Making good choices.

I believe that I am the master of my own destiny, that I in fact can determine the course of my life merely by making decisions that point me in the perfect direction. This is flawed logic. See, I can't predict what will end well with 100% certainty. I can guess. I can use past experience. But I can't emphatically know what will make my life as awesome as possible.

Seriously, I don't even know why I keep trying. All it takes is one bad decision to royally fuck it all up anyway, as the protesters at Planned Parenthood remind me every morning on my way to work. Life is not a series of equally significant moments. Life is a series of benign, uninteresting moments, interspersed with crazy important ones that change the entire trajectory of one's life. Yet I continue to believe that I can be more powerful than I am, that I can predict the future, and thus completely avoid pain. And it is these times, when I have set everything up in such a way that absolutely nothing can go wrong, that everything goes wrong, and I am painfully reminded of how small and helpless I am in the face of an infinite universe and unpredictable people.

So I eat more chocolate chip cookies, because I predict that they will be good, and then they are, in fact, very good. Nothing else matters. I have control over nothing else.

The Bachelor.

Vintage boobie shirt- a real winner :)

So as we all know, I love to talk about what I think, and reality television allows me constant fodder for discussion.

This season of The Bachelor brings us much more of the same: people stuck into unrealistic situations, manipulated to produce false romantic feelings, and constant drama and tears. Private islands, diamonds, and couture, do not a real relationship make. Which is fine, I mean, loads of people meet under strange circumstances, and somehow manage to eek out reasonable relationships. But life isn't perfect, and truth is stranger than the falsehood of false celebrity. So by the time the show is over, and everyone has fallen in and out of love, the reality of true life, real ugly human life, shows up, and no amount of célébrité is going to rewind the romance back to the bright lights and giddiness of the television show.

So every time the producers interview some woman who hasn't gotten a rose, and she's asking "Why? Why? Why?" and "What is wrong with me?" and "Why does this always happen to me?", I am screaming at the screen, "There is nothing wrong with you!!!" and "This has nothing to do with who you are - you are beautiful and wonderful and this isn't real!"

Anyhoo, all y'all bachelorettes out there, keep the faith and don't accept anything less than the absolute best.

Thus endeth Megan's brief fore into romantic advice columnist-mode.

Fin.

Ridiculous morning.

Yeah, I sell art books. This one is on American Impressionists.

Ridiculous. That is what I am thinking right now. And that may be due to my usual insomnia-laced mania, or (more likely) it may be due to the fact that I woke up at 5am for an estate sale that ended up being SO overpriced, that I bought one thing. One thing! I was the first person in line! I think I mostly just feel silly for thinking that I was going to be able to purchase something for $1000 that ended up with an asking price of $4995. Silly me.

I did realize, as I was driving away, that I have not held up my end of the "no thrifting week". I bought a Starbucks solo coffee press at the estate sale this morning and a tape machine dispenser at a thrift store yesterday. I'd seen the tape dispenser weeks ago, then again when it hadn't sold, and I looked it up, thinking, "I wonder...". It was a good bet. Now I just need to figure out how to ship that darn thing. It will officially be the heaviest thing I have ever shipped. The last time I sold something really bulky that I didn't feel confident about, I went to the local office store, and had them pack it. I don't know why that made me feel better, but it did. We all know what trouble I have with packing :)

So all in all, I feel good. Today and tomorrow may be difficult, but I'm committed to working through my stuff (my inventory, not my emotional handicaps). No encouragements necessary, but all are appreciated, nonetheless.

A great idea.

 

Today, I was sitting in church, and for some reason, I had a great idea. My senior paper is all about dwelling where you are, blooming where you're planted and all that. So in an effort to prepare for the presentation of my paper on Wednesday, my brain has been throwing around ideas to save my city, to encourage people to stay (to encourage myself to stay as well).

Here's the idea: I create an alternative sentencing facility where people can come and live and work and get better. There's an organic farm where people can work, and a dorm facility with industrial kitchen where people can come and eat. Maybe there will be a restaurant, or dining hall or something on the property. Maybe I'll need two kitchens. Every one will have a job. It will be communal living, and there will be therapists and a doctor on-site. I don't know if I'll be able to have it in town, or if I'll need more property. I imagine that it would be a good idea to have animals, but I don't see animals in my dream right now.

Gosh, I'd have to get grants, and I'd have to get permission from the city and county courts. It'd be a huge project. There would have to be permanent employees to give the place structure and consistency.

I like to dream.

The double bind

I really wish I could take this lot on a beach vacation :)

The web is full of women and girls telling the world how thin they are (or want to be), how clean their house is, how awesome their kids/husband are, and how much Jesus loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life. And in some ways, I'm totally into it. I like "miracle" recipes for carpet stains, and I think the female body is one of the most beautiful things we'll ever see. But I really hate it when I see anything along the lines of "You are single because God is busy finding the perfect man for you."

Maybe I'm subconsciously bitter, and taking it out on hopeful twenty-somethings who feel burnt by men. I really don't think this is the case. I just wish that all of this energy was put towards something more meaningful. Partnering is meaningful, but only to a point. There's a whole wide world out there, and sometimes it makes me sad to see loads of people playing into their aesthetic fantasies, showing off their "perfect" families and homes as if this is the point. It's not.

This isn't a finished thought. I haven't eaten breakfast yet, and I'm trying to recreate a thought that began last night after looking at Pinterest. People aren't evil, and they aren't intentionally oblivious, but sometimes they make me crazy. I can also be pretty judgmental. I'm trying to be an adult, and sometimes that feels awesome, and sometimes it feels really lonely. Here I am at the end of my education, and the beginning of my professional career, and all of my old friends are in a different place. They're happily married and nesting, and I'm living in a garage and freezing at night.

It's hard to know that I waited ten years to tell the person I loved how I felt, and he just walked away.