Merry Christmas to geeks, introverts, nerds, and gamers alike.  Have a wonderful new year.

When Kindness plus Honesty Goes Terribly Wrong

We are raised to find kind things to say about people.  We also know that we should strive to be honest.  These two traits do not always go together.

I have had several instances this past week in which very nice, polite people were either trying to compliment me or behave empathetically toward me, and well, the result was like, “Oh… heh heh, how awesome.”  Then I proceeded to plan out which food would properly drown out my feelings for the evening.

For instance, I was leaving the house to see some friends of mine, and I was feeling little sassy.  Nothing big… but I took the extra time to straighten my hair, put on a little mascara and lipstick, added a cute necklace and selection from my high-self-esteem shirts.  I was mostly feeling pretty good that evening. 

But things were about to go terribly wrong, in the kindest possible way.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I blame the fact that I have gorgeous friends. >.>

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

Halloween

I have nothing terribly fascinating to say today, so I thought I'd share what I wore on Halloween while passing out candy.  The trick-or-treaters seemed to like it.   I really wanted to get a Slenderman costume, but that seemed like a lot of effort to put in for a nerd like me who was only going to spend Halloween at home watching Top Chef or something.

My LootCrate Red Vs. Blue Entry

Epic boxes of geeky loot goodness.   It does not get any better than that!  Well, except for winning epic gift cards of gamer awesomeness.   I would love to get GW2 and hang out with my guild on the off chance I get any free time ever.  I kind of fizzled out of SWTOR, and it would be nice to hang with my nerd friends again.

I hope this photo finds its way to the awesome folks of LootCrate.


PEW PEW PEW PEW!

BFF Friends Forever

We were friends forever.

 

I laughed at your jokes

 

You laughed at mine.

 

We enjoyed coffee, late nights,

And the same really bad comedies.

 

Then one day, I realized...

 

 we have different political views.
 

And in that moment understood,

I never really knew how much I hated you.

 

 

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I WILL EAT YOUR FACE!

I am the Alpha!

Dear beloved PuppyWumpykins and KittersMcKitterKat,

I would adore it if you could please refrain from being the "leader" of our household treks if you do not actually know where we are going.  (I mean, realistically speaking, we can only go to the kitchen or upstairs from the couch.  It is not like you actually *need* to stop over and over again in front of my ankles...  It is not like there is any *guesswork* in realizing we are either going forward to the kitchen or up to the bedroom. but I am getting off topic.  You are like a wild cougar and a wild, majestic wolf, and I cannot presume to know the purpose behind your untamed, beastly ways..)

For you see, if I die, you will only have enough food from my body to sustain you for a week or two until I am far too rotten to eat.  In the end, my death would benefit none of us.


Also, winter is coming and I would be unable to turn on the heat.  You like heat. 

Yours Truly,
Your Food and Potty Servant

 

 

The End.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Why I Stopped Trying to Explain Introversion and Social Anxiety to Normal People

 
Response:
"Oh yeah... I  was shy once too, but I got over it and just don't care."

















Reality:

OMG... You are so Skinny (%$#%&).

Being introverted and having extreme social anxiety, I am often confused by the nuances of social interaction.  I often require a lot of contemplation before I realize if someone is being snide, thoughtful, sarcastic, funny, or mean. 

If I am secure enough in being justly confused, I’ve learned to be very honest about that confusion.

This helps me from being very resentful later and assuming that whoever I was talking to MUST have been making fun of me.

Other times, I am unsure as to whether I am confused, and I stare blankly, unable to formulate a response.  

This inability to interact with others in any sort of natural way has greatly prohibited me in formulating friendships.   Basically, my awkwardness is so great that people tend to *get* that they shouldn’t try small talk with me.

That said, I’ve still somehow managed to form small little pockets of friends and acquaintances.   One thing that is new to me is friendships with women.  This means I now have entirely new areas of social interaction to be utterly confused over.

I’ve probably mentioned in the past that I have body issues.  No matter what my size, it is very difficult for me to not see someone grotesquely fat in the mirror. 

 Well, I recently went to lunch with some of my work friends.  We hadn’t seen each other since school let out two months ago.   About five minutes into conversation, one of the ladies tells me I’ve gotten very skinny over the summer.  Logically, I knew I had not lost any weight since they’d seen me last, but what a great word! 

Then another woman chimed in saying, “Yeah, I hated you for a minute when I walked in... :D.”  And it was just then that I saw a flash in her eyes that told me

 She

Was

                                NOT

                                                Kidding…

How do I process that?  Then I remembered there was no need to panic.  I’ve seen this kind of thing on TV before, and I was pretty sure this was how women showed they liked each other. 

Pretty sure…

So I took it as a natural girl thing.  This is how we women communicate with each other.  I gave an awkward smile, and, not wanting to come off as egotistical, I decided the logical course of action was to clear up the confusion.  Then there would be no secret hatred.   And I would not be getting all this attention.  (Did I mention I have yet to learn how to take a compliment?)

