One picture…

Have you seen the Annie Leibovitz photo of the First Family in the Green Room? It’s being called the first official White House Family Portrait.

This picture makes me want to get married, procreate and have a career. I have always wanted to be somebody, but now I am getting way more specific. This is a breakthrough for me. TRUST ME! The Obamas are influencing me in ways I would have never imagined.

After watching one of President Obama’s speeches I had an AHA! moment that helped me figure out what I wanted to do with my life. I most definitely have real direction now. Barack you really Rock for that! I have also decided that my job or career doesn’t have to define me. For a very long time I felt that meaning, purpose and identity would be found in my career pursuits, but now I look to work simply as a means to an end. To travel, eat out and buy new mascara. Although that may seem trivial to some, for me it has given me peace of mind and joy that I had not experienced until that moment when it dawned on me that I am so much more than my job. However, his speech caused me to return to my thoughts when I was in elementary school and highschool and college and remember what I enjoyed. So hats off to Barack for cracking the code to what I want to be when I grow up.

I think I want a husband. That being said I don’t think my mom should fish out that guest list she made the last time I was engaged. However, those Obama’s have me thinking that a spousal unit might not be so bad. Anyone who knows me knows I have never fantasized about marriage or being married. Ok, I have gotten caught up in what I believe is the natural progression of a relationship, but I never made it a goal to be married. I have always said I want companionship, but it didn’t necessarily have to be in the form of a husband. I understand that you can’t look at someone else’s situation and draw conclusions on how your situation would work out but Barack and Michelle make marriage look agreeable. Thanks for being role models.

There are children that pull on my womb and make me quickly, and very briefly think of children. However, when I saw the Obama family photo I couldn’t help myself. Sasha’s beaming little smile made me think “Hmmmm what if I had a child, that would be so sweet, a little me.” Then I thought abut the logistics of having a baby. If I had a child I would really want them to collect my eggs, get my man’s sperm and place it in a surrogate. I wonder how much that would cost? However, for a fleeting moment I pictured my little family. It brought a smile to my face. I want to pursue the American Dream or at least my edited version. Thank you Obama Family.

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R.I.P. Aaliyah…

I turned on the tv this morning and was reminded that Aaliyah died today eight years ago. She was the first person I truly didn’t know whose death made me cry like she was a family member. She was simply a celebrity I liked, but when she died it felt like I had lost a friend. It’s funny how these days I feel like I know celebrities because of shows and blogs, but I don’t they are strangers. For example, I saw Suchita Vadlamani and I kept thinking this woman looks familiar I know I know her from somewhere. So I said “Hello, how are you? ” Thinking since I know I know this woman she will recognize me and remind me of how we know each other. She was very gracious and said hello very pleasantly, but the look in her eye was not one of recognition. Then I realized omg I don’t KNOW this woman I’ve only seen her on tv.

But back to Aaliyah, I remember playing At your Best you are Love over and over…which is still one of my favorite songs of all time. One of my childhood friends was at my house and she kept trying to put in Aaliyah’s second cd, but I was adamant that we listen to that one song. I even told her if she wanted to listen to something else she needed to go back to her house. She backed off. After that we both sat on the floor listening to that song on repeat. Her voice in that song was just so soothing to me after hearing that she had passed. She was someone I wanted to meet. I even thought we would be friends. She seemed cool, sweet and a fun to be around. It hurt my heart that she was gone.

I believe it’s always harder to deal with the death of someone young, as opposed to older people who have had an opportunity to lead a full life. When people die unexpectedly and in her case tragically in a plane crash, it’s crushing. At least when someone is sick you deal with the possibility of death and it gives you an opportunity to prepare yourself for what may be the inevitable. 

