Crushed Expectations

I'm so disappointed in myself (that old familiar feeling). I keep talking a good game about how I'm going to change things, and then I go and blow off a party (i.e. social gathering with males in attendance). My friend totally knew I was lying when I called to say I wasn't coming because of a stomach ache. I know some of the people that will be there, but not well and I don't feel like feeling awkward. Granted it would only be for a few hours, I just can't muster the energy to go. And I want to kick myself.

Why am I so tired? That was supposed to dissipate after all the stress of trying to buy this apartment went away.

Why can't I change my aversion to parties? Is that just something I need to accept and figure a way around?

I'm sick of this war between believing in fate and believing I make my own. This clash between knowing I'm fine alone and wanting to share my life with someone and being unable, or possibly afraid, of letting it happen. Of actual change.

Am I actually afraid of the change I've been blabbing on about? Ogod.

I'm sick of me.

Can I trade brains with someone for a while?

The Buck Stops Here...Possibly There

I was watching a show on History the other night about, what else? Armageddon. Apparently there have been numerous people from various cultures throughout time (e.g., ancient China, European middle ages and modern Hopi Native Americans) that believe(d) the world will end on December 21, 2012. I just found the website and am surprised that I've never heard it before. (Aha! I just realized why there's a new movie called 2012 coming out!) It's fascinating to me because last summer a woman handed me a leaflet that said the world was going to end on May 21, 2011. That is to say the Rapture will occur and the world and all its heathens will be consumed in a firey hell.

So...which is it?

Mind you, I am not mocking anyone who believes these things. I'm just saying I don't. (Though the 2012 stuff is pretty freaky, despite the website selling t-shirts. Anyway 11:11 am Greenwich Mean Time is 6:11 am NY time so I'll still be asleep. Assuming I'm still in NY then...)

I had to laugh at myself because while watching the show I believed everything I heard. I actually said out loud at one point, "please let me know love before the world ends." Then when it was over I thought that's absurd. How could anyone know the exact date the earth is going to implode? Because I do believe it will, just not in our lifetime. And not by any higher power's hand. Humanity will either destroy the planet that feeds and we'll starve or we will destroy one another for having different beliefs. Either way, no one is responsible but us.

They say all these different prophecies have come true, about wars, natural disasters, disease...yeah well how hard is to pick a date and say there will be a flood that wipes out some random city built near the waters' edge? Or that someone with evil tendencies will rise to power only to gain more through terrorizing others? or that too many people living in poor, dirty conditions will lead to suffering and death? It happens all the time. People are dramatists. Alarmists. History repeats itself and we need to constantly reassure ourselves the end is near to cover for the fact that we've seen it before, just in a different way. (For every person that predicted something that actually happened, there are like a thousand who predicted armageddon. And yet we're all still here. YK2 anyone?) We have to shout a lot to make sure other people are still listening. We need to create something big to ensure we give meaning to our lives. People don't ever grow up and stop needing attention. It's our nature. This is what I believe.

I don't need to predict a world wide natural disaster or the coming of the antichrist (which PS is NOT Obama) to scare myself into feeling alive.

I just need to stop all the bullshit in my head and learn to love someone.

Before the world ends.

My Cold, Happy Heart

"And then that look that you gave me
Sent me rushing through guilt's door
I'd already started to feel callous
Like I really should care more"
-Ani Difranco

Callous
2 a: feeling no emotion b: feeling or showing no sympathy for others: hard-hearted.

If they were to update this entry in Merriam-Webster my picture would be placed beside it. Well...I guess only if there was the addendum "one is not close to or does not know well" after 'no sympathy for others'. And yet, as soon as that Sarah Mclachlan animal cruelty commercial comes on I just about sob openly. Why do I feel so twisted?

In the past couple months, 1 friend became a domestic partner, 3 other friends got engaged, my youngest cousin got married and I just found out my other younger cousin is getting married this summer. I can genuinely say that I am excited for all my friends and can't wait to be part of the festivities. My cousins on the other hand...I just don't know them that well. My youngest cousin I don't know at all. What brought about this whole callous business is the fact that I found out her husband was recently killed in Iraq. They got married in October. This is heartbreakingly sad, but I feel nothing. I guess I feel bad for her, she's never had much luck in life. Period. But what can I do about the situation? I can't comfort her, I don't know her. I don't even have her phone number. My mother tells me her heart aches for her niece, but me? I'm beginning to think my heart has shrunk. It's the same reaction I had to finding out about the separation I mentioned in the last post. I mean, that situation is slightly different because he doesn't want comfort or anyone's pity. But still. It's the start of a broken family and all I can do is look at it from the outside and think 'well that's sad', but not actually feel any sadness.

My younger cousin that's getting married- we communicate a few times a year but we're not really in each other's lives. She used to really look up to me when we were growing up, but again, I don't really know her as an adult. She asked me to be in her wedding to the guy she was engaged to before this one, but hasn't mentioned anything to me about being engaged now or the wedding this summer. My mother told me and has been on my case about it ever since. Not in the 'when are you getting married' way, she just wants me to start making travel arrangements because the wedding is down south. I'm like, she hasn't even called me! I don't even want to look at how much air fare will be because it's a holiday. Why does this bother me so much? I should just be happy for her and call her to congratulate her but instead I'm just kind of annoyed which puts me only one notch above the border of not even caring.

