Where's my effing 'off' button?

A new group is moving into my office building. They're taking a corner of the floor that we moved out of when we had massive layoffs last year.
So the IT and mover guys came for a visit.  Too bad for me, they were a serious distraction.  My eyes didn't leave my work, but my nose was playing games with my heartbeat.
My work environment is 95% female, and the few guys that are there are taken or assholes.  Even my "work ex-husband" is a classic jerk most days.  So when new guys walk in, all the other ladies smell blood in the water.  At one point, I was the only person doing their job while the others were circling their prey.
Then He walked by... I didn't get a look because it took a few seconds for his cologne to register. Ahhh.... cologne... and really good smelling cologne with just a hint of soap.  My eyes closed, and a little smile crept across my face. It was an instant 'on' button.
So I waited for Him to walk by again... and waited.... and waited.... sniffing the air every time one of the guys whizzed past. My mystery man was no where to be...smelled.  I took a break, and walked to the bathroom.  As I turned the corner, I caught a whiff of Him. He must have been in the tall cube that I had walked past.  I thought about stopping and turning around, ignoring my need to pee after downing 32 oz of tea.
But the bathroom won out.  So I rushed back, hoping I had somehow cornered Him to at least see the guy that had intrigued my nose.
I swept into the tall cubicle, and almost ran him over.  He was cute, blond, slightly tanned... and about nine years my junior.  Crap!  To make sure there would not even be flirting going on, I spotted a ring on his finger.  I can't say anything about my co-workers, but seeing a ring is an instant red flag and any interest I have evaporates.
He did smell good, though. At least I could stop wondering and get back to work.
But when I got back to my place, I started on the bread I wanted to make.  Let's just say, it's as smooth as butter from the aggressive kneading I did, trying to get the excess energy out.

Battles

I created the Sound of Madness.
Wrote the book on pain.
Somehow I'm still here,
To explain,
That the darkest hour never comes in the night.
You can sleep with a gun.
When you gonna wake up and fight... for yourself? - Shinedown, 'Sound of Madness'

The song is a bit harsh, but it's one of my anthems.  It's one I crank when I encounter someone that I can't "save". When the Ms Fix It in me knows that failure is the only outcome.  When I am the only one fighting a war that is not my own, victory is lost. I've learned it the hard way many, many times.
I've walked away. I've been accused of being heartless, abandoning someone in their hour of need, been cussed and cast out when I left.
I've stuck around, being dragged down into their hell.  I found a way out easier than them, because the chains that held me there were not of my design.
I have seen both sides of this coin, played games with Fate... gambled my sanity in hopes of saving someone else's.  I've won, I've lost... and figured out that when they refuse to fight... victory is an illusion I cannot afford to pursue. 
I've had my own breakdowns, hidden myself away behind walls meant to protect me.  The same walls became a prison, and I was alone. I didn't bother looking for a door or window.  I refused to fight... and lost.  But it was only a fight, not the war. No, the war isn't over until my last breath. That... that I intend to win.
I have people that depend on me; family, friends, people I have yet to meet.  But before them, I have to depend on myself.
If I can't stand on my own, I can't lift someone else.  They have to wake up and fight... for themselves.  When they pick up their weapon, I'll be there.
And when I can't fight; when I refuse to fight... I have to understand that my family and friends are not abandoning me.  They know they can't fight the battles for me, I know it too.  So when the dark is too much, other help has to be sought. 
Some have faith, medicine, hobbies, secret places or therapists.  Not all work, and sometimes they continue to slip into oblivion.
I may not be able to win my battles alone, but I have to be one to strike blows.  I've also learned it takes more than two to effectively beat back the dark.  Yes, one candle can hold back the night, but eventually it will burn down.

Don't fret, I'm doing ok.  The subject was on my mind, and I thought it was worth posting.

It's all about me right now, we'll get to you later.

