1. I want to find a job closer to home. This commute makes me unhappy. And I can't be The Merry Widow if I'm unhappy. I think I will "devote" the next couple of months to updating my resume and applying for a few jobs online, to see if anyone bites.

2. The flu sucks. I'm pretty sure that I could have been declared "clinically dead" this past weekend. I don't care if you don't believe me.

3. I want the snot in my head and chest to go away.

4. Scott needs to understand that I can't workout with him until above mentioned snot goes away. Snotty Widow = Asthma Widow = Trip to E.R.

5. I need to get my home owner's insurance stuff together.

6. Don't forget to call Guy #3.

7. I don't like to share. Don't make me do it anymore.

8. Finish reading The Secret.

9. Apply "secret" to above list.

10. Don't forget that he really does love me. He really really does. :-)

Labels: Guy #3, Guy #6, Randomness, Squatters

I had the day off from work today. And what a perfect day it was to be free from work. The sun was out, the birds and butterflies were fluttering about, the greenery looked greener, the flowers smelled flowery, and it wasn't unbearably hot outside. (You'll find cooler weather in hell during the summer months in Houston. Note: Summer months in Houston begin in February and end in December.) Not wanting to waste the day inside, I called up my friend, Guy #3, and forced him to accompany me in my day of outdoor fun and randomness.

We were searching for things to do, so long as they involved being outside, and Guy #3 suggested that we go to a park and play frisbee, at which point I screamed in terror and begged Guy #3 not to make me throw and catch a frisbee. But he insisted that we do it, so I proceeded to make up lies as to why I should not play frisbee.

Lie #1: I've never thrown a frisbee before. I don't know how to do it.
Truth #1: Throwing a frisbee is as American as Apple Pie. And I am as American as an Apple Empanada. So of course I've played frisbee before...but probably only like 3 times in my life.

Lie #2: I have frisbee-phobia.
Truth #2: No I don't. It's a plastic disc. Who's afraid of that?

Lie #3: I have a fear of things flying towards my face.
Truth #3: If I really had this fear, then my social life would be out the door. Hehehe...

But being the fabulously nice person that I am, I finally agreed to play Guy #3's silly little game until he got tired of my fussing about how much I didn't want to play, and we quit. Our entire frisbee session lasted about 3 minutes.

Anyway, we spent the rest of the day drinking icees/Dr. Peppers, shopping, walking, annoying suburban mothers at the lake, and trying to break playground equipment. So aside from the frisbee fiasco, it was a great day.

But later on that evening, I got to thinking about that damn frisbee. Why didn't I want to play? Did I really have frisbee-phobia?

So here's what I came up with: I'm a perfectionist. I have a fear of failure. I've played frisbee before and I know that I don't play it well. I've never been good at catching flying objects and I can't throw a frisbee, ball, newspaper, or whatever to save my life. I am horrible at playing frisbee and am well aware of that fact. I am a frisbee failure. And since I don't like to talk about or share the failures in my life, I instead flee from them. Hence, the frisbee hissy fit that I threw today.

But why am I so afraid of failure? I could sit here and tell you that it has everything to do with my parents. Straight A's in school were never good enough for them. Instead they wanted A+'s with gold stars and smiley faces grafittied all over my school work. They wanted me to be a doctor, a lawyer, a rocket scientist, a success in life. They wanted me to be polite, courteous, talented, and graceful. But you know what? None of that is true. Not one iota of it. My parents NEVER put those kinds of expectations on me. The only thing my parents ever expected from me was for me to always put my best foot forward...to always give it my all...to always be the best that I can be. Whether that resulted on an A on a test, or a position in medical school, or as class validictorian did not matter to them. Just as long as I could say that I did the best that I could. When I decided not to go to medical school, my parents were behind me 100%. When I decided to quit my second semester of Organic Chemistry in order to spend more time with my recently re-diagnosed-with-cancer fiance, they were behind me all the way. When I decided to stay in Texas after my husband died, in lieu of moving back home with them, they helped me find a house in the Lone Star state. My parents have always supported me, no matter what I did. So my quest to be perfect is self imposed. And I can't, for the life of me, figure out why.

But maybe, by trying to avoid failure, I have, in fact, failed. Because by not attempting to try things at which I am not good (i.e. playng frisbee,) I have failed to give it my all. I have failed to try to make myself better. I have failed at doing what I always claim to do: live life. My fear of failure is holding me back. So what if I'm not good a playing frisbee? I should at least get out there and try to learn, right? I should at least get out there and have fun with it. Just as my parents love me no matter what I accomplish, Guy #3 isn't going to like me any more or less based on my frisbee playing abilities. So why should I be afraid to fail at it?

