Today I almost invited a girl to a play. Fortunately, I came to my senses. Not yet. Way too soon. There are a few things I need to get in order in my life before I start making room for somebody new. Here’s a sample of the list:
I must admit it is a work in progress, especially that translated part. Hooboy, will I get heat for my brony review. I have yet to see the fallout over that one. So instead of an awkward night on the town, I'll be watching "Arsenic and Old Lace" with my 13 year old. I couldn't be happier. And then I can focus on why I'm really there: to show my support for my friend, Heather Monson, one of the murderous old biddies.
As I struggle with Depression today, I am doing many things on my list to fight Depression off. I've exercised. I've sketched. I've organized my laundry and washed the dishes. I've made a fool of myself online. And yet Depression remains. Since I still have some fight left in me, I figure I'll blog, too. Maybe that will help me switch gears and feel better (or dig myself in deeper). And what better way than to discuss my charming new singles life!
I had asked one of the Elf's friends to cut my hair. He was studying at the local Paul Mitchell school in Sandy, and on a whim I thought it would be worth a shot. As he began removing tons of multi-colored hair that now included a lot of gray, the conversation moved onto the subject of dating. I talked about how I wasn't really ready yet and had promised myself I would wait until March 15th—the Ides of March and a bit over the six month mark—before I even considered it. Then I reflected on some odd conversations I had had with other single women and divorcees over the past few months and said aloud, "But I don't think the girls are going to be patient with me while I wait." I said it rather seriously, and with some nervousness.
But it sounded boastful, right? Yeah, I thought so too, so I changed the subject. Three minutes later there was a knock at the door. And I knew. It was a girl.
There I was with half my head shorn, hair all over my face, and a cute little cape around my neck. Unfortunately, the Elf was in the back room, so I asked her hairstylist friend with a nose ring and two snake bites to get the door.
"Is Douglas there?♪"
I know I'm healing because I thrilled to hear that, but what was I going to do? I felt like an idiot. How could I look cool when I looked like a half-trimmed hedge in drapes? Since there was no help for it, I opened the door wider and said "Hi!". Oh, the look in her eyes. It was my old neighbor who had moved to another building. She had brought over cookies for me and the girls. I assured her that the girls would get the cookies this weekend when they made the switch, and she, looking very awkward, let me get back to whatever I was doing and said "bye."
I went over to her place later to give my thanks properly, but that was a disaster, too. She had nine kids in her kitchen and I was terribly distracted by her little munchkin who looked from me to Mummy and giggled like Ernie on Sesame Street.
I am so very not ready for this. But I feel much better having written all this. So onwards with my day. And maybe with this picture I can check one thing off my list:
¹Mormon term for becoming a perfected being and being taken up to Heaven before the Second Coming, as happened to the denizens of the City of Enoch. It is not very likely to happen to me.
Follow me on Twitter as @SplinteredMind. I also explore iPhone photography with Instagram as douglascootey (peek). And if you're a glutton for punishment you can friend me on Facebook as well, or find me on Path where I explore my coping strategy process with varying results..
- Achieve a gold platinum album with me playing favorite movie tunes on a penny whistle. Pan pipes optional.
- Become a rich land magnate on the Moon, with virally bad YouTube infomercials.
- Become translated.¹
- Learn how to take a serious photograph.
Not necessarily in this order.
I must admit it is a work in progress, especially that translated part. Hooboy, will I get heat for my brony review. I have yet to see the fallout over that one. So instead of an awkward night on the town, I'll be watching "Arsenic and Old Lace" with my 13 year old. I couldn't be happier. And then I can focus on why I'm really there: to show my support for my friend, Heather Monson, one of the murderous old biddies.
As I struggle with Depression today, I am doing many things on my list to fight Depression off. I've exercised. I've sketched. I've organized my laundry and washed the dishes. I've made a fool of myself online. And yet Depression remains. Since I still have some fight left in me, I figure I'll blog, too. Maybe that will help me switch gears and feel better (or dig myself in deeper). And what better way than to discuss my charming new singles life!
I had asked one of the Elf's friends to cut my hair. He was studying at the local Paul Mitchell school in Sandy, and on a whim I thought it would be worth a shot. As he began removing tons of multi-colored hair that now included a lot of gray, the conversation moved onto the subject of dating. I talked about how I wasn't really ready yet and had promised myself I would wait until March 15th—the Ides of March and a bit over the six month mark—before I even considered it. Then I reflected on some odd conversations I had had with other single women and divorcees over the past few months and said aloud, "But I don't think the girls are going to be patient with me while I wait." I said it rather seriously, and with some nervousness.
But it sounded boastful, right? Yeah, I thought so too, so I changed the subject. Three minutes later there was a knock at the door. And I knew. It was a girl.
There I was with half my head shorn, hair all over my face, and a cute little cape around my neck. Unfortunately, the Elf was in the back room, so I asked her hairstylist friend with a nose ring and two snake bites to get the door.
"Is Douglas there?♪"
I know I'm healing because I thrilled to hear that, but what was I going to do? I felt like an idiot. How could I look cool when I looked like a half-trimmed hedge in drapes? Since there was no help for it, I opened the door wider and said "Hi!". Oh, the look in her eyes. It was my old neighbor who had moved to another building. She had brought over cookies for me and the girls. I assured her that the girls would get the cookies this weekend when they made the switch, and she, looking very awkward, let me get back to whatever I was doing and said "bye."
I went over to her place later to give my thanks properly, but that was a disaster, too. She had nine kids in her kitchen and I was terribly distracted by her little munchkin who looked from me to Mummy and giggled like Ernie on Sesame Street.
I am so very not ready for this. But I feel much better having written all this. So onwards with my day. And maybe with this picture I can check one thing off my list:
¹Mormon term for becoming a perfected being and being taken up to Heaven before the Second Coming, as happened to the denizens of the City of Enoch. It is not very likely to happen to me.
Follow me on Twitter as @SplinteredMind. I also explore iPhone photography with Instagram as douglascootey (peek). And if you're a glutton for punishment you can friend me on Facebook as well, or find me on Path where I explore my coping strategy process with varying results..
