Overconfidence-itis

There are times in our lives when we suffer from a disease of uncontrollable proportions, known as ego. That word has a tendency to bring to mind an image of over muscled, testosterone filled males engaged in attempts to best one another with sports, cars, or women. I submit that often times ego can take different forms than the most commonly known “male ego” and manifest itself in other, more subtle ways. I was a victim of someone else’s overconfidence a few weeks ago, and it is with great relief that I relate to you the story of my narrow survival from said experience.

I was visiting my parents one weekend when my darling little sister Jodi stopped by to visit. You see Jodi has been attending a school in town to learn the art of hair, makeup and nails, so it came as no surprise to me when she suggested that my hair was less than satisfactory. “Ooooohhhhh! Kristi, let me do your hair!!!!!” she said as only a hyper nineteen year old girl can. “It will be so gorgeous! I will do a French twist and you can wear it to church tomorrow! You will look so beautiful!” With apprehension for her reaction, I considered my options. I could refuse, only to have her berate me as to my current lack of style, or I could agree and end up looking like the lost prom girl. She turned those pleading puppy dog eyes on me and I gave in. “Fine” I said, “but no prom girl hair, I want casual elegance, ok?” I should have recanted my decision when she insisted that casual elegance was an oxy moron, but alas, my final thought was “how bad can it be?” How bad indeed…

After washing and drying my hair, which by the way she made me do myself, (so much for learning customer service at that ridiculous school) she sat me down at the kitchen table across from my dad who was grading papers. I asked for a mirror, and she refused, saying “You don’t want to ruin the surprise!” Right. Surprise. Then she asked “What eye do you want to cover?” Um, what? I don’t like to have hair hanging in my eyes, thank you. I said “If you are asking what side I part my hair on, it is the right side.” Satisfied, she took up her torture devices, uh hem, curling iron and comb. She started by curling every hair on my head, and following up with a lovely cloud of hairspray for each and every strand. After using a can of hairspray and an entire packet of bobby pins, she stepped back and pronounced that she was done. I guess she was looking only at the back of my hair, as I had a straight section of my bangs, hanging down, as promised in front of my eyes. “Were you planning on fixing these?” I said blowing the unruly strands from my eyes. Apparently she forgot that just fixing the back of someone’s hair is, as a rule, unacceptable. She finished them a few seconds later and proclaimed to everyone in the house that her masterpiece was done, and then invited them to look upon the loveliness that was my head. My dad looked up and raised his eyebrows in shock. “Doesn’t she look just like grandma?” my sister asked enthusiastically. (My grandmother wore a French twist for the last 20 years of her life) My dad stammered to find something to say. “No” he replied tentatively. The horror on his face was obvious. I stood up and turned around slowly to view my reflection in the mirror. My hair was beyond description. I muttered “ok, thanks!” and took off quick as I could. Like a car accident that you can’t turn away from, I went down to the bathroom to look again. The sides were slicked back and crispy from the hairspray to the point that the bottom half of my hair looked painted on. The back was twisted and bobby pinned all over the place in a crooked line like a wound stitched by an inebriated doctor. The top section was all loopy curls, tucked in with, you guessed it, more bobby pins, and shellacked to the point that it was not the original color. Overall, I looked like a large blond mushroom had taken up residence on my head, bulging out uncontrollably above my ears. I touched it in disbelief, and was not surprised when it didn’t move an inch. It was lost prom girl meets bride of chucky. Oh the terror of it all.

I went to bed, too tired to fight with it. The next morning when I got up to prepare for church, I spent almost an hour detangling myself and pulling bobby pins from the nest that had formed. Needless to say, I did not wear my hair like that to church. And through it all, my darling little sister was in the background, suffering silently with her highly uncontrollable overconfidence-itis, never realizing that her skills may yet need a bit of refining before her subjects are forced to go out in public after experiencing some of her handiwork. The poor dear…

Close

I enjoy a close relationship with Scott's roommates. We often have dinner together, we go on various excursions about town, and we hang out all the time. I consider them to be almost family. However, family or not, I got a little bit more than I bargained for the other day when I stopped by for a late night visit.

It was around ten at night when I went over to see Scott and we were standing in the kitchen talking when I saw him glance across the room. I turned my head to see what he was looking at, and saw his roommate walking around the corner. I said hello, and then turned back to Scott when I realized that I had just glimpsed the roommate clad in only his underwear. My face turned what I am sure was a magnificently bright shade of red, and I kept my eyes locked on Scott until I was assured that the only man left in the room was the one in front of me.

