I'm awkward and I know it

Progress Report 11- The 251st Post

I meant to write this for my 250th post but of course I didn’t keep track. Anyways I know talking about my life progress may be a little over done at this point but if I get through this then it will be over and I can get back to posts about what my family texts me.

I don’t think I’ve written a progress report since my last break up. It’s weird to think it’s been 3 months, feels like it’s been even longer than that. People still ask me, “Are you still dating that one guy?” I politely say no and try to leave it at that. Though people often have either tacked on, “Do you still talk to him?” or, “So you seeing anyone else?”

I honestly don’t understand why anyone would ask if you talk to your ex after breaking up? Pretty sure that defeats the whole purpose of a break up. And when it’s the latter question I answer “no” even if that’s a gray answer.

I never realized how weird it would be going on a date(s) right after getting out of a relationship. But by now it’s not weird anymore. It’s just life back to normal. Back to the normal ambiguity of where things are at, taking things supper-supper slow, and trying to keep it hidden from the ward lol

Guess the point of all this is that relationships and adventures are fun but life goes on after they’re over. I should know, I have over 200 posts to prove that :)

Optimistic To A Fault

I live in the ghetto of Omaha. There is no other way to put it. The house I live in would bare ghosts if we just had a few more rooms. On second thought, the basement probably has a few. 

Recently I’ve been trying to move. I’m surprised it’s taken me this long to try to move, but I blame my optimism for this. Case and point:

When I learned that we couldn’t run the shower, laundry machine, or dishwasher at the same time I learned to stop multi-tasking my chores. I figured this was a good thing since society complains so much about our need to multi-task with technology and unimportant things. But don’t worry, showering always stayed a priority. 

Police blocking off part of my street became a usual occurrence, so I just started telling myself it was pleasant to occasionally take a different route home and not to watch the news that night.

The front door knob popping off happened twice and each time I successfully body-slammed the door open. I believe I asserted my dominance in the ghetto when my neighbors watched me break open the door.

And finally, today my roommate texted me that our garage was broken into (again). That makes 3 break ins that I know of. I wasn’t even phased. I actually thought, “Oh good, maybe they took some of my things this time so I won’t have to clean out the garage.”

As much as I think my optimism is a strength it may not lead to my survival. At least my friends and family think so. Alas, we shall see if I actually move. Knowing how my life goes I probably will only move to a more ghetto-y part of town (if that’s possible). But on the bright side, there tends to be more opportunities to give rides in the more socioeconomically unfriendly parts of town.

 

 

Clear The Aisle

 

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This week sucks. It’s been a week of 12 hour workdays (largely unpaid because it’s grad school job training), looking without success for a new place to live, and the inability to find time to do laundry and grocery shopping. Luckily the 50 lbs of shrimp I acquired months ago is still useful after a 9 month stay in my freezer. Well it’s useful but I’m not sure I’d also say it’s ‘safe’ but until any overly concerning side effects of the shrimp come up I will continue to eat it until I can make it to Aldi’s before it closes.

What’s really hard about this is how I constantly feel out of my league. But I find that as much as adulthood is dragging me down I shall go kicking and screaming. 

I was in Goodwill Monday to help someone new to church pick out some things to wear. I was trying to play the role as an adult whilst having stomach pains most likely caused by the shrimp. Carly was trying on something as I retreated to a far away aisle to fight my stomach demons. I tried to hold in the devil inside, I told myself that I was to be an example and I shouldn’t unleash this unholy smell (it was one of those that you just know will need a gas mask to get through). I stood there wrestling with what I should do. Adults don’t purposefully let out farts, especially when an investigator could be negatively affected!

But then I channeled every inspiring quote I’ve ever pinned from pinterest and the quote, “Adulthood is about responsibility more than it is about maturity,” crossed my mind. I realized I am a responsible adult- and I don’t have to be mature all the time just yet. And with that, I let it go. I really let it go.

It was the silent but deadly type. I even had 2 people suddenly leave the aisle and I can only assume by the look of confusion and disgust on their faces that my gas of adulthood had something to do with it. My father would be proud if he could’ve seen (or smelled) what I’d done.

As I began to walk away, head held high, my friend Buffy began to walk my way. I screamed “Stop!” and told her not to come any closer. I may have been proud of my fart but I didn’t want to subject a dear friend to it. I simply told her I farted and the smell was lingering. I think she was a little scared by my honesty (and pride) about my fart. 

I gathered my friends and left Goodwill leaving there a happier “adult” than when I entered. And one with considerably less stomach issues. Well, that was until we found pizza at Institute but thats another story. Anyways- I’m worn out and tired but thats okay. I’m getting through it and learning with every immature fart I pass. 