I informed them I had not lost weight since they last saw me, and I even gained a little bit.  It was obviously my great new shirt, which, in all of its super-cuteness glory, made me look skinnier.    No, they corrected me.  I was wrong.   They said my arms looked skinnier, so I pulled up my sleeve and showed them my arm had indeed not become skinnier.  They informed me I was wrong again. 

Not wanting to be like one of those stupid skinny girls who walk around all skinny and obnoxious and seeking praise by telling everyone how fat they are so everyone else is forced to compliment them…

I decided to do the unthinkable. 

Now, I am not really sure why in my head this seemed like the right course of action, but I then became certain that if I collected the strength and courage to tell them my real weight, all this awkward, odd compliment-ness would come to an end and I would be out of this hole I dug myself into of trying to convince these women I did not become skinny. 

So I said it…  

This did not help me.  They then mocked my courage, and laughed about how yeah, sure, they all weigh that amount too (insinuating they definitely did not weigh that amount).

I am thinking, in the future, the right response might just be, “Thank You, and I love your hair!”

Perhaps I need to watch some more TV to help me prepare. 
_______________________________________________________


All photos and drawings are by me.  They may not be amazing, but they are mine.  If you share them, please share where you got them.

Newest Drawing

  
Some people say that drawings made from photographs are not art.


Some people act as though I am being self-deprecating or fishing for compliments if I explain in advance that I used a photo.


Either way, here is my latest drawing.  It is from a photo that I took.   I had a lot of fun drawing it.

I even bought a new sketch pad.  It is huge!

The end.

All photos and drawings are mine.  Please do not steal them.  I am a poor teacher.  If you share them, please share where you got them.

On the Perils of Stress and the Joys of Organization

Oh  Gaaaaaaawd. 
 Schoooooooool is starting again. 
Oh nooooooeeeeees. 
GAAAAAWWWWWWWW.


Yeah, that's right.  It is a week before I have to go back to the world of being an adult.
Growing up, I simply assumed that adults had their stuff together.  I was especially certain that people as high up as teachers had to have it together (whatever "it" was.... honestly, I figured that "it" was opened up for us once we reached a certain age, like, through some Divine intervention or something).



Gandalf saves the day!

Perhaps this flawed belief was all part of my inability to question the world around me.  Personally, I have had many moments in the last few years that prompted me to stop in my tracks and wonder how the heck I got here.  How did I become an adult?  How did I get a grown-up job?  How am I in charge of the the education of these children?

I assumed there would be some grand moment when it would become very clear... that I would become, know, feel, understand, and be at home in adulthood.  Many cultures do have such crossing-over rituals, but I wonder, when the children are done hunting the bear, getting the proper piercings, participating in the proper ceremonies, do they then KNOW they are adults?  Do they feel it in their souls and deep within the marrow of their bones?  I ask this because I know I don't feel it.  I understand it, but I don't have an internalized sense of it inside of me.

 So every year I begin stressing out about the school year to come.


Summer spoils me.  I am naturally introverted (like, seriously, devoutly, introverted), so while I occasionally enjoy summer in much the same way as normal people would, the parts I seem to relish most include sleeping in until eleven, staying up late, listening to music, drawing, reading, and so on.  Mostly my activities involve being with me.

And really... what I really enjoy most... is not having responsibility.  I loooooooooove not having responsibilities.  I am in love with not having responsibility.  If I saw not having responsibility at a party, I would totally make out with it.

As a side note, It frequently slips my mind that most people, in fact, do not actually have summers off.   This fact usually pops in my head mid-way through bumming out on people about having to go back to work, and I see the look in their eyes that reminds me about how they have been working full time for the last two months.
...my bad.

Along with being introverted, I am also very neurotic.
I take responsibility and I run at it so hard that I become completely exhausted by the time I complete any given responsibility.  Then I handle the other responsibilities on the list just as dramatically.  Though I have been working on being happy with myself for doing an ok or a good job instead of the BEST JOB THEY HAVE EVER SEEEEEEEEEEEEEENNN each and every time I do any given job!

So yeah, summer is at an end, which means waking up five days a week at 6:00 a.m. (poor me), being on time, lesson planning out the wazoo, planning for any possible event that could happen, staying late, feeling behind, being frustrated with myself, having a large to-do list, having to complete each item of said to-do list on time... and often (I am learning) *before* on time.






Can not unsee!

This last year has been a lesson in what "on time" means.  Apparently, the concept of due dates means something very different to me than what it means to others.  I've found that waiting to turn paperwork in on time simply leads to multiple "reminder" emails in the days before the due date reminding me that the due date is getting ever closer until said e-mails get panicky,


then depressing,

then passive-aggressive,

and then...

aggressive.          

Yes, I have been learning this past year that in the grown-up world due dates are actually seen as the last-possible minute by those who would like for me to be turning things in.  Applying this knowledge in the coming year, however, will still be quite the task.  You tell me that you need something Tuesday, my natural inclination is to turn it in Tuesday.
BAD inclination!

So I got a super-sweet calendar.  It is made just for teachers.

My plan is to mark a good time to turn in various tasks (days before the due date) as well as the last possible minute (i.e. in my world... the due date).  Perhaps this attempt at keeping myself on task will actually stick.

