Mom, Dancing, and My Date With Hortence.

I love my mother.

She always subtly finds ways to give me life lessons, after I've learned my lesson. Not really in an "I told you so" kind of way, but more in a "maybe next time you won't feel so stupid if you do this [insert better way of acting than I did]".  They're endearing. Lately, and by "lately" I mean "since I got to college", she's been concerned for my love life. She usually finds a way to subtly, as usual, encourage me to go on dates, be dating, be loving, or even be lusting after someone of the male persuasion. See, Lorie Collins was a hippie back the day. Colorado cabins, the earth between her toes, love everyone, eat cans of Cambell's soup every day, never shower kind of hippie.

My recent encounter with her she took it upon herself to say, "Sadie, sometimes you just need to go dancing". Katie was with me and she took it literally. Then proceeded to laugh. Reason being, if I ever go "out" you can bet that I won't be the one on the dance floor. Rather, I'm playing pool. Or mingling. Or making frequent trips to the bathroom to pass the time until the song is over and my friends reconvene. So for my mother to advise that I "go dancing" is humorous to anyone who knows me.

But I took it metaphorically. So, it's my senior year. What do I have to lose? I decided to start dipping my toes in the wide world of "dancing". For those of you not catching my flow, I've taken it upon myself to go on any dates that are being thrown my way. Unless I feel immoral by going or like I'll be date raped by the end of the night. Forget it.

I'll just touch on one particular date that I felt like should be on MTV. Long story semi-short: this boy, we'll call him Hortence, found me on Facebook a bit ago. Hortence and I, one late evening, began chatting about some status update that he had that I was amused by. By the end of the conversation, Hortence suggested that we hang out and he gave me his digits. Remembering my mother, I accepted and reciprocated.  Unfortunately for Hortence, midterms were the week he asked to hang out and we had games in Oklahoma. So the date would have to wait. Upon my return, I told him I'd meet up with him to play some pool after my night class. 10pm rolls around on that Tuesday and I find myself waiting in the parking lot for Hortence, I'm early (which is a first), but patient. I don't want to ask him if he's there yet, nor do I want to be "that girl" that waits at a bar for someone, so I just people watch. A few couples walk in, some creepy solos who are apparently drunk walk in, and then it happens... "He" walks in.

The physical examination goes as follows: black dress shoes, gray skinny jeans that are oddly loose around the ass-al region, black dress belt, powder blue striped button-down (no undershirt), and obviously straightened hair. No way was this the same guy that I saw on Facebook. I verified his cuteness with Katie and Erin and we agreed that he was worth the random blind date. But this was absolutely  not the same person. "You've got to be joking...", I thought as I walked in the pool hall.

I opened the door and the look on his face was almost as if he was envisioning me as some angel walking through two doors that have flown open with a graceful force - tousling my hair as incandescence was beaming around my silhouette and doves were flying around behind me. Ridiculous. The first thing he says to me: "I don't know, they just handed me these... heh", referring to the rack of pool balls and two beers he just purchased. Immediately I noticed his nervous coughing tick thing.

Awkward conversation ensued and more nervous coughing ensued as we strolled over to the pool sticks. He grabbed a stick and began rolling it on the table as if he were finding the perfect stick for a big tournament he were about to enter. I just grabbed one and walked back to the table we chose.

Then it happened.

He pulls out a black satin glove as to better his pool playing game. I can't say that I hid what I was thinking very well. He disappeared to the bathroom and instructed me to break the rack. I opened my phone and texted Katie:

Me: "Hell no."
Katie: "Not cute or not cool?"
Me: "Both."
Katie: "ahahaha"

He came back and we played about 5 games of pool. He won. But who has a glove and sucks at pool? Then you're just a jackass. At least he beat me. His famous one-liner of the evening came from a conversation that we were having (nervous coughing didn't cease) about how he wound up in Abilene. He's from Pittsburgh.

Hortence: "My best friend is stationed at Dyess Air Force Base and told me I should come down and be on my own... so I did."
Me: "Did he fail to mention to you that this town was a dump?"
Hortence: "Hahaha, no he didn't tell me that. He didn't tell me that there were such pretty girls here, either. *wink*"

WINK. Oh my gosh. He winked.

After that he kept mentioning that he wanted to play the "slidey game". Which was his way of saying "shuffleboard". I told him I had homework and that I should go. It was 11:30pm and I'll never get that hour and a half back. I'm not even going to talk about the hug goodbye. Hands down the most awkward thing I've ever had to embrace. I was probably running to my car afterward, I can't remember. I do remember that I heard him cough a couple more times before he hopped into his 1989 red Nissan baby pick-up truck., though.

Moral of the story: dancing isn't for everyone. I'm sorry Mom, I tried. Kind of.

The Downfall to My Self Esteem.

Currently watching: It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia.


So You Think You Can Dance, American Idol, America's Next Top Model, The Victoria's Secret Lingerie Show, The Olympics... What do all of these things have in common?

They all manifest people with a SUPREME amount of talent thus taking a detrimental toll on my self-confidence. But, like a Lifetime movie about rape or murder that I accidentally catch from the beginning,  I just can't stop watching them. And consequently, I'm always eating Chicken Express or vast amounts of chocolate chip cookies while the show is on. Which definitely doesn't help anything.

The people featured in these shows/competitions all average to about 18 years old. If not 18, I'd guess around 20. Either way, both of those ages are younger than my current one. And what am I doing? Sitting on my couch. In Abilene, Texas. Gawking as these people twist and leap effortlessly through the air, singing the national anthem in 4 different octaves all the while displaying their ripped-cut abs that they've had since the ripe age of 4.  It just makes me wonder what my life would be like if my parents and coaches had chosen to live vicariously through me. Practicing 40 hours a week on about 170 calories, falling behind in school, spending thousands of dollars, having my only friend be my dog... all for the love of my hobby...