So bring on the frisbee, Guy #3. I dare you. This time I'll actually try to play. I'll actually try to learn and improve. Maybe I'll be really good at it and become a professional frisbee player and Nike will sponsor me and start manufacturing pink Nike frisbees that say, "Just fling it." Maybe frisbee throwing will become an Olympic event and I'll win the gold medal and get to be on a box of Wheaties and on Jay Leno and talk about how my friend, Guy #3, made me play frisbee and how I hated it at first, but then I became totally awesome at it and now's he's all jealous of my frisbee playing skills. Maybe I'll make millions of dollars, playing frisbee all around the world, and people will ooh and aah and talk about how frisbee players make way too much money and how more money should be given to people like teachers. Or maybe I'll still suck at frisbee. But at least I will be able to say that I gave it my all.

Labels: Anything you can do I can do better..., Guy #3

Dear Guy #3,

You are indeed guy #3 and not guy #4, like you previously thought. I win. You lose. I know that you read this blog, so feel free to call or email me after you read this post and tell me that you'll never question me again, damnit.

Love,
The Merry Widow

P.S. You kicked ass tonight. My requests for next time include "How We Do" (not to be confused with Howie Day,) "Livin on a Prayer," song #1 from your CD (no, I don't know the name of it,) and "Blower's Daughter." Yes, I am obsessed. Deal with it.

Labels: Anything you can do I can do better..., Guy #3

Dear Friend,

There was a time in my life when I thought that we were becoming friends...good friends. Then there came a time when I thought that we couldn't be friends any longer. A time when I thought that you would just become one of those people that I would pass on the street and say hi to every so often. I was sad about that because I had felt like you were one of those people who might get a chance to peek into my soul. A lot of people know the outer me. A lot of people know my quirks, my OCD ways, my idiosyncracies, my loves, my hates, my view of the world. But only a handful of people know the real me: the emotional me; the person full of love and sorrow, hope and despair, laughter and tears. Everyone always comes to me to listen to their woes, dispense advice, cheer them up. But the select few, the ones that I really, truly trust, these are the people to whom I confide. These are the people for whom I search. The ones who can comfort me and make me feel...well...not alone. And for a time, I had no choice but to shut you out, both for your protection, and my own. And during this time, I bundled up my heart in protective layers. But I realized that my heart is less susceptible to a chill than I thought. So I'm beginning to slowly unwrap it and stop babying it quite so much. I'm finding out that it's resilience is quite surprising.

Fast forward to today. Today I needed someone to do nothing but just sit with me. Someone to talk with me, laugh with me, share secrets with me. Someone to ease the stress in my life. And there you were. Pure comfort...no hidden agendas, no ulterior motives.

So I just wanted to thank you. Thanks for being you. Thanks for being a friend. Thanks for making me giggle. Thanks for making me believe again that there are still some good people left in Texas.

Love,
The Merry Widow

Labels: Guy #3

Here's a list of some guys that are in my life in one way or another:

1. Hot guy that I talk to daily: He's married and he hits on me everyday. If it wasn't for the fact that he's hot (yes, I'm shallow like that) I'd be totally disgusted with his antics. Needless to say, he's unavailable and I won't do anything more with him, other than shoot the shit.

2. Other guy that I talk to daily: He's married too! And he hits on me too!!! More aggressively than guy #1, I might add. But we've been friends for awhile now, so I usually just ignore the come-ons and continue to be his friend. So guy#2 is also on my off-limits list.

3. Guy I talk to a few times a week and hang out with once a week: We mesh. In fact, we mesh quite well. He always makes me laugh (very important), he's smart, he's random/silly (also very important), and he's sarcastic. Perfect, right? I love him to pieces but I'm not attracted to him. Nor is he to me, so actually, that works out.

4. Best friend from high school: This is the guy with whom I have a marriage pact. You know the one... "If neither of us are married by the time we're like 800 years old, then let's marry each other." He called me last week to tell me that he's totally in love with this new girl and want's to have like 10 million babies with her. I'm totally happy for him, but there goes my back-up plan.

5. Nice guy interested in me: Other than the fact that he annoys me, he would be perfect husband material. (Good job, outgoing, same upbringing, respects women, easy on the eyes, yada yada yada...)

6. Hot guy with comfy bed: That's right, I said it...he has a comfy bed. Draw your own conclusions here. If you're lost, or that naive, then read this link. I don't have this guy's phone number. Nor does he have mine. We rely purely on the fact that my best friend's boyfriend is his best friend.

So I pose 2 questions for you:

1. Why are unavailable/annoying guys interested in me?

2. Why am I interested in the one guy that could care less about me? (i.e. guy #6)

So, God, here's what I ask from you: Please send me a boyfriend that I don't have to share with any other girls; that will make me laugh/smile; that is smart; that will call me, love me, adore me (and I with him); and is hot. Or make guy #6 fit the above listed qualifications. Oh yeah, and I'd also like world peace and a cure for cancer.

Love,
The Merry Widow

Labels: Guy #3, Guy #6