Friendship Territory

So I took a 2 month hiatus from blogging. Sorry about that. Pressing forward.

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of going home for Thanksgiving. I love going home. My family is amazing, my dog is awesome, and the change of pace is comforting. About the only thing I don't like about home is the questions - which are particularly worse around the holidays because you have the fine pleasure of seeing all the extended family members that you haven't seen in years. And for a single girl around the holidays, the most dreaded question of all times is the "So when are you getting married?" question. Answer: "Well, since Brad ran out on me with Angelina and is busy compiling an army of children to take over the world, the wedding has been postponed...indefinitely." But seriously, it'll probably be after he realizes that she's a lesbian.


The good thing about living in a different city is it's six hours away from questions like these. The bad thing about living in a different city is it means a six hour drive back to Atlanta which usually turns into a 7 or 8 hour drive during the holidays. So I had some time to think about my single-status on the way home and figure out where I've been going wrong in the whole dating scheme.

And, truthfully, I've decided the root of the problem lies with a little something I like to call - Friendship Territory.

We've all met people that we think would be awesome to date; however, at the time, we're just not looking to "date" someone. We just want to be friends, hang out, chill, no strings. There's always plenty of time to date this person later. For now, we're just friends. So we settle into Friendship Territory and Friendship Territory is cool. It's a good territory - nice land, green grass, flowers, trees, and there's even a river and on the other side of that river lies Relationship Territory. So we reason with ourselves that, while we wait for that bridge to be built to Relationship Territory, we'll just build a fire, pull up a rock to sit on, and enjoy Friendship Territory.

Weeks pass - even months. You realize that you're going to be in Friendship territory a little longer than you thought you were, so you build a tepee. It's a temporary, nomadic dwelling. After all you're not planning on being in Friendship Territory forever, right?

Then, one day you step out of your tepee and you realize that there are other tepees. And all of sudden, you're chief of a tribe. You're out there hunting buffalo and sewing moccasins with the best of them and you have no idea how it happened. Heck, you've practically got your own reservation. While you've been waiting for the bridge to be built to Relationship territory, your tribe has been busy constructing a multi-million dollar casino. Suddenly, you have major responsibilities in Friendship territory (which has now been renamed to Best Friend territory) and all you can do is watch as some skinny blond hops a ferry and lands herself in Relationship territory which was supposed to be your Relationship territory. But, hey, it's cool because now you're best buds, one of the guys even, and you get to here every little detail about his new girlfriend. Awesome.

the invasion

There are few things that I actually enjoy watching on television these days -one of those things happens to be Monday Night Football. So last night, I came home from work/running in the anticipation of watching the Eagles and the Cowboys battle it out. I quickly showered, threw on some sweats, and grabbed an apple (not exactly game food, I know), and turned on the TV. I am clean. I am watching football. I am happy.


The happiness only lasted about 15 minutes, however, because I suddenly realized that there were ants crawling on me. (enter explicit of choice) I looked elsewhere on my couch and found more ants crawling about. (enter another explicit of choice) I immediately put my shoes on, grabbed my purse, and proceeded to my car. I fled to Wal-mart (disregarding various speed limit signs and traffic laws along the way), purchased Raid, and came back home.

I arrived at my apartment and found even more ants chilling on my sofa - some had suitcases, others an overnight bag. I had ants making dinner for themselves, 8 were taking showers, and the rest were playing "Spin the Bottle" on my coffee table. What the heck? It was like I was housing insect immigrants. I sprayed every inch of my apartment while talking to my mom on the phone.


Mom: (chhhhhh-spray sound) It sure sounds like you're spraying a lot. (chhhhhh)
Me: (chhhhhh) I am. (chhhhhh)
Mom: Do you (chhhhhh) think that's (chhhhhh) safe? (chhhhh)
Me: Sure it is. (chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh)
Mom: Umm.....I think you've (chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh) gotten them all...(chhhhhh) you should stop.
Me: Mom, they have suitcases. You don't understand. (chhhhhhhhhh)
Mom: ????


