The Sound of My Voice

So today I heard on the radio it's not our voice men don't want to hear, it's the volume.  Apparently we talk too much.  "We" being women.  I agree.  We as a collective gender talk way  too much.  We talk about everything and we talk all the time.  However, I thought about it and considered this scenario.  Most couples, married or other, spend 50 to 60 hours a week away from home.  Add six to 15 hours a week television watching.  Six to eight hours sleep.  Time away from each other with friends--not to mention children.  The time women have to talk to their spouses or boyfriends gets significantly chipped away by the end of the week.

What are men complaining about?  Yeah, women talk too much, but compared to other things cluttering men's lives.  There is very little time to have to tolerate women's tendency to talk too much.

I was curious about my husband's views on this topic.  I wanted to know if he thought I fit into the "talk too much" category.  I felt I did not.  I keep quiet about many things and purposefully choose not to chatter about nothing.  I have several friends that do indeed talk way too much.

Well.  Long story short.  "Sometimes" I talk too much.  This I find interesting.  When is this?  Is it possible when I am disagreeing with you or telling you something you don't want to hear?

Very interesting.

I Don't Care for "Relationships"

I've decided I have heard the word "relationship(s)" far too many times in the last few weeks.  I'm annoyed.  Seems everyone is working on, starting, enhancing, boosting, etc. their relationships.  Pole dancing, stripping, "toys", date nights, lingerie, and it seems like it's all women doing the work to "improve" the relationship.

Here is my proposal:

If he's into you, he's going to want to have sex.
If he's into you, he's going to want to do things together.
If he's into you, he's going to talk to you.

Now, that said, there is the little factor of relativity.  It's all relative.  Don't compare, don't take notes, don't find out how much or how little from your friends.  This time it really is all about you.

I refuse to hang from a pole, remove my clothes slowly, or wiggle any of my body parts to get my man's attention.  I'm not going to read a how to book or watch an instructional video.  I know after 26 years he's not going to ask or plan anything.  Neither do I, so it's pretty quiet around our house.  Sometimes I wish my husband was my "best friend."  Sometimes I long for us to be able to have deep conversations and hash things out.  Sometimes I yearn to hear his feelings about a topic he could probably care less about.  Sometimes I wish he'd get passionate about something.  The truth is:

It's my problem.  He's happy.  He has no complaints.  A far as I know he's never strayed and he seems satisfied to come straight home from work.  Most of the time I'm OK with that.  I suppose the day he speaks up and tells me he's dissatisfied, then we have a problem, but for now, It's my problem and I'm working through it.

Mental Messages: That Bloated Feeling

This morning I weighed a disappointing 205.4 pounds.  The only reason I'm not any more than disappointed is I think it will go back down.  I take an anti-inflammatory for asundry reproductive organ issues about 24 - 48 hours before I start my period and strive to get a good dosage coursing through my veins by the time the pain hits.  It bloats me so much I can feel it in my eyes, hands and feet.  Worse yet to my psyche, I can see it in the mirror.  My face fills up like a gourd.  My skin tightens.  It's pretty traumatic. 

The weight gain normally amounts to  five to seven pounds.  I try to keep it in perspective when I get on the scale and see it creeping up in the days and hours before it gets here, but it's tough every time.  This time, with school and the stress of other family issues looming over my head, it was especially rough on my ego to see the 205.4 flash below me.  I've kept a constant glass of water by side and ate fresh ice cold watermelon today that was really a nice treat. 

It will pass and I will soon be back to my self again.  Feeling strong of mind, body and spirit, but for now it's a battle not to just curl up in the fetal position under the covers.

Re-programming Myself: What Feels Like a Priority Isn't Always a Priority

Holy Moly, I just finished half an assignment that was due Sunday at midnight.  I'm so discouraged and would rather quit this class and switch to Business Administration, but I can't, I've already failed it one time, so even if I do end up switching, I have to get the F off my transcript.  I'm not interested in letting this school take my money again without giving me a credit.

This has been a tough stretch.  I'm going to bed feeling anxious and stressed.  I don't know how some of these people do it with full-time jobs, young children and homes to maintain.  I'm literally doing little else but my small addition to the finances, minimal housework and home work.  I can't keep up.

I have a short list of chores I do each morning, no matter what.  Unloading/loading the dishwasher.  Feeding/watering cats.  Scooping litter.  Feeding/Watering wild birds.  Pick up/straighten up everything that got left out the night before and freshen the front bathroom.  (I have students five days a week, so it's easier to inspect the bathroom each day)  The kitchen has to be spotless before I feel free.  I make a decision about what meat to defrost for dinner.  After that, I can prioritize my day, but I'm not doing a very good job lately.  I'm checking facebook, this blog, my personal e-mail, my school message board and some other inconsequental sites, way too much.

It's time for a little re-programming.  I've been thinking about a dedicated list of 10 things I will do each day without fail--a.k.a. "the chores"--and then rather than using my emotions to feel my way through the day, doing things based on what I want to do next, I need to actually write down what I want to accomplish and make a conscious intellectual decision on what it is best to do next.  I think that will solve a lot of my static time.  I'll check in later in the week and let you know how the idea is working for me.

I Got Nothin'

This afternoon while I was eating my hot dog with american cheese and peanut butter, drinking a diet Dr. Pepper and avoiding my homework--again.  I perused other Google Blogs.  After about an hour, I came to one quick conclusion: "I got nothin'."

I sat back in my chair and smiled warmly at a whimsical blog with lace, a fabulous font and great photographs that all seemed to have a consistent pinkish hue.  Her last post was photos of the cutest little greeting card with flowers, ribbons, lace and a great quote spread asymmetrically across the bottom third corner.  Something about friends, trust and loving.  I have to admit it made me feel good.

The truth behind all this is the only one that thinks my cats are cute is me.  They are overindulged, overweight strays with entitlement  issues.  My son no longer spouts irresistible "isms" from the breakfast table or carseat.  He's 22 and will probably be moving out soon.  My husband and I are in that strange place couples sometimes get in after 23 years of marriage.  No one wants to mention the elephant in the room.

But I take comfort, because that is why I am here.  I'm here because I'm not so sure I know who I am anymore and what better place to create than on a blank canvas?  With a little resignation, I understand that I'm in the best position to be whoever and whatever I want because right now, "I Got Nothin'".