According To A Guy I Know There Are Only Two Kinds of Single People

Island of Misfit Toys

I had lunch with a friend the other day and we were talking about being single. He informed me there are only two kinds of single people. People that are single for a season and people that are single for a reason.

Immediately, my mind exploded in a frenzy of worry. Is that true?! Because being single for a season implies that you’re single for a short amount of time and let be be honest here, it’s been a long time since I was in a relationship. A long time. Looooooong time. Oh man. I’m totally single for a reason. He was still talking about his theory while I was having this little internal meltdown, but I tuned back in just in time to hear- “If you’ve been single for more than a year, you’re probably broken. You belong on the island of misfit toys, you know?” And then my soul started crying and I couldn’t really hear what he was saying over my soul’s ugly sobbing. And then I was like, is this guy even my friend? Because he definitely knows I’ve been single for more than a year.

Once I was able to calm myself down a bit, I mentioned my concerns about his theory. He was undeterred. He maintained that his theory was correct and then spent the rest of the lunch trying to help me figure out what my “reason” was. When I suggested that my “reason” was just that I hadn’t met anyone I felt strongly about, he basically laughed in my face and then kicked me in the kneecaps and then taunted me in French. (In reality, he just chuckled but it was the most oppressive chuckle I have ever heard). Apparently, that is *not* my reason. Apparently, I’m broken in some way I’m still not very clear on. And things got real confusing when he referenced the island of misfit toys again, because I’ve always LOVED the island of misfit toys- I think it’s one of the best parts of that movie. So I was absolutely baffled as to why I wouldn’t want to be on the island of misfit toys, but he explained to me that when toys are misfits it’s cute but when people are misfits it’s not cute. I’m still a little fuzzy on the details.

I think he was a little offended when I decided I found the whole conversation laughable and loudly proclaimed I wanted to be Queen of the island of misfit toys (although I later found out it’s part of the British commonwealth so they technically already have a Queen). I’m sorry, but I just refuse to reduce my singledom to a rhyme. Basing your feelings regarding your romantic life on a rhyme is just a little too juvenile- I mean, if it was in iambic pentameter ala Senor Shakespeare, I would be more than happy to adopt it as my single-girl philosophy, but as it stands I’m afraid that rhyme alone just won’t cut it.  I have standards.

Methinks his theory is complete and utter shite. What say you?

Pick-Up Lines That Would Definitely Work On Me

Bar Scene

Listen, I don’t know why I think about these things. Although, conversely, I don’t know why I shouldn’t think about these things. The moral of the story is that there is a lot I don’t know.  Think about it. Or don’t. I’m not the boss of you. Unless I am…..am I? Whoa.

My old roommate and I used to text each other pick-up lines for laughs. Also,  in case we met a super foxy guy walking down the street- that way we knew exactly what to say. So, I’m pretty much an expert on pick-up lines. I mean, I’m not an expert on using them, but I am really good at reciting them at parties and funerals for laughs (because if there is one place you need to laugh…….) And although they are generally cheesy and ridiculous I have to admit there are a few that would definitely work on me.

1. Your body is a wonderland and I want to be Alice. Listen, if he makes an Alice and Wonderland reference, I am ALL IN.

2. Excuse me, I think you have something in your eye. Nope, just a sparkle. Oh you.

3. Hello, I’m a thief and I am here to steal your heart. Stealing is against the law, but you have to admire a guy who would risk going to jail for you. That’s called love ladies and gentlemen.

4. You can fall off a building, you can fall out a tree, but baby, the best way to fall is in love with me. Rhyming=way to my heart.

5. I know we’re not in Professor Flitwick’s class, but you are still charming. A Harry Potter pick-up line?! Marry me now.

6. Hey… Didn’t I see your name in the dictionary under “Shazaam!”? Why yes, yes you did.

7. If stars would fall everytime I would think of you, the sky would soon be empty. That’s poetry y’all.

8. If you were a tear in my eye I would not cry for fear of losing you. Come on. I mean, wow. Quality stuff. How can you not say yes to that?

