Sunday Afternoons

I just partook of a perfect Sunday afternoon. Imagine this; amazing friends, 90 degree weather, sandy (Juanita) beach, cool (yet algae infested) water, giggles galore, and a wonderful picnic with a view. It was fantastic; I wish everyday could be that lovely!

Wasting my pretty? I say, no more!

The “Amazazazing Whitney” sent me a link to an extremely funny and accurate blog called “The Single Mormon Girl’s Guide to Life” (There’s a link under “Amazing Blogs” on this page). As I was reading, laughing, and agreeing with almost everything she said; I came across a post titled “Don’t waste the pretty”. In it is her interpretation of the book “He’s just not that into you” and a story about her own experience dating a loser.

I’m sitting at my desk reading this story, which in some ways has paralleled something in my life, and it hits me. That’s exactly what I’m doing, I’m wasting my pretty!

Why?

Why was I wasting my pretty on someone who was obviously not worth my consideration?

Was it because there is a lack of good guys in my social circle?

No. Actually, I know a lot of guys I would consider dating (if they asked).

Was it because of some lack of self-esteem that I was drawn to men like that?

No. Even though sometimes I think there are elements of the ridiculous about me and I may occasionally go overboard personality wise in social situations. I may even, at times, have doubts about my appearance or mental, emotional, and physical abilities; but deep down I know that I’m a smart, attractive, fun, talented, creative, adorable woman.

My theme songs are “You’re So Vain” and “Foxy Lady”, so yeah, no issue there!

So I ask you again. Why am I wasting my pretty?? Why do I waste my time on guys that I know will burn me, crush me, make feel like just any other girl, or simply don’t “get” me? Is it because there’s a small part of my brain, hidden deep away, that is telling me to pursue guys like that because I know it won’t go anywhere? Do I have commitment issues?

Maybe, on occasion I’ve had an issue or two, but after reading that blog I think I’ve figured it out. There IS a voice in my brain telling me to pursue them, not because of any committal problems, but because I know that the only person that really gets hurt in that situation is me.

It explains why when I was 15 and the boy I liked asked me to dance I said no and literally ran away. Why would I do something like that, especially if I liked him? That’s because I have liked two types of guys in my lifetime, the “good” guys, and the “not so good” guys. It seems as if the only ones I feel comfortable enough to pursue are the “not so good” guys. Why, because if I have to let them down in the relationship future, it’s not a big deal. They weren’t especially nice to begin with.

But if a “good” guy likes me, I flip out. That’s because I know there’s a possibility that I will have to hurt him in the future, and for whatever reason, I’d rather skip any potential happiness than do that.

Lame.

Well it stops here! I am no longer pushing guys aside just because I don’t want to hurt their feelings, because you know what? I’m missing out, and it’s not going to happen anymore!

Invasion of the Body Snatchers!

(This blog has been posted for Meredith Bennion’s enjoyment.)

About a week ago I had one of the craziest dreams. It involved my friends, family, kicking a woman in the face, trying to flee to Canada, and Nazis. It was very “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”, except without all the alien bits. Although it was weird and left me in a cold sweat, I haven’t really thought about it again. Until this morning, that’s because last night I had a very similar dream. Except this time it was actually “Invasion of the Body Snatchers”, but only by touching you could they notice you hadn’t been “turned”. They would then ask if you would like to be “turned”. Very strange, but polite! Anyway, even though it was a super polite alien invasion, we were still trying to flee to Canada-weird. Is Canada really as safe as it is in my dreams?

Peafowl

Pea-COCK, male.
Pea-HEN, female.
Shocking, but some people don’t know this.