I've been in a selfish mood lately. I've been planning a party. When the first attempt got scrapped because of schedule conflicts, inadequate notice and poor planning on my part, I moved it almost a month later.  I became obsessed, and greedily selfish.  My gal pals must be a little sick of me asking questions, or at least turning the subject to it and not giving any really good info.
So today, I sat down to figure out why.I thought back to the same question a few of my guests have asked, "What's the occasion?".  I wanted it to be 'just because', and even made a cute list of potential reasons. But I know myself, and rarely do my actions not stem from some sort of motive.
So here are some, in no order.
1) It's on my 101/1001
2) I have not had a party of my own since I was in high school, maybe grade school.
3) I am laying claim to this yearly get-together of my HS clique
4) When I cook, it's for an army- I hate leftovers, so I want people to feed.
5) My happy moments are thoughts of my guests, I want them there
6) I want to stop hiding up here
7) A break from work (which is an Epic Fail b/c of the OT requirement for the week of the party)
8) To celebrate them... I am just providing the food.
9) To strengthen our friendships, to catch up/find out where my group is.
10) Potentially add more names to my list of "I can lean on" people.

First thing I did was buy some more furniture. I am a little embarrassed of where I am (financially/socially speaking).  Apartment life means not enough storage; I remedied that a little. I purposely did not invite work buddies.  I ran out of room, and wanted to have people I don't see daily (aka, the ones I miss!)
With almost a month to prep, I want to go overboard.  Decadence and deliciousness is planned. I have been crazily focused on the menu, hoping I can find all the fresh ingredients I need.
I have been so focused, I almost threw a hissy fit at work when they announced they wanted even more hours, including the day of my party.  I can get things done, but with the new time requirement, I have no time to relax before my shindig.  If they dare to switch the available times on me, I may have to feign illness and get an occurence (think like getting your name written on the board in grade school).  My work-life balance is seriously skewed to the former.
My bosses had the audacity to ask me why I would plan something, knowing we were having so many issues.
I daydreamed about stapling their eyelids closed.
My work buds realized they had gotten snubbed, and looked hurt. I asked them if they wanted to go to the gym offered on property to employees when OT dies down. They got further upset.  I guess I will have lunch breaks to further obsess over my menu.
I am going to skip tomorrow's voluntary hours. Instead, I am going to the grocery store. I won't spend all my OT pay... just enough to get a better quality and larger quantity of the ingredients I want to play with.
Now, if only I could harness this devotion to other areas... like finding a different job or school program!

I must be crazy

I am less than two months into the year, and 30% of my pay is from overtime. You saw that right; my company has paid me time and a half for 90.5 hours so far, with more planned until flowers are blooming and snow is a distant memory.  Work is trying to kill me, and I am letting it because I am a workaholic.
Problem is, it's just a job.  It's not my career, or even remotely related to anything I ever wanted to do with my life.  It's a paycheck.  Meetings jack up my day, interrupting my usual flow, so I find it difficult to get my groove back and just do my job.  Add in being asked to make a list of problems myself and coworkers face in everyday activities, wearing heels, talking in front of a group, etc... I was worthless today.  I came close to what I needed to appease my supervisor, though.  Like I have stated before, I shine when stressed.
But on to why I must be crazy.  I spent the last few hours looking at schools. I am considering going further in debt, in hopes of finding a path I want.  I spent weeks compiling lists of what I like to do, from simple hobbies to dreams I had of my future. In actuality, the lists became useless, but the patterns of what I like were shown.  I enjoy math, science, getting my hands on something, dissecting, improving, redesigning, stretching the limits... Now to find an advanced degree to use that desire.  I need to feed it, nurture it, build it from the tiny flame to a roaring fire. And the scary part... I am still a little unsure of which path to choose.  Stay local, go away to school, see if I can find an online program? I still need to find a program.
I want a salaried job. I want to be high enough on the food chain that my pay is based upon merit, mind and abilities.  I want to truely matter to the workplace, and not be a peon. I want to be passionate about going to work, not using it as a place that's better than doing nothing.
In college, I had my nose to the grindstone.  I finished on time, actually quicker than the norm.  I was shocked to be planning another semester and receiving my diploma in the mail.  I had no clue I was done, and my degree was in hand! Looking back, I should have kept myself enrolled.  My thirst for knowledge has not waivered, and filling my head with usless trivia about a job I don't want will not help in the long run.  But the thirst is not focused... that's always been my stumbling block.  I want to learn about almost anything that crosses my gaze, from people and hobbies to places and books. I just need to pick a road! Make a damn decision!
Ever been at a perceived crossroad, and feel like you were losing your mind trying to figure out which way to go? What was the push that got you through it? Where did that road take you? I want to know.

