Being a Female=Being Paranoid

These past couple of weeks (months) have been pretty boring, but I keep on blogging because little events keep happening that I feel like I have to share with the world via internet.  Today is no exception.

Sometimes being a woman really sucks.  It doesn't matter how strong I am, the weakest man will always be stronger.  That scares the crap out of me.

Except this girl.  She could probably beat up a guy...

But yeah.  It's scary to be a woman sometimes, and I hate feeling so vulnerable.  I don't assume that all men are out to get me, but sometimes I get a terrifying feeling that this particular man is. 

There have been many times where I feel uneasy about a stranger near me while I'm alone, but it's usually me just being paranoid.  That doesn't mean they're all false alarms; I have two particular examples where being paranoid may have saved my life.  But really, I'm not trying to exaggerate or anything.

Story #1
A couple of years ago I was going on a run.  I was about three or four miles into it, and I was running on a fairly busy neighborhood road.  I was running on the sidewalk to the right of the street when a beat up car rambled up to the street I was crossing.  He turned onto the road I was on and drove past me.  I didn't think of anything except that the guy and his car were gross and creepy looking.  Then a minute or so went by and the guy was driving towards me.  He must have turned around somewhere up the road.  I still wasn't worried, but when he passed ANOTHER time and pulled into a driveway a few hundred feet ahead I got scared.  I could see him pulling out of the driveway to drive towards me again, so I sprinted into someone's yard and hid behind their house until I knew he had passed. 

That was pretty scary.  I was stressed the rest of my run, but I was in a friendly neighborhood, surrounded by people that I could run to if it was needed. 

Story #2
This actually happened today, which is why I'm writing this post in the first place.  This time I wasn't running, I was biking.  Yes, another biking story.  I'm starting to see a trend here... But anyway, I bike in pretty remote areas so that I don't have to deal with traffic.  I was slowly pedaling up a hill when this car drove past.  It was another clunker. 

It kind of looked like this, but worse.

As he slowly passed me, I was focused on making it up the hill without falling over.  I finally conquered the hill and saw the same car coming back towards me and pulled into a driveway.  This was kind of weird to happen on a country road, but I assumed he must have missed the house the first time.  Instead of pulling up to the house, he just sat there at the end of the driveway.  Paranoia was kicking in, so I picked up the speed and rode past him.  I crossed Westfield which is a busier street and continued down the same road.  Then he passed me.  Again. 

Now I was scared.  I tried to keep my cool and reason with what was happening.  It didn't make any sense though.  Obviously he hadn't turned around because he had missed the address.  But if he was turning around yet again, he would have pulled into the driveway and quickly pulled out.  Instead, he sat there for over two minutes and waited for me to pass.  All this went through my head while he was passing me for that third time and that's when I knew I should be worried.

I watched while he drove ahead of me.  He was approaching a hill and going slower the farther he got from me.  Right when he went over the hill, I turned around.  It's hard to make a sharp and sudden turn like that on a road bike, so I didn't make the full turn on the road and went in the grass.  I had unclipped my right foot, but not my left.  So when my bike started to tip to the left, I couldn't catch myself, and I fell to the ground.  I'm still new to clipless pedals...

But I didn't even have time to be embarrassed, I just needed to turn around and GO.  So I jumped back on my bike and started to ride faster than I thought possible.  You know when you're running for your life in nightmares?  It felt like that, except I was on a bike, and I wasn't dreaming.  I had a feeling that the guy had stopped at the bottom of the hill, but it was just as likely that he had turned around when he realized I wasn't going his direction anymore.  I kept on checking over my shoulder to make sure he wasn't behind me.  I got back to Westfield road, and turned left onto it.  Every time a car passed me, I nearly had a heart attack. 

I was legitimately terrified.

I got home safe, but I was still shaken from the whole ordeal.  I kept telling myself I was probably just being paranoid, but I couldn't think of any reasons to that guy's actions.  I told my mom about the whole situation, and I got scared all over again.  I really don't think I was being paranoid.  I'm pretty sure I was prompted to turn around and get away fast.  Mormons call it the Holy Ghost, but you can call it what you want. 

