Why I Hate the Dating Game

So here comes- another estrogen-driven rant on dating, so please consider yourself warned.

So I hate dating. I hate that there are rules and guidelines that everyone is just suppose to magically know and even though these rules seem to change every few years everyone is just suppose to secretly keep up with said adjustments and clandestinely figure out the appropriate way to sell ourselves to the opposite gender in a way that is both memorable and adorable while still being, at least on some level, genuine (as one who constantly has a hard time keeping up with the secret dating rules, I cannot tell you what level of genuine is considered appropriate, but my guess would be somewhere around 72% from what I have seen). All this is just to even begin dating, never mind the procedural processes and ending etiquette.

I hate stupid sayings like "be yourself, but make sure it's your best self" like I have a closet of selves that I can pull my Sunday best out of instead of just being me all the time. "You marry who you date" is another one--I don't date very much, and I don't marry anyone. Or, "beauty is only skin deep" paired with "you are beautiful inside and out". Granted, having gone through a cadaver lab I definitely see the beauty in muscle and sinew and organs but I somehow don't think that is what people are talking about here. The real question is, then, why all the anatomy analogies?

I hate trying to guess what I should do next, who I should smile at and when I should not smile, when it's alright to giggle and when someone is being completely sappily serious and giggling not only hurts feelings but burns bridges as well. Come to that, I hate being sappy and serious anyway, and I'm not crazy about bridges or fire either. I hate not knowing if someone likes me or not. I know that is stupid and juvenile and middle school, but there you go. More than the perpetual singledom it's the uncertainty that really drives me crazy. What if he doesn't like me, or even more scary, what if he does? And if he stinking does, why doesn't he ask me out?

I like my rules--they may not be right, but they are simple and easy to understand.
IF he likes you, he will ask you out for at least 2 dates--otherwise don't waste time what-if-ing about anything.
IF dating someone feels hard and awkward and you don't really feel like you can talk to them after said 2-3 dates, it's probably not worth it. Don't waste each others' time.
IF you are in the same ward, think twice--peeing in your own pool makes everything more complicated.
IF you are friends first, things tend to work better.
And most importantly: IF you are unhappy being single, you will probably be unhappy in a relationship. Just be happy and date other happy people. That is all.

Great rules right? Why can't I make the rules? I need to have a serious discussion with the secret dating rules creation committee and submit some very reasonable revisions to their complicated mess. My sayings would be things like- "if you don't ask me out I'll never know if you like me" or "the friend-zone is actually a fun place full of... friends!" or "a smile and a hello is not the same thing as 'I think you are the one' " or my personal favorite, "just say what you stinking mean, dang it."

My Irrational Fears, aka This may be ridiculous but...

Cause sometimes it just feels better to release irrational fears into the universe:


I will never ever pay off my loans. Like the widow of Zarephath whose oil never ran out no matter how much she burned, my debt will build and build no matter how much extra I pay off each month.

Toy Story is based on some level of truth and my dolls and toys all feel  abandoned and misused because I never wrote my name on permanent marker on any of them.

I will be single until I'm at least sixty seven, and then if I try and have kids at that point they will come out all shriveled and wrinkled, and I will be dead before the kid graduates college.

I will be sick forever. I won't ever ever get over this cold. I will be coughing up pink and purple phlegm until I die.

A spider will come and lay eggs in my ear while I sleep while I'm camping. I believe this one so thoroughly that I often sleep with my covers over my head whenever I camp.

I am going to make a stupid mistake at work someday and be sued and never be able to practice PT again.

The Arizona water is so bad that I might get a parasite someday from drinking it.

My parents only tell me they are proud of me because they know about my fragile self-esteem and that I need their approval.

I will never learn how to cook and my kids will have to grow up on coconut covered red-wine vinager and raspberry jam baby carrots.

I am actually exceptionally stinky and ugly and everyone knows it except for me. Maybe that's why I will be single until I'm 67...

My personal 10 commandments of health

What I have learned from my recent health issues (whether I can follow them or not, these are my new goals):

1. Eat more- because eating is heavenly, and your body doesn't do so well without food
2. Stress less- because there are things I can change, and things I can't and stressing doesn't change either type
3. Live in the moment- because the next moment will come whether you enjoy this one or not
4. Smile- it really does make you and those around you feel better.
5. Eat dark chocolate- because it's delicious, and everyone needs a little bit of sweet darkness in their lives
6. Learn to accept the help of others- because sometimes it's too hard to do everything on your own
7. Sleep at night- because if you don't you will find yourself sleeping other times, and that can cause problems
8. Read your scriptures first- cause otherwise you might not make time, and it's a great way to wake up
9. If you're body is doing something because you're too stressed out, don't stress about your body doing it cause that just makes whatever it's doing that much worse. I'm sad to say a doctor had to tell me that one.
10. It's alright to take a sick day! Sometimes your body needs you more than everyone else.
11. And one to grow on- sometimes "me time" is some of the most important time of your week. Take it!

The one that runs away

The weight in your sigh aches my shoulders.
The plea in your eyes stings mine.

And beneath the fear and frustration
under the why-not's and the how-come's
shackled forever to the what-if's

My forever is shackled.

And forever, the why's are not,
and the hows won't come,
and I'm frustrated about the ifs.

The blame in your shrug flogs my  reason.
The tension in your fingers burns mine.

But I smothered your hopes and my own--
I watched them wriggle and whine and wail
Plea and prostrate and protest,

until all was still.

And still, my protests plea,
and my wails wriggle,
and my wine prostrates.

Until my shoulders are sore.

Living by equation

I like to think of myself as a scientist. I love logic and neatly tied up ends and organized, non-nonsensical flow. That is exactly why I went into the medical field instead of politics or teaching--there are variables no matter what field you work in, but muscles and bones and nerves have variables that are more predictable and tractable than emotions or economic trends or whatever else everyone else deals with in their given professions.

