Not unhappy, again.

WeddingThere has been too much conversation lately about how I should be married. My friends suck. They mean well, but sometimes I don’t think they know me at all. They are all mostly happily married and want me to be happy too. I’m not unhappy, but I don’t think being married would make me happy. I think they have forgotten what I have said for the past 5+ years, yet they are planning my hypothetical wedding. And why, with all my epic failed relationships, do they almost always come to me for advice when they have problems? I am not the expert, nor a role model.

But, why am I not married? I’m stubborn. I’m set in my ways and my ways are the best. I don’t share well. If I want to do something, I do it. I like expensive shoes and electronics. I quote random song lyrics at inappropriate times. I want him around when I want him around, and I can’t be forced to be in his company. My solitude is very important. I’m grouchy. I trust no one. When I don’t get a joke, I’m pissed. I would rather go to a funeral than a wedding. I’m selfish. I rant—a lot. I want to smoke every minute of every day, although I limit myself to one puff every month or so. I have unrealistic expectations. Although I consider myself a modern woman, I still like most stereotypical gender rolls—I will vacuum, he will take out the trash. I sleep in the middle of the bed. I overthink everything. I still talk to a lot of my exes. I am super private. I’m kinda bossy. I have only one feeling and I guard is fiercely. I sometimes don’t answer my phone for days or weeks, but I always expect him to answer his. I will probably never let anyone completely in. I am not responsible enough to be part of someone else’s happiness. When I’m in a bad mood I take it out on everyone. I am sometimes unkind.

And on the flip side: I am awesome and only want to be told once a day. I am loyal to a fault. I buy my own expensive shoes and electronics, but love unexpected surprises. I can cook very well, but love to share my kitchen. I give great gifts. I’m not afraid of getting dirty and I love to weld. I am just as comfortable in kick-ass heels as I am in my work boots, although I prefer sweatpants and a safety green t-shirt. I love unconditionally. I am full of myself and sometimes a tad condescending, but I earned it. I am very sentimental, and a tear can run down my cheek easily. I love writing and receiving love letters. Hold my hand and I will go anywhere with you.

I was supposed to write about chicken, but somehow this post happened.
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My compass is broke.

creativepeopleSometimes things work out, and sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I forget everybody is not like me. I don’t always do the right thing, but I always try to. And sometimes I can’t even figure out what the right thing is. I’m tired of the gray area, I’m ready for everything to be black and white.

As much as I try to be an open book, there are still parts of me nobody gets to see. I’ve been accused of being cold, unemotional and sometimes a tad too full of myself. I’ll take that, but with an explanation about all of them. I’m cold, because it is hard for me to trust and as a realist I don’t see that changing anytime soon. I disagree with unemotional. Just because I don’t show it does not mean I don’t have emotions. I have been programmed to believe emotions make you week, so to be strong I don’t show them. It may not be right, but that’s how I work. I am probably too full of myself, but you know, I earned it. I have worked hard and I am good at what I do. And for every member of the “Julie is awesome” club there are that many nonmembers. It’s their loss.

I have been paying my penance for past wrongs for more than a decade. I honestly try every day to wake up with a good attitude, do at least one random act of kindness and help others whenever I can. I wonder when it will ever be enough. I have been fighting the urge to burn hard drives for months, and it’s only getting worse. I have stood back and bit my tongue. I have not defended myself, even when I should have. I may be naive, but I think that if I wait long enough and give her enough rope, she will hang herself. I just have to be patient. I totally believe that what is meant to be will happen whenever it’s supposed to, but I am getting very tired of waiting. I know it’s just a test, but right now I feel like I am failing.

I feel like I lack direction right now. My heart is telling me to write, but my bank account is telling me to keep doing what I am doing to pay the bills. And then I don’t write for a week and when I do it’s just crap. I can’t win right now.

I’m ready for my compass to point true north.
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Uncensored.

Sometimes I actually have to dress up for work and not wear pajamas. This makes my feet hurt and me cranky.
Sometimes I actually have to dress up for work and not wear pajamas. This makes my feet hurt and me cranky.

Every blogger I know has had a moment in their blogging life that makes them question every single thing they have posted. Now, I can add myself to the list. I made a commitment to myself when I started writing years ago (at my old gribco blog, which I have deleted)  I would not censor myself. Well, now I am censoring myself. Don’t ask why, because I can’t answer honestly. Just know there is a large part of my life that I will not be writing about ever again. My love life is off limits. Oh sure, my love life is very interesting, but there is actually a lot more going on with me outside the bedroom too. Plus, my love story is novel epic, so I’m going to save it for hard copy.

