment of personal reflection, and you're disturbing my chi. Just slide on down to the next stall and we'll both feel better.

Talent

2011-01-30T16:20:00.000-08:00

From dictionary.com: Talent - noun - a special natural ability or aptitude.

From Dose of Lyndsy: Talent - noun - that thing that makes other people do things better than I do them and that makes me want to hit them.

For the most part, we all know talent when we see/hear/read it. Talented people just convey it better than people who aren't talented. When I listen to old Whitney Houston albums, she makes the hairs on my arms stand up (in a good way). Listening to William Hung makes me wish I were deaf. You just know the difference.*

Talent's all well and good...when you enjoy your talent. Unfortunately for me, that's not the case. I'm a talented student. My fellow law students hated me for it. There they were, hunched over their textbooks until their vision doubled, while I sat in my dorm room making awful-looking homemade cards and painting wooden boxes. But yeah, I'm not a student anymore.

I'm also a talented lawyer. I didn't do it for long, but someone I trust, and who would know talent if he saw it, told me I am. Awesome...but being a lawyer sucks.

This is not to say that talent is everything. Even if you are talented, you still have to cultivate the talent. Tiger Woods looks great at tournaments, but he also practices every day, for hours and hours. Whitney Houston didn't just walk into a recording studio, belt out a few tunes and leave.

However, working up your talent is much easier than starting from scratch with something and struggling from there. I also believe that you can tell the difference between the product of someone who's talented and someone who's worked their way to proficiency.

I say all of that to lament the fact that I am not a talented writer. When I was looking for a job, people kept asking me what it is that I want to do, what I like to do. I said I didn't know what I really liked to do, and as for the job, didn't care, as long as I make enough money to live and enjoy the people I work with. Looking back, I just think I didn't know. I do now.

I've spent the last two weeks on the couch, recovering from back surgery. As much as I love Netflix, there's only so much Murder, She Wrote and Bones I can watch. So I took up an old hobby - blog stalking. What struck me more than anything else is that there are some SERIOUSLY talented bloggers out there.

I read a lot - books, blogs, magazines. Each medium has a different set of challenges. I think being an interesting, intriguing, decent blog writer has to be one of the hardest things to do. If you've bought the magazine or you're sitting in a doctor's office too bored to even count the ceiling tiles, you'll probably read most of it, even if the article doesn't catch you right away. I don't think we expect books to excite right from the beginning. There are hundreds more pages to read most of the time. The really thrilling stuff is locked in the middle somewhere. If a blog doesn't catch you right from the start, clicking away takes almost NO effort.

I want to be one of those interesting bloggers. I want people I don't even know to read my blog and want to come back for more. But for me, it's going to take work and a lot of it.

*Art may be the one exception to this. I remember an episode of Murphy Brown (Sweet God, I'm getting old), where Murphy claimed that her 4-year old kid could paint better than the artists whose exhibits she was viewing. She turned it into a challenge. She had her kid paint a picture and then placed it in an exhibit. For the most part, the art critics walked by and commented that it looked like a child painted it. One critic stopped and commented that perhaps on the surface it looked like that, but if you looked into the depths of the work, you could see the soul and meaning, and blah blah blah. The rest of the art critics bought on that and in the end, all declared what a masterpiece it was.

About Me

2011-01-24T16:34:00.000-08:00

This is the part of blogging I'm not very good at. Trying to describe me is like trying to explain what a sunrise is like, words can only get you so far. The rest you have to experience on yourself.

Oooh, I like that. I'm an experience. Think of it this way: You're a trailer park and I'm a tornado. Yeah, it's like that. I'm intense, almost too much to handle. If you're not careful, my personality will envelop you completely. I have an opinion on almost everything and I like to think I'm right most of the time. I probably have an overblown sense of entitlement (not my fault, I'm a Millenial) and it matches nicely with my supersized ego.

I love school, can't seem to stop going. I have BA in Political Science from the University of Florida (Go Gators!), and since that's not really worth anything, a JD from Seattle University. To avoid paying on those law school loans (I could have had a small condo), I decided another degree was in order. Enter MA in Criminal Justice, also from Seattle University. And no, I have no idea why I need an MA in Criminal Justice when I have a law degree.