I think the lesson for me today is that you never know when it’s your time to go. So whatever it is that I want to do or want to get I need to go get it period. I’m constantly having conversations with people about their lives and what they can do to improve, but what am I doing to improve myself? I need to stay in my lane, focus on my goals and be the best me I can possibly be because even if I don’t die tomorrow a lifetime goes by in a flash. My current situation has certainly taught me how to deal with stress on a whole different level. I don’t worry about things the way I did in the past, but maybe I need to bring back the sense of urgency that worry does produce. Today I realized I have nothing to show for the seconds, minutes, hours, days, months and years I’ve been here. I need to get busy, urgently. I’m also always reminding friends that time is valuable. Moments are precious. Turn off the tv, put down the cell, edit the email later and enjoy life right here and right now. I say this, but I don’t heed it. Today I will take my own advice because life certainly isn’t permanent.

All my single ladies put your hands up…

I love to see happy, well functioning couples that love each other. I’m not one of those sappy love the idea of being in love ladies, but I’m all for people finding a companion. I have reached the coupling-age and an increasing number of my friends are making co-habitation plans or getting hitched. This leads me to today’s post. And it is possible that I have written about this before, but to engaged and married women please don’t forget the single lady struggle. I’m not saying dwell on it everyday, but don’t mistreat your single girlfriends now that you are all married, fianced and boo’ed up. I’m going to give you examples of some actions you may want to avoid so you don’t piss off your single girlfriends. 

Don’t try to tell me….
This is by far the most annoying thing that ladies who are married or almost married love to do, tell you what you are doing wrong in your relationship or search for a man. I do seek and heed advice. I try to avoid unnecessary chaos and grief in my life if I can help it. If listening to your cautionary tale or advice can help me avoid misery I will take it. However, that should not be confused with being given unsolicited advice on why I don’t have a man or a ring. Especially if that advice is given while you appear to be looking down your nose at me, and I remember last week before you had that engagement rock, you were asking if I could come with you to ride by his house or help you come up with names of super heroes cause you were trying to figure out the pass code for his gmail account. You have been successful in finding a mate and you get a gold star, but that doesn’t make you an expert on finding a man. You simply found the right one for you.

Don’t deny me my plus one…

I understand that weddings are expensive. Most of the expense is the dress and providing food and beverages at the reception. If you have invited me to your wedding and you allowed me a plus one on the invitation, you can’t take it back because your budget and guest list keeps growing. Contrary to popular belief there is a shortage of single eligible bachelors at weddings. Generally all the bachelors are either ring bearers (they may be adorbale and cuddly but they are under-age) or old uncles that recently had hip replacement surgery or fall asleep as soon as they sit down. I want a date at a wedding if I can help it. You also can’t deny me my plus one because you have never met the guy and don’t consider him to be someone of importance worthy enough to attend your wedding. It doesn’t matter if I have only known him for 24 hours prior to your wedding. If he has made me happy in those 24 hours you should be happy for me. You got a man so stop hating.

Don’t go all bridezilla on me…

I’m sure everyone has seen the show bridezilla or you may have your very own bridezilla story of how your sweet, soon to be married girlfriend flipped out on you, hit you, cursed you, screamed on you, demanded unreasonableness out of you, caught some unnecessary attitude with you and expected you to just take it like a man (completely forgetting you are a woman and have feelings). I don’t think any more explanation or details are necessary for this example. Just remember your wedding day is only about 6 maybe 8 hours long and the ugliness you dish out may not be forgotten in that amount of time.

Don’t have me looking suspect…

I think brides-to-be really need to think through and analyze the sizes, shapes and shades of their wedding party before picking wedding colors and dresses. I know it’s your day and you want to be the belle of the ball, but I don’t have to look ridiculous so you can shine. Ugly dresses used to fold nicely and neatly into closets and pictures used to sit in boxes, photo albums or in cameras, but now there’s this evil thing called facebook. That means that ugly orange dress you said was coral, that gave me birthing baby hips, will be viewed by people who weren’t even at the wedding. You can stop that from happening by being a good friend and picking a universally flattering dress shape, in a flattering color.   

I think the above tips should keep the love flowing between the have man and the have man nots and save friendships.

He texted me…

Okay so I was all hyperventilating and disturbed about Mr. Mean not calling me because I felt he was being all unfair again, but this time by not calling me. Even if it was rightfully so after I rejected him twice. All that didn’t matter. I had an all out stank mood and had convinced myself that somebody else had my number.

