Oh, LiveJournal gods, why do you tempt me?

My hypnotherapist was telling me that all relationships eventually end, meaning that even the most perfect will end when one person dies.  She is also fond of telling me other romance-busting 'truths', like the person you marry is going to be wiping your ass someday when you are old and feeble.  Um ... on second thought, I think I'll pass.

Being that I am totally and utterly single, it is safe to say that all of my relationships have ended.  I suppose I could say that even though I am not 'winning' at the game of love, I did learn a few lessons from each of my failed relationships, and that's all you can really hope for in life's setbacks, isn't it?  I've never had a 'bad' breakup with drama, and things being thrown at each other across the room, and fighting and nastiness.  Usually it's either me growing cold and avoidant of the other person until I get up the strength to dump them, or it's me snivelling to his friends looking for answers as to why he dumped me.  Eventually I will get over it an move on.  As far as breakups go, it's the ones that ended before I wanted them to that tend to bum me out the most.   One that ended about two years ago has left me much worse for wear.

A few years back I was dating a guy named Len.  I met him about three months after my boyfriend of nine years broke up with me.  I was actually not into the idea of getting into anything so soon after such a long relationship had ended, but it helped me to deal with it.  I figured it was time to move on, I was human and wanted to love someone, even if just for fun.  I tried not to get too hung up on him in the beginning, in case he should change his mind or bail on me, but he didn't.  I was with Len for just over a year when he unceremoniously dumped me.  We never fought, I had been introduced to his family and friends (I spent Christmas with his mother!), we got along great, he told me he loved me ... then he dumped me.  I had been cautious, but not cautious enough.  I got dumped anyway.  After that, he wanted to continue to be friends, but I couldn't do it.  It was too painful being reminded that he wasn't mine anymore and I didn't want to put myself through that.  I asked him some time later, and when my emotions had settled, why he broke up with me.  I needed some closure.  All he could tell me was that he saw himself being in a series of short lived relationships for the rest of his life.  Confirmed bachelor.  I should have known better ... but I'll never understand why he had to tell me he loved me and break down that last bit of my protective outer shell and get me to trust him enough to own that love.  I felt betrayed, I felt stupid, and ever since then I have been unable to have any success or happiness in love.

In the two years that have passed since Len broke up with me I've been leading a pretty lackluster love life.  He has moved on and is with someone new.  I wonder how long that will last.  I am still dealing with the uncomfortable truth that nothing lasts forever, and facing an abysmal outlook in my own life.  I don't know what to believe anymore.  It seems like everyone I know is getting married these days and I'm still sitting here, scratching my head, totally clueless about the whole thing.  What am I doing wrong?  I keep getting rejected and attracting the wrong element and I have given up on dating.  I've been facing my relationship demons with education and therapy, but I have a long way to go.  Maybe I should take the hypnotherapist's advice ... perhaps love is not this wonderful thing that I imagine it to be.  Maybe that's why I can't find it.

There have been many many instances in which I wanted to change something about myself because I felt it would make me more appealing to someone I had my eye on.  I have often thought to myself, "If only I was older, younger, more thin, more outgoing, fun to be around, sexy, bubbly, (insert adjective here)" maybe so-and-so would have been attracted to me.  Then I go off to a corner and feel sorry for myself for all that I am not.  In fact, when I was a girl I used to play the "What's she got that I haven't got?" game by figuring out what it was about every girl I came across that made her more appealing than me.  I came up with a lot of things that I was lacking in, and it didn't help my self esteem.  For some reason it was not easy for me to see what it was that I had that all the other girls may have lacked.  Ironically, for a person who has always prided herself on her own individuality, I could never see what it was about me that could potentially be attractive.  Because none of the fellows I ever found myself attracted to held a similar attraction to me, I figured there was nothing about me that could possibly be worthwhile to the opposite sex.  Occasionally someone will come along and remind me of how great I am, but it just ends up bugging me, because he won't be the 'right' person.  I know, how awful I must be to say such things, but what good is all this wonderfulness that is uniquely me if it isn't getting me what I want?