As if that wasn't enough to make my night, a few minutes later, Scott and I were coming out of his room and found that his roommate was up again. Scott shut the door quickly before I could bond with his roommate further. We're close now, Trent and I. :)

Late night conversation

Me: Why do guys get married?
Scott: For tax purposes.
Me: What? *laugh* Then why do girls get married?
Scott: For babies.

Said with the unwavering confidence that only Scott possesses, I was forced to take a step back and rethink my previous ideas on motivations for marriage. Thus I have composed a list of possible reasons that a person would chose that road, starting with Scott's ideas.

Guys
For tax purposes
Guaranteed date to the movies
Live in cook/dishwasher/housekeeper
Arm candy/trophy wife

Girls
For babies
Spider killer/heavy lifter
Guaranteed dance partner
For "married" status

I know you are probably laughing at these lists thinking that I am off my rocker for some of the items here. When I asked Trent the same question, he gave me the expected answer. "Because they are in love, and they want to spend their life with her." I smacked Scott on the chest and said "See! That is the right answer to that question!"

Why apartment maintenance and showers don't mix

As a rule of thumb, one should try to avoid fixing things when one is in the shower. I don't know why no one ever informed me of this fact, but it is something I learned quite quickly this morning.

I was in the middle of soaping up my hair in the shower this morning, when through the stream of suds running into my eyes, I glimpsed my shower shelf leaning precariously to one side. This quite distressed me, because last weekend when I cleaned the bathroom I adjusted that same shelf. It is actually a set of four shelves on a tension rod that stand in the corner of the shower to hold all the millions of products I use. Anyway, I had just adjusted the stupid thing last weekend, and this morning, I saw that it was leaning again. I was quite perplexed by this, since it is relatively new and I didn't think there was anything wrong with the spring and/or the tension. Being an industrious and independent woman, I decided that I would climb up on the ledge of the bathtub to fix the crooked implement right then. I cautiously perched on the sides of the tub, being careful not to step on the slippery curtain and kept one hand securely on the side of the shower wall. I grasped the top of the rod with my right hand and gave it a gentle tug. It didn't budge. Mildly irritated, I took hold of the rod with both hands and tugged on it. Still nothing. Grumbling to myself, I readjusted my stance and my grip and pulled on the top section. When the stopper on the top suddenly came loose from the ceiling, I was unprepared for it to move so quickly, and it disrupted my balance from my precarious perch. I shrieked as the tension rod, four shelves, their various contents of mixtures and potions, and my soapy behind ended up on the floor of the tub in a heap, with the shower continuing to rain down on top of me. Stunned, I laid there for a minute wondering how all this had occurred, when I heard a tenuous "Are you ok?" from the other side of the wall. Yeah. I am fine. Fabulous actually. Never been better.

After reassembling my shower, I looked at the rod with satisfaction. It was straight. I got out of the tub and toweled off, and when my mirror managed to clear up, I did a double take. I turned around to see my lovely tension shelf was leaning to one side. I stepped back into the tub, and it looked straight again. Slowly the realization hit me. I adjusted the shelf last weekend when I was cleaning the bathroom. My tension shower shelf unit was not to blame for being crooked. I was. And at that moment, in the back of my mind a little voice said, "you can straighten that really quick." My eyes opened very wide at the thought of what I was about to do, and I turned and ran out of the bathroom.

Apartment maintenance and showers don't mix.

Six Months

Soooo, yesterday was the six month mark for my relationship with Kentucky boy. To celebrate such a momentous occasion, we decided to spend the evening together watching a movie. And for my anniversary present, I got to choose which movie.

Scott: So did you want to do something tonight?
Me: (trying to sound nonchalant) Oh, yeah I guess so.
Scott: So what do you want to do?
Me: I don't know.
Scott: Why don't we watch a movie at my place?
Me: Ok what movie?
Scott: You can choose, whatever you want.

At this point, a completely wicked look came over my face, and I started rubbing my hands together with devilish anticipation of the possibilities. Because I am a nice person, and to give myself grounds to argue with him later when he opposed my choice, I sweetly asked "Any movie?" Poor kid, he didn't even see it coming. "Yeah, whatever you want" he said back. It was a good thing this entire conversation took place over the phone, because if he had seen the evil look in my eyes, he may have changed his mind, and took off running.