Oh but wait, I had all but given up on him ever calling me and then he texts me Thursday. Booooooooooo! On him for texting, but at least he reached out. Ah the relief it provided.

His Text

Hi Ursala, This is L______ from church. Your mama gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind me contacting you. How are you? 

Hmmm so I’ve been trying to determine what I should say or if I should say anything at all. Technically I just wanted him to still desire me and him reaching out (even if it wasn’t an actual phone call) lifted my spirits and I no longer feel rejected. However, since I was all out of sorts I feel like I should respond.

Waiting for his call…continued

I am not happy today. I’m in a mood, maybe not a bad mood, but definitely a mood. I’ll just say I’m moody. He hasn’t called. What is he waiting on?

Waiting by the phone…

I’m having computer techincal issues today that will postpone posting. Sucks.

Okay here it is.

So of course all today I have been waiting for THE call from Mr. Mean. It’s like I’m 15 and waiting for some boy I have a crush on to call me. I’m all anxious and stuff. I know I know I should not be concerned. I mean didn’t he tell me off? Told me I complained about the lack of good men and told me I was mean. Please note that I do not complain about the lack of good men in my eyes good men are plentiful. But I DO complain about the situations, encounters, incidents and misunderstandings I have with men. I was offended when he called me mean. I felt like he was more than a little rough with me. He didn’t know me. I felt he was taking out his frustrations of being rejected by yet another woman on me. Plus he raised his voice at me. Oh and he embarrassed me in front of complete strangers while I was at church. All of this was a problem and is a problem. It is why I saw him and attempted to act like we had never met before. It is why I leaped over the lap of a teenage man child to keep from having to interact with him after the service let out. I have a problem with him. I do not like him.

Despite my disdain for him I must admit I have been waiting for his call. I didn’t expect him to call on Sunday, but I did expect him to call today, Monday.  I believe that it’s important for new suitors to establish their interest within 24 hours of getting the digits. It shows me they are serious, interested and not trying to be cute and coy. However, since I didn’t give him my number I don’t think this rule applies. I am not sure what rule applies. All I know is that I am actually getting upset that he hasn’t called. At first I knew exactly what I was going to say, but now since he hasn’t called and I am perplexed, I am not sure what I am going to say. Or if I will even have an opportunity. What if he doesn’t call? I don’t know if I am prepared for this type of rejection. I know I rejected him first, but I don’t want to be rejected.

Why do I even care? Especially since I don’t like him. Because I know that he likes me or is at least a little interested. It’s simple now that he doesn’t seem to want me it makes me desire him. Crazy! I know. Maybe our last encounter completely turned him off. Which on one hand is good, but on the other hand now I want to prove to him that I’m actually pretty swell. Now that he hasn’t called I’m wondering what’s up. Note to self: Tell Mother never to give my number out without my express permission.

What’s funny is that I have now convinced myself that some other pretty boy did indeed have on a similar suit, with a name oddly similar to Mr. Mean’s, met my mother, got my number and is not calling because they took my number out of pity from my Mother who probably was peddling her daughter off as some fantastical woman something akin to a sparkly, rainbow-hued unicorn. Meaning he didn’t believe her because we all know unicorns don’t exist. So it’s ok or this is what I’m telling myself. Serves me right for being ugly to him at church, of all places.

It’s Sunday…

and I went to church. That’s what I’ve been up to this summer on Sundays. I go to church. It makes my mother so happy. I generally meet up with her after the service. When she sees me she just beams, and when she sees someone she knows she always introduces me as her daughter followed up with a great big smile. It’s funny her apparent happiness propels me to church now even if I don’t want to go.  