I feel like there's not enough room in my heart to care, but why? What else am I filling it up with right now? And then at the same time I feel like I have so much love to give. I should care but I can't. I could care but I don't. The clash is causing me to feel detached...to just about everything. That's not to say I'm not happy, because I still am- about all the things I've written about since the new year. I think that's what worries me. I'm still happy in my detachment. That sounds disasterously close to shutting down, just in a different way than I have before. A more innocuous way that won't ring any warning bells to let me know I'm sinking and will eventually have to crawl toward the light again. Can you shut down if you're happy?

Perhaps it's just that my present particular human condition is to question my happiness (though it seems extremely pointless and ultimately self-defeating). Maybe I'm happier because I've lessened how much of others lives I let into my own. Maybe by unconsciously (though now realized) shutting it out I've become happier. Maybe I'm just tired of sadness. For the first time in a long time there isn't this latent sadness hanging around me, so now I have to question it. Figures, right? How could I be happy when so many horrible things are happening every day? AND I'm still single? I must be callous. I'm thinking I should just take this at face value for the moment and enjoy my happiness, no matter what the cause, instead of beating it to death with the stick of obsessive self-analysis.

Is there a good place to lose a stick of obsessive self-analysis? Where can I misplace it so I'll never see it again?

Love Unavailable Style

I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Not because it's the marketing month for it, but because I think I've reached a point in my life where I've achieved a certain level of satisfaction with my life and it's the one ingredient I don't have. Don't get me wrong, there is always room for improvement and I still have other unfulfilled dreams, but when it gets down to it, life is pretty good. Great career, great apartment, great friends, great...missing piece?

I received sad and incredibly mysterious news about a family member separating from his wife after 22 years. My brother and I talked about it and his comment was, "I thought I was emotionally unavailable." Before I knew what I was saying I replied, "well we all know where I stand with that one. I'm still single at 31."

Did I just suddenly realize something totally obvious about myself? Is it possible to be greatly emotional and emotionally unavailable at the same time? How do I know if I've never been in a relationship where being emotionally unavailable described my behavior? Or maybe always being single is the number one sign of someone who is emotionally unavailable?

I'm working on theory to give myself a little hope- maybe being emotionally unavailable is not the same thing as being emotionally 'on-hold'. For all my excuses and explanations for how I have ended up where I am today, I know that after constantly pushing the thoughts of love and boyfriends and relationships and sex into the back of my mind, somewhere along the way whatever the reasons were evolved into a kind of shutting down so I wouldn't have to think about it at all. Despite that (not thinking about it) not working, the repression still did. Maybe...maybe it's just a different kind of unavailability, one that will surely change once I meet someone worth sharing life with. Because I do want to share my life. I'm thinking that alone kicks me out of the unavailable group. Sigh of relief.

I remember feeling like I was meant for something bigger when I was in my teens and early twenties. I used to joke with friends all the time, "am I famous yet?" As asinine and naively pompous as it was, I felt it. Or perhaps, I thought myself into feeling it. At any rate, it lead to a lot of wondering and waiting around for something big to happen, someone to recognize my talent or maybe even I would somehow end up doing something worthy and it would give my life meaning. I spent many years frustrated and irritated at myself for not reaching that higher ground. I always felt like there was more out there for me, more than just growing up, getting a 9 to 5, having a family, settling into the suburbs, etc etc etc. The thought scared me I realize now, because in my mind it translated into being nothing special. Just doing what everyone else was doing. I always wanted to be different, for as far back as I can remember. It never occurred to me that love could make what I deemed 'nothing special' bigger and more amazing than it could ever be seen or felt by me from the outside. Considering what a romantic I am, this is weird. Why wouldn't I believe that love makes people's lives better, no matter how they live it?

(I just finished reading Revolutionary Road and the cynicism I found in it reminded me of my old assumptions that people who lived 'nothing special' lives were either unhappy with them or kind of blind to the repetitive emptiness. This is very strange because I grew up in the suburbs in a very traditional house, albeit my mom wore the pants, and had a wonderful childhood and great family life. Where did I get so many negative ideas? What did I see that I didn't want to become? I still want no part of the suburbs, but I wonder where it all stems from? Perhaps it's nothing deeper than not wanting to live suburban style?...but I suppose that's a quandary for another post...)

And so yes, to anyone else who is not me, falling in love is the big, glaringly obvious thing I've been waiting for all my life (while at the same time destroying any potential for it). Being the staunch independent I am, I somehow convinced myself that love was something that would happen, but wouldn't give my life meaning. God forbid I depend on anyone else for anything, especially self-worth. I spent a long time trying to find meaning in my life and it wasn't until I realized I am the only one who can give my life meaning that I reclaimed part of the happiness I felt before I began questioning my existence. Ah the blessed obliviousness of childhood! It is now in retrospect I see that I was mixing up life meaning and life change. In one respect it's ok because I managed to find happiness and life meaning within and by myself. In another it means I've denied myself the unique experience of finding love and sharing my life because I thought it meant I would be co-dependent. For some people this may be the way it works...but for me, I know my life will only be enriched. It can only get better. Even despite the drama it will surely bring, it's a life experience! And all my life I've been so concerned with having every kind of life experience! How could I have been so blind!?

So here's to feeling famous because you're in love.

Does it matter that I still didn't put the sheep first?

Put the following animals in order of their importance:
pig, sheep, horse, cow, and tiger.

