Then the Nerves Set In.

Location: Apartment
Mood: Introspective

I'm feeling a bit anxious in the soul and also my chest area.
This happens whenever I make a decision, particularly a big one. It makes it really hard for me to judge if I'm making the right one.
Is my chest fluttering because I'm excited, or am I nervous? It's hard to tell when the decision is not easily made, and has both positive and negative aspects to either choice.

Eligible and Entertaining

At some point in the recent past, I have become a romantic-comedy-inspired stereotype.

Somehow, I have turned into the haplessly single young woman that everyone is concerned about. (This is especially ironic since, from the point I began dating until recently, I have pretty much always been involved in some kind of relationship. I'm attempting to negotiate these very conflicting pieces of my identity.) Unbeknownst to me, I have dispensed this aspect of my life into the universe, and people all around me have begun to reference it in one way or another. 

About a year ago, I began to field variations of the question "So, Mindy do you have a boyfriend?" at an alarmingly high rate. People in all parts of my life have suddenly taken a huge interest in my love life (or lack thereof). I guess it's confusing to others that I'm alone.

I'm most confused by how obvious it is to others. How do they know?! Do I have "desperately unattached" written on my forehead in last night's lipstick? Who chiefed me?!-That's embarrassing.

Any time the above question is asked, it's clear that the interviewer already knows the answer. Any glimmer of positive affect that may be detected is obviously them hoping to be wrong about their assumption. No one is ever surprised by my answer. They feign surprise, and then act all sympathetic like it's genuinely depressing that I'm an independent woman in this day and age. Those closer to me, have begun to offer up their other single friends in an attempt to save us from ourselves.

In the past, I've laughed this off. See, I was raised by someone who made me memorize and recite: "A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle." As much as I rejected it, the quote stuck in the corner of my psyche, and has shaped my responses to this dating inquisition. I'm sure my father would be proud to know my feelings on the issue are: Haha! I don't care. I am Mindy the Maladroit. I'm endearingly neurotic. I love myself, and that's all that matters...right?

Right?!?

Then, a few months ago, one of my clients noticed it:

     While drawing a picture for me he looked up with his doe-eyes and said "you have a dog at your home Muwinda?"
    "Nope, no dog," I replied.
    He stopped drawing, and scrunched up his five year old face trying to determine exactly what that means. Picture him thinking, how could Teacher Melinda not have a dog? That just doesn't make any sense. Then, his eyes widened, and his mouth relaxed in what was clearly an "a-ha!" moment. "You have a cat," he said matter-of-factly as he returned crayon to paper.
    "No. It's just me at home."
    The kid might as well have said, "aww you poor thing" with the look he gave me. Instead, he responded with a condescending "you need a cat Muwinda." He then proceeded to draw a picture of the two of us playing together in a house with a cat.

"That's me and you at your house, with a cat. You need a cat Muwinda."

As adorable as this story may be, I'm disturbed. What am I doing that a preschooler is sensing my singleness, and attempting to resolve it? Where is this coming from?! How can I fix it?

I'm fine being single. I'm as independent as I need to be. Hell, I'm a fish, and having a bicycle would just be absurd! 

Well, wait a second. How cool would it be to see a fish riding a bicycle? 

 Right?! Not necessary, but totally awesome. Maybe I've been interpreting this quote wrong my whole life.

At this point in my blog writing process, my prophetic iTunes shuffle just started playing Love Train. Dear God! There's theme music now! The universe is obviously trying to communicate something to me.

I had big plans for the end of this entry, but I can't do any better than that. Fine! I give in! I'm comically single, and clearly have the personality of a rom-com heroine! Do what you want with that.

Commence happy ending sequence.

That's Great, It Starts With an Earthquake

Location: My bed
Mood: Anxious

I feel like I should talk about my apocalypse anxieties. It's a little humorous that I think about this, but even more hilarious that I even care. Keep in mind, that my opinion on this subject is the exact opposite from my pyschological response. I honestly think it's a bunch of hooey, but it still makes me nervous, and that's comical.

I first began to consider the end of the world about 5 years ago. I was at my then boyfriend's house watching a history channel special about the year 2012. You guys, it freaked me out. Something about the number and variety of sources that agree upon a date in time as the prophesied END is what really throws me. Normally, I think people are crazy when they talk about these things, but for some reason this time around it actually caused a physiological response. My heart began to pound, and I got super nervous. I thought,

"2012, but that's...like...soon..."

Then, I couldn't sleep.

Granted, it's pretty normal for me to have bouts of insomnia, but to struggle with sleep because I'm worried that the world will end...that ain't right. So, I did what any logical person does when stressed over an absurd concern about an unlikely event you can't control: I went online.

That didn't help.

At this point I figured it'd be best to just stop thinking about it; start endorsing those avoidant tendencies which have served me so well in the past.

Then, the movie trailer came out. I can NOT watch this trailer. The first time I saw it, my heart about leapt out of my chest, my breathing sped up, and I kept thinking, "this is it. It's real now." The trailer made it's way on to TV, and appeared on the commercial break for several of my favorite shows. When this happened, I would run across the room and lunge to turn my TV off before it caused nervous laughter and attempts to bottle my concern.

I just can NOT deal.

Then the damn books started to show up on display at my favorite book store. I don't care if it's a best seller! Stop forcing me to deal with it. I had to avoid the back right corner of the store for three months.

I'm told that this past weekend was the rapture. I'm not religious at all, and I don't entirely understand the whole rapture/judgement thing. However, the timing of it spikes my anxiety. I felt a whole lot better when I "survived it."

Except now... it's being postponed until October?

What the what?! Can you even do that?! Who is making these decisions? Do they understand that they're wigging me out?

Honestly, I'm doing pretty well with my avoidance here, but the calendar keeps changing, and pretty soon the time will be upon us. I'm not sure how I'll respond, but I'm picturing fetal position, under a table clutching my head (earthquake drill style) until the morning. At which point, I'll cautiously step out and survey the unchanged world, embarrassed that I just wasted an entire day acting like a fool.