10 minutes later, the oxygen in my apartment has been completely replaced by toxic Raid chemicals, but it is also completely ant-free which makes me happy. I mean, I always wanted to have an ant-farm growing up, but I always pictured them more...contained. To conclude, I finished watching MNF in peace. The Cowboys ended up winning and I went to sleep breathing toxic chemicals that will hopefully have no adverse effects on any offspring I may produce in a few years. The end.

Pop Lock and Drop It

I love to dance. If I could start life over I would be a hip hop dancer - hands down. Don't get me wrong. I love my job, but if I could make a living contorting my body to different beats, my life would be set.

Sunday, I attended a hip hop/cardio dance class with Shannon. I had a blast, but I decided that I might be genetically challenged when it comes to choreographed dance. Popping and locking are not things that come naturally to me. The only "popping" I was doing was from my joints that were protesting fluid movement. And let's not even talk about rolling. Okay, let's. Rolling comes as naturally to me as voting for Britney Spears in a presidential election would. Needless to say, when it comes to my dreams of being a dancer, I come up a few stars short. But I always like challenges and, if something comes too easy, then where's the fun in that?

When it comes to dancing, I can Walk it Out and hold my own with the Two-Step. I may not ever be a professional dancer, but I enjoy getting a little crazy with a good beat. And you don't need lessons for that - just some great friends who are willing to do the same...and maybe a pole. ;P

Mighty to Save

If you're looking for a serious conversation, I'm usually not the person you want to talk to. Advice? No thanks, but I can offer you a sarcastic comment. With that said, this is going to be my attempt at seriousness. So bare with me...

I first heard the song "Mighty to Save" this summer while visiting camp Big Stuf with Shannon. In short, the song describes everyone's search for salvation and God's willingness and power to save us from our own devices. It's an awesome song that moves me everytime I hear it.

I was in Colorado this weekend traveling with my team. I've only been to CO once before with UK soccer and we didn't get much opportunity to look around. However, this time we had an entire day to tour the area which was nice. We travelled to the top of Pike's Peak and the view was absolutely amazing.

I couldn't help but be reminded of the song "Mighty to Save" because in the chorus it states, "My Savior, He can move the mountains. He is mighty to save." I had never realized how powerful those lines were until I was standing at the summit of Pike's Peak. A God who is powerful enough to speak mountains of that proportion into existence still finds time to run to us - the broken. It's overwhelming and unfathomable - much like grace.

After we left the summit, I came back to the hotel and began to look through the Bible for verses that referenced mountains. I noticed that, in scripture, a lot of pretty important things occurred on mountain tops. It was where the Ten Commandents were given to Moses, where David worshipped God, and where Jesus commissioned the 12 disciples - just to name a few. God gave some pretty bold directions to people at the pinnacles of the Earth, so next time you find yourself on top, have an open heart. Who knows what God's trying to tell you?

The Elephant in the Room

It's almost midnight and I'm laying in my bed staring at the ceiling. I usually enjoy laying in my bed because it means that I am about to fall asleep but not tonight. Tonight, I can't fall asleep because of my upstairs neighbors. Normally, I have no issues with my neighbors, but tonight they are being quite noisy. I am in no way going to confront them about this, but it does make me wonder what they're up to, so I will speculate...



-They accumulated 300lbs of excess body mass over the past 24 hours and are simply walking around upstairs.



-They invited a local high school track team to practice the 400m relay in their apartment.



-They inherited a pet elephant.



-Instead of Bingo, they decided to play "If you can dodge a wrench, you can dodge a ball"



-They've strapped anvils on their limbs for fear that Newton's 2nd law was wrong and gravity doesn't actually exist.



-Leap frog



-Midget tossing



-Roller-derby



-Constructing a replica of the Great Wall of China



-Maybe pogo stick acrobatics has recently become an Olympic sport (unbeknownst to me) and they're training for London 2012. In that case, sorry for complaining. Go Team USA.