What’s better is that I actually got to church on time. So I wasn’t relegated to the rafters. I am very content to sit in the rafters because there is a lot more space. When you are seated on the bottom (or I should say on the sanctuary floor) they don’t like to leave the customary seat between each person. It’s like the movies when it’s opening night for a block buster they pack you in and there is a body in every seat. When I arrived I was directed to a partially empty aisle and told to go all the way down to the end. I made my way down the aisle and put my bag in the seat next to a very large teenage boy man. He was taken up a good one third of the seat that I sat my bag in. Side caveat: He really was taking up way more space then he needed to. I know that guys need space for the banana and berries, but my word there should be limits to how wide they can sit. They should square up with their shoulders or something there’s got to be a consistent way to bring order to the ridiculousness. Before I could sit down, an usher that I didn’t see quickly came over and asked me to move down a seat and hold my bag in my lap. Dang! He caught me. I picked my bag up and moved over as best I could into two thirds of my seat. I situated my bag in my lap and when I look up who do I see walking down the aisle? None other than Mr. Mean.

This is actually funny because I go to a rather large church, it is considered a mega church by some standards. While my church is large, it’s obviously not large enough to keep me from running into Mr. Mean again. I thought maybe he doesn’t recognize me so I immediately turned back to the pulpit. When he sat down he leaned over and said “I guess the Lord decided that our paths should cross again.” To my chagrin he remembered me. I didn’t respond I kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I guess we are on the same schedule.” Again I didn’t respond. He leaned back over “You look very nice today.” To this I nodded (I know how to take a compliment), but kept my eyes straight ahead. Then he said “I’m still holding a brunch rain check just for you. What are you doing after church?” I leaned over and said “Thank you, but I won’t be using that rain check today or any other day.” I was actually expecting something harsh from him, but he said “I apologize. I hope you aren’t holding what I said before against me.” My response to this was a “ShhhHhhHhhhHhhhhush!” I then turned away from him, crossed my legs and attempted to find a space for my foot between the large leg of the teenage man and the seats in front of us. Despite my unreceptive body language, he was not the least bit concerned because he whispered in my ear “You need to forgive me so we can move on.” I inched closer to the teenage man, which caused him to turn and look at me. I just smiled and nestled myself behind his large arm and our shared portion of my seat.

Mr. Mean continued whispering every once and a while throughout the sermon things such as, “Your hair smells good, your shoes are pretty, I see you got a tan it looks nice, You should let me take you out I promise you’ll have fun.” I kept my back to him the whole service. As soon as the service was over, I leaped across the teenage man to get out of the aisle and bolted towards the exit. I looked back a few times, but didn’t see him. So I was safe.

I met up with my mom at our designated spot. She ran into a co-worker and of course introduced me. My Mother has the gift of loquaciousness so I politely excused myself and went to my car. As soon as I pulled out of the parking lot my mother called me.

“Hey Mama.”

“Are you still in the lobby?”

“No, I just pulled out of the parking lot. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just met the nicest man.”

“Lucky You. Just what you’ve been praying for.”

“Not for me. For You!”

Then I hear her telling someone to talk to me.

“Hey Ursala!”

“Hello?!?”

“We give you our blessing. I know him. He is very nice, comes from a good family, no kids, never been married and he has a great job.”

Then I hear my mother asking for her cell back

“Mama?”

“Ursala, he’s cute, not like you like them, he’s a pretty boy.”

“You’re funny Mother.”

“I’m just telling you that he is nice looking.”

“Ok.”

“I gave him your number.”

“What?!? Mother!!! No!”

“Yes, he’s a good guy, comes to church, looks nice, comes from a wonderful family. He was so nice he gave us a ride to my car. You should thank me.”

“Wait, you got in a car with a stranger. You can’t do that.”

“He isn’t a stranger, Mrs. B_____ knows his mother. And he goes to church”

“Just because he goes to church doesn’t mean anything. He is a stranger to you. And you gave my number to this strange man. A man you don’t know.”

“Don’t be so dramatic. I know you’ll like him.”

My Mother has discerning taste, but she has never given my number to anyone so I’m a little concerned about her experimental match making.

“It doesn’t matter considering you’ve already given him my number. What if he starts calling me all the time?”

“Don’t answer your phone then.” I can tell she is exasperated with me, but I’m equally exasperated with her for giving my number to some strange man just because she met him at church.

