38 posts tagged “me”
I feel completely disconnected from my writing right now. Which is so unfortunate as I have so much to write about. New marriage. New job. New experiences and growth and change and joy. There is a lot of wonderful available and I should be tapping into it, but I can't. I'm trying to live instead of write, experience instead of overanalyze, and exist in the joy/worry/anger/love/humor of the moment as it happens instead of obsessing about it endlessly.
I don't know if this is a good thing. Sometimes I think it is. It's good to stop and live. It's kind of like the difference between photographing a memorable even and just watching it. I don't think it's a permanent condition. In fact, I sense it's nearly over and I have a lot churning in my head right now. I guess I just need to verbalize and rationalize to myself how I went from writing and photographing everyday to almost not at all.
I love and miss you, writing. I'll be back before you know it.
Ron had this brilliant idea to have the story of our relationship included in the wedding program, but use quotes from our blogs and emails to tell the story. It was the second best idea he's ever had (the first being marrying me, of course...)
They are as follows....
How did Ron & Ashley’s story begin? Well, it all started with a boy, a girl and a three-day trial on Match.com…
Ron’s headline & profile
“The Biggest Jerk You'll Ever Meet... and the Computer Says We're A Match!
…and the description of himself and his “Ideal Match”
I’m thirty-five. I live at home with my mom. My hair is thinning and my beer gut isn’t getting any smaller. I have a 1972 pinto that I painted to look like the General Lee on The Dukes of Hazard. I joined match cause this was an easy way to find hot girls without all the work of talking to them first. So basically what I’m looking for is a girl who’s totally hot, has a good job, buys me stuff, lets me hang at her place and drink beer, lends me her car, gives me money, doesn’t nag me and really digs strip clubs. If I turned up in your search then the computer thinks we’re a match and we should totally hook up.
The ’72 Pinto caught the eye of Ashley who was on the last day of free trial to the internet dating site. When Ashley & Ron did “totally hook up” for a first date, they were anxious to meet for the first time.
Ashley: I’m trying to be cautiously optimistic and failing miserably. I’m all out excited. We're going to have the cutest story if we end up together. And isn't that how all the best relationships start? With a cute story?
Of course, Ashley did her best to suppress her neurotic tendencies.
Ashley: As I got closer to restaurant, I got more nervous and was alternately practicing my smile in the rearview mirror, and talking to myself. Then telling myself to stop talking to myself. Then telling myself that telling myself to stop talking to myself was still, technically, talking to myself. It's complicated being me.
And it was the first of a great many dates for the both of them.
Ashley: We went and saw "Stardust", which was an awesome movie. We both laughed at same stuff. He smells yummy. He has good ADD drugs. So I guess this is all working out well so far. Le sigh, le swoon, le float.
Ron: It was another great date night with Ashley and we left the theater acting like a couple of goof-balls knowing we don't have to resent all those happy couples that used to make us gag. Now they can now resent us.
Ashley: Fourth date sounds just ridiculous because surely we have known each other longer. Surely we've been hanging out for years sharing stories, creating inside jokes, listening, laughing, commiserating. This cannot be the fourth date.
Ron (first Dinner with Ashley’s girls): It was the first dinner Ashley ever cooked and it was delicious. Without warning, her adorable girls opened their mouths uttering an apocalyptic noise described only the book of Revelations Being that it was very early in our dating relationship, I felt it inappropriate to curb the girls charming behavior. I quietly picked another piece of broccoli from my hair and placed it back on my plate. To my relief Ashley acted as I would’ve expected a parent to. "Here we go," I thought as her mouth opened to deliver a gentle rebuff given that company was present. Instead, Ashley unleashed the sound of Hell itself, launching a fresh round of broccoli and mashed potatoes into my hair. High fives all around.
"So this condition,” I asked, untangling my hair from rapidly drying gravy. “Is it genetic?"
And through all the time together they started to fall in love.
Ashley: I'm sorry if I'm still somewhat mute. Partly I just feel comfortable enough with you to just be quiet. Partly I don't want to start a verbal waterfall that I can't stop. Part of me is really scared, but a bigger part of me is telling that part to shut up. So yeah, there's a little mini-war in my head that I'm trying to silence. Meanwhile I can't think of anything I've enjoyed more than just being with you.
Ron: In all seriousness, Ashley's been great and I love her. She's made me feel very special even though she's baked a life-size birthday cake that she plans to jump out of while wearing the Princess Lea bikini costume from Return of the Jedi. What a swell gal!
Ashley (using quotes from Ron): The immediacy and intensity of this is just completely serendipitous. I hesitate to use his words without his consent, but he has a skill to describe things better than I can. I've never met anyone who can do this, who can read my mind and speak it more eloquently to the point where all I want to say is "Um, yeah that" every time he speaks. But here is my very favorite thing he's ever written, and that I've ever read. It perfectly describes how I feel.