An overview

Have you ever had the feeling that where you are in life right now is where you're supposed to be? I've been having that feeling a lot lately.

If I ever had doubts about moving to Atlanta, they've been disspelled over the past few weeks. My job is incredible. The days can be exhausting, but my teams and coworkers are fun to be around. Most days I don't have to be at work until 1pm which is amazing. For those that don't know, I am not a morning person and, if you ever have the fine pleasure of seeing me before 9am, don't be offended if I just nod instead of exchanging socially acceptable greetings. My work days are filled with rehabs, volleyball practices, avoiding the flirtatious freshmen tennis guys, joking around with Pitts our strength coach, and then there's my favorite "quickie" everyday. I'll just let you wonder what I mean by that.

And speaking of interesting things, let's not forget the weekends, which are usually comprised of spontaneous events and sleep deprivation. I could be in the middle of Lake Allatoona amongst a make-shift redneck yacht club (which is probably the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon), watching the best-worst made for TV film ever (Catagory 7), hanging out at the top of the Westin drinking "koolaid", touring the ghetto, listening to bands in a shady bar (another favorite), hanging out with magicians and friends that eat fire, or eating with Shannon at a Chinese/Thai/Mongolian/Japanese/Sushi bar (I promise it's an acutal restuarant). I don't bother making plans anymore. What's the point? Things always seem to fall into place.

To summarize, life's pretty random right now which also makes it pretty fantastic. :)

The Break Up

Dear Sleep,

I feel that, since moving to Atlanta our relationship has changed somewhat and that we need to talk about it. I realize that we have not been spending much time together lately and for that I'm truly sorry. We used to spend every Sunday afternoon together. Now, we barely see each other and, when we do, it's only for a short period of time. I know it may not be the same for you, but being away from you only makes me appreciate our time together more. Work has been consuming much of my time. And, when I'm not at work, I like to hang out with my friends - no offense.

Now, I'm not saying you're boring, but we've been dating for years. And well, things just get old sometimes. We always hook up in the same places - my bed, the couch, the floor, sometimes other peoples' cars. I need something more (though there was that one time at work...). You never go with me to the mall or the local pub. I can't take you to dinner with my friends. Sometimes you go to church with me or to the movies. But, let's face it, our relationship isn't as intimate as it used to be. I think we just need to be friends.

And let's be honest, I know you've been seeing other people. I hear people talking about you all the time. "Oh I need Sleep" and "I had the best sleep last night." I'm no fool. I think it's best if we just dated other people. No hard feelings. I hope we can still be friends.

Love,
me

PS: Tell your cousin, Dreams, to leave me alone. He confuses the hell out of me.

Baby Face

So I've been living in the Atlanta-area for approximately a week and it's been great. I love the city, being near Shannon, new friends, my coworkers - bottomline this place is a perfect fit. I've had some fun times already (which I'll write about later), but one thing that's bothered me is that a lot of people that I run into think that, when I say "I just graduated," it means "I just graduated from high school." Most people, especially women, desire to look young, and this is all well and good when you're 30, 40, 50, etc. However, I'd just like to look my age. But I've decided that I'm not going to complain about it and, instead, embrace my baby-face. So I've compiled a list of the reasons why looking young is a good thing:

-No one shoots you an odd look when you order a Happy Meal at McDonalds.

- If you piss another driver off on the interstate, you automatically get a pardon because they think you're "new to this."

-No need for botox injections when you're older.

-Getting carded at rated-R movies is not cool, but neither is paying full price for a movie ticket these days. I'll take the kid's discount rate, please. :)

-People always compliment you for being "mature for your age."

-If you tell people that you have a master's degree, they automatically assume you're a child prodigy.

-You always get free access to the crayons and coloring book when waiting at certain restaurants.

-Free lollipops at the bank drive-thru.

-And finally, No one asks questions if they catch you playing in the ball pit at Chucky Cheese's. Actually, the only question they do ask is, "I wonder if that young girl knows my kid just peed in there."