(check comments for silly symbolic meanings)

Pimp Daddy

My father and I have a way of being able to talk about potentially awkward things without it being awkward. I suppose it comes from his years in the medical industry as well as my mother's intention to try to embarrass the hell out of him whenever she could. Anyway the following conversation took place after my mother handed me a sales flyer and told me to find a bra I wanted.

QV: (angrily flipping pages due to not finding any bras on sale in my size) if they can't make bras for flat girls, they should at least give us something to cover the nipples. Or make it socially acceptable to see them.
Dad: you have to get the...pastries.
QV: i'm going to go ahead and assume you mean pasties.
Dad: (laughs uncontrollably)
QV: can you imagine me walking around with crossaints on my boobs?

It's Just Like 1987, Without The Sweater Vest

Remember the days before the internet went public? Before you could reach out anonymously to an online community for some sort of, I dunno, bearing witness of your emotional existence?

So yeah. That's how I've been living since the end of November. It has been strange...and extremely inconvenient. I've come to realize how much I rely on the internet to talk to people. I don't like the phone and barely ever come close to going over my minutes but this month my bill is exorbitant. On the phone with the cable company, on the phone with the gas company, on the phone with co-workers, on the phone with my parents- funny, hardly on with any of my friends, but they all know how much I hate the phone so they barely call anyway.

And I'm sure you can guess that because I had no way to talk about it, big things happened! Well...not in the relationship area (big surprise) but that big event that I expect to set changes in motion finally happened. I FINALLY got and own my own place. Throughout the end of November, beginning of December I felt like I was a boxer in a ring with no gloves. The blows were coming from everywhere, including my own fists, and I couldn't defend myself. What is it they say? Divorce, death and moving are the three most stressful things in life? That is for damn sure. My contract was not the normal contract so I couldn't set a close date. If I could have, I never would have gotten stressed. Instead I was a walking zombie. The first two weeks of December were the worst ever. Every day I waited, knowing I had a deadline that I was ready to defend one day, ready to give up on the next. My entire life savings was at the heart of it and I was left just hanging in the wind as to whether or not I'd actually get to spend it without losing it completely. Insanity.

So now here I am, in my brand new apartment...hemorraging money. A new dresser, a couch, gas bill, utensil holders, hooks for doors, putty for the holes the workers left, paint, cleaning solutions...etc, etc, etc. Not that I'm complaining. :) It's fun to have my own place to decorate however the hell I want! Onward and upward!

But then...and here returns our favorite drama queen...I've now been alone in this apartment for a while now. I took a week after the holidays to set everything up and buy all the furniture I need, but now I know it wasn't such a great idea. I don't have a car so I couldn't and can't get anywhere, I (still) don't have internet so I can't order anything, I don't have cable so I don't even have tv. (This cable/internet situation is really starting to get on my nerves. I sent an angry but professional email this morning to someone who I hope can make things happen.) So what's left but to listen to music and self-analyse all day long?

I've been good though, while on vacation I refused to get myself down despite the loneliness that was very palpable due to the circumstances. Though I've felt lonely in the past, I always at least had a roommate or friends around to take the edge off. Literally sitting by yourself in a quiet, not quite yet comfy apartment does not take the edge off anything. But now that I'm back to work and have contact with people on a daily basis I haven't thought about it much. The other good thing is I have a lot of other distractions concerning fixing up the place.

And I'm still counting on the change that will come with this new milestone. He's got to be closer now. :) Once it gets warmer out I'm going to really explore the neighborhood and actually smile at people instead of look the other way. That will take some conscious effort for this hard edged city girl but I'm willing!

Still here!

Still alive!
Still analyzing!
Still a virgin!
Still without internet access at home! It's been over a month. I'm starting to get the shakes. Might be another month before I get it the way things are going...but it's all good. Especially because it's the new year and though I did not make a list of resolutions, I know things are going to change this year. Mostly because I'm going to attempt to take responsibility for making things change.

FIngers crossed!

(For internet too!)

Words Are Worth A Thousand Pictures...Sometimes

Throughout the course of this blog I have been contacted a few times by people interested in interviewing me. I responded to each that I would be happy to answer any questions they had but I would not be photographed or video taped. All but one lost complete interest in me. Funny how what I have to say about being a virgin suddenly loses its value when you can't see me actually saying it. At any rate, the most recent email was from a comedian named Ian Coburn, author of the book "God is a Woman: Dating Disasters" and the blog http://www.lunchisnotadate.org/. He still cared what I had to say and asked me some thought-provoking questions, my answers to which I hope provide another insight into my character as contradictory as it may be. I am grateful to him for the opportunity to answer questions I might not have thought to ask myself...or perhaps answer myself honestly without a second party to bear witness. He was also gracious enough to post all of it, but because I can't say anything in ten words or less it's going up in three parts.

The first is here.

The second is here.

The third is here.

Feel free to comment or email me your thoughts!

A Pap Smear A Year Keeps The Doctor...Near?

Well...I got my shiny, happy flower postcard! Woohoo!

Pap smear - normal
Gonorrhea/chlamydia - negative
HPV virus - negative

The second test I forgot about was the HPV test. My doctor told me it's done when you hit 30, but I had to look it up again to remember why. HPV is the virus that has been linked to cervical cancer and the test determines if the virus is present while the pap smear is the test that determines if there are abnormal cells, which the virus causes. Apparently 30 is when the risk for cervical cancer is at the highest. There is a very small percentage of people who aren't sexually active who have HPV in their system, but a majority of cases are transmitted sexually. I've read on a couple different sites that a very high percentage of sexually active people (including men) will have HPV at some point, but probably don't know it for lack of symptoms. The only obvious sign for both sexes is genital warts, but for women sometimes a positive test result is the only way they know. According to the CDC website there are 40 different types of genital HPV.

