Ode to a dead friendship

As my dad likes to say, I need to park it. As in, I need to write down what I need to say so that I can park it and move on. So hopefully after this, I will be able to move on.

I apologize in advance for any and all bad language I will most likely use... to those of you with somewhat sensitive ears (or rather eyes) to such language. Sorry.

I went to my all-class high school reunion this past weekend. I wasn't going to go. I didn't have the best high school experience. But my sister and her good friend were going, and they persisted in nagging me, and I finally gave in to their pressure. I was actually having a good time. I got my picture taken with Crazy George. I meet up with former soccer team mates and they remembered me (I didn't have the best of experiences on that team-but they were genuine in their excitement to see me. That was nice.). I went over to see if I knew anyone from my class, and low and behold, I remembered people, and they remembered me. All was well. Towards the end of the day I saw that my high school through age 30 best friend came (I knew her older sister was going to be there). She was a year ahead of me, so she wasn't sitting all that far away. So I kept looking back over to where she was sitting. She was chatting away with some of her classmates. It was getting toward the end, so I mustered up the courage, got up, and walked over to where she was and simply said, "Hey, I just wanted to say hi." That was it. That's all I said to her. She... said nothing. She didn't even acknowledge me. Not even a head nod. She looked at me, and then turned back to her friend and kept talking. Thankfully, one of the people who she was talking to also knew me (We went to Germany together on the exchange program) started talking to me, so that I wouldn't be left standing there awkwardly in silence as my spirit crumpled into a tiny paper ball thrown into a fire and burned to death. So thank you high school German exchange program friend! You are super duper awesome! Seriously. You are a goddamn HERO!!!!!

Now, why did my former best friend ignore me? That is a very good question. I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA!

A little back story: I've known this person since I was one year old. ONE. My family moved to San Jose just after my first birthday. This person, who was two at the time, was in the same church nursery as me. Now of course I didn't really become a sentient being until maybe age 6. She came to all my birthday parties. I went to all of hers. I ate all her Grammy's amazing cooking when she came to visit. She played all our video games when we got an Attari and then the 8-bit Nintendo systems. She would play with my cats and I would marvel at her goldfish. We never went to the same schools until high school. She saved my awkward ass in high school. She invited me to sit with her and her friends at break and lunch so I wouldn't be alone. She encouraged me to try-out for the swim team and the softball team. I got to swim and play ball with her. It was awesome. She got me into the science club. Even the chess club. However, I just watched her play. Chess was not for me. I only liked playing battle chess on the computer because I liked watching the pieces beat the crap out of each other. And I always lost (even on the super easy "you're an idiot" level). She then went away to college, and I came and visited her. I did my college thing. When I came home from college, it was like no time had passed. We were best friends. She got married. We still hung out. Got coffee. Saw movies. Cooked food. Baked pies. Talk for hours. We even went to Graduate School together. She in Chemistry, and me in Anthropology. We would meet up on campus for lunch. And then she got a divorce. It turned ugly. She stayed at my house sometimes. I went with her to court dates. Helped her move out. She got a cute little apartment just a mile from me! And we'd go get pumpkin spice latte's at Starbucks and eat at Happy House. And then, my sister and I bought our first house.

–and then whatever it was that was so horrible happened–

All communication just stopped. No more phone calls. I sent her birthday cards. I got nothing back. And then I got blocked on Facebook. She fucking blocked me! I don't know what I did. All I can think of is that I moved 30 minutes away. Well, she was 30 minutes away when she was living with her stupid ex-husband, and I still drove it to see her! Maybe her stupid ex-husband told her something about me and she believed him? She's smarter than that.

I can say all this because she blocked me on Facebook, so she'll never see this post. Whatever it was that I did that was so horrible, she never told her family because I'm still Facebook friends with all of them. I would have loved to have talked with her sister at the reunion but when I say her, she was with the former best friend who refused to acknowledge me but the sister did light up when she saw me and we waved to each other very bigly. So I guess that was nice.

I would have been fine if she had told me 10 years ago (when all communication stopped), "hey, I don't want to be friends anymore." I would have been sad and confused. But I would have accepted it. I wouldn't be sitting here 10 years on now wracking my brain for the smallest of memories of what I may have done.

