Entry 40 : What’s Your Story?

Have you ever been asked the question What’s your story?

My immediate reaction is always like : What do you mean what’s my story? I don’t really …have one. Whats YOUR story. Then based on their answer, I answer the question.

To be quite honest, I don’t think my life is all that exciting so I’m never quite sure how to answer. When you think of stories / movies, they usually consist of a plot – sometimes with twists, turns, and an apex to the plot  – and my life has none of that. Its just, ordinary. To me its awesome, but ordinary. I mean, I cleaned my spare bathroom yesterday. This happens once a week. And then after that I folded laundry.  And then I grilled hot dogs for dinner.

If you want to go into the depth of my character, well – some might find my interests boring. I like to read, get lost in Michaels, word puzzles and regular puzzles, and binge watching The Great British Baking Show. I got into a Games of Thrones debate with the produce guy at the grocery store the other day. I hear any sort of Game of Thrones reference and my ears just perk up. He was talking to the other produce guy about the battle scene from last season and I just joined in like  I know right!?!  That was friggin crazy!

Some people think my personality weird. In high school, when I first started dating my high school boyfriend, this girl asked him Why are you dating her? She’s weird. At the time, it kind of hurt my feelings, but then I was like, wait a minute – she’s right. I am kind of weird; not in the bad socially-awkward way, just in the- I used to humm while i brushed my teeth -kind of way (true story. i dont do it anymore though, i swear…. ) and some people find that weird. I used to hope that girl who called me weird was losing in life, but I’ve gotten over it and have come to embrace the “weirdness” as part of why I’m awesome

Back to my story. This makes me realize how grateful I am not to be dating, just so I don’t have to answer that question. The very thought gives me anxiety. I would probably be rejected by waves if I was like I like puzzles, but it’s something I would say because it’s true.

I’m glad my husband didn’t think I was too weird on our first date. After we ate, I started making a sculpture with tortilla chips and poured water over it, saying its called art, you wouldn’t understand. I’d like to think he was just like Yea, shes a little weird, but super hot so I’ll let it pass. ūüėä

Anyways, until next time….

Entry 40 : What’s Your Story?

Entry 35 : Social Media De-Compress

I haven’t been on social media as of late, not providing consistent updates on the happenings on my life, ¬†including the fact that I am going to bed because I am tired, or shared a picture of a most recent zit on my nose, or notified you all on my most recent cravings for fortune cookies.¬†Because well, my life is all that interesting and when I fail to “check in” to the bathroom of my home to notify you that I’m going to take a shit, that is cause for concern.

What happened was…. well, Lent happened, and for Lent I decided to give up Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Snapchat.

It was hard at first My constant impulse was to go on these social media forums and see what so-and-so was up to, and to let people know I had seen a squirrel, or share a picture of Europeans in speedos. So to prevent myself from going on successfully, I signed out of everything in order to create a roadblock for myself.

Well, everything except twitter, mainly because I never go on twitter and I forgot that I even had a twitter account when I was signing out of everything. I go on twitter an average of once or twice a year and have 1 follower (my husband). ¬†A few days into lent, I received a notification on a witty Anna Kendrick tweet that she liked cake, or something to that effect and it made me laugh, because well… I too like cake. ¬†So I ‘liked’ her tweet, and forgot all about it. A few hours later, my husband messaged me, asking me if I went had gone on social media that day. ¬†I backtracked as best as I could, recounting the events of the day and replied with an adamant¬†no.

Being my one twitter follower, he mentioned he had seen that I had ‘liked’ an Anna Kendrick tweet.

Me:  O_O Oh shit, yea I did. I forgot. But it was a funny tweet!

I got called out, but in truth, I never use twitter and had completely forgotten that I had been on it for that brief moment. I soon after signed out of my twitter account to prevent future logins by impulse.

