Emily Got Her Groove Back: Part II: "J: The Programmer"

Today, on my day off, I decided to throw a message out in to Tinder Land, even though I have two other dates lined up for this week, and have a real hard time managing too many at once. At least, I think I do, it's been awhile.

I noticed that this guy and I had a Facebook friend in common, someone from my theatre life, and had a few other interesting things going on. We chatted and flirted a bit and, surprisingly, he invited me out for a drink this evening. I said yes. I would much rather say yes than spend weeks trying to keep an online conversation interesting.

This time, he got there before me, I walked in and again, thought he was pretty attractive. We found a table, got some beers and curds (Wisconsin!) and chatted and laughed. I giggled to myself a little that, upon closer inspection, his shirt was a bit wrinkly, but that seems to be what happens when men don't have a woman in their life.

I got twice as far as the last date. Two drinks! And this guy wasn't going to be having kids any time soon...biologically. He got that out of the way. We shared stories, and I laughed but couldn't quite decide if he was funny or a truly epic tool. But, I was laughing and enjoying myself, so I had to go for the former. He excused himself to the rest room once, and maybe I was too skeptical, but I noticed a little bit of nose rubbing when he came back. I once went on a date with a guy who did drugs in the bathroom at a comedy show. It was obvious afterwards. This reminded of that and I seriously laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it. I don't think he caught on.

It could have just been allergies though. We got our bill. Split it. (Is this a thing with dating nowadays? I mean, I can pay my own way, but I like it when a gentleman at least offers!) He invited me over, I declined. He walked me to my car, said he had a good time and would like to do it again.Why the hell not.

I got some pretty...suggestive but respectful..texts messages later. Let's call them straightforward, and I can't lie, flattering. Dating in your 30's, so far, has been so much less BS than when I dated 10 years ago. I said that I was willing to see him again,that I thought we could have a lot fun together, but anything more remains to be seen. But that is what dating is for, right?

Emily Gets Her Groove Back..Part One "A: The Drummer"

So, I think it is officially okay to say that Emily has got her groove back. Two dates underneath my belt and two more scheduled for this week, all with new people. I found that I don't blog or take to Twitter etc as much when things are going well. But this whole dating thing might just be too funny not to document.

I've decided to give Tinder a try. I was super hesitant for a while, having the impression that it was all young people trolling for sex. And while I am sure that's a thing, and no judgement here, been there, done that...it isn't exactly what I am looking to get out of my dating experience right now.

Things were pretty dull for a couple of weeks and then suddenly, last week, a few good prospects started rolling in.

Last Wednesday, I went out with "A." I was so excited. I found him attractive, he was musically talented, worked for a non profit, had a sense of humor etc....we met for a beer just before 10pm last Wednesday. A little later than I normally go for on a "school night" but I don't believe in wasting time, and it was the first time we could get together, him after a gig and I after rehearsal.

I got there just a little before him and found a table, he walked (swaggered?) in and I was pleased and found him just as attractive as his photos. The conversation went well, We covered some good topics, the kind of things you talk about when you're dating in your 30's, and I think we both talked an equal amount. He talked a little about playing music in the Middle East and I said, "It sounds like this was a kind of life changing event for you. What did you learn?" I had previously learned that he was divorced and he shared that he had discovered that wanted more out of life than just his music...i.e. he wanted kids. Fair. 37, divorced, the last of his name, that made anthropological sense.

I replied that I am not against children, but, at 33, I don't seem to have the same "ticking clock" that most women do my age.I also shared that I have some opinions on over population and adoption. Many important people in my life are adopted and I think, if I do choose to have children, it might be something to think about.

We talked a little more and then he apologized for being so tired,  I'm pretty intuitive, so I was a little skeptical, but then again, we had met for  beer at 10 pm after long days. We both paid for our own drinks, and walked out and had an awkward one armed hug goodbye with no talk about a second date.

I didn't want to read too much in to it, but again, I'm pretty empathetic. The next day, I broke the rule and texted him, saying 'I know I'm breaking the rules, but I enjoyed getting to know you and wondered if I am going to hear from you again? I'd rather know sooner rather than later."

And sure enough, my views on children were a"deal breaker" for him. I assured him that I wasn't against kids,but thought  there should be a few other steps first, but it turns out that is not what he is looking for. He seems to be looking for someone who is anxious to have kids ASAP. My little sister said it was fair to want to meet someone who wanted me for my personality first and not my womb.

Can I Make This a Tattoo?