A little over a half an hour later, I showed up on his doorstep with a sticky sweet smile on my face and a movie in my hands. With glee, I held out my intended choice and shouted "We are going to watch Mama Mia!" and then started dancing around crazily. In the midst of my celebratory dance, I paused long enough to see his eyes glaze over with that "deer in the headlights" look. He quietly gulped out a faint "ok" while attempting to hide his obvious look of terror. He didn't even give me the chance to use his previous words against him and argue that he said I could chose whatever I wanted, he just dropped his shoulders in willing defeat, poor boy. So while I was congratulating myself on how well trained I have him, and thinking of the beautiful combination chick flick/musical that I had decided to inflict upon my willing victim, I had a twinge of guilt come over me. Obviously I have an enough of an appreciation for Merryl Streep and ABBA songs that I was wanting to watch it, but was I a bad girlfriend for not taking pity on the pain this would cause a guy? A second look at his face confirmed it. He was desperately trying to smile at the prospect of a sing-along chick flick. My sails of glory deflated in a nano second.

So we ended up watching Hope Floats that evening, sappy enough to satiate my chick flick appetite and funny enough to keep him entertained. Does anyone else appreciate the part where the kids are discussing the bully who is going to beat up Bernice? The cousin Travis says "She even has a gang, it's called Big Delores." For some reason, this struck me as incredibly funny, and all day at work I have been asking co-workers if they want to be in my gang. It's called Awesome Kristi.

The "M" word

I think I can count on one hand the number of people in the past month that have not asked me if I am going to get married. I freely admit that it is on my mind occasionally, which is completely normal being that I am in a relationship, mormon and 26. But why does it have to be on everyone else's minds also? Pretty much the only people that have not questioned me on this aspect of my life are the girl at the bank and the annoying neighbor kid that is too involved in discussing his own conquests. I think that everyone else I know has asked one of us about marriage in some form or another. And as uncomfortable as that is, I am just waiting for someone to ask us about it when we are together. (My money is on President Call. Can I tell you how excited I am to have that horrible conversation with him? Wow. My mind just reels thinking about it!) My most sincere form of irritation comes when people get that knowing smile on their faces, cock their heads to the side, and say "When it is right, you will just know." Gag. Retch. Puke. Seriously? What have these people been smoking? Who says corny stuff like that, and worse, who believes it? I will just know? I don't just know what sort of muffin I want for breakfast, or just know who my favorite actor is, or just know what size jeans I wear. But I will just know who the person is that I want to see every day for the rest of my life and into eternity? Are you for real? From my perspective, those decisions are not even in the same realm of importance or finality. And if I don't just know what I want to wear in the morning, then I sure as hell don't just know who I want to marry! You people are crazy!

So how do you know, then? Scott tells me he knows what I want. I don't even know what I want, so how does he know? And how do you come to the conclusion that you should marry someone? Is there some algorithm that I should be aware of? "If candidate fits qualifications A, B, and C, then marriage is an appropriate decision." Or maybe it is how you feel about them, if you love them, etc? Well, I tell you what, I love the guy that designed my shoes, but I have not ever considered marriage to him! I crush on people all the time. What level of love is the level you need to marry someone? Is it like a candy thermometer where as soon as it gets to the light crack stage you know you are close and then when it is at the hard crack stage you are good to go? That is what I need! A marriage thermometer that measures things in terms of just a crush, slight infatuation love, love that is never going to go anywhere, wrong person for you love, unrequited love, and finally, time to get yourself a white dress love. I am sure that everyone agrees that things would be much simpler then.

Yesterday, I was talking to a friend about plans for this week, and when I told her that Scott and I have a previous engagement for that evening, her eyes lit up! I backpedaled like crazy saying that I really meant that we had plans already, and Scott made some comment about his preference that I don't say that word. It was all just a joke, but it made me think that there is some form of underlying truth to it. We don't often use the "M" word when we are referring to our future with the other person. It just doesn't happen. Everyone else and their dog seems to use it, but we don't, probably because that would mean another DTR talk, and really, I have had my fill of those lately that are not related to the "M" word.

It has almost become a bit of a joke to me. Like counting train cars, I count the number of times people ask me about it in a day. And I put bets on who will ask next! I make up stories about how Scott has a wife and eight children in Panama, and we are just waiting for the Visa's so they can all come up here and we can be one great big happy family. I told one girl that we were just searching for a flight to Vegas that comes with one free "little white chapel" wedding. She looked like she had just swallowed a bird. *giggle* It was very funny... It's a good thing that I can laugh about such things. She certainly couldn't...

Off the edge of normal

Somewhere in my life, I got this ridiculous idea put into my head that I seem to be off the edge of normality when it comes to relationships. Alright, those of you who are laughing at that first sentence, control yourselves. What I mean is, I have this notion that other people do things differently in their relationships, and I seem to be just slightly to the left of typical behavior in normal relationships. I think I do things a little differently and I seem to have unusual expectations of the guys I date. Whether or not this is actually true is debatable, but it is my perception of my dating history.

