How do you play?

Recently, I've been asked quite a bit, "What do you do for fun?"

The true response would be, "I play with words." But I don't think most people would understand this. It's more than reading a good book at the coffee shop in the sun. It's more than sitting at home with either pen and paper or computer for my writing.

I play with words daily through my conversations with people. Twisting and turning word definitions, the context of a conversation, and placing cultural signifiers into a game of:
"Did You REALLY Just Say THAT!"

Let me give you an example from last night:

Me: (Asking one of the various questions I have running through my head every second.)
Josh: (Answered without actually answering the question.)
Me: (Silent and contemplative.)

Josh: "I like it when you're QUIET."

Me: (Laughing hysterically.)

You had to be there.

But yeah, I play with words.

Pink Aisle Confronted...

As is usual, I found my grocery shopping path changing course after January 1st.
I was taking long routes to "find" the eggs, jumping aisles to get that needed bread, or just telling myself the toilet paper could wait until next time.

I steer clear of the "Pink Aisle" every year.
(Say this as if it's a story from the Twilight Zone for full affect.)

If you've read my past posts on this subject, you know I've been battling Valentines Day for a long time. But last year, I told myself I would take the battle head-on, celebrating by buying/eating an entire box of chocolates from the dreaded--shove hearts down your throat--Pink Aisle.

The battle was fierce, and I realized a three step program was needed:

Step 1: Register and recognise the actual existence of the Pink Aisle.

About mid January, I mustard up the nerve to motivate my eyes to gaze upon the aisle as I walked through the grocery store doors. I had no problems finding it, as shiny red helium balloons circled it's location, and weird blood dripping light illuminated its being (I'm guessing this is from the reflection of the fluorescent lighting). And then my head would move to the vegetable section and I would decide there was no need for the actual items I entered the store for, because I wasn't ready for step two quite yet. This went on for a few weeks.

Step 2: Stand in-front of the Pink Aisle and take-in all the crazy hearts and stuffed animals it contains.

You might say this would have been a great time to get over my unnatural fear and just enter the frick'n (yes, I'm from Utah) aisle. But I couldn't. Instead I just stood staring at the long abyss, blockading others admittance while I clutched a hold of the cat food bag, Mint-Milano cookies, and soda I was purchasing for the night. After a few minutes, I'll admit I ran to the self-checkout stand and quickly swiped the bar codes so I could seek comfort at home from my cats.

Step 3: Place yourself in that aisle, baby!

This happened the night before Valentines Day. After driving a co-worker home from a late night at work, I achieved the confidence to confront the aisle. But let me say this before I proceed. This year I found myself in an odd state of being. You see, this year was different from the last twleve. This year, I actually had a Valentine!!!
So as I walked into the store I rushed with determination to confront, and wallop, the damn Pink aisle for all the annoyance it presented in my life previously. I made it about 5 feet in and stopped dead.

The shelves were dishevelled and picked over. Each one ransacked by individuals picking-up heart chocolate packages and tossing them aside in frustration. Perusing my options, I quietly and with confidence chose a tiny red hear shaped box of chocolates. It's cover marked by Snoopy and friend (this seemed the best option as Snoopy and I go way back and he and his pals comforted me in my youth).

It seemed to easy...
But it wasn't hard to eat the chocolates...

My Valentine comforted me the next day. He did everything right. A thoughtful gift--with me in mind, reservations at a nice restaurant of his choosing, wonderful conversation and laughter, and mini cup cakes for dessert... and not one thing from the dreaded "Pink Aisle!"

Who knows how my impression will be of the Pink Aisle next year? For now it's camouflaged by pastel colors of eggs and small stuffed chickadees and lambs. But I know it's waiting, bidding its time!

At least I've made the first steps to reconciling our friendship. 

Dating Do and Don't

So people keep telling me I need to get back into the "GAME." This game they are talking about is the weird and intricate world of--drum roll please--

DATING. 