This isn't a funny post, and it's not exactly entertaining.  I just had to share this with more than a few people.  To all you women, don't fall into a false sense of security.  We're not invincible.

Oh, and this time I decided that I'm REALLY done biking by myself.

PMS MAKES ME CRAZY

Yep, that's right.  I have PMS right about now.  Don't worry men, I'm not going to talk about getting my monthly "Friend" as Tina Fey would put it, just PMS.  It's something your sister/mother/girlfriend/wife deals with, so you're gonna have to live with it too.  Might as well read about it from a woman's perspective.  That's right, I'm a WOMAN.

This is what I look like when I get hit with a bout of PMS.

 Or this...

Not really, I just wanted to post some of my less attractive senior pictures. 

In reality, I don't show much emotion on the outside when the mood swing hits.  I kind of stare in the distance and don't talk.  Don't be fooled; I might look calm, but there is a storm of anger brewing inside and it's only a matter of time before I explode.

I'll give you an example.  Yesterday I woke up, plopped on the couch and sat in front of my laptop.  A little later my mom apologetically asked if I could help her in the garden for 30 minutes.  All of the sudden I went from content, to pissed.  Sorry, but sometimes that's the only word to describe my feelings.

Here's a narrative of what was going on inside my head.

I slowly followed my mom outside and stared at the garden filled with weeds, the object of my hatred.  I was supposed to weed this?  I HATE WEEDING. At first the weeds behaved, but eventually they weren't pulling.  When I pulled, the tops would tear off leaving the roots behind.  WHY WOULDN'T THEY DO WHAT I WANTED?!  With the sun's rays beatingbeating down on me, the sweat started to drip.  I moved to a different spot in the shade.  The weeds wouldn't pull.  Uh oh, it was coming: The Crazy.

"I HATE WEEDS.  THEY GROW EVERYWHERE.  NO ONE WANTS THEM.  WHY DON'T PLANTS THAT WE LIKE GROW EASILY?  THIS IS DUMB."

My poor mother.  She just sat there and listened while I vomited out my genius revelations.  Then she said, "Yeah, too bad the deers like to eat the good stuff too."

Nice try, but I didn't want to hear humor.  Then the spiritual being that my mother is, tried this one on me.  "Well, I think it has partly to do with the Fall of Adam.  You know, "In the sweat of your face shalt thou eat bread" kind of thing.  We have to work for what we want."

HOW DARE SHE PULL RELIGION INTO THIS!!! I'M MAD, I DON'T WANT ACTUAL ANSWERS TO MY QUESTIONS. 

This actually makes me sound quite crazy...

At this point, I realized that I was PMS-ing because weeds don't normally make me psycho.  (My thoughts aren't usually in all caps either).  That made me more mad, because I was being controlled by a stupid woman problem.  I almost started crying right there in the garden.  Then I asked my mom if I could be done.  I was really close to a mental breakdown, and one more minute surrounded by weeds would have set me off.  Again. 


In my defense, PMS usually doesn't make me mental like that.  Thank goodness. 

I had to write a personal narrative for my writing class last semester, and it was very similar to this one.  I was mad at my mom again, but this time it was because she asked me to vacuum.  I made it have deeper meaning, which I still stand behind, but I'm pretty sure it was mostly PMS.

So since I know my mom reads my blogs, I'd like to formally apologize to her for my outbursts and bad attitude.  I know I can't totally blame PMS, but it IS a factor.  The other half must be because I'm a brat.  I'll work on it.

Biking Nightmare

Look at my baby.  Just look at it.

But enough of that, I want to tell you about my bike ride yesterday.

I'm training for a sprint triathlon right now, so I haven't been riding much more than 20 miles at a time.  I decided I wanted to change it up and bike a different route, so I printed off a new route that a local bike club uses.  I had no idea where I was actually going to bike, but I had a lot of faith in my sense of direction.