Another trip through my head

Here's the deal.  The anniversary entries and this one were written ahead of time. So before you call me a liar, I did delete this after I moved it here.  It's Valentine's.... the anorexic hopeless romantic in me refuses to die before this dream is posted. I know this could bite me in the butt... but again, that part of my psyche will drive me nuts if I refuse it on the most sacred of days. Btw, I'll move this one... so get your laughs in before it disappears in a week.

Imagine a mid-size party, about fifteen people. I track down my two longest known friends, looking a little panicked.

"I can’t do this anymore. I have to get it out of my system. Tell him that ‘someone’at the party thinks he’s hot, and if he’s game, she’d like to get something out of her head”, I plead.


They both look at me, eyebrows slightly raised and tilting their heads.
“Ummm…Tell him he has two choices, both with the same rules and results. He has to be blindfolded, but can either meet her in a separate room or make it more public in the living room”
“Make what more public?!”, they say, almost in unison.
“A kiss”, I coyly smile.
One returns from her quest, a giant grin on her face.
“He’s game… in public”
“You’re fucking kidding me! The asshole!”, I try to pass a fake smile, hiding my horror.
“Oh, and YOU’RE the rule giver… just to make it more interesting”, she twitches her eyebrow, letting me know she is purposely being that devious.


Cut to the living room, he’s told everyone they are in for a show. He’s on the couch and I’m on a folding chair, about eight feet away. I have someone blindfold him as I list the demands.
“You being the evil guy you are… I know why you’re doing it this way. She was dumb to even offer to let you have witnesses. There’s no honor among these 'thieves'.
Ok, rule one: You cannot see her, and yes it’s a female”
“Good, I was going to have everyone make sure before the kiss”
“Ahem, rule two: You can’t touch her. If we have to, you’ll have your hands tied behind your back”
“I’ll behave… promise”, he smiles and crosses his heart.
“Ok, rule three: You can pick the part of your anatomy…” The group erupts in whoops and hollers. His left eyebrow rises up, intrigued and devilous.
“But if you’re raunchy, she picks!”, I squash his evil thought with a smirk.
“Then I pick the lips”, he half smiles, knowing he’s guaranteed a smooch and winning the silent argument.
“Do you have a person in mind? Someone you’re hoping is the lady that is so smitten she just *has* to kiss you?” 
 I barely get the sentences out without my voice trembling, scared of the answer.
“I plead the fifth”, he says, clearly smiling.
“Alright, get up. Hands in your pockets. Have to keep you honest. Stand up straight, big boy.”
He gets up, the blindfold slipping just a bit.
“I will give you $40 if you can tell me how many fingers I am holding up.” I hold up three, he guesses five.
“Ok, here we go… people get your cameras out”


He smiles so huge I swear he’s up to something. He feels the tension in the room as people look at each other, trying to figure out who the mystery girl could be. Who is going to risk total embarrassment and try to smooch this tall guy? He clears his throat, fighting the impulse to raise a fist to his mouth as he coughs. He lets his face relax, and I imagine him closing his eyes to try to relish the impending kiss. He sways ever so slightly, letting me know he’s centering himself and trying to block out the whispers and noise in the room, to intently listen to ‘mystery’ girl’s footfalls.