I am not really a "GAME" player. Any one of my friends could tell you I'm oblivious to almost all attempts by men to "hit" on me. And even when the slight chance arrives that I do catch on, I have a hard time figuring out where to go from there.

That being said, here are a few things I've learned recently in my attempt to play the game. Men you should listen up, because if you are one of those guys out there looking for a girl that will treat you right (or at least you could see where things go) here are a few things not to do on those first dates:

1: Don't save the $5.00 by not paying for the coffee or beer she will be drinking.
A girl has agreed to spend some of her precious time to get to know you, the least you can do is pay for her drink. If she offers to pay, still buy it for her anyway. We women like being independent, but we also highly admire a gentleman.

2. Don't ask a girl why she dyes her hair.
As a friend at work said, everyone is doing it. Who cares we dye our hair? We just do. And a little heads up, we try to make it look like we don't so please don't throw that in our face.

3. Don't tell the girl to relax.
If the girl looks anxious or seems to have a wall up, there is probably a reason. And that reason might not have so much to do with us, but more how you are making us feel. Ease up and let the date go how it goes.

4. Don't tell a girl she should smile more.
Again, there is probably a reason the girl isn't smiling.

5. this is the big one:

DON'T EVER TAKE AWAY THE ENJOYMENT OF A FIRST KISS!!!!!!!

If you have to make a girl kiss you (i.e. telling her, "Come on, just give me a kiss."), then you loose the game. Let this happen naturally. When both people can't resist any longer. It's so much better. Plus, if you do wait, then you don't have the girl calling you a jack*** under her breath as she walks away.

So yeah. The "GAME." I'm attempting to learn the rules, but I'm finding there are so many, and not everyone plays by the rules. To Date or not to Date, that is the question.

Heart Break...

I would like to be able to write this in some eloquent fashion, but the truth is....
Being heart broken SUCKS!!!!

It just sucks, there is no other word for it. It sucks the energy from you, it sucks away your appetite, and it just plain sucks. But what I'd like to know, is why, when heart break arrives, does it make you do ridiculously foolish things?

Take for example my past two weeks. After having my heart stomped on...(this may be a bit of an exaggeration)... I have begun doing things that are out of my character. One, went on a few dates within the past two weeks, thinking it would make me feel better, and all it did was make me think.... "where do these men come from." The day after being heart broken, I was on a band wagon of becoming the person I want to be (or think I am, or am, I don't know), so I finally submitted my picture book to four publishers. This was a good thing, but now I am in the long waiting process of possibly not hearing for not only the boy that broke my heart, but also the publishing houses that may or may not read my writing. I hate waiting. I'm not patient (as I have said once, or twice, or maybe three times before).

Being heart broken has also made me feel as though I need to be continually active. As such, I had a night of drinking and singing to the tree that resides in my front yard. I at least recognized it wouldn't sing back (I mean it is a tree people), but none the less, it made me feel a bit better to be out of myself and releasing all my vocal cries to an object that couldn't talk back, but could only listen. I can't rest and as such, instead of punching the walls around me, I decided ripping out the carpet in my bedroom was a better option. This, though, has left me with 3/4 of a hard wood floor (that needs repair) and a 1/4 of remaining disgusting carpet on the floor because I'm too tired to take the rest out.

Being heart broken makes you take long walks listening to your iPod and singing at the top of your lungs not caring who hears. It makes you recognize how many couples are out there, how many love songs are on the radio, love stories on T.V., in the movies, and that love never really is like that in real life.

But most importantly, being heart broken makes you think about all the good times you had, and how you were willing to open up, and how you want to have that feeling again.

The floor will be repaired, the drinking and signing to trees will stop, maybe I will hear back from the publishers--that would be cool--and you know what, if I keep dating maybe I'll be able to open up again and do this all over again. (Though next time, I'll have to find a different rug to tear apart).

So again I will say, "Being heart broke sucks."