You know what really pisses me off? She never even said a thing when my mom died. Nothing. Not a single thing! Well FUCK YOU! We've known each other for almost 40 years now, the least you could have done was unblock me for five fucking seconds and wrote "Sorry your mom died" and then reblock me. It's not that hard. Co-workers who I didn't even get along with showed more sympathy than you did. Facebook friends I've never met in real life showed more feelings than you. At least her parents sent a sympathy card. It came really late, but at least they sent something. Asshole.

Now I'm the kind of person who is a people pleaser. I HATE conflict. I avoid it. So I almost always bend over backward for other people. I'm also an emotional person. I mull over everything. If you read the previous post you got a glimpse into what happens in my head. I don't have many friends. So when the one friend, the one I leaned on, the one who I shared my most personal things with, just up and walks out of my life without a word? How do you think I took that? Not bloodly well, obviously. Ten years on, and here we are. I'm still confused. I'm still angry. Her snubbing me at the reunion in front of her friends was such a blow. I would have felt better if she'd had just punched me in the face.

I know that it isn't my fault. But because of the way I am, and how my brain works, I keep trying to find what I did wrong. But it wasn't me. I didn't do anything wrong. Our non-friendship is not my fault. But I still blame myself. I couldn't just let it go. I need to just accept that I will never know the reason why she walked out on me. Perhaps now, after what transpired at the reunion, I can finally just let her go and move on. She obviously has.

conundrum

While I couldn't sleep the other night, waiting for the weird bout of heartburn to go away (apparently had too much milk, the horror!) I decided to read some of the posts i'd written that had the most page views. I was trying to figure out what I say in those that I don't say in the others and why they get more views than most of the others. I have some theories, but that isn't what this is about. I also re-read the post I had written 2 months ago and pulled off the blog and sent back to the "draft" box because I was scared it was too personal or revealing. I've decided it's a good post, and would possibly fall under "would get more views than others" category. Still debating, may remain in "draft" forever.

When I originally wrote it, I thought I'd send it to someone first and get their opinion before posting it. I thought that again the other night when I re-read it. Then I thought about who I would send it to. Then it really hit me, there isn't anyone.

I have only a handful of friends. And when I say a handful I really mean it. I can count them on one hand. I have a lot of acquaintances that I am friendly with but don't hang out with them, or share friendshipy things with them. And even the handful of people I consider my friends don't know the inner workings of my nuts-o brain... not really.

Then I felt sad that my handful of friends don't really know me. Friendship is a two way street. I don't share with them the inner workings of my nuts-o brain and they don't share theirs with me. So I don't really know them either. Then I was really sad. But I got over it.

Does anyone really know anybody? Really? Isn't that the fun part? Constantly learning new things about each other? Getting to say, "I didn't know that" and "I had no idea" or in some cases, "holy crap, really?"

The other thing I realized about my handful of friends is that I think all of them are extroverts whom I see as having a crapload of friends besides myself. Me: extreme introvert to the point of being a hermit. Them: extroverts with crazy busy social lives and calenders packed full of people and dinner parties.

I love my extroverted friends. I don't see them very often. Some, it's been years. But when I do see them, they tend to bring the snarky side of me out, and I tend to shock them with what comes out of my mouth. It's fun.

Single and Proud

I know it’s been done before on countless blogs, but I haven’t done it on this one and have you read all those other countless blogs? I don’t think so. Since the overly hyped and stupid holiday called Valentine’s Day is approaching, I thought it would be a good time to write about how kick-ass it is to be single. I’ve been single for a long time. A very long time. And that is not likely to change any time soon. And I’m okay with that.