Since then I have fasted from social media, going on only on Sundays, as Sundays don’t count in Lent. So if you’re like,¬†What the Hell Winter! Didn’t you know that I was at Dairy Queen on Wednesday? I checked in on Facebook and tagged you because I know you like cookies and cream blasts! … or¬†I told the world I was gay on Facebook last week, and you don’t know?!?¬†¬†Sorry, I’ve been out of the loop. But to be honest,¬†its been refreshing to not be so consumed by¬†the need instantly let people know everything¬† I’m¬†up to, which is usually something along the lines of going to Home Depot or grocery shopping, or helping to fix a toilet flush valve. Please, try not be envious.

Anyways… until next time.

 

 

 

Entry 35 : Social Media De-Compress

Entry 33: Putting Effort to look like a Lady

I swore when I became a full-time housewife that I would never let myself go: I would workout, do household chores, do my make-up and curl my hair, so that my husband would come home to a hot and sexy wife.

Now I’ve been a housewife for close to a year, my husband comes home and with one look is like¬†did you even comb your hair?¬†

No, I did not.

I’ve become the woman I swore I would never become: wearing sweats all day, a loose fitted shirt, and hair tied up in a messy bun. While I do feel like I have gotten in better shape with so much time to workout, I’ve realized that it’s too much effort to “get done up” if you will, when after the gym I have to clean the house and do all these chores. Besides which , the question I always find myself asking when thinking about putting some makeup on is¬†Who’s going to see me? ¬†Am I really putting on make-up just to go to Target?¬†

The other week I went to jury duty, and as I walked up the steps to the courthouse, I saw a woman, dressed in a pencil skirt, fashionable 3 inch stilletoes, and a Luis Vuitton bag around her shoulder. Her make up was done to perfection, and you could tell she had taken the time to blowdry and straighten her hair out. She reminded me of my younger self (minus the Luis bag because I can’t afford that shit), back when I had a 9 to 5, and suddenly I became self-conscious of what I was wearing, how my hair was in a quick bun, and how minimal my make-up was. Had I forgotten what it was like to be a confident woman?

Since then, I’ve been putting a little more effort in my appearance, actually showering daily, not waiting for my hair to knot up before brushing it, and putting makeup on in an effort to not lose my sense of feminity. I’m not going all out with my apearance, because – like I said before – who’s going to see me when I’m sweeping, but I don’t want to be that person that wears sweats every day out of laziness.

That’s all for now. Until next time…

 

Entry 33: Putting Effort to look like a Lady

Entry 28: Did I Make the Right Choice?

This morning I got a phone call from a recruiter saying that I had gotten the job that he submitted my resume for and that my start date would be on Monday.

Congratulations!

The thing was, I didn’t feel too excited about it. ¬†It was happening too fast, too soon, and I would hardly call accounting work as something I’m passionate about. I know what you’re thinking: ¬†Why even agree with letting the recruiter submit my resume to begin with? The thing is, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want. I’m 30-something and still have this dilemma. Ever since I was younger, I wanted to write. Later, I found a love for taking pictures. If I’m being honest, those two things drive my soul and burn a fire within me, but the question has always been – could I make something out it? ¬†Whether it’s because of my fear of failure or something else, I never could quite figure it out how. ¬† So I took jobs that paid decently, but truly didn’t make me happy.

When I moved Рit was like a fresh beginning for figuring out what I could do that would make me happy, but am conflicting with my want to be able to make money, buy things, and go places. After all, this is what our culture drives into our psyche of what success is. I have been internally conflicted with this.

So this morning, I accepted the job, and a few hours later – called the recruiter back saying that I couldn’t take the job due to personal reason. I have probably severed any chance of getting a job through this agency again and am left questioning whether I made the right choice.

I feel bad that I wasn’t more honest to begin with, but it is done. I can’t go back , but I’m left with no job, and am still at the place where I’m still trying to figure out what it is that I want to do with my life.

Is it weird that I’m reaching to the internet for advise and a cyber hug saying that it’ll be alright?

Anyways, until next time….

Entry 28: Did I Make the Right Choice?

Entry 22 : “We Ain’t Never Getting Older”

Every time I listen to that Chainsmokers song¬†We Ain’t Never Getting Older¬†, I cannot but help but think –¬†These guys are going to be sorely disappointed, because they’re going to get old and have to Adult and figure out how to get their shit together.