The controversy over whether young girls should get the HPV vaccine gardasil is ongoing. Merck's big push with their 'one less' campaign is frankly insulting but I digress. Any drug company that lobbies to have their product be a requirement for 6th graders, (6th GRADERS!) is suspect, and yet, they still managed to bag 339$ million in sales for their last quarter last year. However, sales for a number of their drugs are falling off which isn't making the good old boys at Merck happy. Thousands of people will be getting pink slips, not in response to their flat "disappointing" sales or the crumbling economy of course, but because the higher ups want to restructure.

A common search for women finding my blog is 'do virgins need to go to the gynecologist?' I wonder if after reading the posts about my few doctors appointments they are encouraged or deterred. Though my very first visit wasn't ideal, it really wasn't that bad and in the long run I'm glad I went. I obviously never worried about actually having STDs or being pregnant, but there was always a gnawing feeling that I should get checked out just to make sure everything was healthy. Virgin or not, it's important to go because not all symptoms are obvious nor are all causes of problems sexual. I'm not trying to scare anyone into going, god knows that never worked for me and I loathe to be in Merck's company, but it kind of allows you a more peaceful state of mind. It actually made me feel a little more adult about my sexuality because I was recognizing and taking care of my sexual health.

So to all my virgin readers who haven't gone to the gyno yet, make yourself an appointment! Don't be nervous about how it will feel because it passes quickly and is worth it in the end. The hardest part is just being that exposed. I wasn't sure how to pick a doctor either, so I found some names from my insurance's directory and looked them up online. Oh the age of instant information! Some had bios and info on where they practiced and even had comments from patients while others had nothing at all. For me it was important to find a female who had been practicing for at least 10 years but not on the verge of retirement either. The one I ended up with was actually not the one I (thought I) made an appointment with, as she was with a group who all had varying office hours. I assume because I was a first time patient that they just scheduled me with whoever was free. I'm not complaining because I really like her and who's to say I would have felt the same way about the other doctor? Check the sidebar for a link to vitals.com for a doctor search in the US!

When you get your shiny, happy flower postcard you'll be glad you went. And if you get a call instead, at least you will have the chance to treat whatever it is. Just please do a little research on any drug you are encouraged to take. I am not anti-drug on the whole, because I know and have seen the great results they have, but it's still run by an industry that's in it for the money, not your health. Much like most HR departments are in it for the company, not you. But I'll put the cynic away now.

Yay for pap smears!

...We Interrupt This Regularly Scheduled Whine for a Defensive, Incredibly Profane and Irate Open Letter to That Random A**hole on the Street...

Dear random a**hole on the street:

When I stepped onto that curb and looked behind me in utter shock, it wasn't because I saw a 'brown man' and was scared of the stereotypes that surround your ethnicity. When I stepped onto that curb, there was no one around so when I felt something hit the back of my heel I thought a grocery had fallen out of one of the 10lb bags I was carrying. When I turned and was suddenly head to chest with your stupid a**, it completely surprised me. I was expecting a nectarine and instead was faced with you. The moment after that of course I was scared of you, you ignorant f*ck, you stood a head taller than me and were walking close enough to step on me. Why wouldn't I suspect you of something? There was NO ONE ELSE on the goddam sidewalk, why did you have to be so close?

Then you went into some kind of rant, throwing your hands up and looking back at me like I had done something wrong. You assumed I was scared of you because of your race. F**k you, you d*ck. I could play the race card too, 'cuz if you hadn't noticed, which you didn't due to your pointedly defensive reaction, I am a minority too. I could say you targeted me because the cops wouldn't care all that much if something happened to a brown girl like little old me. But I'd never do that because I'm not an a**hole.

I won't apologize for being female and worrying that a large male walking very close to me when no one else is around might do something to me. Have you been living under a f**king rock? According to the US Department of Justice, in America a woman is raped every 2 minutes so how dare you try to make me feel bad for fearing for my safety around you because of your own dumb a** insecurities about being a minority. I would have reacted THE SAME GODDAM WAY to a strange man of any race who was way too close to me for no reason.

Read the news. Learn about personal space. Walk in a woman's shoes for a day. Get a f**king clue, and while you're at it, get over yourself. Women don't look at you like that because you're a minority, they look at you like that because you're an a**hole.

Sincerely,
QV

...And now back to our regularly scheduled whine...

Too Many Teardrops...

I cried in my sleep one night a few weeks ago. I dreamed it was the end of the world, happening both right at that moment as well about to happen. It is so strange how contradicting events can occur simultaneously in dreams isn't it?

In one scenario, the earth was literally cracking and opening with me on one side and my parents on the other, and in the other scenario, I somehow just knew the world was about to end and my parents were so far away I wouldn't get to see them before it did. I'm not sure if there were people around me screaming, or if it was because I had two events that couldn't possibly happen at the same time happening at once, but it was extremely loud and chaotic. The type of loud that becomes muffled because your ears can't handle it. I was crying so hard it turned into silent heaving sobs, where my chest actually ached and I could hardly breathe. There was no fear of death, but instead an overwhelming sense of loss...I guess the kind that can make a person cry that hard, unconsciously in their sleep. I woke up without opening my eyes and felt the tears streaming down my face.

