What I want to be when I grow up
I've come to a time in my life when I believe I've come to terms with who I am as a person. I like me. I don't think I'm going to change drastically in the future, like I did when I was younger. I went through a dark period when I cut myself, wore all black, and even planned my own funeral. I went through a domestic period when I was perfectly content to sit at home and play house. At 27, I finally settled into being comfortable with just being ME. I've made some mistakes, but I'm not a horrible person, and I'm kinda cool at times.

Anywho...so even though I know WHO I am, I haven't yet decided what I'm meant to do. I'm studying criminal justice, but the jobs that interest me in that field are actually somewhat dangerous and pay poorly. I'm considering several other careers, but so many appeal to me that I can't narrow in on just one.

A friend of mine laughed at me a few days ago when I excitedly told him about a new career opportunity. He implied that I change my mind too often to possibly be serious, but the truth is, everytime I find a career that interests me, I'm really eager to get into it. Childish, perhaps, but at least I'm not jaded, right?

I feel pretty, oh so pretty
I'm Californian. I may have been raised in the midwest, but I've always thought more radically than the average Nebraskan.

I had microdermabrasion yesterday, and it was heavenly. The sensation I was told to expect was described to me as a cat licking my face. Towards the end of the treatment, I laughed because I remembered that description, and I'd never have allowed my kitty to lick my face so raw. It wasn't bad, mind you, but my face definitely felt like it'd been rubbed against a five o'clock shadow for an hour or so.

While I was getting the treatment, I had my hands covered in paraffin, and after the doctor removed the wax, she gave me a hand and arm massage. She kept reminding me that it was my turn to be cared for, so I needed to simply lie back and relax. I love her! She didn't try to sell me anything extra, and the hand treatment wasn't advertised, so it was completely extra, as far as I was concerned. If you ever find yourself in San Diego, in need of a good facial, look her up. Her name's Dr. Ellen Gabel, and she's on First Street, not far from the airport. (Shameless plugging.)

My skin is so smooth now, and I'll go back in a few weeks. Woo hoo!

Time to talk about the blog itself....
Someone read my page years ago and recommended I make a blog. This was back when blogs were relatively new, so I'd never heard of them, but after they became more popular, I remembered what she'd said, so technically, I owe all the credit to her. So if you ever read this, person who told me years ago that I should write a blog, thanks.

This is just going to be a place for me to write about my experiences. I'll try to keep the emotions and thoughts pretty raw, so I won't over-edit, but I'll try to maintain a decent level of journalistic flow and readability.

My thoughts tend to be random babbling, and I'll do my best to put them on paper that way, to put to paper what is true, not necessarily what sounds best.

a Seinfeld moment indeed
I have a confession. While outspoken and usually quick to ask about anything that confuses me, I'd rather not know someone's name than have to ask after chatting with the person for a month.

I met someone online over a month ago, and we exchanged introductions before we ended that first chat. The next day, I noticed him online again, and I'd enjoyed chatting with him previously, so I said hi, and we chatted a while longer. This continued a week or two before I realized I had no idea what his name was. (Yes, it really took me a while. I chat with so many people online that I frequntly chat with people whose names I never know. It's just the way chat works.) It wasn't until we discussed meeting in person that I acknowledged to myself that I had completely forgotten his name, and I needed to come up with a way to get that information without his knowledge. (Of course, he's probably gonna read this someday and know everything.) The easiest way, I decided, would be to get my friend to sign onto Yahoo while he was here fixing my computer. With any luck, Mystery Man would be online, and he'd think my friend was me, so he'd say hi, and my friend would naturally introduce himself, and Mystery Man would follow suit. I could have carried out this scenario myself, of course, but I wanted to be as honest as possible. Not knowing his name was never dishonest. It was just an embarassing little situation I might have cleared up myself by simply asking his name. Anywho...so my friend was over, fixing the computer, but when he was done, I signed on instead of him, and that ruined that plan.

The more I chatted with Mystery Man, the more I liked him, and I even mentioned him to my best friend, who reminded me of the episode of Seinfeld when Jerry had made out with a woman whose name he couldn't remember, and he couldn't very well ask THEN.

I was accidentally saved rather recently when I saw Mystery Man log in, and I said "hi," only to be told that the person chatting with me wasn't Bill*, it was Bill's son. Woo hoo! I was starting to worry that I'd have to ask Mystery Man to sign the marriage license first and look at the name while I was signing it myself so I wouldn't find myself saying "Oh, that's his name" when the justice of the peace asked if I'd take him in sickness and in health. Okay, so not really. I hadn't even met him in person yet, and marriage scares me.


* indicates the name has been changed

Holy cow, I'm a big girl now.
I recently had the experience of meeting someone from the internet. Yes, I've done this dozens of times, but this time was different. In the past, I've seen a pic or two of the person before we've met in person. Even if the pic's blurry, grainy, or taken from across a football field, I feel I know what to expect, at least a little bit. Not this time. I had seen no pics. In fact, the day before we were scheduled to meet, I was somewhat surprised to learn he's a couple of inches shorter than I. I've dated shorter men in the past, so I didn't think this would bother me too much, but I found myself worrying if perhaps I would judge. Yep, you read that right. I'm no more judgmental than the average person, but when you meet someone online and have no picture to put to the typing and voice, there's always the chance that when you meet in person, the reality will shock you to the roots of your hair and leave you a little embarassed at being so into the person. It's a harsh reality, but it's reality all the same.

Luckily, the guy's not hard on the eyes, but I found myself thinking that it really wouldn't have mattered too much.