Blogging

Here are some thoughts on what I am doing right now...blogging.

Blogging is great because it's like I'm talking to myself but nobody looks at me and laughs...or maybe they do. Stop laughing!

Blogging is like having a conversation with your friends and nobody interrupts you. However, you do have to wait a little while for a response which can be a little frustrating sometimes.

I love Google Analytics (thanks Samuel). I can see where and how often people view my blog. It's like stalking, but not really. Okay, well yeah, it is. I'm stalking all of you.

Sometimes I go back and re-read my old blogs (like I've been doing this for so long or something...sheesh! It's only been about a month). And then I re-read all of your comments (again more stalking). And then I laugh because we are all so funny!

When I'm in a meeting or driving or just plain bored, I try to effectively use that time to plan my blogs. Like I don't have anything else to think about but my blog. Seriously. Sometimes though, I do have unplanned blogs. Like this one. I just sat down to look up something else entirely on the internet and just started writing this.

There are days when I will check my blog before my e-mail. Scary, I know, but true.

Does everyone out there love it as much as I do? Just wondering. (Not wandering, mind you, but wondering. I do wander...quite often. Right now I'm doing both.)

Millie Loves the Sunshine

Hey, if everyone else out there can post pictures of their kids and blog about how incredibly adorable they are, why can't I do the same with my baby? I mean, I know she is Satan's spawn and all but she's just so dang cute!

What a Girl Wants

I recently read White Eyebrows' blog, Celebrating Singleness: Two Contrasting Articles, and I just want to say that I did have something to say about it, but 1) it took me a while to realize what it was, 2) I couldn't really put my finger on it because it wasn't so much about his blog, but about the article, Marry Him! (The case for settling for Mr. Good Enough), and 3) what I had to say needed it's own blog.
Basically, in this article, this woman tells the story of how she broke up with all of her boyfriends when she was in her 20s and early 30s, decided she really wanted a baby, chose to be a single mom by going to a sperm bank, and now regrets her choices and just wants another person around to help with the burden of childcare, thus making her case for settling.
Let me just make this very clear to all of you out there who care or don't care...
I'M NOT SETTLING!
No, I'm not looking for Mr. Perfect...Mr. Perfect doesn't want anything to do with me. I mean, he hasn't even introduced himself yet (if I ever met Mr. Perfect, he would introduce himself because well, he's perfect.) Seriously though, if Mr. Perfect did want anything to do with me, he would have perfectly introduced himself to me at my perfect marrying age of 23 and we would be living our perfect lives making everyone else around us sick.
Okay, anyways, I'm not settling. After giving it some thought, here are the things I will not settle on:
1) He has to go with me to the temple. Not just to get married, but my hubby and I will be a temple attending couple.
2) He has to love me and I have to love him. I don't mean that I need flowers all the time or some huge stupid teddy bear at Valentine's or little hearts floating around on my screen saver or anything, but I just want someone that wants to be with me.
3) He has to make me laugh and I have to make him laugh. Anything else would just be depressing.
Everything else is either covered under one of these three things (like abuse...well, that wouldn't make me laugh, nor would he be going to the temple with such behavior so I won't settle for that), or is something that I can learn to live with and fall in love with.
Now, here's why I won't settle: I'm happy with my life right now. If I had to spend eternity with another person and they couldn't give me those three things, it would just be miserable. So, if I'm happy right now, why would I trade that in for misery? That's just it...I wouldn't. And even if I was unhappy, or if I become an unhappy person, I am the only person I need to please to make myself happy again.
So here's my advice to the Settling Lady who wrote that article: It's your own stupid fault for passing up all sorts of great guys because you "never viewed the world through quite the same lense" or you were "a half-note off". Don't counsel me that I should grab the first male that walks past me just because he has a heartbeat and sperm for my unborn children. If all you want is another warm body to help you take care of your kid, get a nanny!

I don't wanna touch it.

I have never minded having to touch certain gross things. It's never bothered me to stick my hand in a garbage disposal (turned OFF of course) and pull out nasty chewed up food. It's never bothered me to stick my hand in a pumpkin and pull out pumpkin guts. It's never bothered me to change a dirty diaper. I mean, hands wash. And not to mention, you lose skin at an alarming rate every time you touch something so even if you weren't able to scour and scrub and disinfect, it would come off by the end of the day anyways. Not that I would ever choose this option, and not that I ever have...just clarifying. There is one thing though that I can't bring myself to touch. It's this package of meat in my fridge. It's been there for a few weeks. I bought it with the intention of cooking it, but to all those that truly know me, it is no surprise that it's still sitting in my fridge. Now, don't worry. It's in a sealed package. Airtight. In fact, the meat is still red...on top at least it is. So it's not like this rancid meat is contaminating everything else in my fridge. And it doesn't smell either. But everytime I open my fridge, I just look at it and think, "I need to just throw that out." Then I stare at it for a few minutes trying to bring myself to reach down and grab it...but I just can't. It's not like it's gross or anything. It even looks like it would still be good (although I will never NEVER in a million years open that package!). So why am I so hesitant to even touch it? Why can't I just pick it up and chunk it in the trash? *sigh* One of these days I am going to get fed up with myself and I'll throw it away and then I'll wonder what the big deal was. For right now though, it's just going to sit in the fridge cause I don't wanna touch it.

Creeeeeepy!

There are about a thousand other things I should be doing right now, but blogging is what I want to do so that is what I'm going to do. Okay, there isn't a thousand things. Just one. I should be writing my talk for Sunday...I'm really just procastinating. Writing this blog won't take long. Great! Now I'm rationalizing. Whatever. I've started and it's just easier to finish.

