My Beef With Mornings

There are tips and tricks to getting to sleep and staying asleep. I've used them. They work. I personally like to sleep with my head in between pillows, and have a fan blasting to create some soothing white noise (not necessarily blasting on me). I also can't go to bed on an empty stomach. That never works. Oh, and definitely pee before you go to bed.

This is going to seem like a tangent at first, but I have a point. There are a lot of things I can say I've battled in the past decade. Sickness. Broken Heart. Loss of friends. Loss of Family. Car accidents. Robbery. Firings. Layoffs. Cross-country moves. Anxiety. Depression. But I mean, who hasn't dealt with similar monsters in the span of a decade? Some of those things are easier fights to win than others, and some are quite long lasting. But if there's one behemoth who has successfully bested me over and over again since as far back as I can remember it's this one:

Waking up in the god damn morning.

I'm not a morning person. I'm just not. I'm a night owl. And every single time I go to sleep at night, I tell myself I'm going to get up early and be productive. I usually even feel pretty motivated about it. But when that alarm rings, man...the battle is already lost. It never, ever, happens. And I truly don't know how to change it.

It doesn't matter if I get ten hours, eight hours, or six hours, if I'm awake before eight o'clock, I'm not a happy person and I have significant trouble getting out of bed. Heck, I don't even like waking up before 10am. I'm writing all this because my stupid alarm didn't go off and I was 45 minutes late to work, which nullifies some of the overtime I put in yesterday. Crap in a hat.

On the other hand, it's Friday. On the other hand, it's freaking snowing again and I'm going to be working some overtime this weekend, so a huge break isn't exactly in order. But on the other, other hand, I'm feeling a lot better, which means maybe I can actually go out and enjoy myself, perhaps with Jess who I've been spending my evenings with. We haven't really gone out to do anything yet, so I'm looking forward to a roommate outing. Last night we watched "Can't Hardly Wait" while she did homework and I did screenwriting. Company is wonderful.

I'm mad at myself for this. But I dig her.

Tara wasn't feeling well due to mid-terms, so we pushed back our date-type-thing to Sunday. At least she feels bad and keeps rescheduling. That's a good sign!

Aside from feeling better physically, this whole HotOrNOt thing has really opened my eyes. Not just about how other people perceive me, but how I perceive myself. When it comes to the 1-10 scale of how attractive someone is, I gave myself somewhere between a 6.5 and a 7.5, depending on the day...an 8 if I really did myself up. Last time I gave you an update, 54 women had rated me with an average of 9.3. Now, 131 women have rated me and my average is a 9.4. If 131 women think I have an average rating of 9.4, then it's my perception of myself that's skewed.

I thought long and hard about this. What does acting like a 9.4 entail? I don't want to be some vain, arrogant asshole, but it certainly feels good to know that you look good and others think so, right? This is about confidence and self-esteem, not arrogance. I can still be my nice, fun self without beaming to everyone that I'm attractive so they should love me. But putting myself down and thinking I'm less attractive than I am and am therefore unable to attract a lot of women...well that's counter-productive! It's a self-fulfilling prophecy!

If I can learn to feel like a 9.4, secure and happy in my own skin, more girls will react, and I'll be less likely to do that clingy "don't leave me" type deal that I do all the time. So how can I learn to feel like a 9.4?

Well...I took a solid look at the picture I posted. It's professional, but not doctored. A good friend of mine in LA, a professional photographer, took the picture in his studio with a great camera and great lighting. It's basically a headshot. In the photo I'm dressed well, my hair's done nicely, I'm standing tall, chin up, small confident smile, easy eyes...I'm relaxed. I'm secure of myself.

That's the key.

I need to dress and groom myself and treat my body and mind like I'm a 9.4 at all times because I am a 9.4. When I'm not shaving and sluggin' around and wearing wrinkled clothes and not sitting up straight or holding my head high or smiling, of course people (and myself) are going to think I'm a 6 or a 7!

It's time to bring out the 9.4 and see what happens. :)

-Spontaneous K

P.S. I've been in the situation above, where you hear your brother having sex with a girl you like. NOT fun times.

My Sleepless Nights

The subconscious mind is a tricky thing. Even if you think you're telling it wonderful thoughts to send you off to sweet dreamland...it knows what you're really thinking.

Last night was one of those nights for me. One of those nights where no matter how many times you wake up and fall back asleep, you find yourself in the same dream. About the same person.

I haven't been quite right since I saw OAOA last Saturday. She threw me for a loop, as women do, and I interpreted her actions one way when they...as I'm finding out with much disappointment...meant another. And while I wanted to deny any emotions of dependency or need for this girl, my subconscious mind was not about to have it. "YOU WILL KNOW THY TRUTH! YOU SHALL HAVE YOUR EMOTIONS EXPRESSED!"

Oh, did I. (My subconscious mind doesn't sound like God. But maybe it should. Or maybe not.)

I spent my eight hours of rest caught in a whirlwind of dreams all revolving around the same premise: I need OAOA and she's no where to be found. I want her attention, her compassion, in some way shape or form, and she's either ignoring me, or I'm panicking and running all over the place, looking for her or asking people where she is. And after eight hours of foggy meandering, my search came up fruitless. Each time I'd wake up from the dream feeling exactly the way I felt in the dream. Hurt. Lost. Abandoned. Betrayed. Without Value. Oh, and out of breath.

What's unfortunate about the matter is that the dream isn't a whole lot different from real life, and I think its message of a fruitless search is extremely important. The mind and the body know what's good for it, and the dream wasn't there for no reason. In fact, this isn't the first time I've had a series of dreams like this with someone.

In My Great Disconnect, I mentioned someone I spent eight years trying to convince our relationship was worth it. For the sake of anonymity, I'll keep with the nicknames, and I'll call her Firefly.

Firefly was a saga in my life. (I even plan to write a book about it.) It's not just a tiny little piece, right now it accounts for an entire third of my existence. It was a period that forced me to learn, the hard way, what it meant to love someone. And when I had fears that Firefly was going to leave me for good and I'd be left alone to my own hurtful thoughts and emotions, those terrible dreams would nag at me, specifically at times like this. Times where we just started interacting again and aren't sure where it's going to lead.

Now that I'm awake and have more control over what I'm thinking and feeling, it's apparent that I'm once again making the same mistake I made with Firefly with OAOA. But at least I'm realizing it a lot sooner.

It sucks. Every time. Having feelings for someone that doesn't reciprocate never gets easier. Sometimes it gets harder. But the more it happens, the more we come to realize that true happiness comes from within ourselves, and we're the only people responsible for it in our lives. That doesn't mean it's easy to provide it for ourselves...

...but do we want to take the easy road and leave our fate up to others? Or do we want to take our happiness into our own hands?

I'm up for the challenge.

-Spontaneous K