Would You Believe?

Does love at first sight exist?

Oh, hell, I have no idea. But it's certainly possible (I guess). There are a lot of things involved with falling in love. We're all very complex people, and we think about things as they're happening. We've got built-in ideals, morals, intuition, logic, and imagination. We have baggage.

I had a professor that always said that “we are our stories.” We are made up of the things that happen to us. The difference is, of course, that we all react to these things differently. I'm an empath— I'm emotional before I'm anything else. I try very hard to be logical (and I can be, it just doesn't always happen first), but I'm usually acting on emotion. That's how I react to my stories, and that's what makes me who I am.

Falling in love is actually a physical thing, isn't it? We're drawn first to appearance, voice, gestures, and smell. It's because we're all really animals underneath all of it. We have this intuition that pulls us where we're going. We search for that person that has the qualities that we feel will complete us. And because we're looking for that completion, we're sometimes putting constraints on love. I guess that's why people don't think that love at first sight can happen.

Love at first sight is supposed to take you by surprise.

Maybe you suddenly “fall in love” with some unknown person and you see that it's mutual. Perhaps “Mother Nature” or some other higher power has chosen that person for you. Maybe that person genetically suits you. But that's not love. That's babymaking science.

It takes less than a second to decide whether you find someone physically attractive. (What? We're fickle.) But emotion can change that initial reaction.

Studies show that the more you interact with a person, the more you come to regard him (or her) as “good looking.” Sometimes it can take years for people to fully appreciate one another. So, in theory, you can fall in love with someone even more every time you see them.

I guess that's what love at first sight is— when every time is like the first time.

To the Moon!

Someone told me the other day that I have a “glow.” After exclaiming vehemently that I'm not pregnant (isn't that when you “glow”?), I realized that he's probably right.

I've got a lot to be happy about right now, and I need to keep remembering that. All of this happy stuff has me very stressed out. I've got so much work to do, so much moving to do, and so little time to do it. But it's all part of a bigger goodness that's just starting.

So that's why I haven't had time to drop any more pearls of wisdom down on this blog. The pearls will be dropping again soon (I promise). I just have to get my stuff organized. I'm taking off a little too quickly for my own good. I liken it to Justin Bieber's rise to fame— it happened so fast, and it came out of nowhere. Hopefully I am more talented than he is, though.

In the meantime, here's a little nugget:

I was moving my painting supplies into the apartment yesterday. I had my easel, stool, table, blank canvasses, and a few paintings. I met one of my new neighbors. He saw all the stuff and said, “Are you an artist?”

“Yes,” I replied. Meanwhile, I'm thinking, “No, I'm just holding these supplies for some other artist.”

Then he said, “Let me know when you make millions!”

That's Why You Park by the Thingy

How would you react to this?

You just had a great experience at the grocery store. You got all of your essential items, and you even got a few things on sale. You walk up to a register, and the cashier recognizes you.

"Hello!" she says cheerfully.

"Hello!" you reply with an amount of cheer only rivaled by the cashier's.

She rings up your items, and you pay. Then you go happily on your way with the bags in your cart.

You walk out to your vehicle (which is parked right next to the cart corral) and start putting your groceries in the back. Another vehicle pulls up next to you. You see the guy that collects the carts out of the corner of your eye.

"Remember to put your cart away!" he yells at you.

"Are you talking to me?" you say.

"Yeah!" he yells back. "Everyone leaves their carts all around the parking lot. I'm sick and tired of pushing them all around."

"But isn't that what they pay you for?" you ask.

"Well..."

Oh, you got him now.

Meet Me Monday

Just a few random questions about me on this Monday.

1. What is your favorite kind of potato chip?
Middleswarth Barbeque. There's an “A” in their name, and “A-quality” in their product. They are definitely the most delicious things in the entire world. I would happily stick a bag on my face like one of those feed-bags they use for horses. No joke.

2. Do you make your bed everyday?
If you call pulling the covers up so it doesn't look like a giant mess “making” the bed, then yes. I really should work on tucking things in a little better, though. But, sadly, that's not one of my strong-suits.

3. How often do you go to the hair salon?
Um... I used to go every 4-6 weeks, but I haven't been doing that lately. My hair is doing just fine. I like letting it get a little longer. I do need to go get my eyebrows done sometime soon, though.

4. What do you dip your French fries in?
Not ketchup. Either ranch dressing or barbeque sauce. The other day, actually, I dipped my fries in some “real hot” wing sauce. Needless to say, my mouth was on fire— but in a really good way.

5 Do you shop with coupons?
Heck yes. I even email companies and tell them how much I like their product just so they'll send me coupons in the mail.

But, You're ALL Winners!

Competition is healthy. It's what drives us to excel. But what's the difference between “competing to win” and “competing to excel”?

When we compete to win, we're trying to basically outperform and dominate others. Competing to excel, on the other hand, is about surpassing our own personal goals. Obviously, the latter offers us more benefits than the former. When we compete to better ourselves, we're going to end up having higher self-esteem and we'll be less depressed.

Granted, there's something to be said for experiencing a little bit of victory every now and then. It's healthy. Competition is healthy. But it shouldn't be all we're setting out to do. We have to realize that everyone out there is valid. I'm no more valid than you are. Just because I can do one thing better than you doesn't mean I'm an all around better person. We're all good at something. So we should be competing with ourselves—not against one another—to improve these skills.