All my degrees landed me in the exalted position I have today - administrative assistant for a large company. No, that's not code for anything. The best part about that is that I had to talk them into letting me have an interview! I love my job and the people I work with. At the end of the day, that's all that really matters. I've spent enough time working in places that steal your soul. When I'm ready to sacrifice my soul to the devil, it'll certainly be for something more than a job that pays peanuts and where the people treat you like you're expendable.

When I'm not working I spend time harassing the man I love. He's crazy enough to let me live with him and his daughter. We have a blast and I have no idea how he still tolerates me. It probably has something to do with the fact that I can eat most of a Texas donut by myself. I know that would do it for me. Turns out, he was a bit abusive.

The harassment doesn't stop with him, it extends to my friends as well. I love them dearly because they too continue to put up with me. I also love them because they keep my ego inflated by telling me just how addictive and awesome I am. Much easier than paying people to do it.

I pretend to be crafty and I live to force my creations upon other people. (See friends as noted above). I'm thinking about venturing into a homemade card-making business, but who knows? I never really finish anything I start. I love card games, movies, books, and all the other crap everyone says they love. Except feet.

I started this blog back in 2006 as a way to vent my frustrations about some of the people in my life who were giving some serious grief (No, seriously, it's Swiffer, not SwifTer. Read the package. Can't do that? Good thing reading isn't fundamental to your life. Oh, what's that, you want to be a lawyer? No, they don't read. It's okay). It's gone through several lives since then and will probably always be a work in progress. (Did you like that split infinitive? the excessive use of commas?)

I blog because I truly enjoy it. I get a place to just let loose without really worrying about what anyone else thinks. You don't like what I'm saying? Don't read it. I don't care. When I don't blog I feel emotionally constipated. There's no Immodium for that. The only cure for that is ~~MORE COWBELL~~ more blogging.

I hope you enjoy yourself. If not email me at idontcare@notarealsite.com.

My Alter Ego

2011-01-22T20:08:00.000-08:00

I was enjoying an episode of Bones last night (Season 4 - Mayhem on a Cross) and there was some discussion about alter egos. It made me start wondering what MY alter ego would be like.

I see alter egos as the people we would like to be if we didn't feel constrained by the social rules we feel apply to us. I'm sure other people have different definitions of what an alter ego is, but that's what I'm running with.

Of course, for me, figuring out who your alter ego is, and what that person is like, is only the first step. The real question is how to bring my alter ego to life.

I thought about this for a while and it dawned on me...my blog. It should have been obvious, but hey, I'm medicated these days.

A good friend of mine, understanding what I mean by alter ego, wondered how it is that I could be MORE me than I am now. I say, wait and see.

Welcome to the new Dose of Lyndsy!

We now interrupt this regularly scheduled program...

2010-03-25T08:27:00.001-07:00

In light of my recent frustration with the online dating, and perhaps my own attitudes about all of this, I've made a decision. I'm going to let the dating go for a bit. I know I've said this before, but how I've been feeling lately suggests to me that for my own health, I need to let this go.

I know that dating is generally a frustrating process, but I guess I somehow expected it would be better than it has been. You guys have seen the menfolk I've been dealing with (MasterPice, The Nose Picker, Your Mom Got Raped???), and I think we should all be impressed I've lasted this long.

My most recent run-in, Mr. Boogers, makes me think that perhaps it's time to just stop for a bit. I took this approach to drinking after getting sick from Mike's Hard Lemonade. The sign doesn't always have to be neon and flashing for me to see that it's time to stop.

So, my plan is to stop dating until I'm 30. That's about a year and a half from now. When I first selected that point, I thought, "NO! NOT 30!! You'll be too old!!" But seriously, 30 is NOT old. I also think that it's been because I've had this idea in my head about when things need to happen that this experience has been just so awful for me.

I've already hidden/disabled my profiles on the dating sites I use. I won't be attending any speed dating events (though I doubt I planned on doing that again anyway, given how craptastic they were.) I haven't met anyone in my everyday life to date since college, so I doubt that's much of an issue. (In a way, that makes me incredibly sad.)

Having said all of that, I'm not stupid enough to say there won't be exceptions to this. Should I meet some incredible man, and he wants to date me, I won't turn him down. I realize that opportunities like that are rare, and I won't waste it. Based on my history though, it seems unlikely that will happen.

This gives me a chance to sort of figure out what I want to do with my life without thinking about some event that may or may not happen (meeting Mr. Lyndsy), and planning around that. I'll spend the time focusing on me and making MY life the way I want it to be. I anticipate that this will be more challenging than it sounds.

