I've been avoiding mirrors.

Let me just start off by saying that since, oh, April 5th or so, I have watched the first four seasons of 30 Rock in their entirety. Why it took me this long to get on board, I will never know. However, this gives me a whole new female lead character to wrap into my delusions about men, women, success, and aging. I've also learned that it's ok to find comfort in food when the men are lacking in your life.

As I sit here, on a rather miserable Monday, fueled by DayQuil and tomato soup, I find myself once more staring at my Blackberry. At this point, I'd like to hear from anyone, so I guess desperate is the correct word. What I'd really like to be able to do is press a button, that would turn on Alec Baldwin's voice, pouring out advice. Ok, the advice would not be from Alec Baldwin, but rather Jack Donaghy. I'd prefer that, as his mind is the world's greatest encyclopedia. Reaching a state of sleepy that I can easily equate to delirium, here we go.

Remember that ex I mentioned way back in the fall? He came back to life approximately 5-6 months after the break up. That's right, almost half a year in silence, and he wants to be besties again. Now let me next admit that I'm a girl who likes to have a back up plan, an exit strategy, a life jacket. This is a terrible character trait of mine, but when in early March, the Ex told me about the feelings he still had, how he'd changed, and how he was willing to try again with me, I entertained the idea. Perhaps I still had feelings, maybe I wanted to believe in him like I had before. I guess I hadn't fully slammed the door shut on his douchebaggery. So once more I found myself under his manipulative spell, his quoting of lyrics that I'd overanalyze and piece together, wondering if they had hidden meanings about me.

After several weeks of talking about what went wrong, and just talking in general, we eventually had a conversation that shot me back to reality. All it took was him taking a tone with me and using some choice words in a Skype conversation, to make me realize that I deserve much better, and that maybe, just maybe, there was a guy out there who would give it to me. That's when I realized I needed to poke some holes in my lifeboat and try treading water, no matter how hard that might be. Yes, as I said the words, "I never want to be with you again", it was difficult and scary, but when he countered back angrily, insisting that it was ridiculous, and that the only possible reason I didn't want to be with him again was because I was about to have an official boyfriend. The idea that in his mind that was the only rational explanation baffled me, but I stood my ground and as per usual he sent me a song to chew on, and I haven't heard from him since.

Sure enough the sinking, shitty feeling that had resurfaced with him was gone again, and several weeks later I only feel better about my decision. However, I can't help but wonder if the only reason he resurfaced in the first place was because he realized I had been seeing someone, albeit not officially, and knew that I wasn't spending my days moping about missing him. It's like ex-boyfriends have some sort of radar that alerts them when you're on the brink of happiness. That's when they swoop in and shit all over it, like pigeons at the park.

Adele's album, 21, is a winner in every sense of the word, but let me just say the track "I Found a Boy" very accurately depicts this sort of situation.

April, my apologies, for the lack of posting.

Coming soon..

A rather man-centric post. To make up for my lack of posting. Or perhaps I'll just post transcripts of recent conversations I've had because that would be just as entertaining.

Yikes.

The one where she writes a mission statement.

Well if anyone was wondering, I accomplished the inevitable and made a complete and utter fool of myself on Valentine's Day. Mission accomplished. Now that our favorite Hallmark holiday has passed, I can get one with myself and reflect a bit. Currently, I'm listening to the song "Talk Tonight" by Oasis, reminiscing about my high school days. Things have changed since then, but not as much as I would prefer. At least I know it's no longer my raging hormones causing me to daydream about the opposite sex for hours on end. And I no longer do it for hours on end,thank you very much.

After the whirlwind of this weekend it's somehow Monday again (my least favorite of the days of the week), and I'm practicing a slightly more relaxed version of my usual weekly brain analyzing. I've heard some stories lately, which brings me to my point. Men and commitment. I happen to be a woman, and even I shudder at the word commitment. It's gross. Anyway, it has been brought to my attention that a man who is interested in a girl, in the I "like like" you way for all you 90s kids, will still have issues with getting in too deep, even if the girl is staring at him like he's nuts. So whether you hold hands with fingers laced or hands cupped, when did it become a problem that some guys are taking things way too seriously? There are still females out there who aren't looking to tie you down and take you home to mom and dad. Personally, I for one, try to avoid talking about feelings at all costs. Natural progression, progressing naturally. I like that. I try not to expect anything from anyone.