Please don’t judge me. In an effort to not lose your complete respect, I will post a list of pick-up lines that would NOT work on me tomorrow. But before that, feel free to share the pick-up lines that work on you. It’s oddly liberating.

This Really Happens To Me. A lot.

 

If you have ever read this blog at all, you know I’m a frequent daydreamer. If this is the first post you’re reading of mine….well, I’m a frequent daydreamer. That seems redundant but I didn’t want anyone to not feel included. (I was imagining how I would feel if it was my first time to read someone’s blog and they were referencing all the readers who already read their blog, but not mentioning me, the newcomer, and I thought that I might feel a little like an outsider. )

So, I’m a daydreamer. That’s been covered.

Sometimes, I get really lost in my daydreams. Like, really lost. So lost in fact, that I speak out loud. Oh yes, I say whatever I’m thinking in my daydream OUT LOUD. Usually, I’m in my car (yes, I daydream and drive- but I’m also an excellent multi-tasker so no worries.) Or, sometimes alone at home (which, sounds a lot more pathetic now that I’ve written it down…)

But every so often, I’m not alone. In fact, I’m at work or out in public. And guess what? No one knows what I’m talking about because I say things like ” I would like to thank the Nobel committee…” or “I can’t believe I’m a NY Times bestseller.” or “Oh Aslan, I thought I would never make it to Narnia.” or “I can eat whatever I want and never gain weight.” You know, things like that. And let me tell you something, there is NO way to make myself not look crazy when this happens.

BUT- I think I have devised a fool-proof plan to turn the tides on the “crazy” label. It’s a two part plan because any good plan has more than one part.  Part 1, denial. I’m just going to claim that I never said anything at all. Let them think they heard something that never really happened. Deny, deny, deny. But also, act like I’m really worried about them and say things like “You’ve just been so tired lately.” or “Are you feeling alright?” And sure, it might be really cruel of me to convince other people that they are the ones who are crazy when in reality I’m the one acting insane but I figure that I can make that all up by daydreaming really happy things for them. Really, they should thank me because in daydream-land their lives are beyond sweet. Part 2, if part 1 doesn’t work, then I plan on playing up the crazy big time. Take it from talking out loud while daydreaming to full-on mental break. That way, I’ll probably get to go home early or maybe someone will let me cut in line at the grocery store. This is a really good plan. I can see this improving my life like 10-fold. And- if you have this problem, then I’m improving your life 10-fold. I bet that Nobel Prize isn’t far away….

Thanks America. At Least I Will Finish My Book.

Dear America,

You hurt me yesterday. You hurt me real bad. You didn’t kill me but I definitely have a limp today.  I’m not mad though. Well, yeah, actually I am mad, but I am channeling my frustration into my NaNoWriMo project. I’m writing a book that I’m pretty sure will make a lot of political and historical stuff more clear. If you read it. The best part is that the book is about political definitions and historical examples and not about your side or my side. Yay! This will benefit us all. I promise. If you read it. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you for really upsetting me yesterday, you have given me new focus and determination to finish my book. It’s like, when people have to complete impossible feats because their family has been kidnapped and will be killed if they don’t. This is a lot like that. You kidnapped my optimism and are threatening to kill my hope- so I WILL finish this book to prevent that from happening. Thanks for the motivation.

Love,

Girl on the Contrary

P.S. Even if you kill my hope it won’t really die because my hope is like a zombie.

Pet Peeve Day 2.0

Remember when I started monthly pet peeve day? And then promptly forgot all about it? Well welcome to Pet Peeve Day 2.0!!! It’s new, it’s improved, and it’s way more peeved!!!! ( I can hear all the cheering and vuvuzelas blasting).

Psycho Black and White Screaming

She must have just seen someone texting and driving.

Historical Inaccuracies.

I realize this is probably unique to me and a handful of Historians but it drives me mad nonetheless. I hate it in books, movies, references, and costumes. I mean, how difficult is it to check your facts? Answer, it isn’t difficult at all. Just check your facts. That is all I ask. Also, if you don’t check your facts fully expect me to walk out of your movie, throw your book away, be a jerk if you misuse a reference, and probably not say anything at all to you if your costume is inaccurate because, hey, you’re in costume, I can give you a break.

