Blog Break

Dear Readers,

I'm taking a leave of absence from my blog baby for a while. I'm not sure for how long. It may be a month or two. I don't want to abandon the blog, but neither do I want to continue writing when I have other priorities that demand my attention right now. I need time to regroup and refocus. Blogging is a fun outlet, but it can also be a distraction. And distractions are what I need the least of at this point in time. So, never fear. This is not goodbye, it's just TTFN.

Sincerely,

Me

Pre-You

I am borrowing this concept from a dear friend of mine and shall expound upon it here. (I gave you credit upfront this time.) LOL. Ahem.

When we meet people, is the person we meet from the get-go really them, or are they, as my friend postulates, Pre-Them?

Think about it. The us that we put forward from the start is not usually the us that people come to know. Not that we're attempting to deceive, necessarily, but that most people are multi-layered and what we get from the get-go is the mere epidermis.

Hasn't this happened to you before? You get to know someone and they say, "You know, when I first met you, I thought you were _______, but now I know better!" What goes in the blank is not necessarily something negative, but rather just one of the characteristics of Pre-You. (What usually goes in the blank for me is "shy.")

Dealing with Pre-People isn't a bad thing. It's just that you have to allow time to go beyond Pre-Them before casting a definitive judgment. What's bad is All-Them from the get-go. I've come to the realization that I'd rather be ambivalent over Pre-Them than dazzled by All-Them. Why? Because once you've met All-Them, that's literally all there is. Sure, All-Them can be dashing and exciting and leave you breathless, but then what? Can All-Them, as my friend put it, "back that stuff up"? Is there any depth beyond the charming artifice?

Here's a hypothetical situation (what if there were no hypothetical situations?) to illustrate a layer of Pre-Them being shed:

Her: (Sitting at a cafe with WiFi, perusing news online waiting for him. She realizes too late that she's sat in the direct line of sight of a middle aged creeper. Fantastic. She tries to sink lower into her seat to allow her laptop screen to block his view. He finally arrives. They greet each other and he sits down.) Hey, would you mind moving over a little bit? No, this way. There's this man sitting over there staring at me, and I need you to block his view.

Him: (laughing) Sure.

Her: (After a bit of chit chat, she excuses herself to the ladies' room and comes back to find the creeper gone.) Thank God that man left. Even after you tried to block his view he still moved over to keep staring.

Him: Yeah, when you left, he came by and asked if I was with you. I was like "Naw, man," and I gave him your number. I even gave him some tips and told him you liked long walks in the park. So, be expecting a call pretty soon.

Her: (laughing uproariously) Whatever.

At first, she thought he was kind of reserved, but then she saw a funnier, more outgoing him beginning to emerge.

Letter from a Wannabe Matchmaker

From: Sister Wannabe Matchmaker

To: Me

Hey, sis,

I'm sorry you haven't heard from ______. My brother said that he thought _____ has been talking to someone else recently. Oh well. I tried. God has a wonderful plan for your life; so, hang in there and keep believing.

God Bless,

Sister Wannabe Matchmaker

From: Me

To: Sister Wannabe Matchmaker

Hey, sis!

No problem at all. You did try, and the Lord will reward your efforts. ;-)

God bless,

Me

Everything You Wanted

Sometimes you get so used to wanting what you want that when the possibility of it arises, it immobilizes you.

You're so used to wanting what you've wanted that you've gotten comfortable, almost to the point that you'd almost rather continue wanting than face deciding to accept it.

Not that . . . an offer has been made for me to accept (or reject), but the circumstances, taken at technical face value, are just short of bewildering.

However (isn't there always?), I cannot presently deny a reticence. Almost an ambivalence. While part of me demands "What is wrong with you?" the other part advocates self-patience instead of self-beratement. Perhaps a healthy reticence, for now, is not altogether a bad thing.

Bienvenidos to Instructor Life

Today was the first day of official instructordom.

It's nothing new, really. I taught in the Spring and this past summer. It's just that then, I was a lowly GTA. Now, I'm a part of the system. I have an office (albeit shared) and my box in the mailroom has been elevated to the more prestigious instructor row. I'm so special.

Class went well today. As first days go. A bit of drama with cancelling and recombining classes, and a young lady who has proven herself to be the beginnings of a headache (she came in late, and then greeted me with, "Yeah, like, buenos noches or whatever"), but all in all, I still give it an A.

And NPR. Ah. What a friend for the 45-minute commute. Morning Edition on the way up and All Things Considered on the way back.

One of the best things is that I teach Mon Wed Fri. Tues/Thurs I have to my little self. No classes. No papers (except for the ones I'll eventually have to grade, but we'll cross that bridge when we get there).

I can do this.

Passivity

There are downsides to being passive. There are downsides to being aggressive. But I'd take a little too aggressive over a little too passive any day.

Guys who are passive are just ugh. Having conversations with them is like swimming in a pool of coagulated grits. Spending time with them is like watching a French film in slow motion. Expecting them to take initiative is like waiting for Godot.

I'd much rather one brazenly escort me onto the dance floor without asking, risking my resistance, than to stand against the wall allowing song after song after song to slip by, like Hamlet, immobilized by the specter of action.

Ladies, let's have a talk.

Ahem. I'm writing this out of concern for certain of my fair sex kicking into e-stalker mode when it comes to members of the opposite sex.

Lord knows I have my fair share of quirks, but there are some things that deserve an utter status of FAIL. I have a few male friends (hasn't seemed to up my chances of Mr. Wonderful noticing me, but that's for another day), and occasionally, they confide in me. Keep this in mind:

1. E-stalking is initially flattering, but ultimately annoying.

2. Don't assume that any Internet-generated correspondence of any type is confidential.

And believe me, I've been through the school of hard knocks on number 2. My advice comes from a position of concern and experience, not of condescension.