I started a relationship with a person a little over two years ago with the absolute definitive knowledge that nothing would come of it. We dated for seven months, and then I moved back to Idaho. I knew from the very beginning that I could never marry him, but I still allowed myself to be pulled into a relationship with him. Some people would look at that as a waste of time or a ridiculous choice since I knew that all along. I even had one girl tell me how horrified she was that I would make that decision because I probably had "missed meeting the one" by dating the Portland boy. I was so confused by that, if I was destined to meet the one in Portland, would it really be as easy to do as driving past the road you were supposed to turn on? One chance, you missed it, now it's gone? That's it? Oh, ok that is not the point I was getting to, though. That relationship with Portland boy was soooo easy and relaxed, because I never had to worry about the whole marriage thing. I didn't ask myself endless questions about whether I could see myself with him in ten years, what sort of father I thought he would make, if he was a financially responsible person that I would be able to buy a house with, if I could handle spending holidays with his family and friends, if I would hate or love my in-laws, etc etc etc. *laugh* How easy! I never asked myself any of those questions when I was with him! I seem to be drowning in those questions now, but in Portland I had the security of already making my decision to allow me to completely disregard all such topics.

I suppose it is a reasonable expectation that the person you are dating should want to spend time with you. At least I should hope so... The amount of time is where I get into trouble. Now I am not suggesting you get matching belts so you can be literally attached at the hip, but I have been told that I push the boundaries of appropriate amounts of togetherness. I attribute this need for constant companionship to several things:

1. My mother never hugged me as a child.
2. My "love language" is quality time.
3. I am an unmarried 26 year old.

Ok, so I am joking about the first one there, obviously my mother hugged me as a kid, at least I think so... And I am sure that everyone gasped in horror at number three... Anyways I have a really hard time with some relationships because I want to spend every free moment with the person I love. I have some strange expectations that if we have errands to run, we will run them together, and if there are things to be done at the house, we will do them together. I honestly don't care that much what we are doing, as long as we are in the same proximity and interacting occasionally with each other. I always want more time, and I seem to be disappointed more often than not. I think back to previous relationships and am somewhat surprised at the amount of time I spent with former flames. I even worked with one guy, and we would work together all day and then hang out together all evening. It amazes me now that I even got anything done during those times. Someone asked me once if I ever got sick of constantly being around the person I loved. I remember thinking that was a ridiculous question, why would you ever want to be by yourself when you could be with the person you love? I've come to find out that not everyone shares my opinion. I have to constantly remind myself that he is not choosing to do something without me because he does not love me. It is very hard to keep myself from feeling that way these days. When I recognize that I am experiencing those emotions, I get mad. I am angry that I am really that needy and insecure of a person, and I am mad that he hasn't read my mind and realized that I wanted more time with him and acquiesced. *rolls eyes* No wonder I am running around in circles...

I realized today that I have very detailed expectations for my relationships also. I must be lining up events in my head of what I think it going to happen or what should happen. I spend all my time thinking about what could be that I am less able to focus on what is currently going on with non relationship aspects of my life. *chuckle* My sink full of dirty dishes, for example. I spend so much time analyzing and expecting and being disappointed or surprised about outcomes that I haven't even noticed everything else that is going on. An old friend used to tell me that expectations are up here *hand near head* and reality is here *hand near waist* and what is in between is disappointment. I had this silly idea that the next few steps of my current relationship would be us spending more time as a couple with our families, maybe a weekend road trip, a concurrent exchanging of keys (for safety purposes and convenience, not because someone is moving in), leaving a hairbrush and a change of clothes at each other's houses, and some hypothetical marriage discussions. I feel like instead of a nice steady progression from one step to the next, I am getting a jolting start and stop of an old jalopy. I am really having a hard time switching gears when they are so sudden and unexpected.

So here I am, with my crazy relationship ideas about what is normal and what is not. I feel a bit discombobulated with the whole thing, but I guess I just need to adjust my expectations. I can't help feeling a bit let down though, because the inner optimist in me held tight to those expectations, no matter how high and unrealistic they are. *Sigh* I guess the quicker I adjust to things, the less crazy they will make me. Hey, I told you I was off the edge of normal...

Home ~ Beauty and the Beast

Is this home?

Is this where I should learn to be happy?

Never dreamed

That a home could be dark and cold

I was told

Every day in my childhood

Even when you grow old

Home should be where the heart is

Never were words so true.

My heart's far, far away

Home is too

Is this home

Is this what I must learn to believe in

Try to find

Something good in this tragic place

Just in case

I should stay here forever

Held in this empty place

Oh but that won't be easy

I know the reason why

My heart's far, far away

Home's alike

What I'd give to return

To the life that I knew lately

But I know now I can't

All my problems go by

Is this home?