Social media tells me it's Mental Health Month, so I keep stumbling across all the great little articles and interviews which say things so much nice than I ever could. Or say things that I didn't even know I was trying to say. Most recently, this:
5 Things To Know About My Mental Illness — Before You Say You Love Me

 Things that especially stood out from this article to me:

1.       "I need to know that you love me with all of my brokenness...I am afraid that if I am completely honest with the people I care about, they will leave...You have to love the entirety of me — even the parts of me that are terrifying…They are still mine. They are still me." This article sets itself up as a warning letter to a fledgling relationship about to spring go to the next level, but for me, it is this fear that plagues me even in the search for a new relationship. I've never had a relationship start out where the other person knew the level of anxiety and depression I struggle with some days, so that they don’t even have the opportunity to think/say “I know what I’m getting myself into.”

2.       “I am mentally ill. Not the cute kind, not the inspirational kind…I feel the constant pressure to present my mental illness to the world in a nice, tidy package with a ribbon on top, to make it friendly, to make it palatable, to make it less scary….I cannot promise you that I will always be this charismatic, ambitious, passionate person that you were drawn to in the first place.”

Can I make this a tattoo? And, on the flip side, I often feel guilty about identifying as a person with anxiety/depression/metal illness, because I know, comparatively, mine is not.that.bad. I feel like I am not quite crazy enough to be a part of this tribe and that talking about it makes me an attention seeking fake.  But it's still the most accurate identity I've tried on until this point. Especially after stumbling across this Kristen Bell interview. To all the people who call me bubbly:

 

 

How I Got Here

I sat down intending to write a post titled something along the lines of "What Working In For-Profit Admissions and for a Non-Profit Taught Me" But turns out I had another story to tell first to lead me there.

___

Five years ago, I was doing okay. I had been steadily advancing through the world of Event Management and was working for a beautiful, fine dining facility on the Mississippi River planning mostly weddings and other social events. I absolutely loved what I did and, for the most part, the team I worked with. (Because who loves all their coworkers, all the time, right?) In January of 2011, I earned my CMP (Certified Meeting Professional) designation. In order to be accepted to sit the exam, you have to have so many years in the industry, a certain level of education and  other qualifications. The exam is thorough and, being in a relatively small town (compared to my current location in the Twin Cities) there were no study groups and very few other resources available to prepare. And of course, it all cost money.  My company did not offer to pay for the exam or offer reimbursement, but I was dedicated to my “craft” and thought the investment would be worth it and make me a more valuable employee. I was so proud when that letter came in the mail telling me that I passed and I was pleased to put those three letters after my name, even if most people in small town Wisconsin didn’t know what the meant. Often times, they asked, and it opened up a wonderful dialogue about the intricacies of the profession.

Then, in July of 2011, the Monday after Independence Day weekend, our GM asked me to meet with him for a talk. It was like being called to the principal’s office. I joked with the other women in the office that if I didn’t come back, they could have my “nice pens.” (Uniball Vision Fine Point, still my favorite) I walked in to one of my banquet rooms where he was there with another female member of or staff. I think she worked in Accounting, we didn’t really have an official HR department, and I was unceremoniously let go.  To this day, I don’t know officially why, but I was offered a severance package and told that they would not fight unemployment, which led me to believe that this termination was no fault of my own.

It certainly didn’t make it any easier though. I was still unemployed…and stayed that way for nine months. Admittedly, I didn’t jump on the job search bus right away, I used a little bit of the summer to enjoy the few beautiful days we get in Wisconsin and not work nights and weekends. I was nurturing a new relationship and thankful that he didn’t think I was some sort of massive loser for losing my job. We had only been dating 3 months, and there was no reason he had to deal with that. I worked part-time as a server, got back into theatre (yay, nights and weekends free again!) and eventually started putting in resumes.

I eventually found myself working in Admissions for a for-profit school. There is no secret that Admissions, when it comes to for-profit schools, is really Sales.  I never considered myself a “sales person," I was certainly more focused on customer service, but the pay was decent, the school had other branches that provided growth opportunity, and the hours were okay (well, they were presented to me as okay). I saw a similarity in being a part of a very important part of someone’s life (it used to be weddings, now it was college). I truly believed that I could take all of the things I knew about good customer service (Make Eye Contact and Smile, Provide Immediate Guest Recovery, Welcome and Thank Each Guest amongst others….I had some magical guest service training ;)  and they would make me successful in Sales.