There is something very inauthentic about changing yourself into something you are not in the hopes of getting someone to like you. For one thing, how do you know for certain that a specific person is/is not attracted to a certain thing?  It is often surprising what lurks beneath the surface of even the most seemingly stereotypical being.  It is insulting to make assumptions of a person.  What will likely happen is that you will end up making a fool of yourself and losing that person's respect in the process.  The only changes I will make are ones that I am making for myself, not for anyone else.  Unfortunately, there are so many changes I'd like to make that I could never make myself perfect during this lifetime.  I remember one time meeting a fellow and thinking to myself, "This guy would never put up with my bullshit!"  Meaning all of my 'issues'.  I did try to change that, and hide things, which was probably a good thing in and of itself, but is that really who I am?  It didn't help my chances any.

Is that like believing in Santa Claus?  Just kidding. 

Of course I believe in it.  Actually I am a bit of a serial monogamist, which means I have technically never had that 'so ... are we exclusive now?" discussion with anyone.  There aren't any grey areas with me, it's either black or it's white.  Of course, it hasn't been working out so well for me over the past few years, and my sex life is sorely lacking for it, but what is a girl to do?  We can't just hook up and forget about it the next day like guys do.  Well, if we do want to forget it it's because we sort of regretted having done it, so why bother going there in the first place?  I did not know it was a bad thing to only engage in these types of exclusive relationships until my research into dating reference books showed me that I shouldn't be so serious about such things and I need to date several men at the same time and keep my options open.  If the world was overpopulated with hot guys who were clamoring over each other to ask me out, this might be an option for me, but, sadly, it is not.  Still ... who knew I was limiting myself and doing myself a disservice all this time?

Is anybody going to the NIN / Jane's Addiction show tomorrow in Irvine?

This is a question which is very close to my heart and one of the things I pondered whilst in therapy.  I think I've always been a bit of a 'showoff' - not in the 'I'm so great' sense, but in the 'I'm something else' sense.  I like to stand out and be noticed. To be otherwise is to be plain vanilla nothing in my world.   I don't even mind being considered odd or weird - in fact I prefer to be thought of that way, because I find oddness to be endearing and better to be odd and be noticed than plain and be nothing.  When I was little I fancied myself to be entertaining, but the adults around me didn't seem to get it.  My peers were equally baffled with me but I think some of them admired and followed me for it.  I used to proclaim things like, "You know, on a clear day, you can almost see my planet." and "I'm your best entertainment value."  I was opinionated, intelligent, and stubborn and I've always had this bizarre sense of humor.  I must admit I had a bit of an ego when I was a kid, because my teachers let me know how smart I was.  I've always had that to fall back on when all else failed, but I also really enjoyed being the center of attention.  This was the meaning of one's physical presence to me, in childhood, and it was what I used to get noticed.

This innocent take on things changed forever when I entered junior high school.  For me, it was one of those defining moments in life when you lose the innocence of childhood.  At this time I was living the conundrum - to seek attention or not seek attention - but I didn't realize what I was doing.  Thirteen is an impressionable age for most people, I think.  We have all this weird shit going on with puberty, and hormones, and dealing with the social pecking order at school.  I wanted to be noticed and yet I wanted to be left alone at the same time.  How could this be?  At this particular juncture of my life something new came into the picture that hadn't ever been there before - the knowledge that the way you look and your sex appeal matters more than anything else.  Well, it seems to at that age anyway.  I was hideous at thirteen, or so I felt.  I was sort of pudgy, I had horrible hair, and my family was too poor to afford me the trendy clothing that my more popular peers used as part of their social standing.  I literally went from happy girl to jaded teenager in a matter of minutes when the 'cool' kids laughed at me and let me know how much of a 'poser' I was.  They continued to let me know this for the next school year - it got to the point where I was timing my movements and hiding behind bushes to avoid their range of vision.  I entered this strange world of self loathing, paranoia, needing to prove myself, wanting desperately to be accepted, and being angry at the world.  My outward appearance was where all of this manifested itself. 

By the time I was fourteen I was in full freak flower - my 'look' getting ever more extreme in the hopes of proving I wasn't a 'poser', my paranoia and need to hide growing with the reality that people back in the 1980's didn't take too kindly to weirdos and treated me like crap everywhere I went.  I started to shy away from human beings big time.  People from toddlers to old men (and it was mostly men who did this) had something rude, mean, or belittling to say to me when I became visible to them.  I even got spat on once.  Why did I continue to purport this image when all it was getting me was negative attention?  The answer, in short, was a conscious decision I made based upon a personal conviction that it is far better to be ugly and be somebody (or noticed) than ugly and be nobody.  It was the lesser of two evils.