Who does this?

The most obvious interpretation is that I am having separation anxiety from my parents despite being away from them for 7 years now, or simply that I miss them and am worried about them as they are getting older. I only get to see them twice or so a year so that's understandable, but the armageddon part? Do I have to be such a drama queen even in my sleep? Give it a rest sister, it's no wonder you're so exhausted.

But I looked up a couple different dream sites to see what the running theme among them was, and they all said it was an emotional release. No duh. That's what crying when you're awake means too. But one online dictionary continued on to say it was a way to regain an emotional balance due to the suppression of feelings you don't want to deal with during the day. In a dream state there are no defenses to stop them from making a full-fledged appearance.

Who knew defenseless could be a good thing?

The Tide

"Save me
From the ranks of the freaks
Who suspect they could never love anyone"
-Aimee Mann

I went to visit my BFF and her baby boy recently. As you know from my previous posts I've been tired and listless lately, but I wanted to see them so I made the effort. She was really excited for me to come, but I'm not fooling myself. I knew that 80% was because it gave her a break from the baby (her husband watches him when I'm around) and 20% was to actually see me. Maybe 70/30. At any rate I know that I'm a kind of distraction so I try to act the part. Admittedly I was using the visit as a kind of distraction myself, so all's fair. She's always been extremely perceptive of changes in my behavior, but I figured she's been so cooped up and depressed about her life lately that she wouldn't really notice. I tried but I couldn't muster a lot of energy. We drove out to the mall, something I haven't done in ages so it was fun and a nice change of pace for me. I usually hate shopping to begin with, but lately it seems I can't even find staples that I like so it makes it ten times worse. There is nothing remotely wearable out there (if you have any taste that is). Everything is either uglier than sin or doesn't fit in any way shape or form. It's depressing.

Anyway, I found myself kind of slowly going down throughout the afternoon. Maybe being with her reminds me of how I was when I was a teenager (we've been friends for 17 years) and how nothing has really seemed to change for me since then regarding my alone-ness. I'm not unhappy where I have landed, and in terms of career and friends and location I'm where I want and thought I'd be. It's just that one aspect that always drags me down. Perhaps it really just comes down to not reaching a long time goal, finding love with someone I connect with on such an intense but comfortable level, that makes me feel I have somehow failed. Maybe more so myself than anyone else's expectation.

During the course of our conversation she asked if I thought I'd ever get married. I kind of stumbled over a reply that came out something like 'well I'd like to you know'. And then she changed the subject. There was no lead in into that question either so it struck me as kind of odd, not that she asked because we talk about this all the time, but how it came and went with no explanation. She went on to talk about going to her college reunion, which I realized will be 10 years for me too next year.

QV: Can you believe we've been out of school for 10 years? it will be 15 for high school soon!
BFF: No. Well, yes when I look at (my husband) and grad school and the baby and where we've lived-
QV: (suddenly very aware of how little has changed for me) yeah...
BFF: We're also going to the benefit at (our high school) next month.
QV: Really?
BFF: I think it'll be a lot of fun with (the baby).
pause.
QV: (suddenly very sad) I just don't want to get involved.
BFF: With the benefit?
QV: With the benefit, with...everything in general. (pause) I think I may be kind of a little bit depressed.
(we both laugh a little)
BFF: I'm naming my first album that. Maybe kind of a little bit depressed.
QV: You know what I mean though. It's not debilitating, it's just there all the time-
BFF: Why?
QV: ...I don't know
BFF: Of course you do. People who know they're depressed usually know why they just have a hard time admitting it-

I hate that she's always right. She works in the field so there's a reason for her always knowing, but her knowing that and knowing me, she knows why. She just wants me to say it so I can make the problems real by saying them. Or at least get started on recognizing them so I can try to figure out what to do to change things. So I think anyway.

I wanted to say I'm just so sad, but I knew if I tried to make a sound at that moment it would only come out as a sob. I turned my head and looked out the window to hide my eyes glassing over. She said 'it's a lot of pressure, doing all you've done by yourself'. That made the tears sting even more. I'd never thought of it like that. Since I was a kid I've put more pressure on myself than anyone in authority ever could. I wanted to do well in school, I wanted to be a good friend, I wanted to be the peacemaker among peers, I wanted to make my parents proud. I earned myself the start of an ulcer when I was 16 because of it. I've learned to relax since then...albeit only a little here and there, but maybe that pressure to be all that I wanted to be is finally caving in on me. I have everything I want, except one thing: someone to share it all with. In terms of self-pressure, that's a heavy load of disappointment in myself.

BFF: Do you think you should get some help? (she asks for the third time)
QV: (opening the car door) Yeah, not going to happen. (shuts the door and peers through the window) I'm not yet sitting on the edge of the bed staring at the wall. When that happens you can call for help.
BFF: (laughing) Right. Ok it's a deal.

On the train home I couldn't hold them back anymore and I let a few tears slip down my face. There is an all encompassing sadness that can envelope you in a public place and make you feel invisible if you just turn your head toward the window. Inside the tears are weighted with self-pity and sadness, out there they just water the grass. Oddly enough, sometimes remembering how small a grain of sand I really am makes me feel a little better. What seems so big deflates a little and the sadness eventually ebbs.

Here's hoping the next flow doesn't crush me.