So, why being single is kick-ass (in no particular order):

1.) Don’t have to hold in farts, burps, or random tummy noises or explain/apologize for doing them (especially the really smelly ones).
2.) The bed is all mine ( I can sleep diagonally if I want to).
3.) Don’t have to groom/pluck/tweeze/wax/shave body hair.
4.) Can ogle/drool/fantasize over pretty people and not feel guilty or dirty.
5.) Don’t have to dress up or go to boring dinner parties where I know absolutely no one.
6.) Can drink a beer... in the shower (have you ever done that? It’s awesome).
7.) Don’t have to explain to anyone, where I have been and with whom I was doing it with.
8.) Can read a dirty cover romance novel and not hide it.
9.) Can watch TV in my room at 2am with the sound up.
10.) I can up and leave whenever I want, and for any length of time.
11.) Vacations are cheaper (only paying for one).
12.) Don’t have to buy shit for another person on Valentine’s Day, Anniversaries, Birthday’s, Christmas, etc.
13.) Don’t have to play nice with in-laws or friends.
14.) Don’t have to explain my love of action/fantasy B movies.
15.) I don’t have to share...anything.
16.) Can kiss whomever I want on New Years... or no one at all.
17.) Can have as many cats as I want.
18.) I can be as girly as I want or as masculine as I want, whenever I want.
19.) I don’t have to stop any of my ticks or habits that others find annoying.
20.) I can leave my dirty underwear on the floor (not that I usually do, but I can if I want).
21.) I can eat crackers in bed... and I have... with cheese of course.
22.) I can cry freely at a Hallmark commercial.
23.) I can be as lazy and disgusting as I want... until my OCD kicks in.
24.) Can watch a Dr Who or Too Cute marathon all weekend.


By being single I have learned to do many things on my own. I am fiercely independent, perhaps to a fault. I can and have enjoyed going to the movies by myself. Eating at a restaurant, party of one. Travel to distant lands by myself. I love walking into a hotel room and seeing a king sized bed all for me. There is a freedom to being single, and I’m not sure I ever want to give that up. Do I ever feel lonely? Sure. But you can be surrounded by people who love you and still feel lonely. Having a significant other doesn’t change those feelings all the time. I’m not like The Doctor. I don’t need a companion to keep me sane. I am my own companion. And thankfully, February 14th is just another normal Thursday for me.

the tangent of my tangent, say wha?

I have been contemplating on whether or not I should write a sort of Christmas Letter blog post or not and how or what themes I should be making this blog as a whole. I had mentioned before that it all started as a way to explain and let my family and friends experience my life as a working archaeologist. However, I am not a working archaeologist anymore, and haven’t been for almost two years now. That part of my life seems to be over now. So the blog seems to be more of a general, “this is my life now” sort of deal. Which is fine. Nothing wrong with that. But I wonder if it is interesting anymore for the few readers I have, and for myself. I feel a sense of obligation to keep writing. I’ve talked with my dad about this often when he says, “I wonder about starting my own blog”. I have plenty to say. Blog ideas pop into my head all the time, I just don’t write them all down. Writing is tedious. There is a reason why I have never written a novel. I have an entire bookshelf of my own work in my head. And it will most likely remain there. I can’t seem to take the time to write it all out. It is all so visual in my head, that taking the time to write out in text what I see visually is just not appealing.

Random tangent there, if there ever was one. I am also thinking about when I should start up the webpage, blog, twitter, facebook, social media spew for my shop. Part of my marketing will rely heavily on social media. I was planning on starting a blog for the shop. Starting with the acquisition of the loans and investments, and all the preparations. Giving people “the story” as it happens. The highs and lows, struggles and victories up to the opening. The adventures we are going to have in retrofitting, remodeling, finding the perfect gems of fixtures and equipment. And then continuing on with the adventures of recipe building and the day to day running of a quirky little shop. All through the eyes of the fictional Jack, of Jack Diddly Squat.

Once that happens, will I still find the time to write here? I don’t know. It’s not like I have 100’s or 1000’s of readers. I have maybe 30 on a good post. Leaving this blog behind will not be devastating on anyone. The world will not end because of it. I don’t have that kind of power.

Everyone seems to reflect this time of year, myself included, obviously. This certainly isn’t how I saw my life turning out way back when I thought about what I wanted to do/be growing up. I never thought I’d become an archaeologist. And I certainly never thought I’d become an entrepreneur... in progress. I never thought I’d have an advanced degree, or that it would take 9 years of college education to get it. I never thought I would live here in Gilroy... and like it. I never thought I’d live with my parents as long as I did or that living with my sister would be an option.