Since I know my reasoning for certain hangups, I think it's safe to say that much of this strange male behavior comes from negative past experiences. And I do feel guilty, partially, seeing as at one point in time I was a psycho girlfriend. Paranoid, clingy, etc etc. The paranoia was slightly

justified because I'm preternaturally disposed to it. Not my fault. I found that a lot of the other issues I just mentioned however, were me acting because I thought that was how girlfriends were supposed to act. When compared to one another, all of my relationships have been very different. Cases in which I cared too much, didn't care enough, and other times when I should have taken a step back and considered a more tactful manner of carrying myself. So I'm at the point where I'm ready to just take a deep breath, relax, stand still with someone and just be myself.

So this is my mission statement :

I am not looking for someone to shop with me at Bed Bath & Beyond on Sunday afternoons during football season. In fact, I would much prefer sitting at home, drinking beer, eating something that is terrible for my health, and watching my team lose

(Cleveland fans have it rough). I don't want to talk about my feelings, unless they have bubbled to a point of no return. It's hurtful bubbling, I'm only trying to help you out here. I enjoy watching a wide variety of movies. Sometimes they are crappy chick flicks, and I won't subject you to those. I want to have fun, do things that both people in the "relationship" want to do, and every once in a while be treated like a lady that you're trying to woo. Holidays, special occasions. Not expecting the world. Just be nice. Oh, and I won't ever be looking for someone. I guess this is me, reminding myself that I like me. Xoxo - Me

This entire entry sounded uber-chick like, and I hate myself for that. Ew.

Next entry will focus on micro-brews and music. Sounds delicious.

Barf. Everywhere.

For several weeks now Valentine's day has been taunting me, teasing me, and pissing me off. Albeit from a distance, it's now closer than I'd prefer. Why, you ask? Well for starters I am preparing to be bombarded by advertisements, annoying facebook statuses, and people "in lurve" all around me. Barf. Everywhere. That, and the fact that this will be my first Valentine's Day single since 2006. That's right. I haven't had a solo Valentine's day in 5 years. I don't recall how I spent the one in 2006, but I was most likely brooding because that was what I did best in high school, aside from wearing sweatpants every day of the week and consuming slushees in massive quantities. Currently I'm wearing sweatpants (on a Wednesday) and consuming massive amounts of Diet Coke. Clearly not much has changed. However, I have a plan for Valentine's day.

I'm pretty excited to have the night by myself without so much as a date planned. So I will take the initiative for about the third time in my life and plan a date for myself. First, a few days before Vday I will make a trip to Giant Eagle for part one. The fact that I don't go out on the actual holiday to retrieve these items is absolutely crucial. If I were to shop on valentine's day I would look like a sap, which I am not. This will include purchases of wine (red, obviously) and a variety of chocolate products. Going to have to weigh the options on that one, not sure which chocolate brand I want to drop some cash on. I could always drive to an actual chocolate shop, but that feels sad and out of my price range. Besides, let's be real, we all know the majority of my spending will be dedicated to the vino. Next I'll line up all of my favorite Valentine's day related TV episodes from shows like The Office and Modern Family, having a little mini-marathon of sorts. I expect this to last approximately 1.4 hours. This will be followed by a "chick flick". I'm currently leaning towards The Notebook simply because I own it (whoops), Ryan Gosling, just the right amount of sappy and sexy, I've seen it a million times, Ryan Gosling. Don't judge. During this time I will chat (hopefully) with the true loves of my life, some of my best friends who either happen to be away from their significant others on Vday or are single like me.

I fully expect to have concocted a fantastically terrible playlist of "love" songs, courtesy of the display of 69 cent ones currently available at the iTunes store. Especially some of my modern day R&B faves. I fully expect to be tipsy at the very least for part of the evening, during which time I will more than likely send out at least one embarrassing text message that I'll regret immediately or the following day. Lastly, I expect to have anywhere from 2-3 dance parties with myself, and at least one fifteen minute guitar session that will no doubt end in frustration.