I don’t even know if that’s what that song is about, but those are my thoughts.

You’re probably thinking, Uhm…I think you’re bitter because these artists are younger than you and have a one-hit wonder, and you’re only on entry 22 on a blog no one really reads and don’t really have a job right now so…

Touche.

 

Entry 22 : “We Ain’t Never Getting Older”

Entry 14: Making Friends

The other day husband was like…¬†we¬†should hang out with our dentist.

Me : The young one? The one that just moved from Boston? 

Husband: Yea, he and his girlfriend like hiking.

I began to mentally visualize how “asking him out” would go.

I imagined me, calling his office to have the following conversation with the front desk lady:

Can I speak to… Dentist Bob … There’s no dentist Bob? uhhh.. who’s the guy that just moved from Boston in January? … oh, he’s not from Boston… well, okay. The new guy.. yea.. can I be connected?¬†

and once connected¬†to the dentist whose name I thought was “Bob”,¬†I would be like

yea I know this sounds weird but… you and your girlfriend are new…we’re new… you seem cool…you want to go hike sometime?¬†

I understand if you felt awkward reading that; I felt awkward writing it… and then just reread and felt awkward all over again. But knowing me, that is exactly how that conversation would go.

The thing is, I’ve never been good at starting conversations with random people. I’ve always been that girl who introverted into a corner or blended in the background of a crowd while the social people socialized. Maybe after a few drinks, you could catching me in a Game of Thrones debate, ¬†but then again that debate would still be occurring in the back corner of a crowd.

(Sidetrack: Since we touched on the Game of Thrones topic, someone tell me.. is John Snow dead? Or is he alive? I know I’ve harped on this question before, ¬†but it’s been bugging me for like a year..and if you think he’s dead why the heck is he in all the promos that Peter Dinklage (Tyrian)has been posting on his Facebook page. Yes I’m not going to lie, I follow Tyrian)

But seriously, making new friends in a new place ¬†where you know no one (as an adult) is like dating: you’re forced to go places, make yourself presentable, and break out of your comfort zone to strike up conversations. ¬†While some people are naturally outgoing and find dating easy peasy, Lord knows it was something I was never good at.

I mean, if you look at my non-impressive resume, it quotes me at having officially dated 3 people in my entire life, and the number of times of having been hit on, being a guestimated number of… well? … Let’s say 5. (5 is not a lot but doesn’t seem pathetic, right? ). Whether¬†or not those particular times can be labeled as “being hit on”is subjective as it is a proven fact that I am horrible at reading ¬†flirtatious signs unless someone literally says hey, you’re cute. I’m hitting on you. Right now.¬†

It is also a said fact that I have natural don’t-talk-to-me-¬†bitch face when casually doing day to day things, like crossing the street, picking out candy in the candy aisle, or cutting out coupons from a newspaper. So perhaps more credit is due to those 5 individuals that were brave enough to ¬†even talk to me, flirting or not.

I know, I know. If I want to make friends, I need to make an effort to put myself in social situations, I need to put that bitch face away, comb my hair, go put some pants on, ¬†and stop getting sucked into Spanish talk shows that I can’t even understand (but I can’t stop! his girlfriend is cheating on him with his brother?!? …or is it cousin ? wait.. hermano means brother so it has to be the brother!!!…ay dios mio!!).

Once out there, the question becomes how do you start  a random conversation with random people? 

I’ve come up with a few conversation starters for making friends at the gym:

Are you using this equipment? 

I like your tattoo.

Your shoes are really cute.

and … the one that I think in my head, but am on the fence of actually telling a random girl lest she might think I swing that way:

I just want to say …that you are so fit.¬†

I don’t know…maybe the difficulty of it all is just in my head and I should just let whatever will be, be knowing that life has the tendency to gravitate people to form friendships. These things take time and effort to cultivate and I can’t expect in instant local bosom buddy (To quote Anne of Green Gables) to randomly¬†share my deepest secrets, like the fact that I’ve been putting off wearing shorts because a. I haven’t shaved my legs in a couple of weeks, and b. I’m self-conscious about the color of my legs being much lighter than my arms. Ugh… I know! I can only wear jeans for so long before it gets too hot here.