Even I'm going to miss these stories!

Another winning message...

2010-03-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

You tell me, should I respond?

"Hello sweetie, I am Steve, 38, and live in Puyallup. I like reading, history, theatre, movies, kids, etc. I think you have a great body and I want to get to know you and tickle you naked, love, and cuddle you soon. I am open for dating and long term. Kisses."

Or, do any of you want a go with him? I'd be happy to pass along your information...

Sometimes people amaze me

2010-03-20T15:10:00.000-07:00

If I ever do end up in a nice committed relationship, I'm going to beg my significant other to let me keep playing around on dating sites. Otherwise, I'll miss shit like this conversation:

Him: r u indian?
Me: nope
Him: eskimo?
Him: mexican?
Me: no, no
Him: honduran?
Me: no
Him: hatian?
Me: no
Him: i give up
Me: lol
Me: I'm mixed, half-black, half-white
Him: o halfie

As if that wasn't awkward enough...

Him: your mom got raped by a black guy?
Me: what?
Him: jk
Me: wow
Him: JK!!!

Just. Wow.

Not quite as awesome as Mr. Jean Skirt...

2010-03-16T07:00:00.000-07:00

...but still sort of WTF.

This one's from okcupid.com.

Aside from the fact that he's too short for me, he's planning things in a way I'm pretty sure I don't want to be a part of it. I'll just give you his summary:

"29 year old marathon-running, nyc-dropout civil engineer male ultimately looking for a serious relationship that will produce mixed babies. My heroes are Bruce Lee, Bob Marley, Tiger Woods (everything but the cheating!), and my mom.

My best friend is my sister.

I know women."

1. NYC-dropout? How in the world do you drop out of a city?

2. Ultimately looking for a serious relationship, but in the meantime he'll do with some casual sex (according to other parts of his profile.

3. Bob Marley???

4. RELATIONSHIP THAT WILL PRODUCE MIXED BABIES??? Is he trying to make his own Tiger Woods? Seriously??

If he really knew women like he seems to think he does, he'd know that this profile isn't actually going to get him anywhere.

So yeah, I'll be making mixed babies with someone else.

Thanks, but no thanks.

2010-03-15T07:00:00.000-07:00

So, I get an email notifying me that I've got a message on match.com. All excited, I log in and see a message from "dragonslain." I'm pretty sure I know what's coming, but I read on anyway. Nothing super strange in the message, so I check out his profile. Things head south RAPIDLY now.

His headline: Friendly gamer guy looking for a player 2. Last read: Game informer.

We hit rock bottom with the photos. 1. His hair is longer than mine. 2. KILT. I just can't get behind the kilt. I don't know why.

But what I really couldn't get behind is this:

Note the aforementioned hair. Also note the JEAN SKIRT. Even if I could get behind the kilt, that is NOT a kilt. Oh, but let's not leave out the HOT PINK FISHNET TIGHTS.

Yes, please commence laughing at me ::weeps for her romantic future::

The Quest Continues...

2010-03-14T14:52:00.000-07:00

I'm ramping up my quest for Mr. Lyndsy. In doing so, I've enlisted the help of several new Cupids. Thus far they've come up empty, but I realize that finding Mr. Lyndsy would properly be a full-time job, and unfortunately these people are otherwise gainfully employed.

My reason for mentioning this whole thing is just to share what Cupid #2 said to me about his task. After outlining that Mr. Lyndsy needs to be 1. Human, 2. Male (hence the Mr.), and 3. Still breathing, he said, "Gee Lyndsy, couldn't you give me an easier task, like turning lead into gold?"

I've chosen to take this as a compliment. Otherwise it might be necessary to kill him.

If anyone out there would like to join Lyndsy's Cupid Brigade, let me know!

I'm feeling feisty

2010-03-01T22:45:00.000-08:00

It's a quarter to 11, I'm waiting for some cookies to finish baking (have to keep the men in my life happy), and I'm feeling feisty. This online dating thing doesn't really seem to be doing much for me, speed dating led to The Nosepicker, and I don't seem to be running into available people on my own. It's time to try something new.

So here's the deal, if you can think of someone you'd like to set me up with, I'll try it. Why not, you know? (Even you Micah.) What's the worst that happens? I end up with a great story and I know how you all love to read my stories. It's not like any of you are going to hook me up with a murderer (and if you do, I guess I'll finally know how you really feel about our friendship. Don't think I won't remember that when I choose who to haunt.