I thought I'd be fine.

Yesterday Lily and I went to the first matinee showing of Harry Potter -- That's what cool people do -- We didn't get home till around one, so I didn't start my bike ride till 1:30pm.  That was my first mistake.  It was extremely humid and the heat index was 100 degrees.  Normally the heat doesn't bother me, but this bike route was 30 miles long, not 20. 

I left with one water bottle, the map with directions, and a cell phone. 

Everything went well the first 12 miles.  I only made one wrong turn, but discovered the mistake a minute later.  I rode past three dairy farms (all equally ripe smelling), a teeny town, and countless corn fields.

Then the road ended.  I turned left.  I continued down Sterling Road for about 5 miles until it ended.  Crap.  According to the map, the road should have continued, and I was supposed to turn right.  I turned right on Main Street anyway.    There were three different streets called Main Street on the route.  No wonder I got lost.  I pulled to the side of the road and looked at my map again.  After about a minute, a man pulled over and helped me try to figure out where I was going. 

We discovered that I wasn't going north, but I was in fact heading south.  We also learned that I wasn't even on the map anymore because I had turned left onto Sterling, not right.  (There's a story to why I made such a dumb mistake, but it's far too complicated and boring to explain).  I had to ride all the way back to that wrong turn.  Against the wind.  Five miles away.

Once I was going the right direction I got scared.

• I didn't know where I was.
• I was in the middle of nowhere.  Just a bunch of farms.
• I still had 20 miles to go.
• I was out of water.

Basically I was praying a lot.  I needed water soon, or I would die.  Slight exaggeration, but still true. Just minutes later, I saw an older woman working in her yard.  I stopped and asked her if she could fill up my water bottle.  She said yes.  I wanted to kiss her on the face.

I was so excited to turn north because I was finally biking towards home.  I biked on some of the most deserted roads.  They didn't have lines.  Or cars.  Or people.  Then a dog attacked me.  Well, not really, but he ran behind me and nipped at my feet.  Ever since a huge dog jumped me a couple years ago, I assume they're all out to get me.

I also got to cross I-71.  That was a thrill. 

With about 15 miles left, the sky turned dark.  I knew it was going to rain, the question was when.  I heard thunder two miles from home, but still no rain. 

Then I WAS HOME!!!  Just minutes later the wind picked up and it started to pour.  I was gone for three and a half hours, but it didn't start raining till I got home.  

My 30 mile bike ride turned into 40 miles because of one freaking wrong turn, but besides that I was pretty lucky.  I got help from a man who pulled over, and water from a nice old lady just at the right time; I didn't get eaten by a dog, I didn't get hit by a car when I crossed four lanes of traffic on the freeway, and I didn't get rained on. 

Having said that, I should probably find a group to bike with.

My way of dressing up

Out of my whole public school experience, I've only ever worn a skirt or dress to school about three times.  I was forced to.  That doesn't mean I don't like dressing up.  I loved Homecoming week and other random spirit days because I could wear some ridiculous outfit to school.  It made the school day a little less boring, plus I some classes offered extra credit. 

My theory with dress up days is GO ALL OUT.  People would ask me if I was embarrassed for my outfits, but I really think it's more embarrassing to only dress up a little.  I see it as a sign of weakness.

I was a little less self-assured my freshman year, but I still dressed up.   I don't have a picture, but on Halloween I wore Lily's fish head costume to school.

Just imagine me walking through the packed hallways with this on my head.  It was a fun day.

These next pictures are from homecoming week my Junior year.

70s day

80s day

cross country crazy day

These are from senior year.

Nerd day

Harry Potter vs. Twilight.  We won.

Tube sock day.  We took it the next step up.

Neon day.  Lily wants me to add that I took all the neon things in our house so she couldn't dress up.

Cross country crazy day.

Senior year I also dressed up like a banana.

Obviously this isn't me, but I wore this the whole day.  The theme was "Be Who You're Not" day.  That was basically giving me permission to dress as ANYTHING I wanted.  All day I kept telling people, "I'm not normally a banana."