Grinning and Baring It

Well...the most dreaded day of the year, which now occurs annually, has come to pass and as per usual I survived it. (And I was unnaturally calm about all of it. It was nice to not work myself up into a tizzy for once.) After visit number three to the gynecologist, still in my juvenile mind I walked away thinking, I can't believe she is the only person who has ever felt me up. Those assholes on public transportation who 'accidentally' touched me don't count. Not that having my doctor squeeze the crap out of my breasts is any more enjoyable, but it's a lot more extensive and undeserving of dirty looks since she's only trying to keep me healthy.

Doc: (looking at chart) The last time you were here you were 29, so that makes you 30.
QV: (um...did you really just say that?) yes.
Doc: And you were not sexually active. Is that still the case?
QV: (pathetic kind of laugh) ogod it's obvious! yes.
Doc: We started you on the pill only to regulate your period.
QV: Yeah...but maybe some day...

Then the real fun began as the lovely speculum was brought forth.

Doc: This may hurt a little.

YA THINK? I must have been more tense this time, which is odd because I actually felt more relaxed, or she spent more time down there than last year because it hurt more than a little. (She did say she was going to do a second test now that I was 30, but far be it from me to remember what it was now.) Nothing unbearable mind you, but enough that I probably made it worse by tensing up the rest of my body. I've read in a few different places that it's only supposed to cause discomfort...unless you tense up. It kind of worries me because I know sex is supposed to hurt the first time and I wonder if I'll be able to do it if I have the option of saying 'get the hell off me'. Then again, I don't expect he'll be shaped like a metal speculum that is cranked open.

Overall, I still really like my doctor. I spent a total of about half an hour in the office waiting time included, which was amazing considering last year it was about 2 hours. I guess it goes to show no two exams are alike. Except that getting a pap smear is uncomfortable.

I am sure to receive my postcard with the results in a few weeks. Fingers crossed for the bright, blooming flowers.

Standing Still

I'm so tired. The exhausted kind of deep in your bones tired. I tell everyone it's because of this apartment thing and how stressful it is. The tired part of my exhaustion is definitely because of it. But the zombie-like going through the motions part is the overwhelming emotional coaster that starts in numbness, ends in numbness, but steamrolls through sadness, contentment and the crushing need to ignore it all on a daily basis. The question of 'what is it I'm meant to do' I was able to give up long ago in order to be happy with what I was doing, so why can't I do the same with how I'm meant to live my life? Why is that one so much harder to reconcile with how I'm living it?

I cried watching the news this morning. It happens every year. I only need to hear the newscasters mention the times the planes hit the towers to begin, and then full on streaming tears when the names are called out. And every year I hear a little tidbit from a speaker about a family member who perished before I have to turn it off, and it's always someone I've never heard about before. Today it was a man who the family member said used to collect left over food after business meetings to bring to homeless shelters. I think I actually felt my heart break.

The day after my watch stopped a few months ago, I stopped wearing one altogether. It's nice not to be so concerned with the time. But what if I wake up 50 one day with one devastating regret?

Why have I never loved someone?

Maybe I just need to stop pretending that because I'm ok alone, I can forget that life would be so much grander if I had someone to share it with.

I need to move. I need to be moved. And it has to happen soon...

Reflexive Anesthesia

"I don't wanna be nobody's fool
I've played that part so many times before
How I long to be a shadow on the wall
I will make no sound at all
And when the sun goes down
The shadow on the wall
It cannot be seen at all"
-Brandi Carlile

According to an online dictionary "FAITH" is: 1 a: allegiance to duty or a person : loyalty b (1): fidelity to one's promises (2): sincerity of intentions

I think I've just realized why I feel numb so often. Aside from the constant routine of my daily life, which lately is very simply comprised of rising, eating, going to work, coming home, eating, going to sleep, I think I've lost my faith in people. (Or reversely, faith in myself to trust people?) So much of how we interact with others is based on faith. From every day acquaintances and co-workers to deep bonded friendships and relationships, our expectations of the people around us are that they b(1) will keep their promises no matter how big or small and (2) are sincere in how they act toward you. The bottom line being that they will not screw you over. When you think about it, this is a pretty amazing quality. The problem is, people fail. It's only human I guess. But I think my problem is that I've taken extra precautions to safeguard myself against feeling the effects of broken expectations.

I like to pretend that I'd be able to handle it if one of whom I consider to be a good friend where to somehow betray me at this point in our friendship. But deep down I know it would devastate me despite the wall that would immediately try to block it all out. This admittance is actually encouraging because it means I'm not as numb as I think I am. But...that wall...since I built it (which would be right after realizing my fault in the debacle with Jean) I just can't seem to take it down. It's become such a part of my life I don't even see it anymore, but I can feel it whenever someone new comes into my life and I can only see them at a distance. The odd thing is, no matter how much I reveal about myself (which admittedly is not usually a lot) I feel no closer. It's like a reflexive anesthesia to new people that makes me not care if they come or go no matter how much I like them. And often old people! Case in point, D. We were pretty good friends for a long while, granted the distance between us made it hard to really connect as we might have if we saw each other every day, but when he stopped writing it was almost like I didn't even care.

How have I come to be so cold?

Maybe with D it was more of an understanding that he had to let me go because I wasn't what he wanted me to be. I don't know, is it maturity that allowed me to just be ok with that? With losing a friend so that he could move on? Or is it this numbness? And even with my good friends...when the little expectations are sometimes broken (because after all we're all human, including myself) I still feel that wall, despite having actually allowed them into my heart. That sounds like a huge contradiction but no one ever said emotions were rational.