" It's like a knocking over a bucket of red paint and watching with unconscious helplessness as it runs all over the floor and under the doors into the other rooms."
Then it finally happened...
Ron: Well, it's finally happened. Ashley asked me to marry her. After months of anticipation and many sleepless nights my worries of losing such a wonderful woman are over. I'm such a lucky guy! When she got down on one knee, I was stunned.
"No, no, no, you are not doing this... Are you doing this? Please oh please I hope you are doing this!" My head was spinning. She pulled out the black velvet box and opened the lid!
"Ron, you have made me the happiest woman in the world and I don't think I could ever live the rest of my life without you." Her eyes were sparkling from the reflection caused by the moon's light on the ring. "Will you marry me?"
The facts may be a little backwards, but in any case, one of them said yes. Of course, the relationship only got deeper from there…
Ashley: Even when everything in my life feels like its swirling around and upside down... even when nothing make sense and all the answers just bring about more questions... I know that he will love me and remind me of everything that is right with the world, and right with me. I never thought I could, but I now believe in love and its power to make me maybe not a better person, but certainly a more complete one.
…even when they were apart.
Ashley: And of course, I'll miss him. I look forward to missing him. I told him about a week ago "I can't wait to miss you," and I truly meant it. I've never had that long absence with joy at the end. Dread, disappointment, frustration yes. But never joy. Having someone to miss is a great luxury to me and I wouldn't trade it for all the solitary eyebrow plucking in the world
Ron: Passengers from the plane jockeyed for position around the baggage carousel, but my mind was too preoccupied with what Noah, Harrison and Sawyer were doing, how my parents were feeling, and about making money to pay bills. But in any case, I was home. Not because I returned to my daily dose of regular issues to contend with, but because, unlike the previous returns from seeing my boys, there was someone wonderful waiting to hug me when I walked in the door. As much as I missed my sons, I was equally happy to be missed while I was away.
Today the two of them will pledge their love before family and friends.
Ashley: Now I've got someone who loves me so completely, who knows me so well, who makes me laugh and makes me think and makes me 83% happier than I ever thought possible. I know that as long as he's by my side, I won't care what path I'm on. As long as he lets me love him as well as he's loved me, then the next 30 years will without a doubt be the best and I hope for at least another 30 after that.
Ron: What she said, except I’m closer to 92% happier…
…and they lived happily ever after. I guess internet dating really does work.
... hardly blogging anymore. I'm too afraid to open my brain up for all the scary stuff that might pour out. I can't stop it once it does, so let's just keep it all shut in there for now, shall we? Meanwhile, I borrowed this from another blog because I thought it was pretty clever and unusual. Or maybe I'm just easily impressed....
i am: finding that if you fake cheerfulness long enough, you can attain it.
i think: way too much for my own good.
i know: great things are about to happen. (my fortune cookies said so)
i want: peace.
i have: amazing people in my life.
i wish: i had all the answers.
i hate: limbo.
i miss: my grampsy, but you already knew that.
i fear: talking to people.
i feel: unsettled, but very lucky somehow.
i hear: high school musical songs in my head.
i smell: everything incredibly well.
i crave: chips and salsa and/or guacamole.
i search: for jobs constantly.
i wonder: why the IRS hates me so.
i regret: often, though i try not to.
i love: my children and family.
i ache: in my shoulder from doing a cartwheel without stretching. (30 hurts!)
i care: too much about what people think of me
i always: think i sound like an asshat when i talk.
i am not: adequately medicated.
i believe: my children keep me sane and insane simultaneously.
i dance: not enough. i miss it terribly.
i sing: in the car with the girls.
i don't always: email people back promptly. bad ashley.
i fight: with myself. i hate fighting with anyone else.
i write: in my head CONSTANTLY.
i win: word games. i love my words.
i lose: track of time quite easily.
i never: thought i would find love this amazing.
i confuse: other people with my unecessarily large words.
i listen: better than i talk.
i can usually be found: doing laundry, chauferring children, or on the computer.
i am scared: of talking to people. still.
i need: to win the lottery, but i'd settle for just finding a job.
i am happy about: my wedding in June and seeing all my friends and family.
You?
edited to change "happiness" to "cheerfulness". clearly i am very happy.... i'm just not always all that cheerful. there's a difference :)
I'm an artist. There's a difference. I don't know what it is, but there's surely a difference and I most definitely fall on the artistic side, right?
Okay, so I was watching Top Model tonight, painting my toenails as planned. They had a pretty cool photoshoot and I was lamenting the fact that my camera was still in the shop (see post below) and then I remembered that I have a scanner! Years ago, I did a self-portrait series on a scanner and they turned out badass. I've lost the pics since then, but I was inspired. (Also inspiring? Katarzyna's new haircut. I must have it now.)