So there is this guy that lives two floors above me. I don't know his name but he's creepy so let's call him Ben. Like the Ben on Lost. I have had a few run-ins with Ben since moving into my apartment last summer and each one has left me thinking, "That guy is weird." Here they are in cronological order:

1) Last August I was hauling all of my teacher junk home that currently lines my bedroom wall. I thought I was being wise in loading all of my boxes onto a dolly and then rolling them to my door. Turns out that wasn't so wise because just as soon as I shoved them up the sidewalk and through the gate, everything went spilling everywhere. Who shows up at that exact moment but Ben. He ever so kindly helps me carry my boxes and spillage to my apartment where he informs me that a couple of guys used to live in my apartment. (Who cares?) He asks me if I am just moving in and I explain to him that I'm moving all of my teacher stuff home b/c I just got a position as a librarian. He then tells me that he is writing a book. (Why is this guy home in the middle of the day? I work at a school, so I have summers off...that's my excuse. What's his?) Our conversation goes on and I think I asked him about his family or something, because I remember him telling me that he doesn't have a family and that he was raised by nuns. It was one of those awkward, uncomfortable moments when you don't really know what to say next, so you don't say anything at all. So after Ben helps me with the last box, I thank him politely and he just nods at me and walks off. We'd had an entire "get to know you" conversation and he can't even say, "It was nice to meet you." or any other polite good-bye phrase. He just walks off. Weird.

2) This next instance happened somewhere around October or November. I hadn't really seen Ben very much, just in passing where we would say hello to each other. So this one morning, it was about 5:00 or 6:00 am, I wake up to voices outside my bedroom window. I only have this one window in my apartment and the only thing outside my bedroom window is a fence that meets with the building, so there's nothing there but grass, and it doesn't go anywhere, so there's no reason for anyone to be out there. Of course I'm curious, so I take a little peeky through the blinds and right there, not 2 inches away from my window is Ben! Holy crap! What is he doing? He's stomping around in the grass and talking to some girl. Hmmm...maybe he's looking for something, but I don't know what b/c there's nothing there. Weird.

3) February-ish time: I have forgiven Ben for stomping around outside my window in the wee hours of the morning. He hadn't done it since. At least not that I know of. I'm driving home one day and I see him walking from a house in the neighborhood down the street from our complex. Everyone knows that apartment people don't mix with house people in the same neighborhood. Weird.

4) Yesterday I was sitting in the living room enjoying the lovely weather with my back door open and Ben walks right by. My back door and bedroom window share the same wall. The only people that ever walk by my back door are the guys that mow the lawn...like I said, there's nothing there but grass. He walks by, and then walks back. Like he's checking on something. Weird.

I'm just sayin' is all...it's weird.

I'm Not Carla!

Basically, I just wanted to blog because I'm really kind of sick of that Care Bears picture popping into view every time I look at my blog and I'm sure you are all sick of it too. This blog really does have a purpose and a focus though, so let me get to it...


I am the new librarian at my school this year and I love it, love it, LOVE IT! It's pretty much the best job ever in my opinion. I love reading and sharing and finding and talking about books all day. That may sound boring to some of you, but for a book-a-holic, it's nothing short of greatness. Most librarians would agree with me. In fact, I have yet to meet one that wouldn't agree with me. Even the old librarian, Carla, misses it and comes back to visit every once in a while. Which brings me to my next point...Carla. She was amazing. A-mazing. Now, I don't know about any of you, but trying to follow in the footsteps of someone who was amazing, is not an easy thing for a beginner to do. It is slightly intimidating. Okay, it's really intimidating. I just don't like to think about it because then I get discouraged. Now, I'm not berating myself or anything, I know that I'm doing the best I can and that I'm learning as I go and I know that everyone else knows that too. My school family is wonderful and supportive and I love them to death.


But there is this one teacher. She's not really even a teacher, she's an aide that only works at our school half-time. We'll call her Mrs. N. Mrs. N. like to point out things to me that Carla used to do that I don't do. For instance, the teacher work room is in the back of the library, and for anyone who has ever worked in a school before, you know that the teachers are just as bad as the kids about cleaning up after themselves. Mrs. N. comes out of the teacher work room one day and announces to me, "Oh, I'm so glad I got that all straightened up in there. That took me forever!" To which I reply, "Oh, thanks. I haven't even been in there all week long. It's been kind of busy this week." Mrs. N. says, "Well, Carla used to keep that straightened up back there." I think, "No she didn't. I was a teacher at this school last year and spent a considerable amount of time in the work room that was hardly ever straight and organized." I don't say that though. Instead I say, "*sigh* I'm trying Mrs. N. I'm sorry." I know I shouldn't have to apologize, but sometimes people just say things to you in a way that makes you feel guilty at the moment and that's how I felt, so I apologized for not being Carla at that moment. Then Mrs. N. says, "Oh, well that's okay. You're still learning your job. We can't expect you to do everything." Really? Is that why you just made me feel guilty for not being amazing? And since when is cleaning up after other people one of my job requirements?



And here's the biggie...the plants. Mrs. N. brought these plants for the library at the beginning of the year because she and Carla really liked them and Carla would water them and Carla would take care of them. Did I mention that I'm not Carla? Yeah, I like these plants too, but no I don't ever remember to water them and no, I don't have the foggiest idea how to take care of them other than watering them which I don't ever remember to do. I'm pretty sure I've actually killed one of them. So on Thursday of last week, Mrs. N. comes through the library and reminds me to water the plants before I leave. Actually she reminded me all week long but I was waiting for Thursday so that I could give them lots of water before Spring Break. Guess what I forgot to do on Thursday before I left?


I think I'm going to invest in some fake plants for the library.

Care Bears Stare!

Question:

If you were a Care Bear, what would be on your tummy?

What do you think would be on my tummy? I haven't found my brain yet so I can't think of anything.