Back to the topic friends, we’ve only been here a few months and have already made a few awesome and amazing friends ¬†that we hang out with (you know who you is!) so I think we’re on a good start. ¬† Yea …I’ll continue put away that bitch face to make myself more approachable and converse in random conversation with the confidence that the we’re some pretty cool people and will make more awesome friends in no time. I mean, I’m a decent cook. I’m pretty dorky which some people find ¬†endearing. If you like shopping , I like to shop. ¬†We like to hike, and work out a lot. We like craft brews, and vino, and I like to color and do crafty stuff. We like Game of Thrones and Walking Dead, and we have ¬†a pool. …Shit, I’d want to hang out with us. lol.

Yea, we’ll ¬†will have all the friends in no time.

 

Entry 14: Making Friends

Entry 8: Perspectives

I found myself Facebook stalking the other day.

I know, Facebook stalking should be beneath me, but it happens. Even when you don’t have all the time in the world, it happens. ¬†Sometimes, that curiosity of who’s this chick that so and so is dating ?¬†or¬†Whatever happened to that one guy who I thought was the coolest?¬†I guess he’s¬†not so cool anymore…¬†– gets the better of me.

The FB stalking started off with me looking at a friends’ status update, which led me to me going on to seeing who ‘liked’ their comment, which led to me seeing their friends’ list, which¬†then¬†led me to seeing who the friends of the friends were.

It was a snowball effect that in reality took 20 minutes of my life, but long story short – I happened to come across the page of this guy who I had gone to high school with.

You might be thinking: ooo, what’s his name? Was he cute? Did u you have a crush on him? Is he a complete loser now? ¬†Do I know him?!?!

Questions which I will leave unanswered. ¬†What I will say is,¬†I had a few classes with him; he was part of the cool kids club so he didn’t really talk to me, except on occasion to ask me to pass him a syllabus or something to that effect.

Of the few rare times that he graced my ears with his words, there was one interaction that stuck with me.

You can’t everything your way, Winter

I don’t quite remember the whole context of why it was said. ¬†All I remember was thinking,¬†what the fuck are you talking about? ¬†

It was the most random, negative thing that anyone had said to me at that point in life. It would be one thing if this was said by someone who knew me, talked to me on a regular basis, and was giving me a reality check, but he had barely talked to me throughout high school; he was completely basing his summary of me on 3rd person perspectives made during math class. ¬†So yes, if by having things my way he meant, I always wanted A’s in life.. I would have to agree with that.

But I don’t think that’s what he meant, and 15 years later, when I think of it, it still bugs me that I don’t know what the fuck he was talking about.

A part of me wishes I could ask him so I can finally be at peace with it, and then I would tell him all the reasons why he got it all wrong (I volunteer at church! I help kids! ¬†One time when I was like, lets go hangout at this place and my friend was like.. no-I kind of want to go here…and I was totally okay with it and we did what she wanted to do!).

The other part of me is just like, It doesn’t matter.¬†Get over it Winter – it was 15 years ago.

In all seriousness, ¬†while I am dwelling on this now, I really rarely dwell on it at all;¬†it¬†only comes up when I FB stalk and come across his page ;). While I do get a little riled about it, I can’t help but wonder if there was any truth to what he said. i start thinking thoughts about how I see myself as a person, and whether or not my actions reflect my own self-perception. It could be that while I didn’t think I was that kid who wanted things their way all the time, he-who-is-unnamed perhaps saw me in instances where I was. Or maybe he just interpreted it all wrong. I don’t know.

What I do know, is that I have no control over what happened or how I was 15 years ago, and life happens and people change, so there is no use on dwelling on the past. ¬†I can only control my actions and who I am as a person now, which I hope portrays me as the awesome person I think I am. I get not everyone is going to think that, but that’s okay, because the people and friends that matter will.

Entry 8: Perspectives