Before I rise from my chair, I slip on a pair of hot pink heels that I stashed. The blanket I had on my lap obscured his view as I pretended to read the rules off a blank piece of paper. I raise my index finger to my lips, motioning for everyone to not say a word.


“Is she hot?” he asks.
“Smoking”, one of my friends replies, and I blow her a kiss for the compliment.


The room falls silent, seeming to breathe as if it were one set of lungs. My heart is beating out of my chest. He smiles again as I take my first step toward him. He hears the plush of the carpet give under the weight of my foot, and he quickly stops smiling. His prize is only moments away. Three more steps and I am at arm’s length. My hands reach for his forearms, my palms making contact as my gaze falls on his mid-chest. I take another step as my hands slide up his arms, to his shoulders while my eyes look up to his shrouded eyes. At least he can’t see my lower lip tremble. Even with the heels, I know I am going to have to pull him down slightly so our lips could touch. I pull lightly on his shoulders as I close the gap. He obliges and I pray he can’t hear my heartbeat or the thoughts racing in my head.
 I slip my right hand down to his chest and my left finds its home behind his neck; my fingers buried in his short hair while my palm warms his skin. I balance on the balls of my feet as I kiss his right cheek, then the left. When he begins to protest, citing that wasn’t where he instructed, my right hand caresses his freshly kissed cheek and I pull his head down just an inch more. I see cameras raise as my eyes close. The whirring and clicks, flashes and zooms disappear into nothingness as my lips meet his. We pucker and pull, extending the touch but not going any further. I break away and let my right thumb trace his lower lip as I turn to walk away. The chair suddenly seems miles away, as my knees and mind turn to jello. I slip my heels off, turning back. He seems frozen, slightly hunched over. His hands are still in his pockets, elbows jutting out. He looks like a comical statue. Is trying to commit to memory how tall she must have been, based upon how his body is contorted?  He’s silent, and I wonder what is going on in that head.


“Wow” is all he whispers as he straightens, hands glued to his pockets. I flick the blindfold off, ending the little game.
“I want pictures…. Now.” He orders, lowering his voice to show he means it.


Hands fly out, all empty, implying they wish to be paid for this juicy bit of information.
He smiles, turns his head to wink at me and says,


“The blindfold didn’t do its job. It was three fingers. Impressive. Any other secrets you want to share?”


"Just a few more, handsome", as I bite my lip.

Alright, I posted it... Anorexic Romantic Side, drink your poison.  I can't keep playing this foolish game with myself.

Anniversary two

For women the best aphrodisiacs are words. The G-spot is in the ears. He who looks for it below there is wasting his time.
~Isabel Allende

Since I lack the gene that aids in being tactful, I'll just spill it. I have been celibate for a year, give or take. The idea of being paired is still a happy one, but I was exhausted with the amount of time and energy I put toward it.  I miss the things that a romantic relationship brings.  I am amazed at how having someone waiting for me makes me smile all day. For me, seeing friends happens sporatically. I'm not trying to complain, everyone (myself included) is busy. We go for months, if not years, between hanging out and catching up.  We glom onto each other, and I always hope it's gonna stick... but work, family, illness, other friends, etc wiggle in and less time gets devoted to being there.
But when it comes to sex, or the potential for sex... both parties make time to be in close proximity.  I kiss my buds on the cheek, hug them, spoil them with baked goods... but miss the "more" I give and get when it comes to that other kind of relationship.  I'm talking about the sense of giving completely, not the act.  Though I do miss the act...
The romance novels have been hidden away, short stories I'd written have been deleted, and I have been avoiding romantic stuff like a plague.  I used to celebrate love every day, not just one.   I learned to deal, and accepted not only the possibility, but the likelihood that "this.is.it".
The incurable romantic may be cured, or that part of me is dying of starvation. So here is to a year without- without sex, a date, a kiss or even a fake phone number.  I made it through the first year... and I want it to matter less and less to me with each day. Besides, I have knitting to do. Maybe I should get a cat. LOL