I just wonder.

Whatever, I'm still jealous. These people are effing talented and keeping me delightfully entertained.

Kanye, How Could You Be So Heartless?

The VMAs blew this year. And I wouldn't mind it if Kanye got a taste of Karma and crashed his probably pretentious car into a large pole breaking his ego and both of his knees to accompany his spineless lifestyle. I don't really like Taylor Swift all that much, but she didn't deserve that.

That being said, I'd like to talk about a topic that goes unsaid all too often: the initial moments upon meeting someone in person that you've met on the internet. Whether it's for romantic purposes or platonic purposes.

For instance, I lived in a schooling zone that put me at the junior high that split kids off after 9th grade. Some went to Trinity High School, some went to L.D Bell High School. By "some" I mean, 75% went to Trinity while me, like 3 of my friends and the awkward kids that I didn't know existed went to Bell. Needless to say, I needed to make some friends.

My friends Ashley and Katie were scandalously dating boys that went to Bedford Junior High (OMG!), so they knew a few people coming into 10th grade. They took it upon themselves to be good friends and introduce me to some of the Bedford Broncos also going to Bell. I met a couple people through Aimchat and got to know them through late night chats of revealing personal content like my hopes, dreams, how far I've gone with a boy and what my biggest turn on is. My dad usually woke up, stealthily opened my door and sternly whispered at me for being up late and chatting on the internet on a school night. But that's besides the point.  Alas, the day was to come that I would attend a pool party hosted by the boys of BJH. Think of it as a PG version of the quintessential "back to school party".

Anyway, the most prevalent thing about this party was that I felt so immensely awkward not really knowing anyone and nervous that I would mistake a conversation that I had with BJHboy7666 for the conversation I had with iluvplayingfootball348. I remember boys approaching me and sheepishly asking me questions they already knew the answer to because, as the 21st century would have it, we revealed all of the initial get-to-know-you conversation topics via the internet. The whole night was just one awkward turtle after another. I felt like I had to be extra cool in person since they liked me so much online. It was a stressful time for a 15 year old girl entering high school. I had other things to worry about. Like my hair and counting calories.

Although, at the party I met Alex Seabaugh. We went on a date with like 4 other people and he was my first high school fling. Congratulations, Alex.

I can't imagine how it feels when people do this for real love. In movies they make it look so suave. That's bullshit. You know someone has nervous gas and is sweating uncontrollably because they don't have anything else to talk about since they've already touched bases on all of the "all about me" subject matter. It's just inevitable. I don't care how social you are. That first moment of meeting someone is always, always awkward.

It more or less goes like this: "Heyyyyy, I'm Sadie. But you already knew that... heh. You look nice tonight, a bit different from your profile picture. Man, I'm sorry. I'm awkward."

DISCLAIMER:

For those of you I met online and am still friends with today, thanks for working through that awkward time.

The Spirit Moved Right On Through.

You know what I love about church other than the life and teachings of Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior? The people. The people are exceptionally wonderful to observe and chat with at church. For those of you who aren't aware, Sunday is my favorite day of the week. The weather is always awesome, the mood is always chill, the people are always nice and I'm always in the mood to read, write, be crafty and objective.

Although, I did have one bad Sunday involving, who I've come to decide, was the wicked stepmother of Lucifer himself.  I don't wish to expound on it at the moment; I'm still grieving. 

Anyway, on top of loving to people-watch at church, my favorite part of the service itself is the worship. And what do you get when you mix a worship service with church-loving people? An intense, balls to the wall, sing-your-guts-out, Jesus-lives jam session  praising His name. I love it. I love when people close their eyes and act as if they're cruising in their Kia Spectra, solo, windows down, vocal chords up. It's even more awesome when I catch the eyes of those surrounding the would-be soloist, and their reaction to the personal junior high choir concert that is going on behind them. That whole scene is enthralling. Plus, I like that they're so comfortable with the church home that they release their inner diva/divo, worry-free.

Speaking of worry-free...

A couple of years ago, a friend of mine and I went to church together one fine Sunday morning. Late as usual, we hustled inside and settled in our seats just as the worship was starting. My friend excused herself to go to the bathroom. In the meantime, I was thoroughly enjoying the soulful and unruly song fest going on to my left. After two or three worship songs, I was beginning to question whether or not my friend was being evangelized to in the bathroom. Again. Just as I was about to get up and disrupt the potty preaching party, my friend returned. But she didn't look relieved at all. Instead, she was doing everything she could to muffle her uncontrollable giggle. In mid-seizure, she leaned over to tell me that in the middle of her routine pee, a woman came into the bathroom and, as God would have it, walked into the stall directly next to hers. Almost immediately, the woman began dropping a huge bomb. Apparently this was an epic release and my friend was nearly put in a comatose state due to her desire to never breathe. I believe she said, "It was rancid. Like, I thought my lungs were going to melt away on the inside from the sharp and fire-like burning sensation I got every time I was had to inhale."  As they were washing their hands/fixing themselves, the woman began striking up conversation with my friend. Instead of the assumed "Hello" that people exchange in settings like this one, the woman came out of the stall saying, "Well! I guess the Spirit moved right on through me!" The conversation was absolutely opposite of her previous endeavor; so lighthearted, pleasant and dear to my friend, that we came to this conclusion:

It doesn't matter whether you're in the sanctuary singing your brains out or in the bathroom relieving your brains out, the sense of immense comfortability that the church brings is something worth looking out for and being a part of. I recommend that everyone let the Spirit move through them... however you feel it to be necessary. On that note, I also recommend that you do it through some sort of musical or lecturing means, you'll probably win the crowd over a little easier.

Consider my two cents donated.