There you have it. BRING ON THE DATES.

Because I clearly never want to date again...

2010-02-28T14:50:00.000-08:00

I really like okcupid.com. If you're looking for a dating website, this may be the one. It's free, but not total crap or filled with totally sketchy people (like plentyoffish.com). It does seem to have an overabundance of polyamorous people. Anyway, as I've mentioned before, it matches you with people in a couple different ways, one of those is the Quiver. They randomly drop three people in your quiver and you get to decide whether you're interested or not. It gives you more information than if they just end up on Quickmatch, which leaves off a substantial portion of the person's profile. Sometimes that's better though, because sometimes you end up with this guy: WearingNight.

If you don't want to follow the link, I'll just give you his first paragraph, and you can see for yourself why sometimes, less is more.

Forged in the smoky underdark of New York City, I entered the world with a endless black wardrobe, an irrevocable fondness for lurking in shadows, and a vague horror of ever eating the same food two days in a row. Having first devoured Shakespeare and Tolkien to learn English, I then set about a misspent youth of mad science, intellectual tomfoolery, journalism, live theater, creative fiction, filmmaking, and coffee shops with strange decor before finding my true calling in machines with blinky lights. Ralph Ellison, Harlan Ellison, Neil Gaiman, and both Voltaires duel nightly upon my bookshelves, their clamour witnessed only by the stiff and disapproving cookbooks and the remorseless, unblinking glass of many cameras.

It doesn't get better the more you read. I'm pretty sure this will keep me from ever being successful with the online dating. I feel this way about having kids too. I've laughed at so many babies for not being cute that I'm sure my babies will be trolls.

Of course, if this is the guy that's online for me, I think I'll pass anyway.

7 Quick Takes

2009-10-02T08:43:00.000-07:00

This past week...

1. I GOT MY YUDU (personal screen printer). As excited as I was about it, I almost took it back. I couldn't get the emulsion onto the screen properly and it was driving me insane and just wasn't worth the hassle. However, I finally got it right, and am now learning all about the best ways to create my designs for maximum transfer to a t-shirt. It's a learning process, but is totally AWESOME. Now that I know what I'm doing, I can't wait to play more! Damn class and "work" for interfering!

2. I have gotten more comments about my weight loss than any other week. People have said, "If you get any thinner we won't be able to see you!" "You're like half of you!" and I got a really sweet email from a friend I hadn't seen in a while describing me as "striking." The positive reinforcement really helps! I'm about 15 pounds away from my "goal" and that's pretty exciting.

3. I went with my supervisor to get a new license because his had expired and I realized that I definitely need a new one. Even the guy at American Eagle said something to me about how my license picture doesn't look like me. Perhaps I'll go on a day when I don't look like total shit. Everyone who sees that pictures says, "Holy shit. Uh, I mean, I don't mean to be rude...but, um..." Yeah, I know. I look like a convict, and a fat one. It's not as bad as my Costco picture where I also look toothless.

4. So, the online dating is...special. I did get a message from a guy yesterday. Perhaps I should let you all judge whether and how to respond.

Message from: masterpice

Subject: baby I wanna meet you

Body: I hang out in Tacoma and Seattle often,
not that far away honey.
I want to meet you
hold you
quench your fire.
make your heart mine
baby I want you I need you near me
I want to kiss the sweet feet you walk on.
love E***

***I removed the rest of his name because by God, that email is awful.

Here's a picture of masterpice courtesy of okCupid and dashoff

5. I've done pretty well with getting up early. It's not going quite as well as I'd hoped it would, but I'm doing so much better that I'll take this progress for now.

6. The weather here got cold and I had to go out and buy new pants. Two pairs of jeans, one which is sort of uncomfortable, just isn't going to cut it for the winter. It's so sad because I still have a whole pile of jeans on my floor that I just can't wear anymore. If they're not going to stay on your butt, they're sort of useless as pants.

7. As I was cleaning off some of my Yudu stuff in the tub (yeah, the bathtub, the shower head in there is better than my kitchen faucet) I turned away from the tub to move something and hit my head on the corner of the walls. I hit it so hard it brought tears to my eyes. That was two days ago and I still have a spot where it hurts. Now I know how Tim Tebow felt...you know, on a much, much smaller scale.