Campfyre Stories

I password protected the last post with the password from the Crisis series.  I was exceptionally drunk when I wrote it (maybe you could tell, maybe not).  As few people as read blogs these days, I doubt that a whole heck of a lot of people go out looking, but having recently told someone a story that could potentially lead him here, I’m going to go ahead and hide just that one behind a password.

So all my birthday wishes came true.  Including the one that I made from blowing out my candles (two “cakes” to blow candles out on, same one wish)…  But the three I said out loud to the general public were minor.  I wanted us to finish up early enough that I could nap before dinner, I wanted to have a dinner with good friends and a cake made by Girl.  I wanted to play some cards with someone.  It all happened.  I couldn’t have asked for a better day.  Granted, it wasn’t a “perfect” day, but it was the best birthday that I can remember.  I couldn’t have asked for more.  In fact, when I was asked, I couldn’t come up with that one more thing that I wanted.  And then it was given to me anyway.

Good food, good friends, a nearly complete lack of being subjected to this whole weather business (which, while I was gone became ridiculously hot and humid.  Boy, did I get spoiled by the climate controlled building that, honestly, I didn’t really need to leave.  Much, if even at all.)

The only real room for improvement on the entire trip was the coming home part.  Spawn had the apartment and it was SPOTLESS when I got home.  He and I talked for a while, then I napped.  Then my home was invaded by my family.  I had to clean the already-clean table off three times.  I had to do at least one sink of dishes.  It was a lot of chaos and, having worked 10-14 hour days of mostly standing (not even walking) and topping that off with enough partying and playing in bars to ensure fewer than 6 hours of sleep each night for the past 3 and a half days…  well, frankly, I’m exhausted.  And having the entire family over within hours of my getting home nearly reduced me to tears.

They’re all gone now.  My house is still clean, or rather, clean again, but I’m jittery.  My tranquility and serenity has been shattered.  I knew it wasn’t going to last all that long, but…  you know, I wanted to hold onto it a little longer.  Some of the things I’ve come home to are not the Best Things Ever, but at least this birthday my brother Chaos was able to stop my mom from calling me on my trip to tell me horrible news that I couldn’t do anything about from Boston anyway.  THAT was a truly exceptional present and one that I didn’t even know I was getting

But all of that is something that I’ll deal with in the coming weeks and months.  All told, this trip was good for me, mentally and emotionally.  Hell, even socially it was good for me.  And, in a kind of weird way, nostalgically as well.  Maybe even a couple of other categories that I don’t want to list off because I don’t want to jinx it.  We’ll see.

In any case, this is the least stressful, most relaxing business trip I’ve ever been on.  I have absolutely no complaints and I haven’t felt this at peace in a very long time.

I’ve known for a long time now that when I turned 40 I would be a cougar.  The definition is a woman who is over the age of 40 and prefers the company of men at least 8 years younger than herself.  I can do that, but really?  I have to wait another 5 years?

Fuuuuuuuuck that.

So I went online and posted an ad.  The subject line was the same as it is here and I got more replies than I expected.  Okay, okay, I didn’t expect any responses, but apparently a woman actively looking for a younger man is rather appealing, even if she is a fat chick BBW.

To be completely honest, there’s some measure of me needing this confidence booster.  I feel like I’m seeing more and more out there about how fat chicks are gross and how fat automatically equals UGLY.  No, not ugly, FUGLY.  It’s disheartening, especially for a single, plus-sized gal (with a cute face).

I’ve mostly given up on most internet dating sites (again, and for now).  When I first starting the internet dating thing, the internet was in its infancy and everything was free.  Now there’s not much free and though you can create profiles, you can’t do much else unless BOTH people are members of whatever site.  I haven’t found one that is able to give me consistently compatible matches and, until that happens, I refuse to pay the $25-50/month for a subscription.

So what are my options?  Bars don’t work because, if nothing else, I’m almost always going out with boys.  I generally look taken, even though I’m not.  There’s also an element of people not approaching me.  I’m too fat and my personality is too big and too loud.  I’m too forward and maybe looking at the wrong guys.  I don’t know, but it’s not working.  I’m doing something wrong when I go out, but I have no idea at all what I can do differently.  I don’t have girlfriends, really, and the few I do have aren’t interested in going out like that.

So Craigslist it is and Craigslist it will be.  If I’m only in training anyway, then I can train using a free site that may or may not lead to results.

Guys my age aren’t interested in me and I’m not interested in the 50+ year old guys who reply to my emails.  So I’ll train as a cougar and see what that gets me.  So far, at least I can be honest and see if it’s well-received.