Texting while Driving.

Seriously? No one, let me repeat, no one, can do this successfully. Sure, maybe once or twice you get by with it but eventually you are going to hurt yourself or someone else by doing this. So, DON’T TEXT AND DRIVE. Also, I got hit by a 17 year-old Avril Lavigne look-alike last week and you want to know why she hit my car even though I was honking at her to stop? Because she was texting and driving and couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the fact that her CAR WAS ABOUT TO T-BONE MINE. Luckily, no one was hurt but I gave her a pretty stern lecture. This is just stupid. Plus, Oprah doesn’t like it either.

Saying Irregardless Instead of Regardless.

The added ir does not make you fancier. It only makes you look foolish.

Che Guevara T-Shirts.

Do you even know what he stood for? And you’re buying (i.e. supporting capitalism) a t-shirt with his face on it? Are you  not seeing the conflict here? No? You don’t even know who is on your shirt do you? I thought not. This sort of ties in to the historical inaccuracy pet peeve but I thought it deserved to be singled out.

Being Called “Missy”

I am a grown-up. This is an unacceptable form of referring to me. Unless you’re my Mother because she pretty much has the right to call me whatever she wants. Even so, I don’t think I have ever heard her call me “missy”. So, really, don’t call me that. Don’t say “Do you have a second missy?” because no, I don’t, not if you keep calling me missy. This would only be acceptable if my name was actually Missy- but it’s not. So don’t call me that.

When People Refer to Themselves as “Go-Getters”

I have no support for this, it just annoys me.

Skinny Celebrities Who Say They Don’t Try to Be Thin.

Yes, you do. I can tell by your eyes that you are very hungry. It is almost physically impossible for you to be that size and to eat lots of fast food (as you claim you do) and not spend 24 hours a day in the gym. You try. You try really hard, and that’s ok, just be honest about it. You are really screwing with everyone else’s head.

Skinny Celebrities Who Say They Hardly Eat Anything and Are Always Hungry.

What? I don’t want to know the truth! I want  to believe that some day I will wake up and look just like you without ever trying. Don’t tell me you’re hungry. I don’t want to accept that. (And yes, I know this is completely contradicting the pet peeve before this one but hello, I’m a Girl on the Contrary- emphasis on contrary. I can feel a lot of opposing things at the same time, it’s a gift.)

Seeing that Someone Has Un-Subscribed to my Blog.

Ouch. That hurts. First I feel sad, and then I feel peeved because- listen all my posts have the same voice and you knew what you were getting into- there shouldn’t have been any surprises and if you un-subscribed just because you didn’t like one post then hey I don’t need you anyway. But please come back. And re-subscribe.

Feel free to share your pet peeves! I feel like this Friday is really a “get all your frustrations out” kind of Friday.

Happily Ever After.

Pride and Prejudice

You know why I like movies with happy endings? Because, I fully recognize that in reality those things rarely if ever happen at all, so I like to have a little happily ever after in my fiction. The reason I bring this up is because lately it seems like there is a stigma surrounding these type of movies. I mean, maybe this has always existed and I am just now realizing it but now that I have realized it, I want to discuss it. So there.

It just seems like if a girl my age says she likes movies with a happily ever after ending then she gets characterized as being silly, or naive, or stupid. Guess what? I’m none of those things (ok, I am occasionally silly…) and neither are my girlfriends who like happily ever afters. In fact, I would say we were more realistic than people who don’t like those movies because we go see them specifically because we know they never happen. We don’t walk out of these movies saying things like “I can’t wait for that to happen to me.” we walk out of them and say “That was a very pleasant break from reality.” Because isn’t the purpose of most films to give you an entertaining break??? Because if that is the case then I want my entertaining break to be really lovely and diverting. I don’t want to walk out of a movie feeling really depressed and broken. I mean, ok, some movies that are really well made and poetic are allowed to make me feel depressed and broken, but most of the time, I just want to continue feeling happy. Because I am really happy. So why shouldn’t my happiness be reflected in my film choices.

