Flying

I always find myself wanting to make up stories for the people sitting around me. You know- look at what they're wearing, what they're reading, and spin a picture in your head of what their lives could be like.

For example- the woman sitting next to me. Well groomed, elegant, delicately framed glasses. She wears just the right amount of jewelry, and is reading a hard copy of a book titled "Someday, Someday, Maybe."

 I'm intrigued by her constant typing on her iphone. Something tells me that she could be just texting, but in my mind she's a book editor, reading a copy of something she's about to or has already released on the best seller list. Or she's a professional of some other field, communicating with her personal assistant about work she's going to or has left behind, taking the valuable and rare personal time to get some light reading before she's thrust back into the high pressured work life.

Or she's just a well dressed woman with an everyday life. That's just as likely, but maybe not as interesting to imagine.

SWF seeks SWM who isn't a KPC.

    Thankfully no one has to worry about a killer psycho clown (KPC) answering their personal ad these days, but with the wide range of crazies, murderers, serial killers and sadists out there- one can never be too careful. And when you manage to not attract any of the above, you're left with several categories, many of which are possibly just as undesirable.

  Case in point: my online dating adventure. Now, my view of online dating is probably just terrible, because I feel like a person shouldn't be corralled into paying copious amounts of money to find someone to love. I mean, I'm not exactly loaded, and given the choice between spending fifty dollars a month (true.com), sixty dollars (!) a month (eharmony.com) or having a square three meals a day, I'd choose the meals. Because what good is online dating if I'm an emaciated corpse? Really. Granted, there are a few free options on all of those sites, but by 'free' they mean "We'll let you see that someone liked your profile, and we'll let you see other people, but we're holding your potential soulmate hostage until you shell out sixty dollars in non-sequentially marked bills."

   So I went with the suggestion of OkCupid.com. Part of me balks at even bothering, because I fall victim to what I feel is the same emotion a lot of people get when they have to take avenues other people don't: embarrassment. I'm embarrassed that I have to go online to look for someone, because I lack the personality, charisma, and/or desire to dress like a hooker in order to attract a person who may want to date me. I also don't go out much, because when I do it's the women/men I list above who seem to draw all of the attention, and I feel like an unattractive fish struggling up the stream while the rest of the salmon just ease their way through. Now, that part of me that said 'What the hell, why not?' went and filled out the profile with as much blatant honesty as I could muster (because you might as well just tell them straight out that you enjoy walking on hot coals as a hobby, else they may be disturbed when you suggest that on the second date).

    E-mails came! Surprisingly, to my poor battered self-esteem, and with actual words written by the individuals who also embarked upon this adventure. Several were rather attractive, and seemed undeterred by my admission that I not only liked Star Trek, but country music (I hear you. Gasp. What?). One even said that he thought I sounded pretty laid back (My profile did indeed say I could be, while I was sure to admit that I occasionally may be high strung. Again, I know what you're saying. Really? Could it be?), and he wanted to know more about me. The nice part about that was his lack of inquiry as to my phone number/e-mail/anything else that might sound as if he was trying to move along quickly.

   There was one, however, that really creeped me out, and was exactly why I avoid this process. I get that online dating requires photos, so I pulled out two from earlier months, each with a different hairstyle. My name isn't listed, nor is my place of employment, as neither really is the best idea when advertising ones singledom to a bunch of strangers. So the photos went up, the pertinent info went up, and before I knew it I was alerted that 'thismanwhowearsahat' (name changed so that we can protect the identity of this creep) gave me four out of five stars and was interested in talking. His picture was available, so I looked...only to find that he's not only a regular patron of the place I currently work, but that I already had formed the opinion that he was kind of unsettling. His profile also told me that he was exactly the opposite of who I would want to date. Man, I wish I'd thought to list in my profile that I had no interest in seeing someone who was 'married, but still looking'. Seriously, what sensible person wouldn't think of including that in their 'desirables' list? Huh.

   Now, I knew that this guy was married before I went on Okcupid, as he occasionally comes through with not only his kids, but his wife. And his disconcerting stare was....well, exactly that. So all I can do now is continue to provide the services I'm paid to do at work (dirty minds, out of the gutter please. The showers are that way), while avoiding him whenever possible. Ugh.

“You picked a lemon, throw it away lemonade is overrated. Freaks should remain at the circus, not in your apartment. You already have one asshole. You don’t need another. Make a space in your life for the glorious things you deserve. Have faith.” 
― Greg Behrendt, He's Just Not That Into You: The No-Excuses Truth to Understanding Guys

Out On The Edge

"You could come and save me and try to chase the crazy right out of my head..."-Jason Walker, 'Echo'.

I know I'm not crazy. I mean, not in the clinical sense- more eccentric, I think, than anything.

But the point of this is not that I think crazy, or that anyone is crazy, or about crazy at all. It's that I think this song in particular speaks volumes to me in the sense that it seems to perfectly describe how I feel on a daily basis.

I'm depressed. It's a big deal, although to most people I think it's seen as a cop out of some kind. I was once told to simply 'get over it' when I feel sad, and the only thing I could do was stare at the person saying it.

In my opinion, people treat depression like nothing at all, because it isn't a visible disease. If I were sad and my skin were falling off as a direct result, people would see it a bit differently. But instead they see it only as a sadness, like someone ran over your childhood pet, and given the proper amount of time (whatever that is), you'll just be fine.

No. I will never 'be fine' without hours of therapy or bottles of drugs, all of which can only be acquired for as long as I can pay for them. It is fortunate, of course, as so many things cannot be helped even with drugs and therapy, no matter how many hours are put into it.

There are some days I think I'll never be okay. When I break up with someone I thought I really loved after I swore I never could again, or when I realize how very much my moods are likely the reason I feel so left out all the time. This depression ruins everything, and as I've been on the receiving end of that misery I understand how much it can ruin things.

It creates this void of hopelessness, where you think you're too fat and too sad and too boring for anyone to love. Where someone tearing apart the shreds of your character is enough to have you questioning every single moment that follows. This void can eat you alive, and so many days I feel like I'm being slowly devoured. Like today, and even as I'm sleeping on a friends couch and knowing there's one person nearby who understands, I'm acutely aware that there are so many around me who don't and maybe never will.

Again, I'll go back to Jason Walker, because I think he said it best to describe how I feel.

"I'm out on the edge and I'm screaming my name like a fool at the top of my lungs. Sometimes when I close my eyes I pretend I'm all right, but it's never enough.."