They say that $60,000/year is the extent that money can buy happiness.  Making more than that only allows you to want more entertainment or bigger things.  Less than that creates stress about (you guessed it) money and making ends meet.  I find this particularly interesting because taking a second job this year has pushed me just about to that point and, frankly, I have never been happier.

For once in my life, I’m not stressing about  bills.  I’m able to pay more than the minimum payment on my student loan.  I make my rent without late fees EVERY MONTH.  My cable and phone and utilities are getting paid ON TIME.  For once.

I have money to play with.  I can go see touring productions of Broadway shows.  I can afford extra movies.  I can buy nice presents for the people in my life and I’m saving for this cruise to Bermuda.  I went shopping today and bought things I needed without worrying if I could actually afford it.  I caught an amazing sale and I bargain shopped.  I don’t see me losing my thriftiness, but it’s nice to be able to buy the things I need without having to sacrifice something else.  For once.

I still have time to spend with friends and to do fun things, but not as much as I’d like.  The downside to all of this is that I had to take a second job to get here.  I’d much prefer having a single job that paid me, honestly, 50% more than what I currently make (at the primary gig), but if I have to work these extra hours to get here, I can certainly do it for a calendar year.  I’ll reassess at the end of this when I’m forced to take 3 months off.  I don’t know what my answer will be at that point.

But I do believe that They are right.  Money can buy happiness to a certain extent.  Or maybe just buy the ability to allow yourself that happiness.  Not having to stress about finances is a much bigger deal than I think anyone wants to admit.  And it turns out that not stressing about money starts at $60k.

I didn’t realize it was becoming a “thing” for me, but for the past couple of years, my focus has been honed and each year sort of gets a theme.

Two years ago, I decided to focus on cleaning up my life, both figuratively and literally.  I threw and gave THINGS away.  I cleaned my house, then I cleaned it again, then I got rid of some of the clutter and I cleaned it again…  imagine I kept writing that sentence and you get the idea.  I stopped being a packrat (again, and probably not for the last time, but I”m getting better).  I purged some of the mental clutter.  I purged the virtual clutter.  I figured shit out.  I worked on my wardrobe, both giving much of it away and bringing in classic pieces that I’ll wear for years.  I’m still working on it, but it’s not a focus anymore.  My life is mostly in shape, as much as it’s an ongoing process.

Last year was focused on my health.  My health insurance through work is really, really excellent and was even more excellent in 2009.  I got all the doctor’s appointments and testing done.  I underwent physical therapy to strengthen my ankle and improve my overall stability.  I quit smoking (1 year and 17 days ago).  I joined the coop and started buying affordable local and organic foods more consistently.  Now I feel like I”m on the right track.  I know exactly what I need to do next, but I”m still working on the how of it, but it doesn’t have to be a focus anymore.

This year I’m focused on money.  I took a second job and am making payments on a science cruise to Bermuda in May 2011.  This will be my reward for all my hard work, and since I am required to take a 3 month leave from my second job starting in April 2011, the timing of the cruise is excellent.   The more caught up I get on expenses and debt (I don’t have much), the closer I get to being able to develop a real savings plan, which is the next major milestone for me in terms of money.

Now that the year is nearly 2/3 of the way over, I can start planning for next year, knowing, that if the pattern holds up, this money focus will bleed into next year.  So next year’s theme is travel.  I’ve been wanting to take a trip to DC with Spawn to see the holocaust museum, among other things and he’s really been wanting to go.  I have my cruise to Bermuda already scheduled and it should be paid off by (*knock on wood*) February 2011.  Again, if the pattern holds, then we can count the promised trip “Anywhere you want to go” when Spawn graduates as the bleed over effect.

It’s weird.  I hadn’t realized until recently that I’ve been theming my years, but now that I’m aware of it, maybe I can make it even more productive and focused.  Either that or abandon the idea completely.  I don’t think either of those extremes will actually happen, but I also think it might not be a bad idea if either of them did.

Physically, I can’t pull it off.  My self-assessment of the physical aspects is inaccurate always.  I have no realistic idea of what I actually look like because, every time I look in the mirror I see someone much fatter or somewhat skinnier than I actually am.  What does size 20 look like?  What does XXX lbs look like?  I honestly don’t know.

These days I see myself as fatter than I used to.  I’m the same size and approximately the same weight (consistency is my thing), but my perception is different.  It’s funny, too, because the timing is such that I have the people around me volunteering that I “wear it well”, which is an acceptable statement or that “You’re not fat”, which is not.  I don’t know what that means.  I mean, I know what it means that a person would wear their weight/size well, but I don’t know what that means for ME.