First, I signed a HUGE contract this past Friday. Second, I have another HUGE contract I may get next Thursday. Third, I have an unbelievable chance to do some kickass writing for a major midwest newspaper, and will be spending a few days with them next week. When I get a byline there, I can make another check off of my bucket list. Don’t worry, I will post it here when I do. Fourth, I have to finally have surgery on my shoulder. Compression fractures in my back + pinched nerves + degenerative cysts = pain for the past 10+ years. It has finally come to a head and in a few weeks I will probably be going under the knife. I’m scared, of course. But it’s my left shoulder, so I won’t be totally helpless for long and I have some great friends that are going to take care of me. I plan to do a lot of writing in the two weeks following surgery, so watch out because some may be drug induced. Could be very interesting.

As much as I have made a lot of my personal life public here, when someone unwanted reads it I feel violated. I have caught myself almost writing to the creeper. That stops after today. Someone inconsequential will not control how I write or my writing process. (Hey creeper, this is the last time I will ever think of you, or your desperate attempt to control a situation that is none of your business.) This is the one and only time I will ever let you into this blog. Get over it. Move on. Leave me alone. If you need something to read I can Google some mental illness websites that might help with your self-diagnosis.

Sorry, that needed to be said.

I have worked from my home office for the past 14+ years and the dress code is pretty lax. Well, right now I have been venturing out and drumming up some business and that requires some better attire. I’m not really thrilled about having to get “made up” almost every day for the past week and probably for a few more weeks to come, but it will be worth it. And hopefully my feet can get used to wearing my “ass kicking” heals again.
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I’m a fake.

I’ve been on the treadmill for 56 minutes running as hard as a could. I listened to every angry song on my iPod and cried. And cried. And cried. I’m sitting here dripping sweat, smelling like a dirty sock admitting I’m a fake. I’m not strong. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I’m tired of bullshit. I’ve been kidding myself. It will never matter who I am, how much money I make, what I drive, how successful I am. Nothing matters—ever. I’ve been chasing an unobtainable dream. What have I ever done in life to deserve to be happy? Right, nothing. All the money, all the awards, great jobs, great friends— they mean nothing when you have no one to share it with. I’m hitting the shower, maybe I can cry some more in there.
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This is real.

What is my real relationship? My real relationship is loving you unconditionally, and you me. My real relationship is you holding my hand. My real relationship is you sleeping with me every night—with a fan on. My real relationship is me cooking the foods you love every day. My real relationship is me taking care of you and you taking care of me. I want to do your laundry, pick up your messes and mow your yard. I want you to call me honey pie all the time. I want you to keep me looking at my bottom line. I want you to touch me every time you are close enough to do so. I want to say “we” and “us” all the time. I want you to dry my tears when I am sad. I want to rub your muscles when you hurt. I want to always be able to make you laugh. I want to be able to see you out my office window, working in the yard on some piece of equipment. I want to sit on the front porch with you and just rock away the troubles of the day. I want to be a team. I want Sunday dinners at either one of our parent’s house. I want to keep having butterflies in my stomach whenever I think about our first kiss last Monday morning. I want us to take lazy vacations that involve a body of water. I want to be the couple that everyone else wants to be. I want to be happy with you—only you.

I want you to chose me because you love me, because you believe in me and because we are better when we are together.

Love,
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Finding my voice.

I’m having trouble finding my own voice. I don’t really know what I want to say. I’m editing myself before I speak. I’ve have started rethinking everything….yeah everything. To quote a friend, “Don’t talk about it, be about it.” So, now I’m gonna be about it. No more sitting on the sidelines. No more overthinking. I’m going to make a decision, stick with it and move onto the next one. Yep, I can do this.
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Rumor has it.

Recently I found out that I had been the subject of some pretty hot gossip. And although it was totally false, if it had been true, it was pretty juicy stuff. After my initial knee jerk reaction, I calmed down, thought about the situation and the person who started the entire mess and came to some conclusions. The person who was spreading this around is a sad, miserable person. She feeds on being the center of attention and does things purely for the shock value. Considering that the rumor was shocking and while she was telling it she would have been the center of attention, it fit her just perfectly. I can honestly say that everything this person does is self-serving. I have never met anyone who has been helped by almost everyone I know and then has turned around and just been absolutely nasty to them. Now I can add me to the list. Oh well. Live and learn. But I will not make the same mistake twice. She has apologized to others in the past, but has just repeated her behavior again. She will never have the nerve to apologize to me, and that’s fine. Talking to her would be exhausting and wouldn’t accomplish anything. I will just chalk it up to lessons learned.
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