It even has a plethora of fabulous stickers.

And these wonderful lines, so I can make lists.  I fully intend to color-coordinate these lists. 

I am going to be so organized.  For about a month, at least, but hopefully for longer.

*Sigh*  We shall see.  But when/if the calendar fails, I also have a desk calendar, a planner, color-coordinated paper clips, and an unspeakable amount of Post-It Notes and filing tabs.  Maybe one day I will reveal my extreme office-supply obsession.


Hehe, "Your office-supply obsession sounds fascinating." said no one ever.
Here is hoping for a well-organized year!

Cat Photo-

http://www.flickr.com/photos/mastrobiggo/with/5075891135/#photo_5075891135 *Really cool photographer

Hate Drawing-

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thenothingcorporation/2904930169/sizes/m/in/photostream/

http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/deed.en

All the rest of the photos and drawing are mine.  I get that they are not particularlly fascinating or well done, or artistic, but please don't steal them without sharing where you got them.

An Artist in my Own Right

At times I can be an egomaniac with an inferiority complex.  I grew up with a previously mentioned sense of not being good enough, and yet, I KNEW I could be good at certain skills.  I always had the sense that if I could not be in the top-ten percent of something, I needed to quit.  Because... you know, I wouldn't be able to do anything with the skill anyway if so many people were better than me.

Unfortunately for me, I went to high school in a liberal-arts town.  I loved to draw.  I took all the Art classes I could.  Oftentimes I was in the Art room when I wasn't allowed to be.  However, it was quite clear that I was never going to be a good artist compared to the people around me.

So I quit.



Over a decade later I am finally pursuing art again, but this time, with a clear knowledge that I don't have to be the best... I don't even have to be great.  I am "kinda" good, and I hope to get better.  Mostly, I enjoy creating, and I enjoy seeing something wonderful to me on what was once a blank sheet of paper.  And I love how dirty my hands and clothes get during the process.

As a Christmas present to me, I bought myself a half-priced easel and some pastel chalks.  I've never really worked with color before, though I always wished I could make art that had color.  The chalks were fairly cheap, so I grabbed them, fought the voice asking me what the point was, and treated myself to some creative tools.

About once a month I play some Radiohead, Beck, Weezer, or whatever is on shuffle, and go for it.

This was my first drawing in December of 2011.

January of 2012

 

February 2012

My Art teacher in high school often lectured us that drawings of photographs were not art.  Now that I am drawing for me, I am allowing myself to use photographs.  The next one is from a photo.  I was told she looks like she is having a stroke, but what can you do? 

April 2012

May 2012 (also from a photo)

Sorry if I just Pwned your upload time. 

Finding My Own Missing Piece: Lessons Learned by Being Single Part I

I was a late bloomer. 

I spent most of my childhood ugly and fat, and I spent the rest of my childhood believing I was ugly and fat.  Along with these beliefs, Catholic upbringing, and being reminded repeatedly as a child that I was annoying and “weird”, I grew up believing I was unworthy, annoying, and not good enough for any boy to like me. 

I got my first boyfriend when I was 17 and never looked back.  Each relationship lasted about a year, and each time (except one, who, at the time, broke my heart) I was the one who ended the relationship.  I was certain I had a one-year dooms-day timer.  A final factor in my doomed relationship makeup was that I often selected guys I felt were somehow below me, whether in status, looks, or social skills. 

More than love, I needed to be loved, and if guys had to live in fear of losing me, I wouldn’t have to live in fear of losing them.  I would finally be loved above all else, and I would be complete. 

I am aware this behavior is a bit sick, and it took me finally being single and willing to honestly look at myself to realize I was doing this.  We all have reasons of why we do what we do, and we will find those reasons if we are willing to see the ugly truth.  While I will not excuse my behavior, I will share that my choice in boyfriends may have stemmed in part from the first crush I had who actually seemed to like me back.  He was a good looking hippy who already had facial hair!  He seemed to like me, we kissed a few times, and then he set me up with his nerdy friend while he then hooked up with my hot friend. 

His nerdy friend was a great guy, and we spend a year together, with no real spark, but I didn’t really know what a spark was or that I should be feeling it in the first place.  Either way, that situation helped burn my perceived social ranking into my brain.  Hot guys?  They don’t want me.  

For better or worse, that is a bit of my history. 

Since those early relationship discoveries, I have spent almost my entire life in one relationship or another.  My single life consisted of a couple weeks or months at a time.  Being single was uncomfortable.  The usual questions crept up: Will I ever find love again? What if no one wants me?  What if I am too ugly? What if this was the best I was ever going to have?

This last relationship lasted seven years, a feat I didn’t think I was capable of.  He was a good man, and I regret many of my actions to this day.  I also know that the relationship needed to end and spent a great deal of time in the obligatory maybe-he-or-I-will-change-and-everything-will-be-good phase.  After this relationship of still not feeling complete, or healthy, or altogether happy, I finally made a change.

I decided to be single...

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Photo/painting by me.  All rights reserved.