I'd love to say I'm kidding about my Valentine's Day plans or the fact that I'm rather excited about them, but that would be a lie.

But if I may become an optimist for a moment :

"It's Valentine's day. It's not the day you run away from love, it's the day you track it down, tie it up, and take it home."

And some chick flicks are just that.

Christmas break has been a whirlwind of excitement, and it was almost everything I hoped it would be. I have, however, lacked in the blogging department. It's just that, when everything seems to be slowly evolving into something great, why stop and write about it? Sure, I believe in logging memories every now and then, but I used to post in my own private LiveJournal sometimes three times a day. What could possibly happen in the life of an eighteen year old that required multiple journal entries a day? Well, at twenty-three I have no idea, but I'm sure that I'd find the answers if I returned to the questions I had several years ago.

I saw a really terrible film the other day. Nope, wait, can't call it a film. It was just a movie. The name of said motion picture was "How Do You Know". Intrigued, I went with my "bff" over the holiday break. Being of legal drinking age, we thought the most responsible thing to do would be to pack some beers in our purses to enjoy during our time in the theater. This was a smart move, seeing as it dulled the pain of the twelve year old urban children watching youtube videos and making phone calls in the back of theater.

Things I learned from "How Do You Know":

1. Professional athletes of the male variety are vapid and douchey

2. Professional athletes of the female variety are either very pretty or lesbians.

3. You can take up house with two separate men in a two week period.

4. Women roll out of bed looking, well, like Reese Witherspoon.

5. Play-doh would be an acceptable b-day gift for a thirty-something year old woman, especially if you are trying to win her affections.

6. You can totally be in love after three disasterous dates.

7. Nothing.

Il fine.

It's just my life.

This past weekend has been a whirlwind of the opposite sex, and it seems like all of the sudden men everywhere are coming out of the woodwork. Not everywhere, no more than eight or so, but still, way more than usual for my life. I'm still on what I consider to be the fairly low end of hookups and relationships, and I sincerely hope that I haven't treaded into the murky, slutty waters yet. Here's hoping.

So I was talking to my go to guy pal. He and I have a mutual hatred of the opposite sex : I hate men, he hates women. Hate's a really strong word, but I'm about eighty-seven percent sure we're serious. Basically, we analyze and listen to each others romantic (or lack there of) situations and remind each other that we are superior beings when it comes to men and women, and we always deserve better, if not the best. Earlier this evening, I was describing to him the impressive amount of male texting and contact I've had this past weekend. It was weird. I had this theory, which I described to him.

Men, having radar. A signal goes off on said radar when a woman that they find semi-attractive has her eyes on the prize. The prize being one guy, who she is moderately interested in or is considering making her sole interest. Wording on that could definitely better, but Jack Daniels and I are having a disagreement. Lo and behold, my man friend tells me that no, they don't have radar but they do have something called "Last Ditch Effort Mode". This kicks in when a woman's single window is closing, so they put it all out there and put their best foot forward to net said woman. Thank goodness this wasn't all in my head.

And thank goodness for an unbiased, straight-forward, often too honest male opinion. Update on my single female window soon.

Just in cases.

According to men, men are simple creatures, and up until approximately 2 weeks ago I agreed with them. However, I think I may have changed my mind.

I was pretty sure that the questions, "Do you think he likes me?" and "Does he like me?" should have stopped being uttered the day I turned twenty-anything. Sadly, I find my friends and I to be using them more than ever lately. It disgusts me, but at the same time I'm intrigued. It should be simple to figure out, or maybe we're just so scared to let ourselves think that someone does like us that we spend time analyzing it to death. Why can't we just step back and say, well this is happening, and so is this, intimacy check, ok good to know - he's into me? The problem is, at least for me, the question mark is never-ending and that's something I need to work on, or I'm going to stomp on every potentially good situation that comes along.

That's another thing I realized. I've come to think that maybe stamping something with a label is where it all goes wrong. The second you call someone your boyfriend or girlfriend, there are certain expectations that come along with it. I think my early New Year's resolution will be to stop analyzing, at least when it comes to men and what they're thinking. That includes all men.

Good plan? Yes.

This was short and stupid, my apologies.