As a woman I am subject to society's expectations of beauty, and to be a woman going through life feeling unattractive takes a tremendous toll on one's self esteem.  We are taught from every angle and from an early age that if we are beautiful somehow we are more valuable.  The other aspects of our being are simply not as important.  Women need to be noticed, our visual appeal is part of our identity.  I felt that if I was just plain old vanilla Heather nobody would ever take notice of me.  I wasn't 'hot' or sexy or alluring or bewitching like all of the girls I saw in the media or even around me in the beach town where I grew up.  I saw the guys ogling the pretty girls and I knew that they weren't looking at me that way.  The physical Heather that God put on this earth was just a mousy, pudgy, unremarkable girl.  It betrayed what I was inside and it bothered me to no end that my outside was not as exotic or beautiful as it should have been.  But what could I do about it?  I started adding layers of hair dye, and makeup, and fashion - and somehow all of that 'artifice' is more of who I really am because that is how I say it should be.

I often wonder what it would be like if we were somehow all returned to nature and I had no means to augment or alter the way I look naturally.  Who would I be?  I know that if I could get past the feeling ashamed of my physical being I'd go back to being that quirky smart(ass) girl I was before the age of thirteen.  Attention is not always good and that is sometimes the price we pay for being noticed, but I would never change a thing.  I still want to be noticed, and I still want to hide.  It's just the way I am.

I've always been a 'planner'.  It's a Capricorn thing.  It can be very good and very bad.  As a result of this trait I have a very stable career (drawing floor plans, ironically) and seem to have avoided major calamities along the way.  However, planning can lead to overthinking, and overthinking is not good for living a life 'naturally'.  For example, I don't often follow my own desires because I need to assess the situation, decide if the risk of negative outcomes is too great, and proceed from there.  Yes, I actually live my life this way.  (And I wonder why I can't relate to people very easily!) 

On the other hand, I do have a deep appreciation for randomness.  We can plan our lives all we want, but that would be boring.  Spontaneity is the stuff of life.  I think that the unforeseen and the unexpected is more valuable in our lives than what we plan for, almost like divine intervention of sorts.  If there are forces at play in the universe then they certainly must show themselves to us when they hurl the unexpected our way.  It isn't always good stuff, but it reminds us that there is something greater than us in the world.

It's not a bad one to have stuck in your head.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjA-aFWOZOw

Depends on the problem.  Generally it is unwise for me to discuss anything important with my family as they will either not understand at all, become uncomfortable discussing something serious and quickly change the subject, or twist the evidence to make whatever I am complaining about be in fact a direct result of something I did wrong.  My grandmother is really good with that last one.  I hesitate to discuss my problems with friends, as I generally like to keep my friends.  Although sometimes this is how you bond with people and a friend who is willing to hear out your 'issues' is a good friend.  I try to keep it to a minimum nonetheless - I don't like to be the 'Debbie Downer' character.  Talking to strangers, oddly enough, is usually the best option for me.  A stranger will be more impartial as he/she has no vested interest in me and has no reference to judge me by.  And if I offend someone I don't have a relationship with by being negative it's less dangerous for me socially.  I just need to exercise caution not to give away too much information or create an awkward situation.  I suppose the ultimate stranger to discuss your problems with is a therapist, which is what I used to do before I was laid off.  But after a while the therapist becomes familiar and it seems like a friendly chat you're having.  You start to feel offended at having to shell out $125 per session and wish you could just meet for coffee or something.  So, I guess friends are really the best option, as long as you don't overdo it.

I'm perfectly happy with spring ... I welcome all the new beginnings it heralds.

"Half the fun of Goth is making fun of Goth!"

Not very universal or applicable, but true.

My spririt animal always has been the mighty prairie chicken.  I don't think it can fly too well, but it has nifty plumage, colorful air sacs, and a nice plump body, which I imagine is nice to hold in the hands.  It also makes a cool booming/chirping sound that is hard to describe.  It's technically not a chicken either, more of a grouse.  Why this is my spirit animal is beyond me, but one day, long ago, I channelled its mating dance while in a particularly hyper mood, and ever since I have been hooked.  It must have been a flashback to Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom.

