Ah, the Thursday night blahs.

As I sit in the bed with Maddy beside me, I realize that having a puppy is just transference for me. As in - I got a puppy because I don't have a child. How ridiculous is that? I hate being self aware. Stop me if I start talking about getting another dog.

It also makes me feel like I'm either selfish, an ass, or wasting my time. Or some combination of all three. While I'm off pursuing my little hedonistic life, time is flying by. I find more grey hair every day. I've noticed that my metabolism is decreasing - I mean, several people can attest to the fact that I don't eat or drink very much...and yet I've gained some weight. I don't know if it looks good or bad...of course to myself I look gi-normous.

It's like women who have their wedding all planned in their head but have no potential spouse or even boyfriend lined up. You've seen one or two of them, I'm sure. Even I confess to looking through bridal magazines (they are enticing, I admit. It's the froofy dresses). Or thinking about where I'd actually like to get married IF I ever got married again. But then again I really don't look good in white, so what would I wear? And what would be appropriate for a second wedding? And what on earth could remove my relationship jinx?

Maybe it's not a relationship jinx; maybe I suck. If I suck, I guess I’d better figure out why or plan on adopting more dogs 

I have the family bassinet, and some family baby items, and a baby blanket, hence my earlier comment about women who pre plan their weddings.

Well, if I start hanging out at the neo natal wing at Northside, start ordering sedation for me. Or a straightjacket.

I'm really not looking forward to the Rebel coming over this weekend. I'd like to tell him to piss off, except I don't have a sawzall (sp?) or a nailgun. If I did, I'd finish that crap myself. I'm going to have to tell him that I'm seeing someone, and I am really not looking forward to that conversation. I don't like to hurt people, but I'm still floored that he could think that I'd take him back. It wasn’t the money, honest. It was the drinking, and the lack of desire/ability. His daughter and her partner will be here soon and as much as I’d like to see them, I have to weigh what my presence will mean. How can you say “I really want us to still be friends” and in the same breath say “will you ever take me back”? Maybe I should rethink my philosophy of trying to be everyone’s friend.

From the men in my life (and from the girlfriends as well), I always hear “I don’t know who you are”. Why is that so important? Why is it so important to know someone inside and out? Whenever I hear that, I suddenly feel like I’m lying on a velvet settee in a cigar filled room talking to some bearded Austrian dude about my Electra complex. Maybe I should just….write down all my vitals on a little laminate card, and stick it in a boyfriends wallet for them to consult whenever they feel like “they don’t understand me”.

I’m not that complex, really…even if I am a scorpio. I’m just…me. I’m insecure about my appearance (and duh my weight), but I’m very comfortable with my brain capacity. Maybe too comfy…I do have a bad tendency to think I’m smarter than most people. That alone tells me I’m not (maybe I’m just arrogant). I’m lazy, unless it is something that makes me happy or relates to my job, and in that case I’m always on top of things. I have a great deal of pride, ya know, having done most things in my life backwards. I love my dogs. My grandmother is my best friend. My granddaddies taught me about forgiveness and gave me a love of literature. I suck at chemistry – my poor father is a chemist and all three of his daughters failed chemistry at least twice. My sisters and I are very tight, as are the older of the cousins. My favorite place is the ocean – I’m a snob, I like the Atlantic better than the Gulf. I’d love to take a cruise around the Mediterranean – I want to go to Greece and see the ancient ruins. I like dark chocolate, and won’t eat milk or white. I drink pickle juice straight from the jar. I like horses, and I ride English and Western, but neither very well. I’m an emotional miser…so in a relationship, it’s rare for me to say what I think or feel. Sometimes I am uncomfortable being touched (I actually used to start whenever someone would take my hand, or pat my back). My mom is usually great fun to party with; she’s a tutor of sorts and all her children and the teachers at her school love her. I have my granddad’s and my last dogs ashes in the living room. I lost my virginity at age sixteen. I have nightmares still about being 33, naked, and back in high school. I am empathic, but I have had to build a wall to keep me from feeling everyone’s pain. The things I regret in my life are the bad choices I made. Music makes me happy. I used to sing in a girl’s trio – I’m an alto, and when I’m very happy or by myself I like to sing big band and swing tunes. I can match Michael Buble note for note, but not Frank. I am obsessed with cheddar cheese and feta. I’m allergic to crab. For years I dreamt about going to France; and now that I have I’m dreaming of Venice. I’d like to write a book; hence the blog. When I give my heart, I give it completely and it takes a long time for me to really give myself in a relationship. I’m terrified of dying alone. I like to dance and I used to swing dance, although I don’t think I dance very well. I’m used to being the dominant one in a relationship; and when not in one I am perfectly capable of looking out for myself. I know how to change my oil; I just choose not to. I mow my own grass. I love being outdoors. I’d really like to own a Craftsman bungalow. I can’t draw anything living but I can draw landscapes and buildings. I ended up paying for my own wedding ring. And sometimes I want someone to take care of me, instead of me taking care of them. I don’t like confrontation and avoid it at all costs. Getting me to talk about my feelings is impossible and makes me wretchedly uncomfortable. I love to read, and am an amateur historian. I used to be a Girl Scout. I like opera, and my favorite classical composer is Beethoven.

You know, if you steal from the Mob, are you really committing a crime? Sorry, just a random thought.

If you can’t tell, I’m not at all happy tonight. I refuse to go and do the one thing that would elevate my mood.

I’ll stop whining now.