I wasn’t. I went through all the steps and did everything that was asked of me. I spent hours redialing and followed the script to a T because that was what was expected and I wasn't looking to rock the boat. I was told to “Think Corporate, Act Corporate, Be Corporate” by those that trained me, but when I was back on campus, my immediate supervisor essentially told me to throw all of that out the window. “Throw everything to the wall and see what sticks.” was his epic advice at offering enrollment to students. It was a balancing act, and I never officially got on board.  For profit schools have a pretty bad reputation. However, I consider myself to be fiercely loyal and tried really hard to understand how this business model fit in our society. Most of the students at these schools are non-traditional (meaning not straight out of high school) and they have non-traditional needs. They have full time jobs and families that they need to work classes around. They may have been out of school for a while, or never in school, and really benefit from extremely small class sizes where there is a lot of attention to walk them through this new and scary path. These things you may have to a pay a premium for, I got that, and I could feel okay about that. But it wasn’t the non-traditional students that I was hired to recruit. This school decided that they wanted to tap more into the high school market.  Several of us were hired across the company to focus only on high school students….and several of us got laid off a short time later when the school realized that maybe this campaign wasn't really working.  I don’t think any of the schools have a high school only team anymore. I was let go but told I was rehirable in another department.

So began another six months of unemployment, but I hit the ground running this time and it became more and more disheartening the longer I went between jobs. Finally, as my last unemployment check was looming, I was offered a position in a non-profit organization….as an Employment Coordinator. My job would be to help people find jobs. I had a lot of experience being unemployed, I had a lot of empathy, and I thought I would be really good.

And I was. I loved the job. It was rewarding, challenging, the people I worked with were amazing, the schedule was flexible, I had what is still to this day the best boss I’ve ever had, and the benefits were great. I got paid like I worked at a non-profit, but it was manageable and the consistent if small raises kept me feeling good about future possibilities. I worked there for a couple of years, things were fine. And then my boyfriend and I broke up.

While I loved the job, there was some debate whether or not we would get grant funding for next year and I was extremely nervous to become unemployed yet again. I liked my town, I had some friends there, many of them I met through my ex. I had a couple of close high school friends nearby, we had dinner monthly, but we weren’t daily fixtures in each other’s lives. My family was also close, but maybe too close J and I’d moved thousands of miles away before. I lived at home for a few months while I figured out my plan and realized that I didn’t have anything keeping me in town anymore. I’d always wanted to get back to a little bit of a bigger city and there weren't big enough reasons not to do it now.

I got hired as a Catering Sales Manager in the Twin Cities. Essentially full circle, nine months before my CMP was set to expire. I earned it and then promptly left the Industry. When ones earns a CMP, they have proven a number of things including possessing a comprehensive body of knowledge and a certain level of standards, practices and ethics.  Just because I left the industry for a few years, doesn’t mean that I didn’t continue developing knowledge, standards, practices and ethics that would continue to help me in the event industry. In fact, I learned things working in sales for for-profit education, and as an Employment Coordinator for a non-profit that I may not have been able to learn any other way.

To Be Continued….

"...and the soul's indefeasible duty is to be of good cheer."

These past view days have been good for my soul. And it's funny how, when my soul is being nourished, I tend to spend a little less time on social media. But I wouldn't go so far as to say abstaining from social media is good for me soul. ;)

On Saturday, after work, I picked up my mother who was is town for a conference and we drove back home to T-Town. I spent the night in my old bed and got in some LONG over due kitty snuggles. I also met the new puppy, who we call O2. (Oscar the Second) There is nothing that snuggling with animals can't fix.

On Sunday, I had lunch with a girlfriend and caught up on all sorts of exciting developments in her life an then had a hair appointment with another friend and she had more good news for me. It was really nice to have some honest conversations about serious life changes. It was also nice to belly laugh and be told by both while laughing hysterically, "Oh, I miss you!" My sense of humor may not be for everyone, and I had some truly awkward moments at a networking event last week. I also find myself holding my tongue more often than not at work because I haven't really connected with anyone outside of work chat.

After my hair appointment, I went home and had an amazing home cooked meal followed by an equally fulfilling beer with a third girlfriend where we ended up chatting about "spontaneous midgetism" (Yes, Blogger, I know that's not a real word, red squiggly line be damned) I think we both could have stayed for another if it weren't for A) The really obnoxious drunk old man next to us at the bar B) Being responsible drivers and C) having real adult responsibilities to attend to the next day.



Being home is beautiful

Monday was a beautiful day to drive back to MSP, which I did after sleeping in, more kitty snuggles, and obtaining two cases of beer from my Beer of The Month Club amazing Christmas gift.

Back in town, I had dinner with the ex...which could have been a lot worse and a lot more awkward.

I've been able to manage my cluster headaches, am feeling functional and useful at work, and had a great walk this evening around Lake Nokomis with who I think is going to become a really great girlfriend. Tomorrow I am going to a concert with another girlfriend and continuing to hope that I continue on this upward swing for a least a few more days.

A Dating Post Where I Unintentionally Used the Phrase "For Better or for Worse" Twice

Now that I can go more than 10 minutes without a throbbing pain behind my right eye, I'm trying to keep my commitment to jotting down my random thoughts.