Though I've felt this numbness in the past, I think my present situation is acting as a magnifying glass over it. I've been under contract for a place to live for 6 months now, and during that time I've begged out of a lot of social gatherings because I want to save money. Of course, 6 months ago I did not know it was going to be 6 months and I'm starting to go stir crazy. I still don't have a close date because not all the paperwork and inspections are done and I just want to scream my bloody head off. I knew going in there was potential for it to take this long, but I apparently overestimated my virtue of patience.

I realized a while ago that I have placed a lot more on this move than just the expectations of a new residence. It has become a kind of symbol for change that I ultimately want to effect in my life. It will not only be a new place to live, but a new commute to work, new grocery stores to shop, new restaurants to eat in and so along with the physical change of pace I have it all worked out in my mind that I'm going to start doing things I always say I'm going to do but never do. Like exercise, see the sights, maybe join a club, get a cat and overall just get out more. I think living on my own will help this because there will come a moment, despite treasuring my alone time, when I will have had enough of myself and will want to be social.

But in the meantime, it feels like I've put my whole life on hold. Not going out, not spending money, freaking out about still not having a set date to which I can look forward to changing it all. It's such a nightmare. So I think I've kind of tried to numb myself to this now too. It's the only way I can relax about it. So I get up, I eat, I go to work, I come home, I eat, I go to sleep. All the while not really having to feel any way about any thing...It's been that way for too long now, so to break it up I did a somewhat impulsive thing and planned a little road trip next weekend with a friend. My last single friend in fact. It should be fun and a very welcome change to sleepless nights and tired days. For just a moment, I can take my life off hold.

But I wonder about this numb feeling...though I do think it's been magnified by what's happening in my life right now, the fact that it has been around for a while worries me. If I can't overcome this lack of faith in people, or in myself to trust people, how will I ever let someone in to share my life? I can only hope...another word for faith I suppose, that when I do meet someone I feel any kind of connection with he will somehow get in when I'm not looking. He will have to be quick whoever he is. And while I'm addressing him directly, where the hell are you? Don't you know you have some numbness to break though?

I Am What I Am

There are all kinds of reasons why people are alone. And when I say alone, in this case I am referring to people such as myself who don't actively repel people from their lives, are actually liked by the people around them, and yet are still single at an age that is deemed unacceptable to still be single. And that's not even including the whole virgin aspect of my particular singleness. What I have discovered is that only people who don't like being alone, or have never actually been alone, don't understand how people like me can somehow end up that way. What I have discovered is that there are a lot of people who don't like being alone. After all, it means being self-sufficient in every way imaginable: mentally, physically, financially...

I am on the opposite end of the spectrum when it comes to relationships based on need. I can't even imagine what that's like. The mere thought of depending on someone for my happiness makes me want to vomit (though that's not to say I would reject someone who could add to my happiness). So I guess I have to put myself in their shoes for a moment to understand how they could not understand that being alone and responsible for my own happiness is not as hard as it seems. Or even weird as many see it. The only reason why being in the shoes I'm actually in is better, is because one day I will be in a relationship and it won't be based on need. That's comforting for me because in order to fulfill need you have to take and when one side takes too much...Not that want is any less mutable, but at least I can hope for a maturity level that will view something such as a companion for life as an important want to contemplate.

The reason I am alone has most definitely changed over the years from fear to independence to depression to yearning for love, etc etc etc. Despite all the fancy articles written by people who are no doubt no longer virgins and scientifically researched (read: virgins polled on why they're still virgins) by corporations that don't really care (after all, what kind of a consumer does a virgin make regarding the sex industry? chastity belts?), no one has an answer for why older virgins (who aren't hard-core religious or in some way repellent to the opposite sex) exist. Or at least, the right answer. They all like to think they do, with the terms they coin i.e. involuntary virgin or sociopath, but it really seems like they're just trying to label us in order to understand us. We're a freak show they're watching under the big top. How did they get that way?

Ok so in reality I haven't read that many articles on virginity because I'm not really interested in the media's opinions about it. It is very disheartening to read quotes from assholes who are freaked out by virgins, I admit. Like every one of us is going to fall in love with and start stalking the first guy we sleep with just because he's the first guy we sleep with. (And vice versa for male virgins.) For all my posts about wanting to be in love, I'm not naive enough to believe my first time will a) be with someone I love wholeheartedly (it would be nice, but I'm not a fool) or b) make me fall in love with him or him with me. It's also irritating to read the latest theory about why I am the way I am wrapped up in a neat little new term. I also admit I fell for one of them when I read the involuntary virgin article on salon.com. I even blogged about it a while ago because I was actually excited to label myself for a moment. It makes me feel icky just thinking about it. When it comes down to it, for me it feels like they are the ones making the big deal about it, not me.

You might argue that a blog dedicated to the very subject would prove otherwise, but why did I start this in the first place? Because people were making me feel weird about being single and society was making me feel weird about being a virgin. I needed anonymous therapy to feel better. My only expectation of myself is to fall in love (which would eventually lead to the nixing of singledom and virginity) and it hasn't happened yet. Why is it so strange to have opted not to put love aside in order to fulfill the other two? Or should I say, to have just settled in order to fulfill the other two? Being in a couple and having sex makes you a "normal" adult but waiting for love (or at the very least some kind of real attraction) makes you weird?