I always thought I’d be married by now. I can’t remember now if I wanted kids when I dreamed about my future as a child. I don’t want them now. A partner - yes, kids - no. Could someone change my mind - possibly, but highly doubtful. I have no desire whatsoever to experience pregnancy, childbirth, nursing, or the responsibilities of parenthood. I don’t feel the need to “carry on my line”, my siblings have done that for me. Would it be fun to have a little “mini me” running around? Sure, but that is also one of the scariest things, ever! I have nephews. That is enough for me. I just have to hope now, that when I become old and certifiably crazy, that one of them will take me in. There are four of you, you can draw straws.

Yet another crazy tangent. This entire post is a tangent of a tangent. Ponder that for a while.

Just Peachy

My latest posts haven’t been all that fun or silly and I have been wanting to lighten the mood a bit, so I think we will get in the TARDIS and go to 1985, only not with Michael J. Fox, but with me and Peachy.

This is me and Peachy when we first got her. I’m 7, almost 8 and Peachy is about 3 months.

My mom found an ad in the paper for kittens. We were suppose to only get a kitten for me, but when we got there, there was another one. Peachy’s brother, Bud. So needless to say, I got Peachy and mom got Bud. I don’t exactly remember what happened to Bud. He may have run away or he died mysteriously, but he didn’t stay long with us. One thing I remember about Bud was his nasty smelling farts. They were so bad that even he would leave the room. But Peachy... well, she was... interesting. While she was still a young little fluffy kitten, she decided to climb up the ironing board that was standing up in the garage. It fell over, and she with it. She hit the concrete floor so hard she got a concussion. She couldn’t walk straight for two days afterward. And ever since then, she was never the same. I can only conclude that it was not just a simple concussion but brain damage as well. She would drool when you pet her. She would suck on your toes. Really! She never really grew out of her kitten phase in that she would knead (I know normal cats do this too) but she wouldn’t just knead, she tried to nurse, hence the sucking on your toes thing. She was sort of slow, I wouldn’t say stupid, but she was kind of like Forest Gump, only in cat form. She also became allergic to herself (her own fur). She would scratch herself so much that her fur would come out. We had to take her to the vet every year for shots so she wouldn’t do that. She also sneezed all the time. Which I also associate with her being allergic to herself.

She had so many things going against her. But she was such a loving cat. She was beautiful. And I think she had a pretty good life. I would get frustrated with her at times because I didn’t want to have wet spots all over my clothes from the drool and get sneezed on or have my toes sucked on, and I would push her away. But she always came back and I always gave her some loving.

I eventually had to make that hard decision in High School. She had gone into kidney failure and she was suffering. The Veterinarian asked if I wanted to see her before she gave her the last shot of her life. I said no. I couldn’t do it. It is one thing I regret. I didn’t say goodbye to her. I cried all the way home. I buried her up on the bank in the backyard where I thought she would like to be. As far as I know, she is still there. We had quite the pet cemetery back there. Mostly cats, a dog, many hamsters, a bird or two, and a rattlesnake. It wasn’t a pet and I dug him back up because my nephew wanted to see it and have the bones.

I have to say that every cat that I have had over the span of my life to date, has been weird in one way or another. We have had cats for as long as I can remember. There has almost always been at least one cat in our household. I have never had a “normal” cat. Pumpkin got run over in front of our house by our neighbor ( dad saved the day on that one, I never saw her), Turtle had half a tail and I still have scars on my chest from her. She came back from the vet after getting “fixed” a changed kitty. Tosca loved classical music, but started spraying like boy cats. Dot was so special, she was so friendly she spent time in the neighbors houses. She got shot by a BB gun. :( I’ve blogged about Jack here, I even made him a facebook fan page because he had human and feline friends that would come visit him. I now have a cat named Quirk, and he is quite quirky. He lives with my parents. But he too is... different. Here is a pic of Quirk.

There comes a time…

When you just have to suck it up and make change happen.

