Hello, my name is Angela and I have been "Ex'd" again...

Ugh!

Outside of the horrible dates that don't go anywhere, and the totally whacked out creepers that I have (for the most part) learned to recognize, and type of dating relationship with a man ends in one way for me. I get "Ex'd." Every guy I have ever dated (with very few exceptions) leaves me for his ex. It's a joke with my friends. It's a joke with my family. I'll laugh about it. But inside, my heart is cold, tired, and broken.

I tell myself that this is some kind of reverse karma, and my knight in shining armour is coming soon. But let's be honest here... Prince Charming just isn't in the cards for me. There is no knight on a great white steed. And if there were, I'd probably be too independent for him anyways. This "ex-ing," as it were has taken a great toll on me. It it absolutely blows my mind why they pursued me in the first place. Why they take the time to tear down my walls, only to decide that someone else is better. You couldn't have figured that out BEFORE spending all that time with me??? Before initiating me to respond in an emotional manner. Really???

I get so hurt, angry, confused, and upset when this happens. You would think I would be used to it by now. But I get these emotional waves that wash over me in flashes of wanting to throw things, cry, hide my head, and then moving past it and not caring...

Unlike previous times when this happened, this time is just slightly different... This time I'm not focusing on my self-perceived inadequacies... Oddly enough. Because I usually sob about what's wrong with me, and oh I'm fat, and ugly and blah blah blah.

Um, no. Not this time. I'm not trying to be cocky, and it took me 28 years to realize I am a beautiful woman. I was lucky to have a beautiful face, and womanly curves, and yes I have always struggled with my weight in the past, but I finally realized that I'm not fat. I'm not obese by medical standards, and I'm really not that fat.
I'm beautiful, funny, witty, sarcastic, athletic, independent, strong, wonderful me.

So kiss my ass if you aren't over your ex, I'm already over you.

What's the phobia for...?

...the fear of ending up on www.peopleofwalmart.com?

The more I check that site out (daily) the more I have this deep seated fear of becoming a Wal-Creature, or worse yet... The Feature Creature.

I used to crack up reading and seeing the people on there, and then one day as I was entering with my mom (who introduced me to the world of "peopleofwalmart.com, BTW) made a comment about ending up on that site... That seed has sprouted into a full on phobia.

Once upon a time, I thought nothing of going to a store in my "comfy clothes." Sweat pants, check. Hoodie, check. Bedhead, check! Flip-flops, check! I mean, who cares? It's WALMART. The low prices and generally low class customers practically invite a Pajama Shopping experience. Come do all your shopping, in your comfy clothes, and experience our broad selection and low prices at convenient locations...

I laughed at the slobs, and the mullets, and the flamboyantly dressed. The freaks, the hillbillies, and the pimps and hoes made me giggle. And it hit me... I have gone to Wal-Mart dressed as Peggy Bundy on Halloween. I have worn short-shorts and tube tops in there (when I wasn't at my fittest). I have gone in there with full on bed head and my pajamas. I have gone in there covered in paint, sweaty from the gym, and covered in yard clippings... I realize I have been very lucky... Because I have all the potential in the world to be a *gasp!* "FEATURE CREATURE."

I am now very careful of my shopping trips...

A Positive Outlook Yields Positive Results

On my way to work today I pulled up next to a very new looking Cadillac CTX. As I pulled up admiring the unblemished silvery paint, I realized the woman driving it was on the phone and crying.

Ever had a single image can burn into your brain? Here's this woman, no doubt having a very bad day, and all these thoughts rush through my head. I had this urge to tell her that everything would be ok. That things will get better. I was reminded of the times that I was distraught and crying as I drove, wiping the tears from my eyes to see, and on more than one occasion, pulling over because I lost the battle. And one small hypocritical thought, that it wasn't safe for her to be driving on the phone...

I don't know why this pulled at my heart strings today. But it did. And when the light turned, I drove on with a silent prayer that her day would get better.

I'm not sure. Incomplete thoughts. Unable to weigh my options.

My mom wrote a blog about how she never wanted kids, but she married my dad and got me out of the deal, and how I was horrible, but now I'm so awesome she's glad. (my Cliff's Notes version) And that got some gears turning. 

Hello, my name is Angela, and I am FAR from perfect.

There are some horrible things that if I could go back and change, I wouldn't. Those things made me who I am. They showed me I have enough inner strength to conquer challenges and become a better person for it. 

But there are selfishly wretched things that I've done, and said, that I would trade anything to go back and not make those mistakes again. And every time my parents tell me how proud they are, or how much they love me, all I can think about is these massive mistakes I made. The things I've done that are so undeserving of their unconditional love. The hurtful things I said while I was angry or upset.

But being human is about emotion, and love and forgiveness. And I am so thankful and lucky that I have loving family that can look past these flaws, and forgive my being an asshole.

Hello, my name is Angela and today...

I realized that I have been so cryptic about some of my problems in my old blogs that when I read them I have no idea what was going on when I wrote them... Amazing...