And you know something else??? Jane Austen was a brilliant writer and a strong women. So if I want to see one of her many stunning works brought to life and they just so happen to have happy endings- well then that’s just what I’ll do. In your face nay-sayers. And I know I’m on a rant here and that this isn’t that funny of a post (you want something funny read the note at the bottom) but this has been happening more and more often to me when people ask what movies I like. Well, you know what? I like happily ever afters. So screw you.

I’m sick of hearing “But it was so unrealistic” or “It doesn’t stand for anything.” or “You don’t really believe that stuff, do you?”

Yes, it was unrealistic- that’s why I wanted to see it. And yes, actually, it stands for something and that something is 2 hours of complete unawares bliss. And no, I don’t really believe it- again, that’s why I wanted to see it.

Also, this made me think of the biases I have against people’s favorite movies. And I’m not blameless (which is probably shocking to you so take a moment to collect yourself). Anyone who likes the movie “The Other Boleyn Girl” almost automatically loses my respect. Sorry, I’m a history lover and there is almost nothing accurate in that movie (or the book for that matter Philippa Gregory should be ashamed) and I just can’t abide by it. And I  can’t understand how people can enjoy a movie with such glaring inaccuracies. But in the interest of doing unto others blah blah blah, I officially apologize for not respecting your movie choices fans of “The Other Boleyn Girl.” Also, I should apologize to fans of “The Godfather” and “Star Wars” not because I don’t like or respect those movies, but because I have never seen them and that tends to upset their fans. Sorry. Also, I should apologize to “Avatar” fans because though I actually did enjoy the movie I didn’t think seeing it in 3D was worth it. Apparently I’m wrong on that so I’m sorry. Oh yeah, and “Braveheart” for the same historical inaccuracies reasons as “The Other Boleyn Girl” and also, really? Mel Gibson? To play the part of Scotland’s most famous hero? Sorry, I got caught up, really I am apologizing for not liking your movie choices.

Ok- so I think I have purged myself of all my movie choice biases. Which, in a way is a happily ever after. I sure feel happy. Don’t you?

happily ever after

(Note: I used the term “happily ever after” instead of “happy ending” because I was afraid of the type of traffic that term might drive to my blog….I think we all know why.)

My Own Special Brand of Crazy.

Titanic Movie Poster

There is a year of my life that lives in infamy within my family. They merely mention the age of 12 or 7th grade and everyone bursts into fits of laughter. Because during that year I was insane. Not like a typical kind of insane that you can seek treatment at a facility for- I had my very own special brand of crazy.

Deep breath. Here’s the full story.

It all started with the movie Titanic. Seriously. It was the movie event of the year and I didn’t want to miss it. I went to see it first with my family. It rocked me. It literally shook the core of me. I cried, and cried, and cried, and cried, and cried. I was still crying when we left the theater. After about 10 minutes of tears in the car I was finally able to pull myself together. That didn’t last long, however, as the Celine Dion song made famous by the movie came on the radio- it sent me back into fits of tears. I was extremely emotionally burdened by this film. Part of what made me feel this way was that I knew this had actually happened and that even though Jack and Rose were fictional, there were actual people who died or who lost loved ones on the Titanic. I was also overwhelmingly angry at the treatment of the third class or steerage passengers. I knew that really happened too and it broke me heart. I was devastated. Also, I have to be honest, a lot of it was Jack and Rose. I mean, I was 12- the fact that they found love and then lost it just seemed cosmically unfair. I never wanted to let go. (Ha ha, get it.) And let me tell you something else, for a very very disgustingly long time, I didn’t let go. I became obsessed with all things Titanic both fact and fiction (i.e. the movie). I read all there was to read, I looked through hundreds of newspaper clippings, I bought the soundtrack, and then I saw the movie many many more times. I cried as much the fifth time as I did the first. For real. None of this is exaggeration. And it gets worse. I started sketching people drowning, the ship sinking, dead roses, and disembodied hands. It was bad. And creepy. Really creepy and bizarre. I became offended if someone didn’t like the movie or if someone got a fact about the actual sinking wrong. I was so obsessed that I actually convinced myself that in a past life I had actually been on the Titanic. I had such an emotionally inappropriate response to this film- that my family actually stopped speaking of it so as to not upset me. The subject was persona non grata at my house.