For better or worse, but it's already paid for so I can't change it anyway, I went on Match.com. First I went back on POF for a little while, but I figure you get what you pay for....never mind that my last POF experience ended in a 4+ year relationship. But I am no longer in that relationship so I say again, you get what you pay for.

The last time I dated heavily, I loved it. I loved meeting new people, having dinner and drinks bought for me, and, worse case scenario, having a hysterical story to tell. But I have to say, right now, I'm just finding the process tedious and exhausting,...and I haven't even been on an actual date yet.

First of all, I'm certainly not as body confident as I was the last time around. I know body acceptance is trendy and attractive, but I'm having a real hard time faking it. I also don't have any patience for the online chatting. So much so that I just added this disclaimed to my profile.

"If we don't think our pictures are entirely unfortunate, 

and we can prove that we can string to sentences together, let's get out an explore. 

Worst case scenario, we're just not that into each other...

but at least we've gotten out of the house and maybe even made a new friend."

It might be a bit abrasive, but it's truthful right now. I'm also trying a new thing where I'm not the aggressive initiator. I don't know if that goes back to my dating anxiety or if its rooted in a confidence that I deserve to have a good man come on to me.

Who am I kidding?

Electric Word Life

I wrote my previous post to get some thoughts out of my head that have been hanging in there since last night, but by the time I finally got done with my first MSP cooking attempt, it was late and I was tired. But it felt disingenuous to post today without mentioning the death of His Royal Badness.

I wouldn't necessarily say that I am a die hard Prince fan, nor would those close to me think that his death would mean much to me one way or another. It's interesting though, the cloud that seems to be over MSP today. I feel like everyone feels it. The whole office was listening to The Current today, as they were streaming his albums chronologically, and I was amazed at how each song came on I would think, "Oh, I love that song!" As an artist, he has made such an impact: such attitude, confidence and style.

They say that he was found in an elevator, CPR was attempted but unsuccessful. Knowing this, I couldn't bear to title this blog post "Are We Gonna Let the Elevator Bring Us Down" because that might be a little tacky. However, seemingly cliche under the circumstances or not, one of my favorite Prince songs is "Let's Go Crazy" A fun song that we performed in high school show choir. I still remember some of the moves 15+ years later. I thought, "What on Earth is this about a purple banana?"

Insert deep sigh here. This past year sure has been a tough one and I'm really down and thankful that I am current on my crazy pills. I have trivia tonight and as much as I want to curl up on the couch, I think it's important to be with people right now.

My favorite tribute so far:

https://twitter.com/elclimo

"Compassion is an action word with no boundaries."-Prince

#McGyvered

I'm not sure how I managed to forget that bigger is better...when it comes to Dutch ovens....in the kitchen, not the holding the head under the fart blanket one. I managed to finally cook something in my new place last night, but apparently thought that a 3 qt. Dutch Oven was a better choice than a 6 qt. from Super Target and ended up cooking my recipe in half batches, taking twice as long to get everything done. It turned out edible, but I'm pretty sure not the way it is supposed to. Luckily, edible is enough for me.

Life in my place has been a comedy of errors since I moved in, especially getting locked out twice within one week. Both times I was in my slippers with no phone. The first was a faulty patio door handle. The second was the patio screen door lock somehow catching. At least that time I managed to break back in by dissembling my grill and using the edge of the grate the jimmy the lock.

Please don't break into my place, I promise I don't have anything worth taking. Except for a 3 qt. Dutch oven.

On a (Dinner) Roll

I keep discovering home items that I thought I had, I don't own anymore. I probably had these at some point in time, but when I combined homes with my ex, we got rid of the doubles of poor quality...which were mostly mine.

Since I've moved in, I've bought a new spoon rest for the stove...to discover I had no spoons or any other cooking utensils. Yesterday, I bought some canned garbanzo beans to prep with a salad to take to work...and found I had no can opener.

Today, I planned to prep a wonderful spring slow cooker dinner (because I haven't cleaned my grill or gotten gas for it yet) but forgot that I didn't have the large pot needed for some of the prep required. So I put the beans that had been soaking overnight back in the fridge (can you oversoak beans? probably) and I'll try again tomorrow.

Which is fine, because I forgot to thaw the chicken anyway.

Lemon Braised Chicken & Beans with Mint Pesto

Courtesy of thkitchen.com-I swear mine will look like this too

The Soul of Wit

I've recently been getting into that Twitter thing. Late to the party, I know. But while I've had what I consider to be a good couple of tweets, I'm still finding it hard to get my thoughts down to 140 character at a time including hashtags. It's an art form. So I keep thinking, why don't I start blogging again? I have a lot of thoughts about #myMSPmove. But why is it that when I sit down in front of the laptop, the words don't seem to be there?