Still, some things should not be governed by formulaic logic. A sunset, for example, has most of it's beauty because of it's uniqueness. The amount of dust in the air, the angle from which you see it, the cloud coverage, even the temperature in the air combine for a symphony of variables that create a breathtakingly original experience every single time. Try and analyze it too hard, fit it into a procedural formula full of logic and equations the magic is lost. Some things just have to happen without over-thinking them.

But what do you do when you find your emotions calculated out by carefully measured equations? Living by formula, if you will. What if you turn around and realize that you are smiling and dancing and laughing on cue instead of because you want to? How do I de-structure what feels like a contrived facade into something genuine and natural? and how much of it really is scripted and how much is natural? When I was a little girl I use to imagine that God must be unbelievably busy writing scripts for everyone, and wonder what was in my own script--what unexpected new characters, changes of scenery, or irony would present itself? Maybe living by script doesn't have to be a bad thing at least for now when my skills lack spontaneity and charm.

And really, I do like equations. They are clean. They are predictable and familiar. Combine x and y in a specific formulaic relationship and you will always be able to eventually come up with z. Always. I suppose, then, even the formula has an element of mystery and art--I will simply have to wait until I see what z really is to know for sure.

Not Home for Christmas

Two years ago in school they told us to enjoy our Christmas breaks cause once we were done with school they would become something we will miss. Now that I am here in Arizona and not home in Texas I am trying to re-define the definition of "home" into a term that feels right. This time last year I was home with everyone which turned out to be a little more complicated than we had anticipated but still wonderful. "Home forChristmas" pulls up images of a delightfully ecliptic tree covered in 28 years of mismatched ornaments, Parker Square decked out in lights and a giant 3.5 story tree, the driveway lined with a string of mostly intact not-yet-run-over lights, constant bickering over whose turn it was to play on the piano, Muppet's Christmas Carol, and 8 of my most favorite people on the planet gathered around the fireplace laughing at something simple and ridiculous.

Still, if I'm being strictly honest I have to say that Texas is no longer home in the strictest sense of the word, namely, that I don't live there and I probably won't be living there for at the very least a few years. I also can't say my entire family is there as I have so much extended family here, plus several siblings and a nephew in Utah. But until Arizona feels like Texas use to, I will continue to be a Texan. This means that at least this year I will have a wonderful and magical Christmas with all kinds of family members here in the world of decorated cacti, but I will not be home for Christmas.

I use to think that being away for the holidays would make me hopelessly homesick and lonely, and as I call home and talk to my sisters and brother and parents and hear the sounds of home filtering through the line I have to admit I do feel nostalgic and more than a little envious, but really, I am alright. I am surrounded by people who I love and who love me. I am busy with work and church and the delight that comes with being alive in this amazing world. I'm not home for Christmas but I'm happy and healthy and excited to spend Christmas here where I am. I may be home for Christmas in my dreams, but in reality I am here, and it is a pretty good gig too.

For unto us comes good tidings of great joy--Christ was born. He really came. How amazing is it that through the power of perfect love and obedience Jesus Christ was able save all of creation that would accept his matchless gift? The battle against sin and evil must have been as good as won as soon as he was born for the heavens to pour out and celebrate the victory of all of salvation. I'd like to think that on that night when the shepherds suddenly overwhelmed by numerous concourses of angles that the gates of heaven somehow could not hold back the joy and anticipation and triumph that ruled the pre-mortal realm that day. How amazing is it that a loving God would grant such a present as his own Son on that first of all Christmases to someone so weak and faulty as me? The promise of the whole human race was held in young Mary's arms that night as she too spent that first Christmas far from home. It truly is wonderful that He should die for me and you and all of us. Merry Christmas. No matter where you spend it, what an amazing holiday to celebrate the most amazing of all gifts ever given to anyone anywhere.

Yay for bodies!

I have been blessed with a body. Sure I have frizzy hair that has a frightening resemblance to a dishwater-colored bush, skin that somehow manages to be both oily and dry, short stubby legs, a rather unfortunate mole right on my chin, scrawny stick arms, and hind-quarters that are awkwardly out of proportion to the rest of my body, but still I am grateful for my body. I love the way it moves--the perfect symmetry of ambulation, the glide of tendons and skin over swollen knuckles, and the continuous swell and deflation of lungs 8 to 20 times per minute of every day. I love the tension of a stretch and the ache of a workout. I love the freedom to get from one place to another without setup or facilitation, the confidence of balance and stability that I don't have to even think about. I love the feeling of the world passing on either side as I run or swim or dance or walk or skip or spin toward my future. The healthy human heart pumps nearly 700,000 gallons of blood per year, the average kidney filters 45 gallons a day, the average 80 year old has walked a total of 108,131 miles--that's equal to walking around the equator 4.3 times. Those are amazing numbers! The human body really is an amazing gift and while I don't always treasure or even appreciate mine, I am certainly grateful for it. 

I work every day with people whose bodies don't work quite like mine. They don't have the ability to pump 700,000 gallons of blood a year or walk with symmetry and safety, they lack the freedom to move their body smoothly and easily from one place to another and often lack the confidence to try. I work with people in constant pain and with limited abilities, people who have to work much harder and still have less success to do the same things I do. When surrounded by a background like this how can I be anything but grateful and awed by God's gift of a mortal body and even more grateful for the impending resurrection when we will all walk and move and succeed together? I think too, as part of being grateful and as part of being cautions that I can maintain my freedom, symmetry, and safety I will continue to move--to dance and play and work and run and smile and stretch and contract. I want to get every one of my 108,131 miles in after all.