There's no need to put ourselves in situations that make us unduly anxious. There's no need to put ourselves in situations that interfere with our performance, creativity, and poise.

But, like I said, a little bit of competition is good. It teaches us to be gracious, humble, and to accept the bitter pill of defeat with a bit of pride.

That's how kids are growing up these days, though. Grades are the main focus of school. Grades and those horrible standardized tests. Then we have youth sports leagues. What's the focus there? The focus is on getting the trophy. The crazy parents on the sidelines screaming at kids for every little thing that goes wrong out on the field. Like I've been saying, competition is good. But it's got to come from within a person. What's a kid going to learn if the focus is solely on the outcome? Isn't the journey half the fun?

If we don't enjoy the game, we shouldn't have to play it.

On Apartments, Baggage, and Who I Am

I'm a little terrified, but that's all right. I got a phone call yesterday from the lady about the apartment. I'm going to meet with her on Monday when I get out of work.

Why am I terrified?

I'm not worried about living on my own. I'm not worried about being able to afford it. (Okay, maybe I am a little worried about that part.)

I'm terrified of telling my parents that I'm moving out. Somehow they'll turn it around and make it seem like I feel that they did something wrong. Like it's their “fault” that I'm moving out. Um... isn't this supposed to be a good thing? I'm an adult, and it's time to start living like one. They haven't really done anything wrong. (Now, anyway.)

But this is how it's always been with them. I have always been terrified to tell them about things in my life that seem “grown up.” Because, first of all, I'm pretty certain my grandmother still thinks I'm five years old. When she was over for Christmas dinner, she saw me take three of the dogs outside. I heard her say, “Oh it's so nice to see children taking care of the animals like that.”

Okay, what?!

I said, “Grandma. I'm not a child. By the time mom was my age, she HAD me. Was she a child then?”

And she does it all the time. I'm teaching a COLLEGE CLASS, and somehow that's “adorable.”

I collect Barbie dolls, and I might enjoy the occasional bank lollipop, but that doesn't mean that I'm a child. (It just means that I'm connected with my inner-one.)

And my mother feels the same way as my grandmother, I think. At least that's how I've always perceived it. When I was 11, I started hitting puberty. I was embarrassed of my hairy legs. So what did I do? I didn't go up to my mom and say, “Hey! Can you teach me how to shave my legs?” No... I just did it. I used my mom's razor and I did it. And when she confronted me about using her razor, I lied about it. For some reason, it was easier for me to hide the “adult” things and just pretend I was the child she wanted me to stay.

I was, more or less, embarrassed by every “milestone” that moved me closer to adulthood. I remember my mother saying, “Oh, we have a TEENAGER now,” with such seething contempt in her voice. I didn't want to be that. I didn't want to be something that caused anyone any discomfort. This ultimately worked against me because I wound up becoming full of all sorts of anger and anxiety. My dad called me “Katie Ka-BOOM” (like the character from Animaniacs). I resented that deeply.

I never went to her with relationship problems. Not even the stupid little teenager crap. I felt like I was a failure for not dating the boy I had a crush on in the 4^th grade. My mom liked him. His dad was a lawyer. Clearly, nothing else was good enough for me.

Instead, I “dated” (as much as a 15 year old dates) a boy that smoked, went to vo-tech, and bathed in Nautica cologne. It lasted a month.

Then my parents started fighting, and I rebelled. I dated someone they hated just because I knew they hated him. My mom put me in therapy.

So I dated a guy that they liked. And I stayed with him for far too long simply because they liked him. That was stupid.

I didn't even go away to college. College for me was basically glorified high school. Same with grad school. I have a Master's degree, and I still feel like a child every time I walk into my house. I can't bring myself to share a lot of the awesome stuff that's happening in my life... And that's just how it's always been. I've got so much going on for me, but I only tell my family some of it. They don't know who I am, and they never really have. The Lauren that exists in that house is not the Lauren that exists for the rest of the world.

I can count on one hand everyone that knows who I REALLY am. (And four of them are dogs.)

It's not really anybody's fault. I never felt like I had that great “family life.” I mean, it wasn't awful. I wasn't abused or anything. But I always felt more at “home” everywhere other than my house.

I'm hopeful that I'll have a better relationship with my family once I can really, truly deal with them on my own terms. They won't have the “as long as you live under our roof” thing to dangle over my head, and I'll be able to see them when I want to— not when I feel like I'm supposed to.

Karokae! In! The! Mail!

Mmmkay... So (probably as a result of this Solid Cactus blog post) I was contacted by Chartbuster Karaoke via Twitter. (Oh how I love me some Twitter.)

Well, after emailing back and forth a bit with the super-nice Dave, they sent me some discs!

(Again, how cool!?)

I mentioned that I liked Stevie Nicks, and I got this sweet 80's Pop set. I also got the promo disc for August 2010.

And then I was happily minding my own business one day when another package came for me. It had the September 2010 disc! Amazing.

On their website, they have a feature where you can make your own Chartbuster Karaoke Custom CD+G. You can also download karaoke songs.

My favorite thing? I posted to Twitter the other day about how Madonna's “Vogue” is the only song that had my name in it.

Their response?

@chartbuster How about Celtic Thunder's “Lauren & I”? http://bit.ly/aKIXK0 or http://youtu.be/y2e0nN9Kx0k