It kind of feels like when you hide something from yourself and then later realize you hid it so well even you can't find it. Have you ever done that?
Had I not moved into my house I would have never found secret stashes of money, keys to God only knows what, and notes that were hidden all over my old apartment. Things like "Don't forget at 3" and "remember to call" on Post-It notes all over the place. Umm... ok! I'm telling myself that they probably made sense on whatever it was that they originally stuck on, but come on...
I'll be honest though, finding random 20's in pockets of old coats and hidden in books is kinda nice. Until I think of about a hundred times I could have used that twenty bucks... You never find these things when you are broke, I tell ya.

So, back to my point. I don't know what the point of keeping a blog, or journal, or any kind of notes is if a year later even the author has no clue what it means. Note to self: stop being so damned cryptic.

Also, for the sake of adding to the irony, I really thought some of that was literary GENIUS when I wrote it... Seriously... It's the truth... 'Sigh'

I'll try and do better. I want to know what I'm talking about in a year.

Hello, my name is Angela and today I can breathe again.

Physically. I have reached a point of relief in my sinuses that I haven't had in a week. It is nice. And amazing how much we take breathing for granted.

But today was a day of marked ups and downs. At the end of my work day, we received an email saying that a woman we worked with lost her battle with cancer. So my mind is a muddled mess of things I need to do, people I should call and sentimental memories of people passed.

I'm trying to live by the this idea that "positive thoughts yield positive results" and today is no different. I'm finding it easier and easier everyday to find the positives of the situations I find myself in. But today it's hard, and that's ok. Life is full of ups and downs, and I'm learning that it's not what happened but what we take away from the experience.

Rest in Peace Tina, you will be dearly missed by many.

You know what's sad about keeping a daily blog (in my case two)...?

When you are sitting, staring at a blank screen, and realizing exactly how boring your life is. When I was little, I was going to grow up and live this awesome free life and have adventures, and go to exciting places, and meet famous people, and be famous.......

Um, not so much. I went from young and wondrous, to bitter and angsty, to (god forbid) content and semi-secure. Weird.

Hello, my name is Angela, and I am boring.

Well, maybe not boring. Average doesn't quite fit either. Another face in the crowd? Yes. I can be that. When I reflect upon the things that made me who I am, I remember these massive situations. The drama, the good, the bad, the fear, the stupidity, the tears, the laughter, and the people. Looking back, there are so many people.

And it's odd to me that, for some reason, I'm ok with being another face in the crowd. I think it's because I have this thought that the other faces are just as faceted, and dynamic, and troubled as me. I didn't used to think like that. I still have that little feeling deep down inside that I was meant to do something great and really stand out... I just never knew what that was. Of course, my views of 'something great' from childhood to now have greatly changed. It was a defeated moment when I finally realized that I couldn't save the world. I couldn't pick up all the trash, I couldn't feed all the hungry, and I definitely couldn't mend all the broken hearts. Do you know this really upset me? My Dad called me a 'bleeding heart'. I couldn't save everyone. Being involved in rescue helps. But it also reaffirms that I can't save them all.

Well, that went in a whole direction I didn't expect.

I guess it's all about perspective. Which can change by the minute. One minute I'm boring, and the next I'm realizing my life is this hectic, disorganized mess and I'm just standing in the middle of it all calmly trying to make sense of things one piece at a time.

What to say...?

The theme this weekend seemed to be jokes about getting old. From my Mom's "29th" Birthday, to deciding that we only appreciate cleaning supplies because we're old.

My Mom's birthday was yesterday. I was dis-invited for fear my S.A.R.S. would spread and infect the universe. Namely, my Grammy. And I wouldn't want anyone to feel as crappy as I did this weekend, let alone my Grammy. Duh, who wants to get awesome old ladies sick? Certainly not me. So I kept my sick rear end home. But rumor has it there wasn't any cake, so I'm not feeling like I missed out on an opportunity to get fatter. But I did get to have dinner and drinks with her Sat night (where I was forced to purchase extra cold meds). And I'll be damned if those Amaretto Sours didn't just hit the spot!

I did manage to get my house cleaned Sunday between naps. It's hard to get off the couch with 200+ pounds of dogs sleeping on you but I managed. And Hoover owes me commission, I talked someone into a floormate, but IDK what you people did. Mine might be a few years old, but it's the most awesome hardwood floor cleaner EVER. 'D' got a new one on my praise, and I think he's on the fence about it. But our excitement in cleaning apparatuses made us decide that we were getting old.

And after further review, I've decided that there's a lot to cleaning that has some very sexual undertones... I'll leave it to your imagination to see how "old" you are in understanding that... But it was decided that that's why we as adults get so excited about these things, LOL!

Wow. A couple years go by, and it's amazing the change in mentality. Reading some of those posts, I can still remember writing them. I am torn between wanting to delete some of it because it's kind of embarrassing that I felt that way (and thought that way), and leaving it as a reminder to myself...

I like self reminders. I find I reflect a lot on my past mistakes to help me now.

Hello again, my name is Angela and I am coming back to document my life. Be glad I separated the dog blog, or this would be a seriously scattered event.

A lot has changed since my last post.

People have come and gone, jobs have changed, living arrangements, cars, hairstyles, weight's fluctuated, and I have stood in the middle of it all.