In my defense, I was clearly unstable. Also, very hormonal. You can’t control those hormones man, you just have to ride them out and mine seemed to be particularly potent. I also cried every time I had a make-up line on my face or a bump in my hair. I cried when a boy I liked didn’t like me back- I cried when a guy I didn’t like liked me. I listened to N’Sync. I was clearly in a strange and awkward place. Also, that was the year my sister threw a hair brush at me and it busted my eye open. That doesn’t really have much to do with anything but I would just like to highlight that I wasn’t the only one with problems in my house. And anything she tells you to justify using a hair-brush as a weapon against me is complete bollocks. I was an innocent victim. Probably.

I guess the point of this post is to explain that since puberty- I have had my own special brand of crazy.  The Titanic episode is just the tip of the iceberg (haha- I can’t stop myself…)Sometimes it’s a little more crazy and sometimes a little less. Although, my family definitely thinks of my 12th year of life as one of the worst bouts of crazy I’ve ever had. They still love me, which, I think is a testament to their patience…and their sense of humor.  Also, I still cry every time I see Titanic. (Shrugs).

Pet Peeve Day

It’s time for my monthly pet peeve day. Actually- this is my first pet peeve post so….I’m starting a monthly pet peeve day! Yay for me! My imaginary therapist and I think it would be a really healthy thing to get all the things that bother me out in the open. Please feel free to participate- this isn’t all about me. Well, this post is actually all about me but the comment section of this post can totally be all about you.

People Who Talk About Themselves in Third Person.

Girl on the contrary is not a fan (haha). I am flummoxed that this even needs explanation but since I have been hearing a lot of this lately it apparently does. Saying your name over and over again is annoying at best. At worst it’s the reason you were murdered. No one really likes it. No one thinks it’s cute. It makes you look like you are either completely obsessed with yourself or that you have multiple personalities. If it’s obsession- get over yourself. If it’s multiple personalities- then I feel uncomfortable making a suggestion so I guess you get a free pass in regards to talking about yourself in third person.

Getting Lost in My Own City.

This is totally on me. I have a very weak sense of direction and I am constantly taking the long way or the wrong way. Even in Austin. Getting lost in other cities wouldn’t bother me so much. Getting lost in my own city drives me crazy. And I don’t have anyone to blame for this but myself which makes me all the more “peeved”.

One-Uppers.

I don’t have a story for everything. I haven’t lived every experience. Neither have you. I promise. You definitely don’t have a story for everything- I know you think you do. But you don’t. You don’t. Please stop trying to one-up every story you hear. I’m sure there will be times when your story is the best, but there will also be times when you don’t have a story at all, much less the best story. Accept it. Embrace it even. The times when you do have the best story will mean so much more if they happen less frequently. Stop talking. Unless you really do have a great story that actually happened. In that case, I want to hear it.

People Clipping Their Fingernails in Public.

If you aren’t at a nail salon, then gross. Clipping your nails in public is G-R-O-S-S. For real. Stop doing it (I’m pointing a finger at you movie ticket taker who was clipping his fingernails as he was checking tickets- people carry their popcorn around you for heavens sake!)

E-Readers.

I hate them. I’m sorry, I know everyone else loves them, but I don’t. I want lots and lots of real books that smell like knowledge and imagination. I don’t want a sterile e-reader. I want to highlight and annotate and read in the bathtub (which I would never do with an e-reader). I want first editions and earmarked pages. I want shelves and shelves of books. Real books,that look like books and not computers. Also, books aren’t machines and therefore can never be robots that try to take over the world. I rest my case.

Celebrate the day and share your pet peeves!

I Want To Go To There

Harry Potter Amusement Park.

Albuquerque Balloon Fiesta.

Whale Watching Baja Mexico.

Iceland.

Morocco.