Apparently to some, my latest posts have been a bit dreary. I will try to be a bit more… peppy and enthusiastic. And so to start it off: new favorite not really a swear word is… lint licker! Almost as good as hotard. So I guess my imaginary badass kiwi boyfriend isn’t going to spontaneously materialize in front of me. No “poof” there he is. Quite frankly, why would anyone from that little island country want to live in Gilroy? There are hardly any sheep, if any to keep you comfy at all, and it stinks of garlic and manure. I’m putting this part of my life on the back shelf for now and will concentrate on other things. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to do with him anyway.

I put my mii character into the wii fit. It told me I’m overweight, and should weigh 17 pounds less than I do now. Um, yeah. I’m 5’3” and built like a rugby player. I understand that I should loose about 10 pounds, which for me is a healthy fit weight. But 17? I did weigh that once… in college when I had mono and couldn’t eat for three weeks. Unless you really want to see a jaundiced sunken-eyed freak, it ain’t going to happen. That whole height/weight ratio thing just doesn’t work on me, it never has. The body/mass index is antiquated at best. But I guess it is still used because it is an easy calculation. Lord knows, I don’t do math well. The majority of people in this world do not look like Barbie. Actually she would most likely have severe back problems due to her, uh, top-heavy-ness. Or those scary supermodels that look like they just walked out of Auschwitz and beaten by their boyfriends. *shudders*

Because it is winter and I don’t get home till after the sun goes down, I’ve been occupying my time at home by reading a book called Living Abroad in New Zealand. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere unfortunately. Ironic that I choose to learn about the country only after I have returned home. It is quite interesting though. I’ve learned that it would be a very difficult process for me, if I ever did try to immigrate. I would need an actual legitimate reason for one, and I don’t have one. They use a point system to even review your application. I would have a pretty darn good score there because I have two degrees and am under 55 years of age. The only thing is, I don’t have the income. Even with these two degrees and being in a supervisory position at work (and sometimes I even have minions), I am still just at the poverty line. Because I live in California, I think I am actually under the line, but don’t quote me on that. Of course if I lived elsewhere in the U.S., it would be the same situation because my pay would be modified to the standard of living of whatever state I’d move to. And remember in an earlier post here I said that NZ pays their archaeologists better? Well, I lied. Sorry. I typed in my salary to a currency converter today, and it turns out that I’m right at the same pay scale.

I’ve also picked out a new paint color for my room. I’ve decided that it is too dark and depressing in there, so I will lighten things up a bit. Perhaps that will help. And I have hardly turned on the TV since I got back from vacation. I have no real desire to watch anything. And I quit Netflix. I had a dvd sitting here for three weeks, never watched. So why pay for something you aren’t using. We still don’t have phone or internet at the house. So I haven’t been able to occupy my time surfing and geeking out. And I like geeking out! Plus it is how I talk with my friends who live so far far away. I was going to go explore/walk in one of the parks I have not been to before over the past weekend but it’s winter and an inversion layer came in and well, it was cold and overcast. Will definitely get outside this weekend!..... unless it’s raining. Then I just might get motivated to paint the room.

Change is definitely needed in my life. Loose those 10 pounds so I can wear a bathing suit in Hawaii and not feel self-conscious. Wow I’ll have to buy a bathing suit. Haven’t had one or worn one since my roommate in college needed people in her aquatic class. It’s just that I am a lazy couch potato by nature. Motivation is needed. Now, where to find that. Do I have to get up off the couch? Really? Fine, ugh. Ok.

Was that peppy and enthusiastic enough? No? I just can’t help it. The winter months tend to be a bit depressing to me. Thank god I don’t live where it snows or freezes. And I’m having a pimple break-out a la high school. And I am envious/jealous of those who seem to have what they want already or know what they want in life. How do they do that? I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. What’s that? I am a grown-up? Shut-up!

**A friend told me today that she loves my new attitude toward work since I got back from NZ.

What to do...

Guess what? It's raining. Oh, it's done now. I am here at the office on a Friday all by myself. Everyone else, all two of them, are in the field or meetings today. So what have I done? I fixed all the spelling errors on most of these blog posts. I didn't bother with the grammatical errors. That's just a waste of my time. I have done some work though too.