My friend D

My friend, D, is an enigma. I've told him this before. I've known D for 5 years now and, truthfully, I really don't know much about him. He's the type of person that you can talk to for hours. However, after you hang up the phone, you realize that you don't know anything more about him than you did a few hours ago. He can talk all day without revealing anything about himself. I find this quality admirable and entirely frustrating. But, I've told him this before.

D is my "looks good on paper friend." I've told him this before. D's a Christian. He's successful, single, athletic, and attractive. He's the guy your parents love and every old woman has a crush on. He's the prototype guy that most southern girls grow up picturing themselves marrying. My friend, Shannon, and I have, jokingly, made it our personal mission to see to it that D marries one of us. He won't. The reasons are beyond ridiculous. But, I've told him this before.

D is quirky. He hates restaurants like Applebees and Chilis, but will argue over 88 cents at the local Bojangles. He doesn't curse or say the word 'retard,' but has no problems using "ho" as a nickname. He likes dogs, but he's allergic to them. He'll buy a $17 bottle of maple syrup just to see if it tastes different than the $3.49 bottle. He corrects people's grammar, but occassionally uses "ya'll" in a sentence. He likes ketchup, but hates tomatoes. He insists on marrying the perfect girl, but will tell you that the only perfect girl he's ever met is married. He's the guy that's frustrating to talk to, but you still find yourself calling him at least every other week. He's the crossword puzzle in the daily paper. You think, "Today I'll figure it out." But tomorrow, you're still looking for the answers. He's the guy you'll never marry and you'll always wonder why.

He's an engima. But I've told him this before.

Lions and tigers and mullets, oh my...

I grew up in a rural, North Carolina town. I don't live there now, but most of my family still does. It's a quiet place where time slows down once you hit the county line. It's where, literally, you know everyone. And, if you don't, then you know their dad or brother or cousin or step-half sister...Bottom line: every one's connected.

I always love to go home. There's something quaint, almost picturesque, about a small town. There are charming characteristics such as the old school house and the azaleas that line Main street. Even the free local gossip at the auto shop while you wait for an oil change has a certain charm to it.

But even with these small treasures, there are parts of my tiny town that unnerve me. One particular topic comes to my mind as I encountered it in the local grocery store this evening. It is - what I consider - the greatest hair faux pas of all times - the mullet. In case you are one of the 4 Americans that is unaware of what a mullet is, I have posted the ever-accurate Wikipedia definition below:

"A Mullet is a hairstyle that is short in the front, top, and sides, but long in the back"

It is important to note, that the mullet, though popular in the late 1980's and early 1990's, has all but become extinct in present day. Now, since we're all on the same page, I will continue. As a sauntered into the grocery store tonight, I was appalled to find myself amongst a sea of mullets. There were a total of 7 mullets in the store. Mind you, there were maybe 13 people total shopping. So, as you can see, I was in the minority. There were mullets of a variety of lengths and colors - some long with gray hair, some shorter with bright red hair. The mullet preyed on both the young and the old, the male and the female. It was unbias in it's torment of these individuals' craniums. Now, I wouldn't consider myself high-fashion in any manner, but I do know that the mullet has long been banned from normal society. I realize my small town operates on a slower pace than most of the U.S.; however, there has to be some social hint that can be given to these mulletteers. Maybe not so much a hint, as a social slap in the face? As a non-mulletteer, I feel that it is partially my duty to deliver the blow, but let's get real. The most I'm ever going to do is write this blog, so that I feel, in some way, I did my duty without actual physical confrontation. So, I propose that towns pass an ordinance to ban the mullet - small towns, in particular, as this seems to be the environment that the mullet thrives. Though this may seem harsh, I feel that a mullet-free town would be more aesthetically-pleasing which in turn would promote new businesses, create more jobs, and encourage economical growth. I'm sure if I thought about it long enough, I could figure out how a mullet-free society could end world hunger too, but that's another blog in itself.