What I Learned

I took a break, I’m sure you’re probably tired of me referring to it. I just have one last thing about that and it will be another adventure that has come and gone. But I keep thinking about how I wrote that I was going to take the time to improve myself and grow up, change a little. I can’t really say I’ve changed in any big ways yet but there were a few things I learned that I feel like I only learned because I was really trying. So here it is, what the break taught me:

First off I came to the realization that it is true that we were not sent to this life to fail but sometimes we are meant to temporarily fail to learn and grow. Do you know what happened to me this year? I failed a class. Me, the one who prides herself in all the schooling she’s mastered and all the tasks she takes on failed at something. Because I failed I’m taking a summer class that hangs the balance of my bachelor degrees and my chances at graduate school. Not to mention I have faculty that I once admired and thought I was close to expressing how they don’t think I’m cut out for graduate school because of this failure. Can’t say I blame their hesitation but it still hurts. BUT this whole thing taught me that a temporary fail doesn’t make me a failure. That was hard to grasp but I think I’ve finally come around.

Second, you can’t always change who you are but you can adjust. I recently had an old friend move back to Omaha. It’s been nearly 4 years since she left but she was one of my first friends I made in Omaha. I was at her Mary Kay party and she point-blank said, “I’ve always felt like you were one of those people that puts too much on themselves.” I cringed as she said that because I’ve had that brought up a lot lately. What hurt worse was this meant this was how she also remembered me 4 years ago when we hung out more. Guess some things don’t change. So maybe I will always be one of those people who does too much (I’d like to change that but if I haven’t improved much in 4 years then it is probably going to take a very Very long time to change) BUT maybe I can try to make it too much of the good things. There is a difference between doing too much playing and doing too much service.

Third, you have to live with the fact that people aren’t as strong as you want them to be and you can’t always be strong for them. You think that if you make yourself an example, stay strong in times you didn’t want to be, that they’ll learn and be even better. But sometimes those people make bad choices simply because they refuse to be strong. It hurts. It sucks. There are a lot more colorful ways I can put that sentiment but I’ll leave it at that.

Fourth, and finally, there are good people everywhere. When people important to you disappoint it’s easy to feel everyone is going to disappoint. I can’t stand the fact that nobody is black or white, just shades of gray. Secretly, I’ve always wished that when you meet someone new that you could learn their worst attributes right off the bat. That way you can tell if the good will outweigh and when those bad parts come out I’d be like, “Oh well, I knew what I was getting into when I signed up to be your friend.” I figure you’d be a lot less disappointed in people this way. BUT in the time I was most disgruntled with the human race random people popped up that just made me happy. The Branson YSA branch and this Presbyterian church I ended up at taught me that.

There you have it. My little break did do me some good. Each of these lessons are ones I hope I’ll always keep in mind. But what’s most important about these lessons is each of them made me think more about Christ’s atonement. I had someone once read through my blog and notice how in the beginning I talked more about my faith and he was curious if I was still that type of person. I was taken back by his question because if anything I’ve only grown in my faith since I started this blog but along the way I stopped sharing on here. I’m trying to change that, but I’m still mostly be the goofball I am meant to be on here. I mean come on, I may be growing up but I’m still pulling shenanigans like this

 

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My Favorite Stalkers

Most people avoid stalkers, but I on the other hand praise them in a blog post.

Amanda and Emma hail from a family of weird people. Their dad is most famous for trying to kill me with their family’s pet tarantula and their mother has wanted to kill me for improper building reserving practices for FHE. With parents like this I feel they are genetically predisposed to being obsessed with me. But luckily this seems to be a healthy obsession and not like plotting-to-kill-you-and-feed-you-to-the-spider kind.

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Wherever I go, whatever I do, I always know that one of them is waiting- watching to snap chat. It’s like my life is a constant Police song and Sting aka the Petty sisters are waiting in my curtains. I would be concerned over their obsession of me but then again I got one of them to stuff themselves inside a duffle bag. That deserves a free pass to stalk me as much as you want, as long as I don’t end up dead.

Reasons I’m Single But Awesome #11- My Face

I’m not ugly. Let me just lay that out there and tell you this post isn’t about me having an ugly face. This post is about me having a dysfunctional face. A face that does not cooperate with me.

So about a 2 weeks ago I was watching the kids I nanny for 5 days straight (that about made me become sterile). One of those days I took the kids out to the park. Caleb got his ball stuck in a bush, like waaaayyyyy down deep in a bush. I crawled in to get the ball and was stabbed by a bush branch. It wasn’t even a big poke, it just drew a little blood on my cheek.

Fast forward 2 days later. I am free from my nanny responsibilities, I am social again, and I finally get to talk with other adults! On my first day of freedom I went to ward temple night. But as I started to get ready to go my face began to hurt, like really hurt. Imagine like a child constantly pinching your cheek kind of hurt. If you can’t imagine that then I envy you because I feel that pain on a regular basis with my job.

