Excuse Me With All My Needs

I’ve been called mean names in my lifetime. That’s part of being opinionated and dealing with other human beings. Normally, it doesn’t bother me. Normally, in my mind at least, someone calling me a name speaks about their insecurities. My boyfriend’s ex insults me? Gee, I wonder what could have upset her. Random guy on the internet calls me a bitch for politely (seriously!) informing him why he should consider not breeding his dogs? I wear a scarlet B like a fucking badge of honor.

But every once in a while, someone comes out of nowhere and I can’t see what is lacking in them that makes them hurt me, so I honestly believe it’s something wrong with me. Maybe I am needy.

I couldn’t tell you why, but needy is one of the worst things I’ve been called. I guess because all at once, it says I’m not independent, I’m weak, and I’m not really an individual. While I have moments of weakness, I certainly don’t think that’s a normal trait for me. Obviously I’m an individual, as I’ve yet to find the woman off of whom I was cloned. And as for independent? I live alone, make my own money, and if need be I could probably handle going to the movies alone, too. So what makes me needy?

Thank goodness for Jezebel writer, Tracy Moore. She wrote an article -which I found thanks to xoJane.com– on what it means to be “that girl” (in this case ‘that girl’ being the needy girl). I highly recommend reading it. She really put things in perspective for me. I AM needy. Because I have needs. And because dammit, I want those needs to be met. (Otherwise, they wouldn’t be needs, would they?)

She points out that while sometimes neediness may stem from insecurities (true enough for me), often times it stems from the actions (or lack of) of the “less needy” person in a relationship. Like, maybe every action has a reaction. I know it’s a foreign concept, but it’s science!

Tracy says “I’ve never met someone who isn’t needy on some level. Not even once. Not even kinda. Yes, it’s certainly our job if we want to be more self-actualized people to try to work that shit out and be happy with ourselves, but the idea that we have to act like we don’t need anyone when the whole reason you are getting with a person is cause you do, well, that is pure fucking farce.”  Yes ma’am it is!

So basically, I’m not a horrible person, and neither are you. Someone calls you needy, don’t you dare think you are broken. You aren’t. Moore quotes psychologist Dr. Rebecca Kennedy who explains, “Maybe That Girl isn’t so crazy after all. When it comes to guys, she texts because she knows what she wants. She asks to be exclusive because she knows what she deserves. She also knows what she needs — and if that is what defines neediness then, yes, she is needy.”

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Dear Amatuer Extreme Couponer In Line In Front Of Me:

Good God woman, what possessed you to find 20+ coupons for fucking vitamins? You and I both know you’re not going to take all, or probably any, of those pills. To be honest, I’m a little concerned about your health.

And what’s worse? You can apparently read the fine print of a coupon, but you can’t read the sign that says 10 items or less? It’s only four words! But, despite seeing that you had far more than 10 items (and 30 bottles of 2 kinds of pills counts as 30 items, not 2, just so you know), I thought you were almost done. I was wrong.

I have learned that the only thing worse than the stereotypical old person who counts every single penny to get the perfect change, is the damn couponing bitch who is literally still cutting the coupons while standing in line. Put the scissors away, your time is up.

So I’m waiting in line behind you while the poor teenaged cashier glances at me every few minutes with looks of sympathy and hints of annoyance. I, too, feel annoyed. And I feel sorry for myself. And for her. And I really have to pee. She tells me she can save my order while I go to the bathroom, but surprise surprise you’re still arguing about coupons when I get back. Finally, freaking finally, they open a third check out lane for us. I stomp out of the store with my 6 fucking groceries and you’re still arguing with the poor staff. Bless their souls. You’re not going to make it on TLC’s Extreme Couponers. Please just stop annoying everyone and wasting my favorite grocery store’s money. There is a better way to pay for your obvious multivitamin addiction: getting a damn job with the hours you waste cutting coupons and pestering corporate about little known policies.

Sincerely,
Grocery shopping took me two freaking hours this afternoon, and a disgusting proportion of that was thanks to you.

Dear Driver In Front Of Me:

Dear driver in front of me,

We just drove past a speed limit sign that says 45, yet as we did, you slowed to 35. What are you doing? That sign really means go 50. At least, for the love of all things wonderful, go 45, because I am not able to pass your slow self on this long stretch of road.

Yes, I am close to your bumper. Have you looked at your speed? Have you looked at the time? It’s 11:30. It is close to midnight. How do you not have somewhere to be? I don’t mean some rockin’ party. I mean bed. The place I’m trying to go.

What the hell was that random turn signal? You just gave me false hope I wouldn’t be stuck behind you anymore. But, here we are. You moseying along and me releasing a steady stream of curses. It’s now 11:40, and I am not feeling good.

Do you know why, driver in front of me? Because when I lose 25 minutes of my cruddy minimum wage shift in an attempt to get home early, my one true goal isn’t asking all that much. I just want to get home from work the same day I left for work. LITERALLY. I’m not exaggerating. I worked on Wednesday. I’m going to be pissy if I get home on Thursday. Even if it’s just 12:01. Otherwise, I would have kept that $2.50 my bosses offered me to stay my whole shift. That might have paid for a coffee to keep my awake on the drive home Thursday friggin’ morning.

I know I’m all about trying to “master the art of optimism” as I called it, but come on. One slow person after another? Are you people out because you hate your homes? Mine’s a pig sty, but I’d still rather be in my comfy bed with my floppy stuffed hound dog than driving behind you. You, Mr. let’s take a drive because it’s nice out. You, Mr. insomniac. You, Mr. I obviously don’t have plans in the morning.

I do. I have people to e-mail, NaNoWriMo challenges to complete, and yet another gruesome pm shift to prepare for.

