I know that I am not a failure. I just didn’t get something I wanted to. It is not the end of the world. I will succeed at something else in the future, but for right now, it sstill stings a little and I am not a fan of that.

I am good at winning. I don’t ever want to be good at losing. I want to be a sore loser, because I want to remember that feeling and strive to never feel that way again.

I hope I remember the feeling I have right now because remembering it is better than having to experience it again.

I like to bake cupcakes, but I am not very good at it, or I am good at it and I am tough tough on myself. I feel like every batch is a failure, yet the next batch I make is not the same as the previous with the hopes of perfecting them. I just move on to something else, never perfecting them. Just settling for what I got the first attempt.

I think that is a good metaphor for my life. I am always good with being OK, never looking to perfect anything. I am not sure if that is good or bad. I know that being perfect is not possible, but I think that trying to achieve perfection is a great way to make yourself better.

I think everyone wants to be better, I mean are there really people that are over the moon happy about who they are?  If those people do exist, they can fuck off. I am not even remotely close to being the person that I was meant to be. I have so much work to do to get there and that involves going back over the things that I did OK and figuring out a better way to do it and then to actuakky do it.

Apple cupcakes with caramel cream cheese frosting…I am hoping this week I will perfect them…who knows what else I can do this week?

Then there were the surprises. The face you just couldn’t place or the name that didn’t ring a bell. It wasn’t my class after all, I wasn’t expected to know everyone. It was still fun to chat, even with a “stranger” We all shared one thing, our high school and our hometown, so we all could connect on some level.

The usual questions started every conversation. Where are you living? Married? Kids? Work? What have you been doing since HS? Then there were some more in depth conversations that sprung from the usual answers. It was interesting to see what turns people had taken in life.

The most interesting thing to me was realizing that after 25 years of not seeing each other, my last memory of them really did not matter. It didn’t matter if we didn’t get along in school, or that your ex boyfriend/girlfriend was chatting with your best friend. You talked to everyone, not just the people that you hung out with in HS, but more importantly, the people you didn’t. You just started talking and quickly learned that who you were 25 years ago really meant nothing at all. Sure, I thought of the way I saw them back in school, but only as a point of reference. Not the Jock or the Cheerleader or the Partier or the Geek. It was just a bunch of people hanging out, getting to know each other, after 25 years, for the first time.

I am going to be helping with the planning of my 25th reunion next year. Perhaps attending the Class of ‘85’s reunion will provide me the proper insight on how to make my party just as successful.

What I do not like is when I can not control the bad moods of those close to me. I try to make it better, which I normally can not. I want to improve their mood. Help them work past the bad mood and onto happier times.

I realize how annoying this is to people. I want to fix it so that they are no longer unhappy or angry or stressed or just pissed off. I want to be the hero, the one that comes to the rescue.

I want to do this because I am selfish. I want people to equate happiness with me and I do not want to be around people that are not happy. Angry people make me edgy and stressed people maked me feel like a slacker. If there are stressed and I am not, I must not be doing enough and therefore they think I am lazy.

I guess I don’t want to make everyone happy, I just want them to be happy so I can be.

Wow, I am selfish…..oh well, at least I am happy that I know I am. I bet other people appreciate that happiness..or not….oh crap, what if that makes them unhappy?

Screw it…I can’t really win this one, can I?

I like to have parties, big parties with tons of food and tons of people. I like to have a theme or something that will set my personal event apart from all the others. I love to entertain.

I love to travel. Pulling everything together to make for a great trip is fun. All the research and the final sigh when it all comes together into a perfect vacation.

People retire, have a baby, get married, etc. at the office and guess who plans the parties? Of course I do, because “you are so good at it”

We need to have a fundraiser for a friend who needs some help, of course I will do it.  I enjoy helping others and we all know I can plan.

There is a problem with my love of planning.  No one ever plans anything for me.

I have already had a wedding, that I planned, so I don’t get another.

I would like to say that I have the best parties in my social circle, but that is easy because no one else has parties.