Am I here for a day or forever?

Shut away

From the world until who knows when

Oh, but then

As my life has been altered once

It can change again

Build higher walls around me

Change every lock and key

Nothing lasts, nothing holds

All of me

My heart's far, far away

Home and free

Cause and Effect

Lately I have been thinking about cause and effect phenomenon in relationships. I really don't think that most people have any idea about how much what they say and do affect other people in their lives. When you make some off handed comment, do you stop to think about who will be affected by it? I would argue that most times, you don't.

My younger sisters have no clue how much their behavior and words affect the rest of the family. My mom spent most of Saturday crying because of my sisters cruel behavior towards her. My sister completely ignored it.

My brother used his Christmas money to help a family in need this year. Besides affecting the family he provided it for, he had an effect on every person that watched him do it. I know that I personally was very moved to see his unselfishness this year, and I saw my dad tear up on more than one occasion when we were talking about it.

My FHE group played volleyball last night, and their cheerful, always welcoming attitudes worked wonders on my bad day. While I am sure that will be considered a minimal event in my life, I am grateful for the effect they had on me for one day.

He has no idea what sort of effect he has on me on a daily basis, whether I see him or not. And since he reads this blog on occasion, I won't say anymore about that. It's no big deal...

I understand that everyone has their free agency, and you are not responsible for anyone but yourself (except in the case of parents and children) and no one can "make" you feel something that you don't allow yourself to feel, but really? Shouldn't we all try to be a little more considerate of the effect of our actions and behaviors? Doesn't this fall in line with a little more personal responsibility?

In the workplace, if you offend someone by a comment you make, 90% of managers will make you apologize regardless of whether you agree that the comment was offensive. It is just part of the makeup of keeping the peace in a work setting. What if we all had to treat each other that way? What if you had to apologize for any comment or behavior that was deemed inappropriate or offensive? I think we would all be curbing our words and actions a little more if anyone could demand that of us. But would that prevent us from developing the close and intimate relationships that allow us to be unequivocally ourselves, no filter, no excuses, no problem? Can we really express our true personality if we have to constantly monitor and filter our behavior and words around others? Is the basis of a truly intimate relationship complete trust and acceptance of the good, the bad, and the ugly side of one's personality?

These posts just tend to open up more questions for me rather than answering them. I really should stop while I am ahead...

Realization

I hit this moment today where I realized that I have to worry about my parents health now. When my grandma was sick, I had to worry about her health and what was going on with her, but it is different somehow when it is your parents. My dad was diagnosed with cataracts today. It really bothers me, because I have spent the last week worrying about different problems with his health and wondering what other problems they will cause, and then this came up. I knew this time would come eventually, but I really didn't expect it this soon. My dad is only fifty two and although he has high blood pressure and is on the verge of diabetes, I have always thought of him as a pretty healthy guy.

The scary thing about realizing your parents are getting older is that it forces you to contemplate their mortality. I honestly can't think of anything that would be more devastating to me at this very moment than losing my dad. Even as I write this, I can feel my eyes welling up with tears as I think about it. Even with the knowledge that my faith gives me, I cannot imagine my life without my dad. He is my foundation, the person I turn to for everything, the one I depend upon. I cannot even put into words the special relationship I share with him.

I have always been close to my dad. Even when I was a kid, I would rather help dad do anything at all than play with anyone else. I remember him coming home on his lunch hour from work in his blue mechanic's uniform, and running to him as soon as he got through the door. He always smelled like gasoline and oil, and going into any shop that has that smell reminds me of him. He would cook us grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, and would always have the radio tuned to the oldies station. I remember when he was going to school after his back injury, and he would study for those classes so hard, and even let me accompany him to a presentation he had to give. I remember going with him to the pinewood derby's, although they were supposed to be just for the boys. We went camping and boating and fishing with him, and I am sure he got tired of it, because he is a horrible fisherman. Even in college, I would go to his office to have lunch and he would let me help grade papers and use his computer. My entire life is built around this one man. This amazing, kind, wonderful man, who always put my needs before his own, this selfless man who worried about me and took care of me, this man is the center of my life right now. Without him I would be completely lost and heartbroken.

Not every child is as lucky as I am. Some kids don't have any parents, or have parents that don't want them. Some kids don't ever get along with their parents. I am so blessed to have such a great dad. I am a better person because of him, and I hope that when I am a parent, I will be like him. So maybe the realization is not that I have to worry about his health now, but maybe instead, his health made me realize how irreplaceable he is, and that I don't know what I would do without him. Maybe it made me recognize again how grateful I am. My dad is amazing.