So, driver in front of me, please do me one favor, since by now it’s Thursday and I am home: do not be the driver in front of me on the drive home tonight. Because when I’m driving home from a pm shift, I have somewhere to be. And preferably, I’d like to get there the same day I left.

Sincerely,

Miss I just want to crawl into bed after working all night (normal human being)

Feeling My Way Through The Fog

I’m in kind of a funk.

Like, the I-need-alcohol-to-stop-hysterically-crying-before-my-phone-interview-in-15-minutes,-but-then-I-won’t-be-able-to-drive-to -Walmart-and-buy-more-alcohol-after-it’s-over kind of funk. Because I can’t text and drive AND be under the influence, duh.

In reality, I don’t care how this phone interview goes. I have no intentions of accepting the internship, even if it is offered to me. This nonchalant attitude is technically how I managed to get the internship I’m in now, but I hate it, so really, it didn’t do me much good.

It gets a little worse, though. I’m depressed (about a number of uninteresting and unmentionable things), which means I want to binge eat, but I’m trying to lose weight, which doesn’t mesh well with binge eating. What?!

And I’m losing faith in humanity. And the only strings holding me to my ‘job’ are extremely hopeful what-ifs, while everything else in the world says I shouldn’t be here, but frankly it’s too late. I’ve already made too many mistakes. And I don’t even have the internal strength to write – which is basically my therapy. And there must be something in the water, because several of my roommates seem to feel as depressed as I do. Not necessarily for the same reasons, but there’s a dense fog of doom and gloom up in apartment 16202. Yes, they come in fog form.

So, what to do? How do we paint this silver lining? AH! SHE SAID IT!!

Maybe this time, we don’t. Maybe once in a while we accept that not every single cloud has a silver lining. That sometimes, we have to suck it up and move on. And of course we can say what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger, or ‘hey, now I have pain and suffering to write about’, but do we mean it? Not when we are truly upset. And that’s life.

Sometimes we get the short end of the stick; sometimes we do something awful and karma catches up with us. Sometimes our only option is to prevail, not because there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but because there is no other option.

Learning To Play Dress Up

This summer, one of my goals was to lose weight. I have no idea how, but I’ve GAINED weight. Okay, I MIGHT be able to guess how. Anyway, that lead to a desperate, last minute trip to the store to find myself a dress for Disney.

It’s not enough that they’re picky as crap. It has to be so long. The sleeves have to be so thick. Nothing that makes you look like a hooker. Well there go all my dresses! But I also have to account for my stupid body.

After stubbornly trying on all the wrong dresses -ones that accentuated my tummy and my pear shape- I realized I needed to stop.

I truly believe with all my heart I will lose weight at Disney. Because I won’t have my parents’ delicious food to tempt me. Because I won’t be at home with nothing to do all day. (Seriously, my car’s in the shop, I’m trapped!)

But until then, I had to give in and just buy a larger dress. Because if I wore something too tight, too short, or for a younger woman, I’d look like an idiot. (Not hating on curvy ladies, but I do believe there are certain clothes that highlight the best of every body shape, and I just need to be aware of which clothes work for me now.)

You dress for the job you want. But you dress for the body you have. Only then, are you rocking your outfit.

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Picture borrowed from the internet. If you made it, 1. you are awesome, 2. tell me so I can give you credit!

I’ve Always Hated Paying Bills

Okay, I’m a failure of an adult.

I applied for a freelance writing job and got rejected. From a FREELANCE job! Ouch. How does that even happen?

I know what you’re thinking: you never update! You’re not trustworthy. But that’s not true. I just update the other blog. Because this one is about my life, which, at this point, is at a standstill. It’s kinda sad, actually.

And now I’m majorly confused about a bill from my old internet service provider. It looks like I was charged for last month, even though I stopped my service in May. I believe I was supposed to get a refund check of 38 something dollars, and now I’m getting 8 something. I know I’m being picky, but without income this summer, 30 dollars makes a huge difference! That’s almost a bag of dog food!

Not to mention now I’m nervous they’re going to keep charging me. I wonder if I’m a financial idiot or if Comcast is screwing with me.

I guess I’ll go pester my momma about how to read an effing bill, because they don’t teach you that in college. Which really, they should.

I Applied For A Big Girl Job Today, And I Got Rejected For A Big Girl Job Today

I got an e-mail from my school telling us about an editing/writing position with a travel research magazine, or something along those lines. And even though I have an internship for the Fall, I applied. Don’t get me wrong, I told them about my predicament, so I’m rather sure I didn’t get the job. But already I see a reply sitting in my inbox, just waiting for me to click it.

And I’m not sure I can bring myself to do it.

It’s not my dream job, but it’s not bad. The pay is okay (less than my boyfriend makes, but he works for the government, which isn’t too bad of a job), and it’d be a job writing. But I doubt I got it. Because the timing’s not right. And they responded too quickly.

Here, look at this cute picture of my dog swimming in a lake while I read the e-mail:

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Many thanks for your interest.  We have offered the position to another individual, but we will retain your resume for future openings.

Hmmmm. Not sure I believe that (that last part, I totally believe they hired someone else). But that’s okay. That means two things. One: I probably should have applied sooner (lesson learned?) and two: something else will come along. My boyfriend got passed up for two internships before he finally got his (with the same office), and now he’s the only intern who was offered a full time job. Sometimes stuff just works out. So I don’t feel too bad.

Plus, I’m super qualified to be a leasing agent, and while that’s not my dream career either, it’s a pretty easy job to get while I’m looking for the right one. And a discount on rent is like, the best discount ever. Suck it, people who work at ice creameries!

Just kidding. Don’t suck it. I’m super jealous of your discounts, if you get them.