“Mother you know I can’t do that I have to answer all calls to my cell right now. Well what did he look like?” I decided to be nice and not work my Mother’s nerves since I know she meant well.

“I told you already he’s a pretty boy.” I can tell I’m already working a nerve because I’m clearly not paying attention since I asked a question she has already answered.

“Could you be a little bit more specific? And what’s his name?”

“His name is L_____.”

“Wait did he have on a brown suit and a purply-lavenderish shirt?”

“Yes, he looked so nice.”

“NoOoooOoooo Mother you didn’t give that man my number.” Oh no my Mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. “Please tell me you are just playing or you meant to say you got his number for me.”

“He has your number and he is going to call you.” Click. My Mother almost never says bye when she is done talking she just hangs up.

I hoped there was some other pretty boy, in a brown suit, with the same name as Mr. Mean at church. I highly doubt it. I can’t believe my mother gave my number to Mr. Mean. The question is did he know it was my Mother or did she just pimp me out?

Only in my dreams…

I had a really weird dream last night. My dreams are generally very basic and boring. I do what I do in my normal every day life. I am accustomed to dreaming about brushing my teeth, folding clothes, making oatmeal, driving to work or getting something to eat at my favorite neighborhood diner. Just ordinary chores or tasks I do in my normal waking life. I rarely have nightmares. I’m never being chased, falling or anything crazy. One bonus is that I do dream in color. I generally remember my dreams when I first wake up and then I forget them as the day wears on.  Today I am very concerned because I remember my dream, but it was very odd. I am not prepared for dreams that make no sense whatsoever and are so strange that I can’t even imagine what it is supposed to mean. I say that because I do believe that dreams communicate things or I should say your subconscious communicates things. It can warn you, encourage you, provide solutions and answers to life problems or give you ideas. Dreams are a useful tool, but I’ve never really concerned myself with trying to figure them out because my dreams are so mundane.

That is until last night when I had the most bizarre dream I can remember having. In my dream I turned into a rock. I am driving along in my car, running errands and I turned into a rock. A little rock at first, but then I grew into a big rock mountain in the middle of the parking lot. What was even stranger was that people came around me and started climbing up my sides. They were doing all kinds of things on me, literally on me. Flying kites, picking flowers, having picnics and I had grassy knolls that people were sliding down. It looked like everyone was having fun, but on me. It was warm, sunny, crystal clear and the sky was so blue. There was a slight breeze that made my grass sway gently. It reminded me of spring time in Denver. It was like I turned into a state park. I also didn’t seem to be alarmed that I was a rock, I just sat there in all my wonderful rockiness.

StRaNgE. I know. Okay first of course I need to understand why I turned into a ROCK. I’ve never morphed/turned into anything. Plus I didn’t get to see the change. It was like one moment I am a person the next moment I am a rock. And not a diamond or say a sapphire, or some extremely rare rock, but just a plain old my guess would be granite rock. Of all things to be I turn into a rock!?!?!  The dream is also strange because I DO NOT like the outdoors. I do not like to be outside, fly kites, pick flowers, eat outside and I definitely do not like to slide or roll down grassy hills. None of these things appeal to me. Which is why I find the dream so bizarre. I do not have strange dreams like this where I turn into things or do things that I wouldn’t do in my normal life. I was thinking about it all morning and I can’t really think about anything else. I’m almost slightly frightened. If my subconscious has turned me into a rock what does that mean? I thought your subconscious was your own perfect fantasy world, personal hype man and solution provider all rolled in one. In your dreams ideally you should be and do the things you aspire to be, can’t do or haven’t done in real life. If I am turning into a rock mountain what exactly is going on in my subconscious? So if you are out there reading and can give me some insight/help interpret, pretty puh-lease share. Let me know what this all means.

Happy 4th of July

Have a fantastic 4th of July! Be safe, forget those diets and eat plenty of barbq, go see a movie and don’t speed or drink and drive (I saw 5 cops on my way to a barbq : x).

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