I finished the episode, dragged out the beautifying paraphenalia, and tarted right up. Now, this time the scanning was harder. I thing because last time, my scanner was light enough that I could just pick it up and hold it up to my face. This time, not so much. It's heavy. Therefore, some truly amazing shots were ruined because I had the audacity to breathe and fog up the glass. Even though my face wasn't touching the glass, my damn diet coke breath kept ruining things. I eventually figured out how to hold my breath, and hold still long enough for the scanner to do it's work. I got some interesting pieces. (See how I did that? I called the pictures "pieces." Only a true artist would do that.)
They are as follows....
There's something kind of creepy yet serene about this one.
This one just looks straight up creepy. It's hard to smile pretty while hovering over a scanner and trying to not breathe. So hush. And yes, I'm a teeny bit obsessed with photographing my ring. I keep having dreams/nightmares about it. Don't ask.
And just a little bit of cheese for ya. This was the first one I did and I never could quite do that expression again. But I like it. It looks hopeful. I wish I could keep it on my face and in my heart at all times....
Because I have such wonderful and giving friends, we got the opportunity to see Sugarland perform at the Houston Rodeo and to participate in the Meet and Greet beforehand. Allie is a huge fan after seeing them perform this summer with Kenny Chessney. She sings "Stay" to her kindergarten teacher which always gets her some much needed attention. Avery loves anything that Allie tells her to, so she was excited as well. Ron? Well, he was napping in the corner 30 seconds before this picture was taken, but at least his eyes are open. And aparently I thought I was a contestant in America's Next Top Misplaced Beauty Pageant Contestant which is the only reason I can account for the strangeness of my pose. Jennifer and Kristian are beautiful, gracious, and talented as always. Kristian was a good sport when Avery said "Hi! My name is Avery and I'm four. How old are you?" He explained he was turning 7 pretty soon and was hoping to get a good present. I promised I'd put in a good word with his wife so maybe he could get that bicycle without training wheels. :)
What's your morning beverage of choice? Coffee, tea, juice? Homemade or store-bought?
Diet Coke. But not just any Diet Coke. Because, you see, there is a taste difference among Diet Cokes. Several factors can influence the taste of a Diet Coke. Including, but not limited to:
- Original source of Diet Coke (fountain, can, bottle)
- Composition of Diet Coke receptacle (plastic cup, glass, styrofoam, direct from source)
- Size, shape, quantity of ice (if applicable)
- Straw girth (seriously, it makes a difference)
The preferred method of Diet Coke ingestion is fountain Diet Coke, in a styrofoam cup, with lots of teeny tiny ice chips, and a wide straw. Sonic serves this precise configuration in a 44 oz slice of caffeinated heaven called the "Route 44 Diet Coke". It's what angels drink.
Next runner up is an insulated plastic cup, with square ice cubes, and diet coke from a plastic bottle. Straw girth is not applicable.
Almost never acceptable is Diet Coke consumed directly from a plastic bottle. It is never cold enough. Adequate temperature is imperative. In a pinch though, Diet Coke from a very cold can is perfection. Only occasionally though. And a teeny tiny straw can ruin even the most delicious configuration. I dont' know why, but it affects the chemical structure some how. And don't get me started on the differences in fountains..... A Diet Coke from McDonald's is completely different from one at Jack in the Box.
For the record.... yes, I know I have issues. And no, I don't particularly care. Beyond my morning Diet Coke, I primarily drink water or green tea. Diet Coke is my one "unhealthy" indulgence, and I'd wager that it's a lot healthier than some of the other caffeine options (I'm looking at you, Starbucks Addicts Anonymous.
I had my first panic attack when I was 17. I was at freshman orientation for the University of Texas, standing in line waiting for my roomate assignment. There were approximately 8 million other freshmen there waiting in the same lines, with the same doubt, and the same questions. But I was the only one who started trembling, sweating, and hyperventilating. Back then, there were no commercials every other hour detailing social anxiety disorder, so my mom thought I was just being dramatic and encouraged me ever so gently to get over it. I made a good show of doing so, but my brain was still my worst enemy.
It whispered in my ear that everyone else knew what was going on, and I didn't. I was walking the wrong way, carrying my backpack incorrectly, not taking the most efficient path to my classes. I worried about being underdressed or overdressed, or not taking enough notes, or not eating the right thing. Sometimes I felt like I actually forgot how to walk. Each step was more labored than the last and I felt the weight of 8 million people watching me lift my feet with the grace of a toddler. They were on to me, they knew I was an imposter, that I didn't belong. They would out me soon enough. So I left UT after only 3 weeks.