My hike the other day was nice. I did a loop trail at Coyote Lake (a Santa Clara County Park). I had never been there before. It is beautiful, and there is a nice community there as well of small ranches. The trail was closed, but I did it anyway. The sign said the trail was closed to equestrians and bicyclists. It said nothing about people on foot. So I had it all to myself. The only wildlife I encountered, if you even want to call it wildlife were turkeys. I picked up some books at the book store the other day. One is a small book on easy trails in the San Jose East Bay region. I think I will go through and walk all of them.

And now for something completely different:

I've been emailing a friend of mine recently and she said some interesting things that got me thinking. We were discussing the fact of why we are both still single and in our 30's. The two of us live very different lives but we are similar. We are both strong, opinionated, independent women. I had a boyfriend in college, but it wasn't until that relationship ended, that I realized what I had become and I didn't like it. That put me off relationships for quite a while. Two things came to mind when I realized I will be the crazy lady with cats. (I'm already crazy, just don't have any cats yet)
1. I have no social life. You need one to actually meet people and get friends. But I don't like going out. And I'm an anxious nervous freak when I have to meet new people, so I try to avoid it as much as possible.
2. Like I said earlier, I'm very independent. I've been "alone" as it were for a long time. I can and have lived just fine all by myself. I don't need a "man" to do anything, because I can do it. I can build a bookcase, mow the lawn, lay a brick patio, take out the trash, and even get rid of a partially decapitated mouse in a trap, all by myself. I can even change a light bulb! And I do a job that most Americans think as a male profession. Although in reality there are more female archaeologists than male these days.

And so we have decided (my friend and I) that because of this fierce independent nature, men are usually put off by it. The ones we are attracted to are not attracted to us. And those who are interested tend to be, how should I say, a bit on the girly side, which for me is not an attractive trait. It is kind of off-putting when I'm more of a man than he is. They either want to "take care of you" or want to be "taken care of". And we don't need either. I am capable of wearing the shiny armor and riding a white horse, I don't need to be "rescued". And I sure ain't going to "rescue" you. Just get up off your damn ass and "get it done".

And so according to my friend we will be crazy single ladies the rest of our lives. And there is nothing wrong with that. The world needs crazy cat ladies. And she may be right, I don't know. I've gotten this far on my own, and it ain't too shabby. Only that the single life can be, at times, a lonely life. But that's why we get CATS!

And so it ends

Act VI
Dec. 21st
Auckland

Kia Ora. Today was my last full day in New Zealand. Tomorrow afternoon I head off to the airport for the long trek home. Auckland is huge with people everywhere. It sort of reminds me of San Francisco without the urine trashy streets and homeless people. There are a few homeless here, I think I saw two. So to get away from all the people and the noise of the city I took the ferry over to Devonport. It is a suburb of Auckland across the harbor. There were still people, but a lot less. I walked around the shops and cafes and such and then went down to one of the small little beaches and just sat there and contemplated. I had the little beach to myself except for a little old married couple sitting in their beach chairs.

After I got back to Auckland, I went to Skycity, which is a hotel/casino/restaurant/store/mini Vegas, and got all my gift/tourist stuff taken care of. I should have done it in Christchurch. It had better stores, but hindsight and all that. And now I am back in my hotel room where the TV doesn’t work. Not that it is a big issue, they only have 10 channels here in New Zealand, and two of them are sports 24/7.

I still don’t want to come home. I don’t want to go back and be responsible and junk. Why does living have to cost so much? Touring around on my own isn’t a whole lot of fun, but it beats not coming here at all because I had no one to come here with.

I came here to get away from my job, which seems to have taken over my life. And here is what I have figured out, or sort of figured out, or whatever.

1. My sister’s boys (especially the younger one) would absolutely love it here. I think they would have a great time doing the REI Adventure tour. Heck, I want to do it again! I think this country is right up their alley. And it would get the older one off his cell phone. Heh heh.
2. I don’t think I want to do my job anymore. Or in the very least spend as much of my time as I do at it. In the grand scheme of things, it isn’t that important. The world will not come to a crashing halt if I don’t finish that report that no one will ever read on time. If I do decide to quit though, I have no idea what to do. I put a lot of time, money, and education into this job, but that in the long run doesn’t mean squat either.
3. This one is personal so no sharing with the world.

See you all on the flip side.

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