I love dress up days.  I can't wait to wear a costume on BYU campus for Halloween.

shredding files and back adjustments

I'm really bored right now, so I'm going to write a boring post.

In the past three weeks, I've been working five days a week.  This week I have three days of eight hour shifts.  That leaves four days of emptiness.  I don't know what to do with all this time.  So this is the crap I fill it with:

• facebook
• blogger
• facebook
• youtube
• facebook
• memebase
• facebook
• netflix

I guess I did other things today too.  I went to my dad's office and shredded files of his dead or past clients.  That's always fun.  Sometimes I read their info when I get really bored.  I don't read the insurance papers and such, but it's interesting to see how they spend their money.  I can't believe how much old women are willing to spend a month for their hair.  Same with eating out.  It's kind of ridiculous.

I also read someone's will.  They're nothing like in the movies. Just a bunch of boring legal crap.

After reading clients' personal information, I went to the chiropractor.  I love that place.  I really hope my future husband pursues that career, because nothing would make me happier than getting a free back adjustment every day.  Well I'd prefer a daily massage, but a masseuse doesn't make as much money.  Wait, is the male version of a masseuse, masseur?  I'm confused.

I went to the library to pick up a CD.

My biking shoes came in the mail.  Funny story to go along with that.  See my facebook status for the details.

I officially signed up for this triathlon, so I thought I'd get serious and finally buy some clipless pedals and shoes for my road bike.  I'm gonna be a beast.  A beast in spandex.  I'm sure you want to see the show in person, so you should come cheer me on.  August 6th Wellington, Ohio.  BE THERE.

I just made spam musubi.  Again.

Alright I think this post has covered almost everything you don't care about.  Until next time.

Grad Parties

It's graduation party season.  There's not too much to a grad party, but I have a lot to say about them.  First of all, I'm not really a fan.  It makes driving through neighborhoods nearly impossible.  SO MANY PARKED CARS.  Also, the invites clog up my facebook events section.

Grad parties are all basically the same.  They have food, strangers, and pictures.  No matter what party you attend, you can count on all three.  Though all grad parties are similar, there are different categories that I like to group them in.  They tend to correlate with the type of student the graduate is.

The normal non-exciting student:  Probably has his/her party scheduled from 3-7pm.  Has a decent amount of food.  Comfortable setting.  Most guests attending are adults you don't know.  Some students.  Cornhole.

The mormon student:  As mormons, we are pretty good friends with the members in our ward, so we basically invite all the families from our congregation.  That means a lot of little kids running around.  Lots of grownups.  Lots of food.  Some students if they haven't already booked it.  Cornhole.

The band/choir student:  All their band or choir friends plus their parents.  Beware.  Probably good food, but I don't really know.  I usually avoided these parties.  Karaoke. Bonfire.  Cornhole.

The popular/party student:  Long party, goes past midnight.  Adults are totally drunk, which means the students are definitely drunk too.  Loud music.  Tons of people.  Cornhole.

Now that I've categorized the types of graduation parties, I will proceed to explain why I am awkward with the whole grad party situation.

Why I'm awkward attending grad parties

• Stare at the facebook invite and try to decide if I'm good enough friends to go to this person's party.  
• Attend a party because my friends were going, but I'm not actually friends with the person.
• Take the chance and show up to a party solo.  
• Finally find the address and walk up to the house.  Can't decide if I should go through the front door or just walk around to the back yard.
• Show up and none of my friends are there yet.
• Awkwardly smile at strangers until I find someone I know.
• Show up starving and realize they only have cold tacos.
• Eat anyways because I don't know what else to do.

Why I was awkward hosting my grad party:

• Felt like a desperate person reminding people to come to my party on facebook.
• Unsure if anyone would show up.
• No one showed up the first hour.
• Hugged people I didn't want to hug.
• Let people stare at pictures in my scrap book.
• Let people take wallet sized of me home.

I don't know, maybe I'm just an awkward person, but this list seems pretty legit.