I’m craving travel and adventure today ( side note- I’m also craving pizza). All of these places are next on my list of travel plans. I’m not sure when I’ll go, but you can be sure that when I do, I will be writing about it. The travel memoir is so my genre.

I am a Person. Not a Commodity.

Selling Yourself

I am a People! Not a Commodity! (He said in protest)

I really wanted to make the title of this post “I am a people. Not a commodity.” because I think that sounds funnier but then I remembered this post probably won’t be all that funny. You have been warned. Girl on the Contrary is being serious today. For real.

Have you ever known someone who seems like they are always trying to sell themselves to you? They are always talking about how intelligent, or shrewd, or clever, or wise, or strong, or business savvy, or tough, or….tall they are? Maybe you have mistaken it for ego. Maybe it is an out of control ego. But it is also something else, they want you to be sold on them. They have some sort of desperate need for validation that they really are all the things they tell everyone who will listen that they are. They collect admirers like feathers in their cap. They take great joy in telling people who they know or who speaks highly of them. They want titles alongside their name (even if those titles mean nothing to anyone else). They want to drive expensive cars that don’t quite fit their lifestyle. They relish in telling people where they live so as to see the look (real or imagined) of jealousy. You probably work with one or more of these people. They go by many names, the one-upper, the egomaniac, the douche-canoe, the tool, or simply and less imaginatively- the jackass. I am annoyed by these people. I have little tolerance for their self-centered diatribes. Unfortunately, there always seems to be a situation where I have to tolerate them, I have to fain cordiality or at least display a lack of hostility. C’est la vie, I suppose.

I think what bothers me the most is the notion of selling oneself. It is one of the things that makes me so uncomfortable about Facebook, Twitter, and MySpace. Yes, many people only use social media to connect with friends or others with similar interests but it seems to me, at least lately, that many more people are using social media to sell themselves. This shouldn’t be surprising considering the economic climate. People need to put their face’s and resumes out there to secure employment and that is quickly becoming social media’s bread and butter. But there is a difference between selling what you can do and selling who you are. I take issue with selling you you are- it’s like personality prostitution. You look at some people’s twitter accounts (and I am thinking of someone specific here but I’m sure it applies elsewhere) and their background is a picture of themselves and their icon is a picture of themselves and they have posted lots and lots of pictures of themselves- not with other people, just them. They have thousands and thousands of followers-do they really know all of these people? You can’t be sure but my guess would be no. Every post is about something great they did that day like “Made a huge sale and generated a year’s worth of revenue for my company by myself.” or “Made a huge donation to Breast Cancer Research today.” (don’t even get me started on the false altruism of statements like that….)  I like social media, in fact, I really like social media. I think it is very useful in the marketing of products. Emphasis on products. Products not people. I will happily market something I am working on (be it a novel, website, or blog) but I will not market myself. What I can do, sure. But not, absolutely not, who I am.

The worst part is when these “commodity people” as I like to refer to them try to give me advice on how I should sell myself. “Get on Facebook. Get on Twitter. Update your pictures. Sell, sell sell!” No thank you. I don’t have to be liked. If we meet and you like me then great we can get to know each other over time. If you meet me and don’t like me, that is absolutely ok, have a great life. I am a person, not a commodity. You can’t buy who I am and I won’t try to sell it to you. I am just befuddled at this attitude of desperation. Is it insecurity? I don’t know. Usually I have a pretty strong intuition about people and why they act the way they do. In this case, I can spot a “commodity people” from a mile away- but I have no idea why they are that way. Is it the emphasis on competition that is so rampant in our society? Is it a natural urge to dominate- like a natural selection thing? I don’t know. All I know is that the entire concept of marketing myself- the essence of me- is repellent. And I don’t think that “commodity people” realize that by constantly informing everyone about their “greatness” they are invalidating any greatness they may truly have. I also think that I am kind of alone in feeling this way. “Sell Yourself” is all over the internet and sites that contain methods of doing so are incredibly popular. Everyone wants to sell themselves. Except me. And I feel like Charlton Heston yelling “Soylent Green is people!!!”