So I finally did something that I’ve been thinking about for years.  I was in a room with some tens of people (I didn’t count) and there were several fat women there.  I dismissed the body shapes that didn’t apply and narrowed it down to three women that I might resemble from the waist down.  All three were different sizes, but they were all the same basic shape.  I asked my mom to look around and let me know which body looked the most like mine.

Now, understand that I had already picked out which one I thought I was.  Maybe a small part of it had to do with her outfit, but most of it was that when I look in the mirror, it was that woman’s body that I see.

So I asked my mom, and she was confused by the request.  I guess that other people don’t analyze this sort of thing, or at least not the way I do.  Maybe it’s just that “normal sized” women see what they really look like.  Or think that they do.  Warped body image, I hear, is a pretty common thing, so maybe I’m the smart one for asking for an objective opinion when I know that mine may not be accurate.

She pointed to the girl that I resembled the most, and I was wrong.  She chose one that she said that I looked like proportionally (though I am built slightly larger than scale) and then pointed out a second who was a “maybe” because her style of dress tried to hide her body instead of flattering it.  Neither of the two were the woman I guessed and I told mom that.  She was shocked.  “No.  No way.  Not at all.  You’re not that big.  Absolutely not.”   She was pretty vehement about it.

But now that I really think about it, I wonder if that’s not something we all should do, regardless of size or weight or anything.  We know that when anorexics look in the mirror they see themselves as larger than they are.  We probably all know someone who not only thinks she’s smaller than she is, she wears too small clothes to “prove” it and thinks she looks good.  Not even that she looks sexy, but honestly thinks she’s stylish in clothes that don’t fit.

I’ve not heard of this before, asking someone else to show you another person with your figure, but now that I’ve done it, I wonder why everyone doesn’t already!  I feel freed.  No longer do I need to question whether or not I’m seeing something accurate.  In fact, this is something I’ll do again, when I find myself in a room with a lot of people, some of whom are in the same range as me.  Whenever I start to question my perception, I can get an answer and stop worrying about it.

How cool is that?

Yay!  I had to get outside help, but my hero totally fixed the blog!  (I say totally and I’m hoping that’s true.  Someone should comment so we can make sure that works, too )

That said, I lost my entire blogroll.  This is not a bad thing, since I think it was pretty hopelessly out of date.  Now I need to start over.  If you’re a regular reader of my blog and update your blog ever, let me know if you want a link.

Clearly I’m going to have to put some work into this.  I also may start looking (again) for a template that I actually like, rather than one I’m settling for.

My week started off (Monday) with losing two friends. One of them one of my oldest, one of them one of my closest. I’m honestly not sure if either one is repairable.

One of them sent me into a complete rage and I’m pretty sure he did it on purpose, looking for a fight.

Sometimes it’s like a volcano building up inside of me. It takes a LOT to push me to that point and this person, in particular, has more experience pushing me to that point than anyone except my brother, Chaos. What was unfortunate was that my little brother was here when it happened and I had to send him away before I found myself taking my anger out on him.

I spent the next couple of days hiding out and avoiding everyone until Thursday when I had my regular Nia class. Now the Nia class I take is taught by really one of my three absolute oldest friends (since I was 7) and the class so far consists of her sister (who I’ve known as long) and the mother of the third and final friend of mine who I’ve known for that long (27 years!). It is held directly across the street from my house. The longest amount of time getting over there is probably the time it takes to lock my door.

As such, I don’t bring anything with me except a bottle of water and my keys. Why would I?

But when Chaos decided to come and visit and see if I was ok, there was no answer when he rang the bell. He let himself in and what he found was an empty house. And there was my phone on the coffee table. And there was my purse with my wallet in it.

He knocked on the bathroom door. He called all through the house “Fyre! Fyre! Where are you?” Not that my apartment is very big, but he scoured it. When it became clear that I wasn’t there, but my phone, purse and wallet all were, he got worried and started calling around.

No one answered the phone.

Eventually he got a hold of mom, who told him that I have Nia every Thursday. It’s also written on my white board calendar, but for having scoured my apartment, that was one thing that never occurred to him to check. (Not that my brother often knows what day it is.)

I think it’s funny. Of all the people to get worked up in worry about me, Chaos is really one of the last I would expect it from. This is the guy who used to disappear for days at a time and return like he hadn’t even been gone for a day.

He has asked me to tell some of his stories on my blog and, since I don’t want them to get lost along the way, and since he’s not going to write them down, I may start telling some of them.

Stay tuned. I’m not all that interested in talking about myself these days anyway.