I recently received an email from someone who had this to say (I hope he does not mind if I quote him):

"I think all human beings search for perfect love in one way or another. The difference is that, somehow, the majority finds "consolation prizes" or "silver medals" and grabs them in order to at least have a taste of paradise. But I fear...in our case we are aiming for the top prize and so we must be prepared to pay...Romanticism, loneliness, sadness are the price we pay for our…superior taste."

This is exactly the mode I have transitioned into...waiting for the top prize, complete with romance and passion. :) The fears of relationships and intimacy are still there, but have moved to the back burner so to speak. I have complete faith that when I meet someone I am interested in and attracted to, the fears will eventually dissipate. I know this because when I meet someone I am interested in and attracted to, I will actually want a relationship and intimacy. (I realize romance may be a side order, but if I'm already hoping for the gold...) It's the meeting someone part I am having a hell of a time with. It's not like I don't think about just going out and sleeping with the first guy who takes a second glance, but it wouldn't help any of the other issues. Though it might help with the panic I'll probably feel the first time I do it, having sex won't help me learn how to get into a relationship. I don't meet a ton of new people every day but yet I'm ok with waiting until our paths cross. Perhaps that's leaving too much to fate, perhaps it's just dumb. I don't know. But I do know a lot of people meet in the course of their every day lives, not actively attempting to meet people.

I'm a 30 year old virgin. I am the way I am because that's just how it happened. So be it. There are worse things I could be.

To Have Sex, Perchance To Sleep

"Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.
~William Dement

The dreams are back. Or should I say Hypnagogic hallucinations. (I looked it up, and I have had both the visual and auditory kind though not a narc, nor on drugs nor suffering from mood swings. Ok so it may just be a self-diagnosis, but I have all the symptoms! So at any rate, can it really all just be due to my anxiety about sex? Pathetic!) I must be stressed, which is nothing new, so why suddenly the dreams again? Enough. I'm tired of feeling like I'm being watched or having my mind read. The other night I dreamed my bed was transparent and people could see me in my underwear. It's ridiculous because number one, what? What the hell kind of dream is that? Number two, who cares if I'm seen in my underwear? Everyone wears it! Number three, the odd thing is I didn't experience a feeling of shame or embarrassment at having my body revealed (like it was when I was a kid), it's more a feeling of having people know something about me I don't want them to know. The fact that my subconscious is using the image of my naked body as a metaphor for my naked mind/heart...or my fear of revealing myself to someone is so pedantic I can't even stand it. I'm vulnerable in body and mind. I get it. As if my nudity could reveal something...like my virginity maybe? Could I be any more unimaginative?

I spoke a little about it with a friend of mine and she claimed it was exactly that: my fear of intimacy. I don't want to be vulnerable and it's taking the form of being watched (and lately being naked). She said, and I quote, "You don't want to let anyone in and you know it. It's what you do." I really, really hate that she's right. She's one of the few that has gotten in and even experienced the worst of it, and yet she's still around telling me my truths. I tried to claim it was just stress and the evolvement of these sleep hallucinations but she wasn't buying it.

Last night I dreamed I was topless at a beach resort. No one else was and I was trying to cover myself by crossing my arms, but like before not because I was embarrassed. In fact I was quite comfortable and kept forgetting and lowering my arms. I was more concerned with how people would judge me because I was topless. Like they would think I was trashy and just wanted attention or something. Of course people from work showed up and that's when I really started to stress. I couldn't find my hotel room and I ended up running all over the place, trying to follow this tiny map that was embedded on the back of the key. All the while trying to avoid being seen because I was topless. So weird.

As much as I have tried to deny it, the one theme through all of these waking paranoid dreams is that anxiety about people (mainly work people for some reason) knowing things about me I don't want them to. It's never directly linked to my virginity, but I guess I have to admit that it must be playing a part. There really isn't much that I'm hiding per se either, aside from my personal sex life, which really is no one's business anyway so what the hell? I don't know about their sex lives, why should they know about mine? Why would they be interested anyway? I can't figure it out, and I would like this obvious insecurity to stop manifesting itself in these ridiculous hallucinations. A full night sleep would be so heavenly...For godsake there's a war happening, people are starving to death, the climate is changing, whole species of animals are dying out...the world is basically slowly imploding. Seriously, why is my freaking v-card the cause of all my anxiety! Enough!

Conversations With Mom Pt. II

QV: ...so there are some problems with the apartment I was looking at-
Mom: Well maybe you're just not supposed to live there.
QV: But I really like the place.
Mom: Yes but you know it's not the only apartment. There are others out there. Maybe you're husband's not living in that building.
QV: My what? I thought you'd given up on me.
Mom: You never know.

Conversations With Mom

QV: ...so I'll go through all those boxes the next time I visit, and then the next time you come up to visit you can bring what's left.
Mom: I'm not coming up to visit.
QV: Oh? Never again?
Mom: Not until you get married.
QV: I am so not having this conversation with you. Do you want me to stop speaking to you?

Meet My Island Boyfriend. He Has No Vocal Chords.

Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off stranded on a deserted island. Then I wouldn't have to wonder why I'm by myself, why everyone else wants me to be with someone, why I'm happy alone, why I'm sad alone, why I'm attracted to so few people, why I think there's nothing wrong with me, why I think there's everything wrong with me and most of all why fitting in is something I haven't wanted to do since high school and yet I still find myself wanting the things that would make me fit in. So to speak. Or am I just trivializing love because I've never experienced it? Where's Wilson when you need him?