I mean, you do you. Whatever floats your boat. But I'm of the persuasion that calm and coy triumphs over frenetic and forward.

Goodbyes

I've never been good at them.

After I helped one of my pals and his wife pack and put stuff in a moving truck today, I said goodbye to him and my other good grad school buddy who came to help. I despise saying goodbye. I know, things change, people move on, you begin new chapters in life, you can still keep in touch, it's part of life. I get it. But it still makes me melancholy and teary-eyed. It still depresses me to know that, despite the positive that can come from change, things from this point on will never be the same.

I feel like all my friends are moving away, getting married, starting new lives without me. I know, it sounds dramatic, maudlin and self-pitying. But it's how I felt standing there in the grass as they pulled down the door to the moving truck.

I have a lot to look forward to. I have a couple more orientation sessions before my life as an instructor begins next Monday. I'm blessed to even have this job because, frankly, people aren't getting hired in this economy, especially in academia, rife with budget cuts. I needed something temporary that would allow me to save a decent amount of money, and that's exactly what this is. After that, I'll experience 6 months abroad. I'm thankful for the opportunities God has given me.

Even so, there is a part of me which has a tendency to nurse the bittersweet. To cast a wistful glance behind me and long for the way things used to be.

Graduation

As soon as I took off my bridesmaid dress, I donned a cap and gown and walked across the stage. Today was the big day! I officially have a Master of Hispanic Studies. God is so good.

Wedding

My blog has been neglected for a beautiful reason.

I've been in the lovely town of Charleston, SC to be in the wedding of one of my very best friends. The wedding, in short, was a fairy tale. A fairy tale come true.

There are so many things to describe: a dinner cruise, watching the sunset over the water, getting whirled and dipped on the dance floor, meeting lots of interesting people, watching the bride and groom speed away on a boat at the end of the reception.

It was lovely. I wish my friend and her hubby the absolute best.

Yet Another One of My Snobby Musings

Okay, this is going to come out sounding like the words of a smarty-pants, high-maintenance, snobby girl. Perhaps there are some who would attest that those adjectives do accurately describe moi. Indeed, I've been accused of being each of those things at some point or another. But oh, well. I don't know what to do to convince the naysayers that I'm actually nice and down-to-earth and generally unpicky. Generally.

Okay, on with the snobby postulation. It has to do with guy deal breakers. I've always been clear about the fact that we must be in one accord on our beliefs. How can two walk together except they agree? Okay. I've also mused over age difference. I've been in some situations where I pondered the ramifications of cougardom. Age can definitely be a factor, especially if the age difference causes a disparity in maturity level, but I've come to the conclusion that it is not, by default, a deal breaker. I could probably write a dissertation about the ramifications of racial/cultural difference, but I'm gonna leave that can opener right where it is and just say that neither is that, by default, a deal breaker. There are a few preferences that I have: tall (or, at least taller than me) and bespectacled, but I know in the back of my mind that neither are the lack of these preferences deal breakers for me.

But the one that I haven't yet decided upon is educational level. Here's the snobby part: I don't know if I could be with someone who hasn't gone beyond a high school education. I'm just being honest. Let's be clear (channeling Obama here), I'm not in any way putting down anyone who has a high school education or less. Life leads people down a plethora of disparate paths. Fantastic. Many people that I look up to and love and admire who are much wiser than I could ever think about becoming haven't gone beyond a high school education. Honestly, college isn't for everyone. It just isn't. But that's okay. (Now that I've gotten my disclaimer out of the way . . . ) It's just that I don't think I could relate to Mr. Wonderful if he'd never gone to school. I don't think he could relate to me. I want someone (dare I say it?) on the same level as I am intellectually.

The college experience is a huge part of my formation as a person. For better or worse. And if he hasn't experienced it as well, there's a whole lexicon of commonality that would be missing from our discourse. Instead of being able to season our conversations and understanding of one another with spices like saffron, cumin, oregano, anise, thyme, rosemary and paprika, we'd be left with trying to get by on merely salt and pepper. And I don't know if salt and pepper is enough for me.

Like it or not, there's also the intimidation/inferiority complex factor. I don't want a guy who struggles with feelings of inferiority because his significant other has a more extensive curriculum vitae than he does. I don't want a dude who feels emasculated by my existence. There may be men out there who wouldn't be bothered by it. But I'd be willing to bet that many would have a problem with it.

I want to be able to be completely, nerdily me with Mr. Wonderful. I don't want him to stare blankly if I want to reminisce about my literary love affairs with Poe and Shakespeare. I want us to be able to accuse one another of having Freudian dysfunctions (i.e. anal-retentiveness, passive-aggressiveness, having Oedipal and Electra complexes, projecting) and laugh. I want us to be able to be each other's thesaurus.

Is that too much to ask?

Score!

1. Got served up a blue light special for speeding, but got off with a warning. Score!

2. Since I did well on my French exams and completed all other assignments, I was exempted from the final. Score!

3. I thought I owed rent for August and included a check along with my keys and check-out papers, but got a call today saying I didn't owe anything and they'd destroy the check for me. Score!

Three More Things That Have Made Me Cry Lately

and then we'll call a moratorium on the sappiness.

1. Reading a letter my brother wrote me while he was in basic training.

2. Examining a copy of my birth certificate.

3. Listening to a story about how a man's brother broke his neck in a swimming accident when they were teenagers and how the man's brother ended up paralyzed from the neck down. Then listening to him tell about the positive attitude his brother had towards life in spite of it all and how his brother even got married last year. He said it was the most emotional wedding he had ever attended.

I am now moved back in with the 'rents, my stuff is safely in storage, a lady I just met has plans to set me up with a "good looking guy," and this new chapter of my old life can officially begin.