I have been scoffed at for my less than joyful feelings towards children and the people who have them, and I'm taking a bit of evil pleasure in the current opinion that a single mom with 14 kids is NOT a good thing, but I honestly must admit I'm sort of baffled by the amount of negative media attention and sentiment towards this 'OctoMom' lady whose story is all over the place right now.  Yes, it's sort of an unusual, if not unfortunate situation for a lady to have so many children at once, especially if said children appear to have no dad about, but why is this super-fertile woman so reviled while the Duggar family of Arkansas (18 kids, and counting) is celebrated?  Is it because Mrs. Duggar has them one/two(/three?) at a time and within the context of a nice Christian marriage?  Is it because the Duggars appear to be financially secure?  The image we have of the 'OctoMom' is that she went to some back alley fertility clinic to get her multiple embryo fix.  She's got to defend her position.  The Duggars just lace their website with sickly sweet Biblical references to the 'blessings' of so many children.  All of a sudden America is questioning the ethics of the practice of fertility treatment and the mental state of a woman who wants 'too many' children.  Funny, I always thought it strange how the procurement of birth control, abortions, and embryonic stem cells was considered controversial and stirred up the emotions of those who would not have us 'play God', while fertility treatments were perfectly in line with 'God's plan'.  In my opinion creating embryos in a petri dish and implanting them into the womb is just as much a form playing God and going against nature as any of the above mentioned things.  The only thing I wonder about 'OctoMom', really, is where did she get the money for this expensive fertility treatment?  Most chicks who really want babies just manage to get themselves knocked up before going back to live with their parents.  Did 'OctoMom' have a dastardly plan that required the assistance of a mad scientist?  To me, the media's treatment of this story says a lot.  It seems to me that America loves babies, but more so the white/blue-eyed Christian variety.  And heaven forbid a woman attempt to do something she wants to do with her own body!  (Even if it is totally irresponsible.)

I always fancied that it would be the ideal existence to be a surly/moody artist holed up in an abandoned industrial space.  I would answer to no one or nothing but the whims of my insanity.  Unfortunately for me, there isn't much financial security in that occupation and I don't have a trust fund to live off of.  Another (more viable) thing I'd like to do, because I have an indelible passion for old crap, is to operate an architectural salvage (upscale junk) yard operation.  When I was a child, my grandmother observed of me that I'd either be an artist or a junk(wo)man when I grew up.  I think she was right.  Oddly enough I can imagine both of these vocations taking place in some form of old commercial warehouse space, preferably made of brick, with skylights made of that chicken-wire safety glass.  I guess that's why I ended up an architect.  :)

This is embarrassing but that Smiths' song "How Soon is Now?" goes "I am the son and the heir ... of a shyness that is criminally vulgar ... I am the son and heir ... of the nothing in particular"  Most of those lyrics I got, but my 12 year old ears must have picked up "I am the sun and the earth" rather than "I am the son and the heir" and I continued to believe it said that and sing that along with the radio until someone else was singing it around me about a year ago and I questioned it.  Ooops!  Of course, my version of the lyrics makes absolutely no sense at all, but then again do any of the lyrics to any of the songs I grew up listening to make any sense?  I used to feel like that song was one of the anthems of my youth, now I'm just a little bit ashamed when I hear it. 

And thanks, Morrissey, for putting that whole "Nobody Loves Me" schtick into my feeble and impressionable young pubescent mind ... "I am human and I need to be loved ... Just like everybody else does" ... unfortunately those lyrics came through loud and clear.  My life could've done without that!

I don't remember the occasion, but I know I've done this at least once, and it wasn't as weird or scary as I thought it would be.  Actually, I think it was at a museum cafeteria.  They're pretty nice as cafeterias go, but does that count as a sit-down restaurant?  I'm going to have to take myself out on a date to a real restaurant and see how that goes.  Hmm... let's see, I think I'll take myself to an Indian place.  Nobody ever wants to go to an Indian place with me anyway.  Maybe I'll go see what's playing at the nearest 'art' theater and catch a movie too, while I'm at it.  Who says it sucks being single?  Visiting museums, seeing foreign art movies, and going out for Indian food ... you can do whatever the hell you want to and nobody will complain.  And there also won't be that weird 'I wonder if I should offer to pitch in for the tab or if that will offend him' thought going through my head.  This Friday night, Baby, it's me and me!