When I got to the activity people started looking at me funny. I should be used to getting funny looks, but these were different. They’re looks were a mixture of concern, fear, and curiosity. Most funny looks I get are just a mixture of fear and curiosity.

Finally someone was brave enough to approach me and asked what was wrong with my face?

Wrong with my face? That wasn’t a question I’d been asked since my awkward stage of life (meaning 1990-2013). I looked in a mirror and saw what looked like a carnival-mirror version of myself. Yeah… my whole cheek was swollen. But wait, this gets better…

My face was swollen- nothing I could do about it at this point- so I went about my night with people. As I left it was storming outside so badly you could barely see in front of yourself. Better yet, you could barely see your car door as you accidentally hit your head opening it.

Yeah, so I had a swollen face and a new bump on my head. I am such a winner at this life thing. I avoided public as much as possible while I looked like Quasimodo but old high school friends visiting Omaha forced me out. Aside from that public humiliation I stayed hidden until the drugs did their job and my face improved. My face has returned to normal since my ‘incidents’ but I now refuse to retrieve anything that gets stuck in a bush. My own child can get themselves trapped in a bush and I won’t go in and save them- no way. So lets just hope I raise them in a desert where the bushes can’t get to any of us.

But when your face randomly looks like a lumpy troll face the prospects of children do seem dim.

Beautiful Branson

It’s probably time I start explaining my break but I think it will be even more important to talk about what got me out of it.

Towards the end of May I had just had my graduation, was experiencing painful money woes, and still dealing with the reality of grad school. Not an easy time for me. But then amongst all this my dad did something small but hurtful. 

It’d take too long to do into detail over what happened. All I have to say is this was enough to get me to stop speaking to him, and my dad in turn was avoiding me because he knew it wouldn’t be a pretty conversation when we did speak.

This went on for a few weeks. I wanted to write about it but with certain family becoming overly involved I knew that anything I wrote would be made worse. So I figured I would take a hiatus until I dealt with all the family issues at hand.

I wasn’t making any progress, that is until I left for Branson Missouri. 

As a graduation gift the family I nanny for let me tag along on their vacation to a resort called Big Cedar. It was beautiful to say the least. Every inch was covered in green hills and surrounded by amounts of trees that Nebraska can only dream of. I know I’m sounding pretty sappy describing the place but I can’t tell you how much I needed the change of scenery. 

My favorite part was everyday I’d sneak away and go on the nature trails, but I’d always lead myself back to this one particular secluded spot by the lake. I’d take my shoes off and just listen and learn. Oh and I’d get sunburnt and be told I was near snakes, but I try to focus on the spiritual- not life threatening parts- of those times. 

In that week I also felt impressed to go to the singles branch nearby. I felt bad for just visiting, that ward about had me convinced to give up my life in Omaha and move to Missouri. For one thing that ward was incredibly attractive. Like scarily attractive. But it turns out that the ward is mainly populated by 3 big families, all of whom are good looking, hence making the whole singles ward look good. I did my research. 

Though you could tell the people in this ward were beautiful inside and out. Not every ward has the feeling this little branch gave.

Even though I was only there for a week I threw myself into every function they had. Wednesday night they had an institute class. I wonder if I had known what the class was about if I would have attended- lets just say they were covering a subject I was desperately running away from. 

When I got to class they were talking about families being forever. You can imagine this subject hurts for me but this was especially poignant because they were talking about the need for having the priesthood in the home. As the class discussed in groups something to share out loud my heart sunk; I felt as if I had somehow ended up in this class 6 hours away from home to share one of my deepest heartaches with complete strangers.

When my group’s turn came up we were assigned to discuss the protection and securities having the priesthood in the home gives. I couldn’t tell from experience what it gives but I could share what hurts from not having it. How it hurts to know you never could have a father’s blessing in times you needed it the most. It hurts to see other families with this simple happiness you know you can’t have yet no matter how badly you want it. How it hurts to know that any moment something could happen to your family and suddenly you won’t be a family anymore. I still remember how everyone in that room was fixated on what I was sharing. I still remember how it hurt, yet felt good, to share what I had to say.

After the class I met more people from the ward who in turn shared some things I will never forget. But most importantly this class and the people I talked to made me realize I needed to just let things go. I’m still disappointed in my dad’s actions but suddenly I didn’t feel anger anymore.

As I left the institute class I called my dad. It was actually his birthday and I figured it would be best to call him up. I could tell he was surprised I called to talk to him and he spoke to me carefully- ready for me to give him the tongue lashing he deserved, but I didn’t. Some people may think I should have words with my dad for his actions but I know I went about things the right way. And I know however crazy it is I was meant to be in that Branson branch.

So things are back to normal as you can probably tell from some of the earlier posts. And now I have a new place to go to when I need to run away. I sincerely hope this won’t be my last experience in Branson. But even if it is I know I won’t ever forget it.

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