My panic never really left, but I learned more about it. I learned that it was genetic, and that my dad suffered from it. (Which probably explains the rampant drug and alcohol use that eventually took his life.) I learned that my manifestation was an atypical one. Typically, social phobia is equated to stage fright. But I had no problem performing on stage. I was active in choir and drama growing up, and joined a dance company in my early 20's. Performing was easy. All eyes were supposed to be on me then. Performing complicated dance routines in front of thousands of people sounded like fun. Walking to the bathroom in an unfamiliar restaurant sounded like torture.
My younger sister developed the same (irrational) fears that I had, so we became each other's crutch. When we used to go out and party, pre-mommy days, we at least had the safety of the other's neuroses with which to comfort ourselves. We knew that we would enter a place, make a bee line for the bathroom to releive what we came to dub the "shitter jitters" (aren't we delicate little flowers). En route to the bathroom, we would mentally catalogue which corner looked the emptiest, so that we could hunker down in the corner booth/upstairs lounge/shade of artificial ficus tree until we could have a vodka tonic or 2 to numb those fears at least a little bit.
I abhor talking to people and would die happily if I could just cart along a laptop and write to everyone in my life. The only reason I do have such a large social network is because I was able to meet them online so that the "real me" came through in my writing. And honestly, I don't think Ron would have been as interested in me just based on how I present myself in real life. He saw the "real me" here on my blog.
In real life, I'm the snobby looking bitch in the corner and people assume that I'm just too good to talk to them. Really, I'm too terrified and wish that I didn't attract so much attention. When I'm in a crowd of people, I wish I could get over it and be the happy outgoing person whom everybody likes. I wish I could just open my mouth, apologize for who I appear to be, and explain that's not really who I am. Instead, I'm struck mute and paralyzed and everyone thinks I hate them. I wish people knew that I'm scared of them. That they intimidate me and I don't talk for fear of saying the wrong thing.
So please, the next time you see someone and are ready to write her off as a stuck up bitch, stop for a moment and consider that she might just be crying on the inside and not sure how to join in the fun. Go talk to her and help her come out instead of assuming the worst. You'll both be happier for it, I promise.
Okay, okay fine. I wasn't going to put up a "ring only" pic, but I've had a few requests for it. So for the record, if you think I'm tacky then do two things: 1) blame all the people asking me for pics and 2) bite me. Not necessarily in that order.
Oh, and I know I haven't put up the official story of the proposal, which maybe I should. I sure as hell overshare just about everything else in my life. But for the moment I just want it to be my memory and not share it with everyone. Yes it was romantic and memorable and yes you'll hear about it soon, but for now it's mine and you can't have it. Nothing personal :)
In typical OCDWPT style (That's Obsessive Compulsive Disorder with Procrastinatory Tendencies. Look for it in the DSM-IV in the Spring of 2009!), I planned the girls Christmas dresses, curled and style their hair, and generally just spent so long on getting them camera ready, that I lost any good available lighting and therefor had no Christmas pictures this year. And on Christmas Eve (when we do our familiy get-together) I almost completely forgot to take pictures. So I figured that I would not have any decent photographic representations of this, the happiest Christmas ever.
However. Take 30mg Adderrall, add 44 oz of diet Coke, 2 Marlboro Ultra Lights and then sit in front of Photoshop CS3 for a few hours, and some of the pictures become quite passable....
Deceptively cute, aren't they?
The manic glee of Christmas which sets Avery in constant motion...
The pre-teen dramatic Christmas spirit of "Mom, I'm so over this photography crap. Can you get that thing out of my face now?" (Does age 5 count as pre-teen? 'Cause the attitude sure as heck fits...)
We love our Mommy because she gives us presents!
We love our Gaga because she gives us cookies!!
My sister and her adorable family. My nephew Cayden (age very very 2) was even nice enough to stop his head spinning around 360 degrees long enough for this picture. It was a Christmas Miracle!
And the lovely Ron. Dear, sweet, loveable Ron. His superpower? Complete inability to keep his eyes open for a picture. For any picture. Flash, no flash, posed, candid, anything. He blinks. I'm working on an animated GIF for those who don't beleive me. It's adorable. Most of the time.
And what's the most Christmasy shirt he could possibly ever wear? Why, the Buddha shirt of course! (We like it for the style, not for the religion, so you need not have an aneurysm Grandma. I promise we're at church almost every Sunday...) It's still fun to antagonize my mom though :) And yes, even when he's not facing the camera, the eyes are still closed.
Hope all of you had a really fabulous holiday of your choice. I miss you guys oodles and hope to be back in the swing of things by New Year.
Well, other than myself. And most math teachers I've ever had. And anyone in the general vicinity of me trying to process numbers. Other than that I mean.
Ahem.
Anyway... I cured my scatterbrained blues with a nice round of lunch hour retail therapy with some birthday gift cards. At Target, I went over the gift card amount by $0.14. At Kohl's, I was under by $0.32. Is that talent, or what? I even managed to spend a little bit of the money on me! :) For yays!