If I don’t plan our vacations we just “go with it”  Not my idea of fun.

I really enjoy helping those that need it, so the charity events are a good thing.

I really enjoy helping people, I know it is what I am good at and it makes me feel really good that I can bring happiness to people. But when is it my fucking turn? I know that sounds ungrateful and selfish but is it really too much to ask for other people to help people?  Why does it always have to be me?  And,iIt isn’t just the big stuff, but the girl’s nights and the lunch dates. It is everything and I am tired.

Well, I better get back to baking for the retirement party tomorrow, I know she will like them, I remembered that they were her favorites the last time I made them for the baby shower we had.

It never ends.

Why did I start to blog and why did I abruptly stop?

I am a talker by nature, I get it from my mom and I like to share the things that happen in my life with those that are close to me, so why do I not naturally gravitate towards blogging.

I don’t use names but if anyone reads this it is because I told them about it, so the anonymous thing is out the window. Do I worry that people will judge me? Do I feel that I have to filter what I write for fear of offending someone? What if someone that I blogged about finds my blog and knows that I was writing about how much I dislike them or something they are doing or wearing?

I guess I don’t know what to think about blogging, hence all the questions.

Despite all the questions, I think I will try and keep it up. My post yesterday started in my head as funny but I quickly realized that the comedy was just the curtain that covered an emotional realization. It wa good to get it out.

I suspect the coming months of my life will be filled with more comedic moments that are covering up the emotions behind them. If I can borrow a line from my theatrical stage managing days

“Raise the Main Drape and cue lights”

When that happens I think that you have 2 options. Smack it back or turn around and walk away. I think I walked away but damn all I wanted to do was start a smackdown.

I went one state over to help raise money for a childhood friend. He is married with 3 boys and stage IV cancer.  He did manage to make it to the party for a short time, tired and sick from chemo. We watched videos of his surfing; who would have thought an italian kid from a sleepy CT suburb would be a surfer.  Along with his sister, parents, and a small group of old friends, we laughed and joked and pretended that the white elephant named cancer was not in the room.

Then the real white elephant arrived.

15 or so years ago, I was living a somewhat quiet life, (ok not quiet at all, but for story sake, let’s say quiet) life with my boyfried of many, many years. I have blocked much of the end of that relationship, but it ended with his escapades with a 19 year girl he worked with.

She walked in the room and I froze. She had married the brother of another old friend. She was being introduced to everyone and I slid to the back of the group and turned my back, pretending I was texting or FBing or something; anything that kept me away from her.

I successfuly managed to avoid her all night. I moved on from the fear of having to speak to her and my girlfriends and I all laughed every time she would point towards me and tell someone that I looked so familiar. I am sure I looked familiar. Perhaps she remembers my face from seeing my pictures on the mantel in MY bedroom. Maybe she remembers coming into my bar shortly after and thinking that I would allow an underage tramp to drink at my bar.

Towards the end of the evening, the past or karma or whatever, caught up with her. She was VERY drunk and not a really pretty drunk. She was loud and sloppy and making a general spectacle of herself.  Spitting on people as she spoke, not able to stand up unassisted. It was downright ugly.

We left and I said nothing. I did not clue her in on why I looked familiar. I didn’t confront her and tell her that I thought she was a big whore.  I let the night of the past become the night of hope for the future.

I have a wonderful life with a near perfect husband and my dear childhood is fighting for his life. What happened 15 plus years ago does not mean a thing when you have love and hope for tomorrow.

The past is always there, I am choosing to ignore it and look to the future. Yesterday is done and I can not change it. At least I have a fighting chance to form tomorrow.

I have not cried yet, but I have only been sick for 24 hours so it could come at any time now.

I am drinking liquids and taking some homeopathic crap since every cold medicine in the world makes me all jacked up and I even went to the new juice bar in town for some Carrot, orange, lemon juice. I am taking it easy and will be going to be in a few minutes….all the right stuff.
BUT
I will still cry. What the fuck? Who cries when they have a cold?

Being awesome is tough work.